It takes an hour, and it takes an hour because Malfoid argues with it for twenty minutes and then stops somewhere she does not admit to.

Mione is not gentle and not careful, and the bed is warm on purpose and the candle is the only light, and the counterpane has been on the floor since nine.

MalfoidI am going to say something and then stop talking. This is the first evening in a year where nobody needs me to be a defendant.

The ledger column takes its first entry at nine minutes to ten: one hour. Corvina writes it down and looks at it before she turns the page.