"Merlin, this is dismal," she groaned, lighting the magical lamps in the large office. At least they hadn't sentenced her to the loo-sized office that had once been the doom of the potions professor. Gloomy as it was, it was spacious. The furniture looked as though it had been cast offs from other professors who had used the pieces well past any respectability.
"Oh for the love of..." she sighed. "This will not do." She transfigured the pieces to at least resemble something in decent shape. She set cleaning spells in place and spent some time organizing the space to fit her own needs. She wanted it to be practical but not uncomfortable.
She wrote a quick owl and looked at the little elf owl that seemed to favor sitting a perch on the corner of the desk. "Lorcan D'Eath," she told the owl and opened the cellar window. The little bird left with a soft flutter. She was sending to her husband a list of new furniture pieces and some suitable artwork and décor that she required and wanted delivered to her as soon as possible. The quicker she got these dustbin refugees out of here, the better.
Hufflepuff would not respond well to the stark coldness of a cellar potions lab for their head of house. Hufflepuffs seemed to need more connection to others, more relationship, a bit more warmth that potions jars would afford. If Lorcan expected her to reach for it, then she certainly expected him to reach into his accounts.