He'd stumbled backwards as the boat lurched, and his focus was suddenly on the way the water began to flow towards them rather than the furniture that was rolling in their direction. Everything was happening at once, and he was still a bit disoriented after being trapped inside the stuffy room and then being thrust out into this nightmare scenario, so when her body suddenly and unexpectedly collided with his he did the first thing he could do: grabbed her upper arms as a means to try and steady himself. He was forced to step back, not just by the force of her body but also the slipperiness of the floor and the rattling of the boat.

His heel slammed into something—it felt like a something metal, maybe a fallen lamp or a candelabra or even a portrait frame—and he began to fall backwards, pulling her down with him. As he hit the ground a shiver ran up his body, the seawater coating the back of his pants and jacket and even his hair, and he let out a loud hiss at the sudden coldness. "Fuck," he yelped, pushing himself up onto his elbows and immediately feeling the soreness in his shoulder. It was the same one he'd hurt in quidditch the previous year; if he'd thought he might escape the shipwreck without needing to see a healer he now knew otherwise, because as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position with her still draped across his lap and chest it was all he could do from whining in pain.

"You could have left it at 'move'," he muttered, running a hand through his now wet hair.

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