As his hand came down on the gate, so did hers, and she gripped the posts as her knees threatened to give away. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, demanding some sort of explanation that she herself had little words to conjure up. Was she grateful that she finally had her earring back? That was entirely dependent upon the method that had been used to acquire it in the first place. Paying him back would take time, certainly, but it could be done. So not only did she need to pay Angie back, but she also needed to pay Malfoy back. Rowan angled her gaze downwards, still refusing to meet his eyes, which were undoubtedly still searching for some sort of answer.

I'm very grateful. She wanted to say, watching her breath forming in front of her in white clouds as the night continued to descend on the horizon. But the words seemed trapped in her throat. How was this time different from when he'd stopped Walter from starting a fight on the night of the Minister's Ball? She had been in disguise, of course.

Well, how cowardly.

The arm that he gripped was the one that held tightly to the pearl earring, and she wrenched it from his grasp as she felt a wave of indignation settle over her. She thrust the gate back open and broke through to continue down the path. "I can't pay you back immediately." Was what came out of her mouth as she walked down the path. "It'll take some time, but you should have it soon enough." The expression that was on her face as she whirled around to face him wasn't of indignation though, but of intense relief as her heart thudded in her chest. "I am grateful, Malfoy." The tears that had threatened to spill over in the shop finally pooled in her eyes and she swiped at them, aggravated. "I can't tell you how -" How was he to know that the men who had threatened her last time, and this time had resembled the exact men that Maisie had been attacked by? How then, was she to explain that it wasn't indignation towards him that she felt, but anger at how much fear had overtaken her in that shop?

The words to explain herself suddenly faded from her mouth and Rowan looked helplessly around, as if they would appear in the air for her to read off of. When no such thing came to her aid, Rowan sighed, feeling her heartbeat recede and she suddenly felt extremely tired. "Thank you." She said wearily, giving into the sudden exhaustion and collapsing uncerimoniously onto a nearby bench. She folded her hands in her lap, opening them to see the little pearl still there, sitting for all the world as if it had been the easiest thing to hold onto.

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He'd asked for a thank you, and for once he hadn't asked with the intention to guilt her into giving more than that. His brows furrowed at the mention of money. If she'd been unable to pay for a wand or been so desperate to sell the earring for less than its value, why would be expect her to find the money in the future? Moreover, what gave her the impression that he'd demand to be paid back?

He wasn't sure, and honestly he couldn't say he had even an inkling of what was going through her mind. Clearly the men had mistreated her—an understatement, really—and clearly she felt ashamed either for her own finances or his help or something, but he couldn't figure out what part of it was bringing her to the point of tears. And then finally the thank you came, but by the time it left her mouth he'd decided he probably should have let her go on her way without demanding anything in return.

Raphael was not the sort of person who excelled in comforting the dejected—in fact, it was much easier for him to convince himself that the male sex as a whole was terrible at handling other's emotions than it was for him to come to terms with his own lack of sensitivity. But in that moment it was difficult not to acknowledge how uncomfortable he was, how intimidating the prospect of comforting her was.

"I don't want money," he said stiffly, sinking into the seat next to her. "It was a favor. And if you'd like to pay me back... promise me a favor in the future."

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set by lady <3

As she felt him sit down next to her, she turned to look at him. Her stomach turned as she saw the discomfort on his face and turned back away from him, wiping her eyes again. Merlin she must look like a fright. But then again, since when did she care about her appearance in front of Malfoy of all people? "A favor." She repeated incredulously, scoffing. "A favor for what, I hardly have done anything for you, except perhaps thrown one too many insults at you." Truth be told, had she not felt so exhausted, she likely would have never wanted to admit the twinge of remorse she felt at the various insults she'd hurled at him in the past.

Rowan held the pearl between her thumb and forefinger, turning it over. Feeling the smooth surface against her skin felt soothing, and she continued to hold the pearl as she looked at Malfoy again. He was asking for a blank cheque, in other words. Merlin, she would likely regret this in the future: "What sort of favor?" She finally asked, after searching his gaze for a moment.

