She started rambling on, and Lach took that as his cue to go back to drinking. There was so much that could have been done, but nothing that had. There would be people who took his side, who argued the same things she was, but there would be a number of people who put the attention on his carelessness. He'd killed a person, and it was no different than someone whose carriage hit a passerby in poor visibility or whose spell ricocheted and killed a bystander during a formal duel. His career was on the path to a painful, pitiful end.

He took a long sip of his whiskey, emptying the glass in front of him. He needed to face Tilda again in the morning, and he was going to be in a worse condition than he had today. He glanced a sideways glance in Miss Abernathy's direction, just briefly enough to notice her hand on the key he'd sent her, and then her hand was suddenly on him and they'd landed in a pile of wet snow.

"What the fuck," he said, a statement rather than a question. The sudden cold was sobering in a way, and his bloodshot eyes went wide opened. Accusing eyes glanced in Fallon's direction. "What did you do?" Bring him out here until he agreed to stop moping? In the fucking... what was this? He glanced around. The fucking arctic?

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Nausea ripped through her as Fallon struggled up to her feet. A portkey?! The fucking key was a portkey? How had she, or any of the two colleagues she passed the key to to investigate it, not noticed the intricate spellwork that went into creating a portkey? None of the diagnostic charms she cast showed anything other than a simple iron key. And yet, here she was in the fucking tundra with Lachlan MacFusty of all people.

"Nothing," she explained, equally frustrated. "I was looking for my watch to check the time and now we're here." Fallon wasn't about to admit to not having had the key on her person at the start of the day. Lachlan already thought her a poor excuse of an auror, and being unaware of the contents of her pockets wasn't exactly a strike in her favor. "Where here is exactly, I've no bloody idea."

Her thin trousers were soaked through to her underthings, causing her to shiver involuntarily. While she was a master of apparition, she couldn't risk it without knowing how far the portkey had taken them. The further away from the destination, the greater the chances of splinching or death. They had to find a village or shelter of some kind. Something where they could think properly before freezing to death.

She then removed her wand and cast a drying charm on them both. His layers didn't appear to be as thin as her own, but the water would freeze at any rate. "We need to find shelter," she told him. The years of training had prepared her for such misadventures, or so she hoped. Fallon turned from him and scanned the mostly flat surface. A broom would be bloody useful right about now, for at least then they'd be able to fly to the tiny hill on the horizon. However, asking him for a broom after the day he had wasn't in her best interest, either. "That's probably our best bet. Were you any good at charms? I can make your clothes warmer if that's alright with you." It would be a long trek if he had to deal with ice in his boots.

Merlin, Fallon hoped they didn't freeze to death.

  

So this wasn’t her doing—at least not directly. It figured that something like this would happen; it was the universe’s way of making him suffer for causing such suffering. (And they had to pair him with Miss Abernathy, probably the last person he’d fare with in the arctic tundra. He’d give it five minutes before she stomped off, annoyed with him about something.)

Luckily any urge she might have had to pick a fight with him was suppressed by her impeccable survival skills, he thought with a mental eye roll. She would lead them through the ice like she had through the train: with a bossy attitude and her snappy tongue.

“Don’t rely on me for magic unless a giant polar bear tries to take a bite out of your backside,” he said, getting a flashback of his god-awful NEWT scores. A P in Charms—who gets a P in Charms? “I don’t use my wand regularly. I’m a bit rusty.”

At least she was somewhat useful. He couldn’t remember the incantation to dry clothes.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Well, that was both not surprising and a disappointment all in one breath. What sort of wizard didn't use his wand regualarly anyway?

Right, it was now her sole responsibility to make sure they survived this. Fallon made quick work of transforming their clothes. Thick furs took the place of her summer blazer, heavy boots replaced her water logged shoes. She would have to recast the magic eventually, but it would hold up until they found somewhere safe at least.

"Awesome," she muttered bitterly and gestured towards the hill. "We should get moving. The effects of prolonged exposure aren't ones I want to deal with presently." Healing wasn't her specialty. Fallon knew the basic first aid, could patch herself up in a hurry if need be, but hypothermia and the likes weren't conditions she was trained to deal with.

  

Lachlan watched as she mumbled spells to change their clothes. Typical British winters saw little snow and were mild most years, and rarely did he have to wear anything other than an extra coat. Now both he and Miss Abernathy donned furs that had to be a third of his weight, and his old boots were now lined with a similar texture. He let out a deep sigh, watching as his breath appeared in front of him. If he died out here, at least he’d fee it justified.

“Better freeze than burn,” he said, recounting to burn marks he’d watched Tilda and his mother patch up over the years from an overexcited dragon. “Do we even know where 'here' is?” he asked.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Burning would be a quick death, much unlike freezing. Were Fallon wanting to spark an argument she might have made that distinction more clear. However, her focus was entirely on surviving at this point. The rest they could debate later.

