It was quite surreal to enter my old home.
I don't know what I had expected - cobwebs, dust, and darkness, decay. Instead, it was clean, tidy, and in order. Clearly, Severus had maintained it and had been recently in it.
Well, it's my home too, I thought. A quick check in the fridge and pantry meant a shopping trip was in order, but for now, a black coffee and an out-of-date packet of biscuits will have to do!
Filling up the kettle and placing it on the old hob to boil was a mundane thing to do, and one I'd done a million times before, but I was just so happy to be here and have a place to recollect myself.
The kettle whistles, and with the packet of rich tea secured under my arm, I head into the lounge to sit down and relax.
I start nibbling on a biscuit and think, when was the last time I ate?
It must be nearly 24 or 48 hours since I ate. I swallow a couple more and drain the hot drink.
Next stop, I think to myself: a hot shower and change of clothes. The food shop is going to have to wait till tomorrow; I am now beyond tired.
As I stand, I brush the crumbs off my top. A quick check of the locks to the front and back doors, I head upstairs to wash the day away.
I grab a fresh towel out of the airing cupboard and run the water in the shower. Knowing the old pipes need a few minutes to get the water to temperature, I take this time to go into my room. The thought comes to me: have I wondered if he's kept any of my clothes? If not, what am I going to do?
Opening my side of the wardrobe, I felt relief at seeing a few of my items waiting patiently for me. Most of my clothes must still be in the dungeons. My heart aches at that, and I suddenly think I should thank him for this, but I dash the thought away. I can't think about him right now.
Going across the room, I open one of the drawers and remove a pair of my short set pajamas and head back to the bathroom.
The small room is now filled with steam, and I take no time at all to strip and get under the hot spray. The hot water feels amazing. I wash and condition my hair using the homemade set from "he who hurt my feelings." I use an old razor, which, in hindsight, was a bad idea. The blade was rusty, leaving small cuts in its wake.
I finished up and administered a small amount of first aid on my legs. I piled my hair high, quickly dried myself, and made quick work of brushing my teeth. I changed into my clean PJ's, which was another reminder that I hadn't worn these in so long, and wondered who had bought them. Pushing that from my mind, I hung the now damp towel up and headed back into the bedroom to find my hairdryer.
Finding it where I'd last left it, I blast my hair, but it was nowhere near dry. I give up, as at this point, I was completely exhausted.
I pulled back the covers, not even bothering to pull the curtains. I got into bed, and I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
The sun hits my face, and I squint, disoriented as to where I am. I've star-fished in the bed, taking up the entire double bed. I stretch, feeling like I've slept for a thousand years. I lay there for a couple more minutes, gathering myself.
Ran through the last 48 hours until it kind of hurt my head. Remembering I still had to head out for food, I groaned to myself and rolled over!
Trying to ignore the nagging of my bladder, I toss and turn for another few minutes, but now that I'm awake, it won't be silenced. I groan as I get up like an old person, my hips and back aching. Bloody bed, I think. There's nothing wrong with the bed; it's just my body isn't used to sleeping on it anymore. I cross quickly to the bathroom to relieve myself and head down to enjoy another black coffee and the rest of the plain biscuits.
I fill the old kettle and set it to boil once more. I head to the back door, opening it wide to take a look at the garden in the morning light. The garden had been well looked after and had grown significantly since I'd last seen it. All edges and borders were beautifully maintained. The greenhouse at the bottom looked well stocked from this angle. I made a note to go take a look later; there might be something to eat in there, I think.
The kettle starts to whistle, and I leave the door open as I make my hot drink. As I get to the counter and start pouring the boiling water into the cup, a deep voice says, "Is there enough for me?"