Decorated in every shape of pastel, and yet, so dark. Chantilly lace everywhere, and yet everything is so grim. It is almost as if Hermione can feel the loneliness, the unhappiness, seeping through the room. Perhaps it’s the body she inhabits, recognizing the place it once felt so much pain. Her eyes glance at a cabinet to the side, wondering if that is the cabinet Marion had been locked in by her mother. Did she cry herself to sleep into those baby pink charmeuse pillows?