There were worse things than a few missing toes, and things could have very easily reached that if not for the sheer miracle they'd experienced seconds before they were set to crash into the snow. They could have lost their noses, entire limbs; they could have lost their lives. He would rest easier knowing she would be able to return to the real world. He didn't know much about her family, but in their short time together in the arctic he'd learned about her room-mate and favorite coworkers.

It seemed it would still be a while before she returned to saw the Auror Office again. "So someone did this on purpose," he concluded dryly. It's what they'd always speculated, but knowing it to be fact somehow made him feel even more bitter. What sorry ass made an attempt on an auror's life? A woman's life? Memories flashed through his mind: of a struggling Fallon, a freezing Fallon, a Fallon who spent half an hour trying to spark a fire. Who would do such a thing?

"They'll be lucky to make it to Azkaban if I get out of here," he said through clenched teeth. "If they think a bludger is a painful way to go, wait until they meet my bat." (It was probably not the best, in theory, to make threats against a person's life to an auror, but she knew him. She knew how he felt.)

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