They were in the living room of Malfoy Manor – that same living room Hermione thought she’d never forget, but now it looked so different she didn’t recognize it, so she treated it just like any other room – walked around curiously, looked at the paintings, admired the architecture and tried not to show her nervousness while the High Reeve read over what she spent the whole day writing. He was sitting on the fancy velvet armchair in front of the hearth where the fire was merely smoldering. He read it carefully, his eyebrows drawn together in focus. He finished reading the paper ten minutes later and Hermione shivered when he finally spoke up.