"No. Northern Russia, maybe. Possibly the Artic. I'm not sure." Merlin, she hoped it was the former. It being this cold and snowy wasn't making her hopeful, though. Even countries as far north as Russia experienced some sort of summer. "Could be further than that." Somewhere in the southern hemisphere, maybe. The untraveled mountains of South America, maybe? Though the terrain was too flat to suggest a mountain range.

Fallon pulled the heavy coat further around herself as a strong gust of wind blew between them. "I'll get you home, though. I promise."

  

Northern Russia? The Arctic? His eyes would have widened if they physically could have without burning in the freezing wind. Who the fuck would make a portkey here? And for what reason? The tundra was absolutely bare, with no semblance of civilization in sight—and no people, either. Had the key always been a portkey? And if so, who would have turned it into one? (Surely it couldn't have been done legally; the Ministry kept tabs on those ones.)

"I'm not saying that I want to die out here, but I am saying there's perks of not having to go back home," he joked, though he couldn't pretend there wasn't any sourness behind his words. He could see the headlines now: "Lachlan MacFusty kills a person and then vanishes into thin air". What a coward they'd think him.

"And even if you could figure out where we are," he said, glancing around in search of anything—lights, people, camps, a cave, "I'm not sure you'd be able to find out how to get home. You can't exactly apparate back to Britain, and I doubt there's a fireplace anywhere nearby." Though how he was longing for one right about now.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

It wasn't that Fallon was unsympathetic to what Lachlan was currently suffering through. He had led to the accidental death of an innocent, of course he wouldn't be particularly inclined to return to the aftermath of that. However, any mindset other than sheer determination and survival was going to lead to their deaths. He might be willing to die, but Fallon could never do that to Kieran or Malou, not without forewarning them at least. Plus, she would never find out who JH was, and that was perhaps the greatest mystery of her life.

She stopped them in their tracks and stared up at him, her gaze bordering that of a glare. "Look, I understand you suffered a trauma today, and I'm in no way denying you your feelings. But, if we have any hope of making it to someplace that isn't here -" she gestured towards the barren land, " - all focus has to be on that. As soon as we find somewhere out of the bloody wind you can have your feelings again."

She didn't want to think about what would happen if they didn't find any hint of civilization. "There has to be something. Even a muggle village would suffice. We'll just keep going until we reach that." Fallon continued on as they began walking again. Damn, she was fucking cold.

Moving towards the hill had proved to be the right choice, for there stood the entrance to a small cave. What sort of critters lived in the cave, though, she wouldn't dare to guess.

  

She had a point, but that didn't mean it was flawless. They could wander around forever, but then what? What if they never stumbled across what she was looking for? He was no geography expert, but he didn't think muggle settlements popped up ever five miles in most icy, remote regions of the Earth.

"And what if the muggle settlement is two miles that way?" he asked, pointing behind them. "What if we're walking in that way and there's nothing? What if we hit the ocean? Discover we're on a crackling glacier?" She didn't want him to have doubts, but that was all he could have. She might have been an auror, but that didn't make her an expert on everything.

"I know you take your job seriously—and trust me, I'd rather be here with an auror than Beckett Longbottom," he said, briefly wondering how many NEWTs the poor bloke had, "but that doesn't mean you can do and know everything. We need to plan, Abernathy."

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

"What the bloody hell do you think I'm doing?!" She nearly shouted, her temper flaring in a way it hadn't in years. "Just meandering through the snow, all willy nilly like?!" They needed to find shelter, somewhere outside of the blistering wind, and then — and only then — they could think of a more formalized plan. Once they had a fire to warm them that wouldn't be immediately extinguished by the wind.

She kept moving towards the cave she had spotted, her wand drawn and at the ready. Without gloves her fingers would be frozen stiff in the matter of minutes, but hopefully they wouldn't be out here that long. "There's a cave right there, once we're somewhere safe, then we can figure out where the bloody hell to go. I'm just as lost as you are here, MacFusty."

  

Lachlan shut his mouth and shook his head. No, arguing with her wasn't the way to go. He knew how to deal with fiery tempers, but usually that meant turning his back on a cousin and wandering back towards his family home. Here, there was no where he could go. They would go to the cave, he would try to make a plan with her, and then they'd stumble around until they died of exposure (or until they found their way home. He still wasn't sure how that would happen).

"Fine, just—go," he said, motioning towards the cave. Never had Lach stepped foot inside a cave before, and he hoped they offered the warmth every story claimed they did. He needed somewhere to lie down; his vision was beginning to blur.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

The cave was, miraculously, empty — save for some rather large bear droppings that would stink to high heaven when burned, but would be used as a last resort. The den-like hideaway shielded them from the worst of the wind, at least, so Fallon couldn't complain too much. Without the wind blistering her face she could think more clearly, and each thought was more frightening than the last.