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He tried to ignore the fact that she was crying. It would make things much easier if she wasn't. The tears, the congestion in her voice, the way she sniffled every other word—it was yet another thing that failed to align with his image of her, and he hated it. He hated to think about her feelings, to think that under her indignant and stubborn exterior there was a real woman under there who he'd mocked and taunted and messed with. But even though he hated it he couldn't deny it, and even more so he couldn't deny that he hated seeing her upset.

"You did save my life." Twice, he thought. Maybe more than that if he counted little individual actions. He didn't vocalize it. "Although I hope we're in no situation anytime soon that requires that sort of favor," he admitted, offering her a half-smile. "But I'm not sure. Nothing unreasonable." According to his standards, at least.

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set by lady <3

She nearly scoffed again. Nearly. But upon further reflection, Rowan knew that when she'd seen that it was Malfoy on that shipwreck, a part of her became infinitely more scared. The job she'd been so professional at since then had become marginally more personal. Even if Malfoy had tormented her, he was still someone she knew. And knowing someone on the case always made things more personal. "With our history of near-death experiences, I wouldn't hold your breath, Malfoy." She responded, a hint of a dry tone seeping back into her voice as she took another deep breath.

As much as he antagonized her (and she, him) Rowan had a hard time imagining that he would actually ask any thing horribly taxing of her, or compromising. But she still hesitated in giving her answer. While helping her get her earring back had helped a great deal, there was the small matter that she wasn't sure how much she trusted him. "Nothing unreasonable." She echoed softly. "Unreasonable as in Splitter's request." It wasn't a question. But it slipped out, and Rowan then felt her cheeks grow hot as she realized what she'd just hung in the air between them.

This night was not getting much better.

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Raphael didn't even want to consider that they might see more near-death experiences in the future; it was all he could do to mask his anxiety with an overly-dramatic roll of his eyes. He would definitely make sure none of their future experiences, good or bad, included water—he'd already reviewed the rest of the quidditch matches for the rest of the season and made a point to remove from his schedule the ones that were being played near any body of water larger than a simple lake. No bays, no seas, no oceans—he couldn't do it.

None of the favors he'd considered had crossed into the territory of anything Splitters might have suggested, and the mere reminder of it caused his nostrils to flare. "No," he said automatically, "nothing like that." It was true that he'd visited whore houses and been pushy with less reputable ladies he thought were playing hard-to-get, but never had he ever considered blackmailing or forcing a woman—gentile or low-born—into something as vile, so dehumanizing.

"The favor," he said, suddenly shaking his head as if he thought it would rid his mind of the resurfacing images of a kneeling Yaxley and Splitters in the back room of the pawn shop, "Don't think too much about it. It's just a thought."

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set by lady <3

She almost wanted to laugh at his reaction. Looking back at their interactions, she’d never seen him so…well, normal. Everything she’d seen had been a rather carefully curated image that she’d suspected had been by design. Perhaps the fact that she’d shed a few tears had done it. That mixed with bringing back up Splitter’s…threat….well, what was she to do? Break down more and make him even more uncomfortable?

Rowan sighed resignedly. “Very well.” she replied, her hand coming up to push a stray lock of hair off her cheek. “If you need a favor, you shall have it.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she had the distinct feeling she would come to regret it.

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He felt his heart give a little flutter and told himself that it was from surprise. He hadn't though she'd accept his request without argument; in fact, he expected some long tangent about how he wasn't trustworthy, how she didn't want to do anything for him or spend any time around him that wasn't necessary. He knew they'd had their moments of understanding during the past few months, but he was reluctant to believe that her adolescent disdain for him would be overcome by shared near-death experiences.

"Good," he said, nodding to himself. Now he would have to figure out what sort of favor he might want—or maybe it was best saved for a more unplanned moment. He wasn't sure. He'd decide later.

"Should I... escort you home?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he offered more out of politeness than any real desire.

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set by lady <3

Rowan’s eyes widened in panic, and she nearly leapt up in protest. The idea of him visiting her home, having her family ask questions about who she was with - well, she would sooner admit to him that she had been the woman he danced with at the Ministry Ball. “I -” She began, though the words died in her throat as a shadow down the lane caught her eye. She peered over Malfoy’s shoulder, her expression apprehensive.

