Harry shifted, turning in place as his fingers daftly did up the buttons of his dress shirt. The front door was still opened before him, the summer sun flooding in through it. It looked as unwarded as it had before, and for a moment, Harry found himself considering Malfoy’s words, bending down to pick up his dress coat, too.<br/>He eventually closed the door, having made no attempt to challenge the truth Malfoy’s response. Harry turned around, the decision to trust Malfoy fresh in his mind, properly entering the manor for the first time in a decade.<br/>Behind him, the remaining pile of clothes folded, neatly balancing themselves on the entryway credenza.<br/>Harry stepped aimlessly into the hall, no immediate expectation to find either Malfoy or the kitchen. He pulled on the dress coat, eyes wandering across doorways and arches, the Manor seeming to unfold in every direction, both above and below him. He realized he didn’t recognize the way the Death Eaters had led them through the Manor, only serving to make him hesitate in his steps; the memories of the mantle room were still present in his consciousness.<br/>Pausing in the middle of the room, Harry finished doing the clasps of his coat. In the silence, Harry was able to place the kitchen to his left, mercifully offering up a sense of direction.<br/>"Is that a recommendation?" Harry called, no longer needing the silence to orient himself. His voice wasn’t harsh, though it was a clear attempt to judge the response of Malfoy’s wards.<br/>Harry found the kitchen through the third doorway he encountered. He paused at the doorstep, watching Malfoy. "Or am I locked in?"