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[theshabbiestofmen]

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[theshabbiestofmen]

No. Are you all right? Here, come in--

[majestyofthethrone]

[She steps in, already typing-]

I screamed and I don't know, it did something to my head, but it did something even worse-

Anyway. I got stabbed, and then rescued, but I'm all right now. I can even hear properly again.

[theshabbiestofmen]

[His eyes widen; his mouth drops open-- he reaches for her before he can help himself, taking her shoulders.]

Bloody hell, you're-- are you sure? You got stabbed, stabbed by who! Jesus, are you certain you're all right?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks up at him with a look of finally in her eyes. It's been weeks, and people have been worried, but so far it's been a quiet kind of worry and this-]

Godric healed me. Not even a scar.

[She lifts her shirt a little, and her stomach is flat and smooth and woundless.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

[His fingers slip down, brushing gently against her stomach-- and then he jerks his hand back, all at once, because that is not appropriate.]

I'm glad. I mean, I'm-- god. I'm sorry. Who bloody well shot you!

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks up at him, a little surprised, but she doesn't pull back - she just lowers her shirt]

Richard Wilkins. I don't know - anyway, I haven't seen or heard anything, so....

....do you know how to do a finding spell? Is there something like that?

[theshabbiestofmen]

I . . . yes.

[He rubs his face.]

Sort of. It's not-- I can't guarantee anything, but I can try. What are you looking for?

[majestyofthethrone]

My slate. I dropped it, when I got stabbed, I really need it back.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Oh! Oh, gosh. Yes, that should be easy enough to find. Er-- you wouldn't happen to have your pen, would you?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She reaches into her pocket for a piece of chalk, and holds it up, handing it over. This?]

[theshabbiestofmen]

Perfect. Right, let's . . .

[He gestures toward the chalk. There's a soft glow that surrounds it for a few seconds-- and then it fades.]

Right. It's sort of a game of hot and cold right now. Shall we?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She hasn't played Hot and Cold in years, not since she was a little girl, but she nods, and gets her device. Luckily, she's a child of the cell phone era. It takes a little longer than usual, but she can still type with one hand.]

You didn't get hurt during the invasion, did you? I should have asked first.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Perfectly all right. A few Shield charms and well placed hexes, and-- well.

[He shrugs and glances down as they reach the end of the hall. Uncertainly he turns right-- and then, as the glow dims, heads to the left.]

Once we get close enough, I can just summon it to us-- we just need to find, you know, the right floor.

[majestyofthethrone]

Next time I'll just come find you.

[Because on this ship, there's always a next time, isn't there? She doesn't want to ever be stabbed again.]

[theshabbiestofmen]

I should . . . Sirius and James and I ought to work on magical protections. Something that non-magical people can carry around.

[He glances over at her.]

I don't want to see you hurt again.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She reaches for his hand and grips it, squeezing it tight, her fingers snagged around his. It's a way of saying thank you, and of connecting, and of reassuring all at once.

She holds on for a moment before she lets go to type again.]

Well I won't tell you not to worry about me, but I'll do better to stay out of trouble.

[theshabbiestofmen]

Thank you.

[A small smile, and then he nods toward the elevator.]

Up or down?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks at the chalk and points up. She's not sure which floor she was on, but they're bound to find it, and she doesn't think she was below the sixth floor.]