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The smell of cooking hit his nose like a train as he opened the door at the foot of the stairs. It smelled a lot better than it had the last time Elixa had cooked, indicating a marked improvement in her skills, but the aroma of spices somehow turned into grey, tasteless ash once it entered his chest.

He hung his coat and scarf up next to Elixa's once up the stairs. Rustle came to greet him as usual, tail upright. The kneazle sniffed at him for a moment, and then followed him, meowing urgently behind him but not loudly to be heard upstairs or over the clangs in the kitchen. He ignored the feline.

His bag landed next to the sofa, before he sat down in it. His eyes surveyed the living room, his gaze distant and unfocused as he took deep breaths to ease the the nauseous cramping in his stomach and the blockage in his throat. His lungs still felt like they had been deprived of air, and despite the warmth of the fire and his coat, he shivered occasionally from chills that were still left over.

Despite his deep breathing, he was still shuddering and his breathing sounded ragged. Rustle leapt onto the sofa next to him and headbutted him before meowing, stepping into his lap as he tried to reach his master's chin. The healer brought a hand up, his eyes still focused at the empty air and buried his fingertips into the warm orange and white fur. He still felt numb, his chest still hurt, his heart was still beating like it needed as much as possible. The back of his head throbbed. He hadn't realised it was this bad.

Rustle meowed again. He looked down at the kneazle as if noticing him for the first time, and then gently brought his arms around the animal. His chest and stomach still hurt. He still felt chilly in some places, and numb in others. Some of his hair was plastered to his face in cold sweat; he brushed it out of the way. In the silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the mutterings of a woman busy cooking, he curled up in a corner of the sofa, shut his eyes and tried to keep his lunch down.



She came out to find him still a tight ball on the sofa, the kneazle huddled in his arms and purring heavily as it licked his face, its yellow eyes focused on him and only him. He didn't move as she approached despite making enough sound to intersperse with the crackling of the fire.

"I tried that recipe you gave me for moussaka, it smells a lot better than the ones offered in Diagon," she remarked. "There's enough for the two of us tonight, I want you to tell me if my cooking is up to par or not...Arc?"

He didn't answer her, though Rustle looked up at her before going back to purring. She stuck out a hand as if to touch him, and then seemed to pull back, hesitant about how still he was.

"Arc? Arcturus? Are you okay?" Her voice was fraught with worry, and he could hear it in her tone. But any attempt to say anything was met with just a horrible cramp in his chest. This was her first time seeing him this way. He didn't want her to panic.

He struggled to pull himself up; his limbs were like lead. Rustle sat up, purring even harder, as he watched his master drag his bag towards him and slip his hand into it. His movements were slow, trembling. Elixa's eyes watched him in complete silence, her arms partially stretched out as if making towards him to help. She remained frozen, however, as his hand emerged with a ragged scrap of parchment. Not waiting for him to hand it to her, she took it immediately.


"I don't have this on hand with me, but - I'll get some right now. Hang on!" Arcturus slumped back into the sofa and closed his eyes, though the green blaze of Floo fire still lit up behind his eyelids.

She was back - he had no idea how long she was gone, he was too focused on nursing the horrible heartbeat in his chest and nausea in his stomach to care - with a small black vial. Strong arms helped him sit up, and the cool glass pressed into his hand got him to open his eyes, if tiredly, and drink down the potion. Like a gulp of ice-cold water, he felt it run down his throat and fan out in his chest, slipping into every crack and crevice between his organs and bones, gently soothing and calming his heart and stomach.  Within a few minutes he could sit up straight again, though his body hurt a bit from curling up so hard, and breathe properly. The dull ache in the back of his head faded away, and he found himself facing her.

"What happened? What's wrong?" She was holding his hand, and she looked so worried that he tried to give her a smile. But it ended up as a crooked grimace, and he could see the concern increase in her dark eyes.

"Just..." He heaved a sigh as he felt the remnants of his anxiety slip away. "...I...have a lot to talk about to you."



When he was finished, she stared at the fire for a while. Then she said, "Did Balfour...do anything else to you?"

"No...whatever he did, I already told you." Arc was still stroking Rustle. "I'm sorry we kept you out of the loop, but--"

"Don't apologise." She squeezed his hand gently. "Have you sorted out everything with Joh? You don't have to answer that," she hastily added, seeing Arc's expression. "But does he know...?"

The healer shook his head. Elixa looked disturbed and angry, but all she said was, "Well, you should go eat something now. Make yourself feel better. Have some food, fill that stomach up with something warm, drink a bit of that good wine we have left." Her angry expression broke into a welcoming, sweet smile at him, and he couldn't help but half-smile back as she held his hands. She was being really lovely of late and he didn't want her to stop - and she was right.

"Thank you, Elixa." Rustle looked up at her and then put his forepaws up on her shoulder and gave her a lick on the nose. "Rustle thanks you too."

Warm food in stomach, someone to keep him company so that he didn't feel painfully alone and unhappy anymore, Arcturus made the effort to smile and laugh with her. And her moussaka was absolutely delicious.