"Sorry to barge in! Just wanted to ensure all was we—"

A ghost freezing in place looks rather different than a living person doing so. This is because all that lies behind them—household staff, ticking clocks, feral dogs, et. al.—remains visible through their translucent form, not dissimilarly to a sheer curtain. With his head and shoulders through the closed door to his friend's study, however, and the rest of him on the other side, Herbert looked particularly comical, his mouth and eyes wide in surprise.

He would have blushed, had he still had blood.

Merit and Fortuna Cresswell had arrived at the Fudges' home for an early dinner before the performance of Chinese acrobats at the resort that evening. Their father, they had said, was unwell, and so, much though he wished to see the performance, Herbert had felt it his duty to check on his friend at home, and perhaps fetch one of the Doctors Pomfrey if so needed.

He had never expected to find his dearest friend since childhood being tended to by another fellow, both in various states of undress.

A second, or perhaps a lifetime (he could not tell) passed before Herbert quite awkwardly phased back through the closed door (Doors closed for a reason, he reminded himself vaguely), his non-existent heartbeat loud in his ears.