(About 4:30pm)
the house; the lake/area

That was absolutely the weirdest feeling.  It was like jumping off a bridge stoned.  Only with someone else since the whole a partition ... apparition ... or whatever ... required closer proximity to Isaac than Jacoba had ever achieved with any of her Professors.  And, when her feet finally hit ground (or snow, rather), Jacoba had come to the conclusion that was, perhaps, her least favorite way to travel.  A fact she would have taken considerable joy in making clear if it weren't for the unpleasant lurch in her gut or the urgency of the situation. 

But, given those two factors, Jacoba merely shook her head and muttered, "that was weird," before gathering her wits.  And, quickly taking her coat from Isaac, somewhat surprised and very grateful he was still actually carrying it along.  Winter always settled early in the mountains.  As the snow inches of snow on the ground was a testament to. 

"I ... thank you," she offered awkwardly.  It was remarkable how much that gratitude could have accounted for in this moment.  The coat, the transportation, for simply still being there.  She highly doubted she could approach this alone and keep her sanity in check.  "We're ... where - one second."  Her intentions had been to venture forth and figure out where they were but she hung onto Isaac's arm a few extra minutes as she waited for her head to, finally, catch up to where they were.  They were, largely, surrounded by hemlock trees though a long lake stretched out in front of them.  A thin sheet of ice darkened the edge of the water and the sky was overcast; the stray flurry escaping from its mist. 

Finally, when her feet seemed capable of supporting her, she loosened her grip and started following the edge of the lake towards a clearing.  Just after clearing the last of the trees, the two-story alpine manor came into view, snow-covered mountains behind it.  The jacket helped but, of course, wasn't one one would chose for an evening in the Alps.  She folded her arms across her middle, her head hunched down.

"He could be here - he could have caught the train from London," she said, trying to convince herself as much as anyone.  Pointedly ignoring the fact she didn't recognize the room Dreogan described in the mirror at all.  "My oma's not ... she's a bit old world but she took me in after my father gave up on me.  I think she understands the family dynamics for what its for.  And - there's a cabin up on that ridge," she pointed towards one of the north-facing slopes.  Still reasoning to herself, since it was the only thing she could do, she added, "it would have taken him a day to get down to London."  She knew that - she'd done the Hogsmeade to London trek without magic before.  "It's about a day's train ride, with transfers, down here.  By foot, it's a two day hike up to the cabin - but, there'll be foot tracks in the snow.  Or a horse gone if he rode.  I don't think we need to go up there.  If your aim with this ... poofing thing ... is off, I'd hate to miss the ridge."  It'd be a long fall.

Apparation was one of those things that took a bit of getting used to and when they landed in the snow Isaac did his best to make sure she remained steady on her feet before they continued.  It seemed she was finally aware of the need for the coat he had grabbed back at Adon’s flat and he was a little relieved when she took it as obviously the higher elevation meant a lower temperature.  Even with his own coat it was quite cold out.

"I ... thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile.  “Just give yourself a moment to adjust…if you’re not used to apparation it can be a bit of a shock the first time.”

The process of apparation of course meant having to come in rather close proximity, and thankfully the blushing had been slightly less noticeable then back at Adon’s flat.  She still had a hold of his arm, and he reached up with the opposite hand to rest it on her other arm concerned she might actually topple over while attempting to readjust.  In his mind the sooner they got out of the cold the better, yet at the same time he wasn’t about to rush her and have her pass out from being light headed thanks to the trip from London.

When they were finally walking he listened as she went through what it would take to get here without magical transportation.  It was possible he was here given he left Wednesday morning.  She knew this house, and he had been there for the scrying and despite his hope Jacoba hadn’t recognized the description of the room.  In his mind it was already apparent they weren’t going to find Sasha there, but he had to hold out some hope that perhaps there might be a positive ending to the day.

"It's about a day's train ride, with transfers, down here.  By foot, it's a two day hike up to the cabin - but, there'll be foot tracks in the snow.  Or a horse gone if he rode.  I don't think we need to go up there.  If your aim with this ... poofing thing ... is off, I'd hate to miss the ridge."