It was one of Splitter’s lackey’s. Heart flying into her throat, Rowan seized Malfoy’s hand, stuffing the pearl into her pocket with the other. “We need to leave.” Her tone was urgent as she gripped his hand in hers and began running as a shout from behind them reached her ears.

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He expected her to say no. He wanted her to say no. Another moment spent with her while she was in such an emotional state was another moment where his image of her would be yet again warped. It was more comfortable to suffer in silence with her—or even to bicker with her—than it was to exist in a state of neutrality.

But then she grabbed his hand. His hand instinctively flinched at the same moment that his heart skipped a beat, but before he could pull away or protest or ask why she'd done it she'd already answered his question. Their time spent together in mortal peril had conditioned him, apparently; he was immediately on his feet and following her, no questions asked.

Only after a few steps did he look back at his shoulder. Splitter's lackey. It was Nottingham, wasn't it? Or Northam. He wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he had no intention of running through Hogsmeade in such an undignified way being chased by some low-life.

He removed his wand and, squeezing her hand tightly, disapparated.

A moment later, they reappeared on the other side of the square between what he knew to be the local whorehouse masquerading as a tea shop and another business he'd never bothered to learn the name of. He wasn't sure why he'd brought them there—maybe it was because the image of Splitters using Yaxley in a way he didn't want to think about hadn't left his mind as he'd hoped—but he was glad women generally weren't aware of its true purpose.

"Merlin, they really don't like you, do they?" were the first words out of his mouth as he leaned against the side of the building, finally releasing her hand.

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set by lady <3

This couldn’t be happening. Just when she thought they’d made it away, he’d sent someone after them. To do what, Rowan didn’t want to stay and find out - she had hoped to get some distance between them before they apparated but Malfoy seemed to have the same idea. She felt his hand squeeze hers a moment before she was sucked into darkness. Rowan made sure to grip his hand tightly and keep her mind blank. The last thing they needed was a splinching accident.

A splash of cool night air on her cheeks told her they’d arrived, and she took a breath, pressing her back against the building in an attempt to keep herself alert. The coolness of the stone encouraged her to slow her breathing, and she swallowed, turning her gaze to him. She wanted to laugh, but the threat of Maisie’s attackers and the similarities between the two loomed too much in her mind for her to be able to do so. “No they don’t.” she responded quietly, lifting her shoulder to turn and face the wall. She leaned her forehead against the stone and took another slow breath. She didn’t want to admit she was scared of them. After all, what could Malfoy do? No, it would be best to tell someone else, Angie perhaps, or Zelda.

Instead of responding further, Rowan lifted her head to gaze around them. They were somewhere in Hogsmeade - some shop, it looked like, though her eyes were still adjusting to the dim light now that night had fallen. “Where are we?” She wondered, peering past him to see the sign that had been hung up.

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"Do you always make enemies so quickly?" was the second thing that came out of his mouth, fueled less by any real sincerity but rather a desire to show how exasperated the ordeal had made him. He didn't like running except for exercise, and he much less enjoying running from someone, a circumstance their last two encounters had been entirely devoid of. But he leaned back against the cool brick and took a breath, trying to wrap his mind around everything while simultaneously trying to slow his mind (a noble endeavor, however unsuccessful) and eventually he concluded that there was no use in bickering about it. Clearly the men didn't like her and thought she'd wronged them, and clearly they saw him as an enabler of sorts, and so... here they were.

"We're—" He looked to the streets, pausing before continuing his sentence. He couldn't very well tell her the reality, but he'd gotten so accustomed to just talking with her that it nearly slipped right out. "The tea shop. It's the first place I thought of."

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set by lady <3

She shot a look at him, a flare of annoyance rising quickly and she pushed off the wall before she could snap at him. It wasn't the response he deserved after having just bought her the earring and transporting them here away from Splitters' lackeys. Even if the pair to the earring in her pocket had been long lost. To make up for the lack of her bitten response to him, she sighed heavily. In the cold of the descending night her breath billowed in clouds in front of her and she walked through them to peer up at the tea shop sign.

