The stilted little reply was so polite, so expected, that it stabbed at Anthony more than he cared to admit. He was getting frustrated, namely with himself in all of this. Why did he expect anything more of the lady? They’d cut their thread, it shouldn’t feel like a weight: this continued nagging expectation that one of them ought to do something. He’d done enough by this point, thank you. (And yet, the sound of those two little syllables rocketed around in his head cracking the glass around his heart with every reminder. Of course.)

Anthony moved towards the door and didn’t look back as a bid to be careful landed on his shoulders. His face had twisted into something he didn’t dare let Ms. Malfoy see as he crossed the threshold and moved awkwardly back down the bank. The clouds of an early morning fog had begun to darken without his notice. It would likely rain soon if the gust of wind pressing his thin clothes against his frame was any indication. Anthony sighed.

It wasn’t a long trek across the small gorge, especially carrying only his own weight this time, and before long the brunette had reached the scene of the crime. He could clearly see where poor Victoire had taken her tumble, the imprint of her boots leading to the spot a jarring reminder of their reality. If only she’d had the small box he’d tried to give her, perhaps none of this would have happened, he thought bitterly. It was conceited to think her calling him for assistance sooner would have prevented much, but Anthony held onto the thought as his frustration only grew.

Turning away from the footsteps, he made his way towards the horses. Digging around in Ms. Malfoy’s saddle bag for her wand, he was tremendously relieved as his fingers wrapped around it. The thing was cold in his grip, unfriendly much as he imagined its owner was right about now. He tucked it quickly in his back pocket and gathered up the two creatures before turning to make his way back. There was no sense in riding one of the two; with his head as dizzy as it was and irritation beginning to seep into his movements, Anthony didn’t trust himself.

A cold drop hit him square in the forehead then. Blue eyes darted upwards as an expletive followed, another drop and then a third plinking around him. Of bloody course it would rain right now! The brunette huffed and quickened his pace. The sound of water hitting blades of grass was calming as it slowly grew, the trickle of the river beside him adding to the cacophony. By the time Anthony reached the cabin again however, he was soaked through, white dress shirt pressed into his skin. He made quick work of tying the horses to a post just outside before stumbling back over the threshold with a stormy look. “It’s started to rain,” he growled, more to himself than to his companion.

Cold now, Anthony made quick work of stripping his waistcoat. He dropped it with little elegance over one of the crates to dry before making his way towards the dank, dusty fireplace. It took only a single try, his anger channeling into the wand and warning it not to play any tricks, before the thing was lit. Finally, dropping to a crouch before the warm glow and holding out his hands (wand safely tucked into his back pocket again), Anthony sucked in a deep breath and held it. He needed a moment to regain politeness before they called for help. A crack of thunder hit just over the small cabin.

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