A slight smirk formed on his lips despite the situation at her renaming of apparation as ‘poofing’ as he replied, “Hopefully if he’s up there he would have stopped at the main house first.  And for the record I have never had a problem with my aim when…poofing or anything else.”  Without missing too much of a beat he added, “So, theoretically it won’t be far fetched timing wise for someone to show up looking for him.”

"A bit of a shock," she mimicked, quietly, her grip on the man's arm tightening as she wavered on her feet.  "Do I ... do I want to know what exactly happened there?  That wasn't like getting beamed up on Star Trek, is it?  I'm not going to end up with my head on backwards?"  A quick, simple muggle culture reference pop quiz.  And, if the Muggle Studies professor recognized the Spaceballs reference, Jacoba was going to understandably impressed. 

Tugging the coat tighter around her, she continued to walk up the snow covered clearing towards the house.  Through most of spring and summer, the clearing was a wild flower covered meadow that led down to the lake edge.  Now, in winter, it was a superb sledding run though Oma always got so furious is Jacoba tried to run it before the ice on the lake was thick enough.  She was quickly beginning to regret the absence of foresight to bring a decent pair of shoes; her current pair of thin trainers were already caked with snow and soaked through. 

"I'd hope so," Jacoba admitted as she walked next to Isaac.  That would make their jobs easier.  "I'd hope he'd be smart enough to do that.  I just don't ... if he was embarrassed enough, I could see him trying to sneak up there without telling anyone.  If he thought no one would be -"  Her voice trailed off.  If that boy was stupid enough to think no one would go looking for him, Jacoba was going to skin him.  Right now, that was their last remaining decent option.  "I've really only been up to the cabin once so... that would explain why I don't recognize it, too.  But that room ... it was just so ... "  Fancy?  Luxurious?  It didn't make sense. 

By the time she'd reached the front porch, a plan had mostly formalized in her head.  "I don't want to make her too concerned," Jacoba pointed out.  "If she thinks we're really worried about where he is, she might call my mother.  But - I've been trying for years to get my parents to tell me where he is.  They'd rather I didn't know so they never have ..."  She hesitated a moment, watching Isaac.  "I - don't want -  I'm really glad you're here; I'm not sure I could do this alone.  But, I know my brother tends to be pretty private -"  Jacoba was having to remind herself this man was her brother's professor; she doubted she'd be too keen on having one of her previous professors tromping through her life; especially when she wasn't there to defend herself.  It was necessary - she needed him to be there and was grateful for his help.  "Just - try not to think differently of him ... or us.  He thinks really highly of you and I know he'd be upset if it ... I don't know."

He shook his head slightly at her movie references.  Movies had been a tradition among his little group of friends from school during breaks when they could actually access Muggle entertainment and it had continued when he would visit home during his assignments.  He didn’t really comment on it though the slight lingering concern about how she might be reacting to the trip overriding his usual sense of humor.  He had woken her that morning and she hadn’t eaten before rushing to floo to Dreogan’s flat.  The last thing she probably would have wanted was for him to fuss, but the fact that she had tightened her hold on his arm hadn’t escaped his notice.

“Probably not,” he answered to her inquiry about apparation.  “The possible complications of ‘poofing’ and where body parts can end up if someone doesn’t know what their doing is probably best left for being discussed when one doesn’t have to do it again in the near future.  And has a drink in hand.”

When they reached the porch he nodded when she mentioned trying not to concern her grandmother.  They were trying to avoid parental involvement and the last thing he intended to do was give the older woman an idea that their might be some sort of serious problem.  This was their last hope for the day, and it wasn’t really a very good one, or at least Isaac was starting to think it wasn’t.  When she hesitated he looked over at her, finding that she was watching him and before he could ask she spoke again.

He gave a slight nod, his hand finding hers to give it a reassuring squeeze, “I…When I showed up this morning I had no intention of leaving you to do this on your own.  I know I’m worried about him, but I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel.  It…You’ll find I’m fairly open minded and it’s going to take a lot to change my opinion of Sasha, or of you.  I…you don’t have to worry about that and whatever happens this is going to stay between us.”

Worry had superseded his usual internal monologue of how things might be seen by others.  However, he was suddenly very aware of the fact that this had the potential to look quite bad in front of her grandmother.  He was confident Jacoba would know how best to handle the situation, but this whole thing could be seen an inappropriate if someone knew the details of the entire day so far.  Starting with the fact that he clearly had been affected by her attire that morning since his cheeks had given him and leading up to the current moment.  He dropped his hand back to his side, finding himself clearing his throat as he pushed all of that aside again.

