Hero's steps faltered when she reached the door of the dining saloon, and Seraph's fingertips pressed softly into the small of her back to remind her to keep her moving.

"You have dined well nigh half your life in a room at least as grand," Seraph leaned in slightly to whisper in her ear. "Don't stare like a country bumpkin."

"Spoilsport," Hero whispered back. "That's what's wrong with you Slytherins. You're so worried about looking gauche that you lose all sense of wonder."

"No, we just don't believe that sense of wonder is something to be shared with all and sundry," Seraph answered. "Now, stop catching flies. The maitre d' is coming."

"Good evening, sir, madam. Can I take your names?"

"Mister Seraph Smith and my ward, Miss Hero Grayson," Seraph answered smoothly.

"Thank you, sir," the other man responded, running a finger three quarters of the way down a list of names before he paused. "You'll be seated at table eight tonight with the purser, Mister Lewis. He will introduce you to the other guests."

---

"So, Mr Smith, what takes you and Miss Grayson to New York?" asked the middle-aged woman whose name Hero had already forgotten.

"We may do a little shopping," Seraph admitted, "but we're simply passing through. My ward had a fancy to travel in style rather than taking a smaller ship directly to Halifax."

"Halifax?"

"We plan to settle in Canada, but we've made no firm decision as to where, yet. We need to investigate the educational opportunities that are available to Miss Grayson before we commit ourselves."

"Isn't it a little late for this year?" asked the young man to Hero's right. "Won't you have missed the entrance exams?"

"I don't know," Hero admitted. "After— After my parents succumbed to influenza, I really didn't think too far beyond getting through the term and taking my final exams. I'd rather see the universities before I apply, in any case, so if that means taking a year out, I'm sure I can help Mr Smith with his business until it's time to enrol again."

"And what is it you do, Mr Smith?" the young man's father asked, though Hero noticed that the dowager type seemed to be looking down her nose at them both as soon as business had been mentioned.

"I have a degree in chemistry. I used to teach, but more recently I moved into research. I hope to open a small retail outlet and make my own perfumes and cosmetics."

Hero held her breath, waiting to see if anyone would ask more directly what Seraph's role in the recent war had been. If so, things might get a little awkward. From what they had gathered, a single man who, judging by his current age should have been just one side or the other of thirty when the war broke out, would have been called up when conscription was introduced in 1916 and only those directly involved in ship-building had originally been classed as 'On War Work'. Seraph, however, refused to pretend to have been directly involved in the war. He said it was asking to be caught in a lie.

"How interesting," remarked the old woman in a tone that Hero thought she might have stolen from Smith himself, it was so sneering.

She darted a glance at her guardian as someone introduced a new topic and was amazed when he lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow. She'd expected him to take offence at the old woman's tone, but instead it seemed the woman had fallen perfectly in line with his wishes. Hero returned to her soup with a lighter heart.

---

Hero sighed her relief as she leaned against their cabin door, pushing it closed. "We made it."

"One evening is hardly a true test of your ability to maintain your cover, Miss Grayson," Seraph remarked with a smirk. "Nevertheless, it is an occasion worthy of marking." He crossed to his side of the cabin and pulled out a trunk from under the bunk. Opening it up, he extracted a medium-sized parcel wrapped up with brown paper and string. "For you."

"Sir?" Hero's arms dropped several inches when she took the package. She looked up at her guardian, searching his face for a clue.

"It isn't cursed Miss Grayson," Seraph observed.

Hero's eyes dropped to the parcel and she pulled loose the bow securing its wrappings and smoothed the paper away until she revealed several black hard-backed volumes. Each one was roughly A5 and about an inch thick.

"I chose Moleskine so that if you liked the idea, you could continue in the same style," Seraph explained, the warmth in his tone at once surprising Hero and causing a tightness in her chest.

"And the idea is?"

"The idea is that, though I would advise you to remain 'in character' in case you are observed, this is a way for you to write to your friends," Seraph explained. "Once we are settled, I'll arrange with a wizarding lawyer for us both to draw up wills. As part of your will, we can arrange for a sealed letter to be deposited with our lawyer to be held by him until the event of your death or disappearance. If you have family by then, the letter and the journals can pass on to your children. Otherwise, they can be boxed up and held until May the seventh, nineteen ninety-seven, at which point the lawyer can arrange to have them delivered to your friends."

Hero let the notebooks spill onto her bed, her eyes filling up as she threw her arms around Seraph and squeezed like she never wanted to let go.