Rowan didn’t need to turn around to see where his gaze had gone over her shoulder. Act of insanity number 394 of the night: being able to think of such intimate things as the feeling of his hand splayed across her back whilst there was a bloody corpse behind them, expiring as they spoke. Feeling the squelching grip of nausea clutch at her again, she could only swallow and nod silently.

In truth, she didn’t want to leave separately. There wasn’t any way she’d be able to leave here, go back home and somehow try and get rid of Grayson’s clothes right under his nose. Sleep tonight was going to be difficult, especially the thought of confronting trying to remember what had happened between her and Walter earlier in the night; and she was suddenly faced with the overwhelming urge to dive into Malfoy’s arms once more, as if that would draw a curtain over the nightmares that would plague her for the foreseeable future.

“Alright. We’ll do that. What you just said.” Her words came haltingly, like a clogged pipe sputtering to life. It was time to summon one last bout of iron-clad will in order to proceed; to turn around to face what was behind her: Walter’s blank gaze staring up at the dripping sky. But now facing the prone body just a few feet ahead of them, Rowan’s feet had grown roots with gravity beckoning her knees to buckle. “Malfoy.” She muttered, her voice surprisingly steady as she stared at the body. “I need you to push me forward.” She hoped that was enough, else he might need to drag her, and she wasn’t entirely positive he was going to be able to do that given his previous reaction. Merlin help them if he wasn’t able to start what they needed to finish.

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