The Painted Lady.

The Painted Lady — the memory of her father's voice speaking of this place her came rushing back and she recoiled. Her father had warned her about what he'd heard of the tea shop; a place where the women of society went gathered at by day, while the shadows of the night rolled over to reveal something more....lascivious. Rowan drew herself up and she glared at him. "I'm sure it's the first place you thought of." She said as the wave of annoyance she'd previously felt for him finally overcame her. "And what, pray tell, was the reason for why you thought of it?"

She'd gone still, her gaze boring into him demanding an answer.

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The tone of her voice triggered a rage so deep within him that it hardly touched his features. His chest constricted and his jaw tightened, and all he wanted to do was yell. After paying for her earring, for following her out of the shop and helping her escape from the lackeys at the pawn shop, this is how she wanted to treat him? Clearly she wasn't very grateful after all.

But he didn't say anything. Just as his chest was tight, so was his windpipe, and he was certain that if he tried to speak he'd either swallow his tone or let out a—probably embarrassing—noise of annoyance. Instead he rolled his eyes and turned towards the street, scanning the groups of people in search of the two men who'd been chasing them before. They weren't there. Not yet.

The silence stretched out over a minute's time, and finally he felt his chest relax and his throat loosen. He turned back to look at her. "Why should I not take us to a tea shop?" he asked, brows raised, as if challenging her to reveal that her mind was far less pure than those of women of her station were expected to be. (He already knew it had to be when she'd spoke of the favors the pawn shop owner had asked of her, but what woman wanted to admit that they knew the Painted Lady was a whorehouse? Maybe she'd shut up about it. Maybe she wouldn't. It was Rowan Yaxley after all.)

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set by lady <3

Though she hadn't seen the flash of fury in his eyes, she could see him tense and so she felt her own body do the same despite the nausea that threatened to come back. Her eyes flickered back up to the sign and a seed of doubt planted itself into the pit of her stomach. What if Papa was wrong, and she'd just accused him of something horribly lecherous? He'd saved her, of that there was no doubt.

It was almost worse that he took his time answering. Rowan could only hear herself breathing, could see the condensation of her breath hanging in the air in large clouds. She watched his eyes rake over the dwindling figures in the street, likely for some sign of Splitters' men.

His response landed in front of her and she immediately knew it for what it was. A challenge in the form of a shell that would explode in her face either way she tried to avoid it. He was infuriating. This was infuriating. He may have had more money than her entire family but, despite all that her father had done to their family, there was no way she would be tricked into believing that he was a liar.

But damn Malfoy to hell, the withering stare he cast her way nearly had her convinced that she'd accused him of something he wasn't guilty of. Even though her resolve on the matter had only hardened, she wasn't about to make this easier for him. "Oh, I do apologize Mr. Malfoy," She snapped. "Were you hoping to take your charity case for a night on the town and show everyone just how benevolent you can be?" Her voice hardened, and her hands had balled up into fists.

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He felt himself slipping—not into despair, and not into anger, no, but into his old habits, his own methods of guarding his emotions. The wall had been up for so long that letting it down while trapped with her on the boat had made it apparent how hardened they became. For a while he wasn't sure how to regard her, as through their shared experiences he hadn't felt comfortable being flippant and cold towards her, even when being genuine and warm seemed impossible. Now he could feel the walls building again.

"As much as I'm sure you'd enjoy it, I rather think being hauled up in a tea shop with Splitters' lackeys on the loose is not the way I'd like to spend my day," he shot back, glaring at her. He told himself not to flirt. He might have done it before—it was so easy to flirt his way through infuriating situations, especially when it served to leave infuriating women like Yaxley tongue-tied—but he wasn't sure he could do it anymore. Not with her. Not after what they'd been through together.

"I'll have you know I brought you here because it's safe," he said, which was a half-truth. Disregarding the correlation between the Painted Lady's nighttime activities and Splitters' threats against Yaxley, the alley here was safe, at least from the prying eyes of two assholes who thought chasing a Malfoy and a Ministry worker was any kind of intelligent.

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set by lady <3