He sat across from Hermione and her parents at the dark wood dining room table.  His arms were perched on the table edge, like he was used to talking with his hands but didn’t feel like he could at the moment.  His hair was jet black and wavy, as well as tastefully gelled, though his suit was another story.  It looked like something her grandfather would wear - herringbone pattern in an awful yellow-brown tone.  He was young, much younger than her own dad, she thought.