If they were in the tundra, then there was little hope of finding civilization and managing to get home. Lachlan was right in this regard, not that Fallon was about to inform him of that. If she could find a piece of wood, a twig even, she could charm it into a broom. Granted, the broom likely wouldn't get them far, but it would be easier than walking across the snow. However, if they weren't in the tundra, then someone had to be nearby. Be it the person who forced her into coming here (someone had dropped the key under her badge to begin with, after all) or a random muggle village. There had to be something, otherwise she and Lachlan were doomed.

Fallon remained silent as she worked and got a fire going for them. The tips of her fingers were already beginning to turn blue. Fuck. The little fabric they had between them had already been charmed into being warmer clothes. Fallon couldn't pick a pair of gloves out of thin air, not even the strongest wizard could.

"It should be light, soon," she stated quietly after peeking at her pocket watch. It was nearing three in the morning. Surely, if they were anywhere near the poles it would already be light out. Unless they were in Antarctica, at which point Fallon would just decide to keel over and die. "You should rest for a bit. As soon as it's light we'll have a better idea of where we are." She hoped.

  

Caves were not all Lachlan thought they would be. Drier than the outside but just as cold, they provided little comfort for his numb hands and chattering teeth. At this rate, they'd be dead before the morning came.

Work was easier than conversation, so he worked dutifully to get the fire started alongside her, stacking what twigs he could find scattered around the cave in the small pile they'd managed. He handed her a rock; it was no flint, but maybe she knew better than him how to get a fire started out of practically nothing. MacFusty survival skills were perfect for braving the summer climate against three toddling dragons, but not against subzero temperatures.

It was impossible to say how much time it took, because physical work often brought a sweat to his brow and there was no sweat to be had in temperatures like this. He'd wandered the perimeter of the cave at least ten times before he gave up and settled down near a rock while she worked on starting the physical fire. What were the odds of him falling asleep?

"There's no way we're going to manage to rest like this," he said quietly, trying to wiggle his toes to make sure they were still there. Everything was too cold, far too cold. A bare palm brushed against the floor and he recoiled; it seemed the cold could burn worse than fire.

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Fallon snagged two twigs from the pile and stashed them within her pocket. It would take dedicated thought to charm them into a broom (if it was at all possible) but was worth the effort. She took the offered stone and glared at the pile of debris. No fire was going to be hot enough to keep them from freezing tonight. Still, it had to be done. Not bothering to use the rock, Fallon used her wand to create a spark, watching in grateful awe as a small flame flickered. Perhaps she could transfigure the rock into something flammable...

She sagged back onto her heels. Right now the pair had a respectable amount of distance between them. However, if there was any hope of not freezing they needed to conserve as much energy as possible...which meant possibly sharing body heat. Merlin. He was going to think this was all some ploy.

"We have to," Fallon stated. The adrenaline rush was beginning to subside, and with it the exhaustion that accompanied stress crept in. What she would give for a pepper up potion right about now. Fallon cast a warming charm on the floor beneath them. It wouldn't take all the chill away, but it'd make it so it didn't burn to touch. Still, she kept her hands buried in the furs of her pockets whenever possible. "If we - hm - if we get closer we'll be able to save more energy for the trek in the morning." Ideally, one would remove their jacket and she could make it into a blanket of sorts. Fallon would have to recast the charm often throughout the night, but at least they wouldn't freeze. "I realize it's improper, but I really don't want to die out here."

  

She was much better at magic than him, he noted as she managed to light the twigs. The fire was small, but the warmth could be felt from feet away. He'd never take the feeling of sweat dripping down the back of his neck for granted, that was for sure. He crossed his arms over her chest as he watched her seat herself a good six feet away from him. I felt so odd—sitting here, freezing cold in the middle of a cave in the arctic tundra, and yet they still sat far apart with a tension beneath them. Isn't this the part in most stories where the tension began slipping away? Only here it was worse than ever.

The suggestion that they get closer did not provide any relief from the tension. He was very particular about who he touched, women especially; he disliked touching as a rule, even without the physical affection he was so averse to. Yet he understood the necessity from a survival standpoint and beckoned her over.

"Come," he said quietly, hoping the addition of body heat and extra furs would provide momentary relief from the sting of the arctic cold, "I'm not certain, but I think sleeping beside an unmarried woman would be the least scandalous thing I've done today."

---

  

---

— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Relieved he accepted her suggestion without complaint, Fallon shrugged off her jacket and shifted closer to him. The only man she'd ever slept this close to was Kieran, and they were children at the time. In fact, Fallon hadn't shared a bed (or cave floor) with anyone since her last summer before graduating. "Thanks," she murmured as she nervously settled in next to him.

She made quick work of charming her jacket into a heavier blanket to cover over them. So long as she stayed near him and beneath the blanket she wouldn't freeze to death. Or so she thought.

"Does it count as sleeping with an unmarried woman if both parties don't sleep?" She then asked as a weak attempt to diffuse the tension. Someone had to stay awake to keep their clothes from transforming back into their lighter summer layers, and considering Lachlan was rusty, it had to be her.