"No," Draco snapped, his hands clenched into fists on the surface of the dining-room table in the Room of Requirement, though it was looking less and less like the one that Harry had owned; the dent where Albus had cracked his head open once-upon-a-time had faded away into nothing, "No - do you honestly trust that man?" he said harshly, snatching his wand out of his pocket and jabbing it in the direction of the study behind them, stopping the spinning record on the gramophone; the music had been especially grainy today, and at one point had been nothing but white noise. Draco had frozen when they’d first entered the room at the sound of it, a shuddering breath escaping him. Harry understood how he felt; it was an awful realisation that they were now beginning to truly lose the last remnants of the life they’d had before. Hector had regrown the ear that he had been missing, and he had turned from green to a sick kind of yellow colour. Harry was certain that one day soon he would disappear completely from the room.