            His fingers drummed against the tabletop. "It was quite obvious, my dear. A large bedroom with an en suite, but clearly not Potter’s, as I hear he’s engaged to a Weasley. And not your own bedroom—no products in the bathroom, nor women’s clothes in the closet. Only a few t-shirts and a leather jacket reeking of muggle tobacco. Don’t tell me that’s what you wear in your days off from work?" he drawled, raising one eyebrow as his gaze slid over her.