The Spare

Chapter Five:

The next morning I wake to a splitting headache. I roll over in bed, looking for the time on the bedside table and I gasp when I see my glasses, placed right in front of the clock.

I frantically reach for it, afraid it was going to disappear if I waited any longer. They slide onto my face, and the familiarity is instantly comforting. They wouldn't help the headache I already had, but they would come less often now.

In the bathroom, I check the door to his room to see if it could be locked from the bathroom side. A sigh of relief when I see a latch only accessible from this side.

Now with assured privacy, I give the room a once over: looking in the shower, the medicine cabinet, and the storage under the sink. There is an in-wall shelf with folded towels. The medicine cabinet has the over the counter pain meds I usually use for these kinds of headaches, and I find an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink. I make quick use of these, nearly gagging on my enthusiasm to ingest drugs and clean my teeth.

Besides quick glances, I avoid looking in the mirror. I know if I look too closely, I'll start picking at my skin. Even at 24, some days I have the skin of a teenager. Now that my facial hair is gone though... hm, I guess that does reassure me the slightest bit. One less thing to worry about.

When I'm ditching the simple white dress, I remember what the Healer said about my wound. I suppose it's been a few days. While I wait for the shower water to warm up, I peel off the bandage. The bruising looks like it had gotten worse since I'd last seen it. I gently press my fingers into the discoloration for a moment. It doesn't hurt, just a dull ache. The laceration is still scabbed over.

I don't care to keep track of how long I'm in the shower. It's too heavenly to rush. Long after every little crevice is scrubbed raw, the water finally runs cold, and I dry off. I finally leave the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that barely closed.

I stand for a moment in the middle of the bedroom. I was too excited by the idea of getting clean that I didn't check to see if I had any clean clothes to change into. Checking the wardrobe, it is indeed stocked with its purpose. If anything will fit... that's a different problem.

Surprisingly, it's overflowing with clothes. New clothes. T-shirts, blouses, leggings... even underwear and socks. I pull open a drawer and find multiple bras. I grab comfortable looking underthings, a t-shirt, and leggings.

Another sigh of relief – everything fits. I doubt Malfoy went shopping for me personally, but I'm extremely grateful for whoever did.

Once I'm dressed, I can't prolong my curiosity any longer. I creep out of the bedroom, and tiptoe down the stairs. The door to his room is closed. It was noon when I woke, so I suspect he's been awake far longer than I have.

Throughout my exploration of the house, I'm... disturbed by the layers of dust I find on almost everything. Like whoever lived here died and no one came to collect what was left behind. Of course, given who owns this house now, that's probably what happened. The old lady was killed, and now I'm here in her place.

I think the thing that surprises me the most are all of the No-Maj objects I find. Light switches, electronics, household appliances... Why would someone who hates them live in one of their houses? It makes me wonder how much choice he had in the matter.

After exploring the kitchen, living room, closets, and a small office, I'm relieved to not find him in any of these spaces. So I decide what my first task is. If he wants me to cook and clean, then I will. If anything, just to keep myself busy.

First, the living room. I vacuum, dust, grab things that look like they could use a wash, and throw them into a pile. I make sure to be gentle with the figurines and picture frames littered throughout. Smiling, unmoving pictures of people from decades ago.