"What's that?" Hero asked, taking her guardian's gloved hand in both of hers and probing at something too bulky and stiff to be flesh and bone.

Seraph's brows came together in annoyance. "It's a bandage, and I would be obliged if you didn't poke at it."

Hero's brows creased in turn, and she shifted her grip to Seraph's elbow, though it was she who steered them back to their shared cabin and enclosed as large an area as she could walk in a Silencing Charm.

"Why on earth would you need a bandage?" she demanded shrilly as soon as the magic was in place.

"If you cut me, do I not bleed?" Seraph growled before switching to a biting whisper. "Contrary to popular opinion, I think you'll find that I am human."

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it," Hero spat back. "Let me see."

She drew his hand toward her, meaning to strip away glove and bandage, but Seraph jerked it away forcefully.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" she asked in a far softer voice, stepping forward and taking his hand again in a light grip.

This time Seraph made no protest, taking a seat beside her on one of the bunks when she drew him in that direction and sat down herself. She had already removed his glove and was working on unravelling the gauze underneath when he cleared his throat. "I am accustomed to being self-sufficient. Besides, it's nothing, and you were preoccupied."

"Nothing?" Hero exclaimed as she reached layers that were crusted terracotta with half-dried blood. "What did you do? Slice your palm open with a fillet knife?" she demanded.

One side of Seraph's upper lip lifted. "An athamé actually."

Hero frowned and darted a glare at him through her fringe without raising her head. "I know it's your wand hand, but did it never occur to you that I could fix it for you if you taught me the spell?"

Seraph pulled free of her grip once more. "No, it didn't. The wound must heal without magic of any sort."

"What? You did this deliberately, didn't you?"

Seraph's eyebrow gave the slightest twitch, the barest of movements that might on anyone else have been a shrug. "I may have cut a little deeper than was strictly necessary."

"From the man who complains if anything is sliced a millimetre too thick or too thin?"

"You sound like a nagging wife, woman!" Seraph protested. "And I did not expect you to prepare ingredients left handed."

"Tough!" Hero threw back. "I have one person in the world. It's you, and whether you like it or not, you have one person in this world and it is me." She enunciated the last three words slowly, giving each its own emphasis. "That gives me the right to nag when you neglect your own wellbeing. Can't you trust me a little?"

"No."

Seraph lifted his eyes from the slash across his palm that had opened again to meet the girl's reproachful glare.

"Not easily," he answered. "Too few of my acquaintance have ever proven worthy of it."

"You better start practising, then. If you can't use magic, this is going to need stitches if you want it to heal properly. Stay there while I check what's in the bathroom cabinet. What were you doing, anyway?"

"Sylvie and I exchanged vows."

Hero's voice dropped to a whisper. "You... make it sound like a marriage."

"It is in its own way. I hoped if you were there, then you would see that, but you have not been yourself and I judged you would profit more from some rest than Phineas's company. Sylvie and I are bound now by a blood oath. On his part that he should give service as befits his capabilities, and on my part that I will provide him, and all of his line who so choose, with a home, with food and with all other things necessary to their welfare, until either bloodline is broken."

"I thought—"

"You thought that I saw Sylvie as free labour."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"He is... but in the same way that in the unlikely event that I were to marry, my wife might work with me without receiving a wage, but we would work together to better our situation. Families like the Malfoys, where generations have never known life without house-elves, might take them for granted, but that was not the original purpose of the magic. It was never intended as enslavement, but as a symbiotic relationship, providing not only mutual benefit but mutual duty and affection."

"Like Kreacher," Hero sighed.

"Like Kreacher," Seraph agreed, "with every Black other than Sirius."

---

Cherbourg faded into the distance just as Southampton had, with Hero's head resting against Seraph's shoulder. "I suppose if I asked for a detour via Normandy when we come back, you would say I was pushing my luck?"

"I might."

"Does that mean you would come?"

"France is full of French people," Seraph observed.

"So is half this ship, but I got you here," Hero replied. "I'm also led to believe there may be French people in Canada."

"You have a point," Seraph conceded with a slight inclination of his head, "though I believe France may have a higher per capita ratio."

---

"What about gloves?" Hero asked. "Does going from our suite to the dining saloon equate to going outside?"

"I can't imagine anyone wearing a hat, so I think you'll be safe to pass. It may be wise to leave the door ajar until some of our fellow passengers go by, if you wish to be absolutely certain."

"This all comes so naturally to you," Hero remarked, her voice edged with sadness as she checked over her appearance one last time and opened the door to the corridor a couple of inches. "Has there ever been a time when you didn't have to live by your wits?"

Seraph grimaced at his slicked-back hair and straightened the knot in his bow tie. "If in ten years or so we haven't found a way to go back, you might talk me into sharing childhood memories. For now, try to remember that I am your guardian, not one of your playmates."

Hero pursed her lips and gave a slight shake of her head. "You are even more infuriating than Ron Weasley. You know that?"

"I would hope so. I've had many more years to practise. Weasley is a rank amateur, albeit a gifted one. Now, stop playing with your hair."

"I can't help it. I'm not used to wearing it up, and on the rare occasion I have, it's normally involved liberal quantities of Sleekeazy."

"And I'm not accustomed to mine being held in place by a product that appears to contain equal parts lard, beeswax and petroleum jelly, but I find that to be a disincentive to keep poking it, rather than the reverse." Seraph nodded in the direction of the partially open door. "We appear to have our confirmation. Let us go and discover how many young gentlemen you can enchant before we reach New York."

"Nowhere near as many people as you'll deliberately offend," Hero replied as he ushered her through the door.

"I only deliberately offend people I dislike," Seraph remarked.

"Then you must have been in a very antisocial frame of mind for the last three decades."

"I have," Seraph agreed.