Slytherin sparks

Without

11am safe house

The girls slammed down, landing uncomfortably in a small chalet, bungalow.
"That happened way too fast for my liking." Syd grumbled, rubbing at her sore head. Iris was speechless, to interested in her surroundings. She stood up slowly, analysing. The walls were a dark oak, and it was cosy, small. She wandered around, peering into each room, as Syd followed. There was a small kitchen, wooden countertops, and low lighting with a large window that looked out along fields of wheat. The bright light sun was shining through to light up the metal pots and pans that hung above their heads.
In the middle of the kitchen was a small oak table, an empty vase in the centre. Two chairs.
Syd set to work at boiling some water over the stove, "I'll make some tea." She suggested, peering into the cupboards that had obviously been recently filled with supplies.

"I'm going to check out the other rooms." Iris smiled, leaving Syd searching through the kitchen cupboards. She walked back through into the main room, still small, but big enough she supposed. This was where they had landed, but she hadn't had enough time to take it all in. It had two small sofas placed around a coffee table that was decorated with a small coffee table cloth. Light blue and white crossed material, she rubbed it between her fingers, it looked handmade. There was a tall yellow lamp beside the sofa and she flicked it on.

She wondered over toward a small painting on the wall, it certainly looked handpainted. Vibrant and beautiful all the same, hung up in a frame that was decorated with shells. In the corner of the sitting room was a small book shelf. Iris ran her fingers over every book. None of which she recognised.
Next, she peered into the bathroom. It was small, and again, decorated with shells. She hoped the shower water would be warm. Before she left, she eyed at herself in the mirror that was framed in shells. Again. God did she look rough. Tired, thin, and her hair was a mess. She quickly shut the door behind her and would remind herself to avoid her reflection for a little while.

There were two doors left, she assumed bedrooms. They both looked pretty much identical, except one had a double bed. Really they were box rooms, barely enough space for the bed side table and small chest of draws. Searching through the draws she discovered they were filled with clothes of all sorts. As she opened it, it smelt of clean fresh linen. She longed to change her clothes that noticeably were sticking to her skin.

"Iris! Tea!" Syd shouted from the other room, and Iris walked out of the bedroom and back out into the kitchen. Syd was stood staring out of the window, clutching her little china cup.
"Malfoy picked a good location, you have to agree. It's nice to just take a step back from Hogwarts for a while." She sat down and urged Iris to do the same, "It was so bloody suffocating. Watching people die who you've grown up with. Even the pissing Gryffindors." She smiled but it was sad, if you looked close enough you could see them glaze over, it certainly wasn't the Syd that she was used to. The war had broken her, everyone.

A few moments of silence passed, sipping at tea, before Syd spoke again. "Did Lucius hurt you- at the manor?"
"Not really, I mean it was horrible. I was tramatised, scared, but the only damage really done was this cut on my wrist." She pointed to the large scar and Syd gasped.
"It's ok, Malfoy had his hands on me before he could do much more damage. One night in the dungeons and then he had me back up in his bedroom, pretty much as soon as his parents had left. Only I still didn't remember then, so I was wary of him. Of course."
Syd smiled, "Luckily he did erase your memory. I'm sure Lucius searched it when he brought you there?"
"Yes. He found nothing. Must've thought Pansy was a damn good liar." They both laughed.
"You know," Syd continued, "I always knew Parkinson would be the one to fuck it all up. Too obsessed with that boy for her own good."
Iris pondered on perhaps telling her about the arranged marriage before deciding that this was something to keep to herself. After all Malfoy had resured her that it was something of a mention years ago. God did it bother her though, of course it had to be perfect fucking pureblood Parkinson.