"It's no trouble," she replied brightly. "It's the least I can do, since you've helped me out twice now."
Astoria didn't have much experience with being on the run, and she had never lived anywhere worse than the bungalows. She had lived in the Muggle world for a few weeks (which seemed to be a Pureblood rite of passage), but even the worst place that she'd stayed at was a palace in comparison to the bungalows.
"I didn't think anything could be worse than the ferry to Amsterdam," Astoria admitted, her upper lip curling. Uncomfortable plastic seats and loud, bawling children. How did Muggles stand it?