Daunting
Two lone figures stand, hand in hand, in front of the immense, forboding iron gates. The task ahead is daunting.
They enter the towering manor, the silent corridors and emotionless rooms demanding remembrance of all things grave and eerie. The windows, unopened since the war four years ago, seem to filter the golden hue from the sunlight. The light cast on the manor is grey and cold. Dust clings desperately to every object, and the people that were supposed to be in the paintings have all left their portraits for more favorable ones.
Draco shivers when they near the Drawing Room and pauses when they reach the door. So much happened there. Astoria leads him away.
She draws patterns through the dust when she encounters reachable surfaces. He looks for hope in her eyes when the darkness overwhelms him.
Astoria smiles.
One by one, she tears curtain after curtain from their window, clearing dust away with her wand. Somehow, the rays of pale yellow streaming through cast a more positive aura on the manor.
The couple avoids the darker rooms, preferring the ones with windows. They visit many, bringing recovery with them.
Draco looks to Astoria with hope in his eyes.