It was no small effort to keep her eyes open and focused for so long. Kingsley made his way to Fenrir's favorite armchair. One of the dozens of books that Fenrir had neatly stacked in various locations around his small cottage was plucked from the top of a pile as he lowered himself into the chair. Before he could even open the first page, his eyes met Hermione's. A bright smile lit up his face. For the briefest of moments, Hermione was reminded of the number of evenings the two of them spent engaged in all manner of conversation over a cup of tea in the basement kitchen of Number Twelve. Some of her fears about his true nature and purpose dissipated for just a few heartbeats. Over almost as soon as it began, she hardened herself again to prevent his pretty words from persuading her to get over her earlier distrust.