“I…I’ll just follow your lead on this,” he concluded, trying to focus once more on the present.

Jacoba stared blankly at Isaac a moment, nodding her head slightly.  The whole comment about poofing being complicated and body parts ending up places had managed to slide right over her head.  Under normal circumstances, the confusion would have left her curious and intrigued and craving more juicy details but right now her mind was just not in the right place for it.  "I - okay," was the best she managed before turning towards the door again. 

She reached out to knock on the door but hesitated as, for the first time, that blind optimism that the boy was here faltered.  There'd been a false sense of security in the Not Knowing.  As long as she didn't know for sure, there was a chance her brother was there - in his room along the back hall and she could be angry at him for not saying anything and they could move on.  The closer she got to Knowing, the more Jacoba was accepting how much less likely he was to be here.  The desire to hold on to the last remnants of Not Knowing lingered for several moments as she stared at the door.

"Alright," she offered, her hand still raised.  Even after an initial greeting and a handful of letters, Jacoba found herself willing to trust Isaac at his word.  Of course, her alternatives at the moment were fairly limited.  His hand that found the one lowered at her side was the reassurance and motivation she needed.  She gave the door a solid knock before letting her hand fall to her side.  In the moments before footsteps could be heard moving towards the other side of the door, she forced as much of the traces of worry and uncertainty from her features as possible. 

The door swung open to the inside, revealing a round-bellied, middle aged woman with short, curly blond hair dressed in jeans and a scrub shirt.  Her eyes landed on Isaac first before looking to Jacoba, recognition dawning quickly on her face.  "Johanna!  Warum - Was machst du hier?  Ist alles in Ordnung?  Wer is der?"  As she spoke, the woman stepped back, ushering both of them out of the cold and into the house. 

"Allo, es tut mir leid, aber er spricht kein deutsch.  Er is Engländer."  Why it seemed that way, Jacoba wasn't sure, but for whatever reason it seemed introducing Isaac as English was just easier.  Maybe it just seemed explaining why she was with a British man seemed simpler than explaining why she was with a Scottish man. 

"Oh - I'm sorry," the woman offered Isaac, her voice thickened by a heavy Austrian accent.  Despite choosing English over Scottish, the confusion and questions still showed on the woman's face.  "Would you like to come in?  Some coffee, perhaps?" 

It seemed, not appearing panicked was key to minimizing suspicions.  Though Jacoba really preferred to just should out the question of whether they'd seen Sasha, she nodded her head.  Of course, like with Dreogan, it seemed if he was here, someone was likely to mention it sooner rather than later.  Glancing briefly at Isaac, Jacoba pondered her options a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Actually, he could use some coffee, I'm sure.  But, I wanted to look for an old journal I think I left.  I'll be right back with you."  With a slight apologetic grin, she slipped down the side hallway, leaving Isaac with the woman. 

The woman eyed Isaac curiously a moment before gesturing through a door towards a side parlor.  "How do you have your coffee?"

Isaac wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he heard movement inside the house and then the door opened.  He kept his expression as neutral as possible when the exchange began in German.  He had no idea what was being said, or who exactly this woman was, but he could see the questions in her eyes.  No matter what scenarios were going through the mind of the woman, they were ushered inside the house and he welcomed the warmth.

If Sasha had been there certainly his name would have already come up in conversation, and he ignored the continued complete devastation of the slight lingering hope he had been carrying.  Of course the teen could have managed to slip unnoticed to the cabin up on the ridge, but he was starting to resign himself to the fact that Sasha was not going to be found today nor was he any place either of them might be able to think of to look.  The conversation quickly and thankfully switched over to English, and he looked over at Jacoba as her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

The explanation she offered explained the expression and he gave her a slight nod in understanding.  It was the best way to not arouse any suspicion and he looked after her for a moment as she slipped off down the hallway.  For a moment he questioned everything he was doing.  Who was he really to be here?  They met briefly and exchanged a few letters.  He wasn’t certain of her age, but he knew she had to be at least fifteen years his junior not to mention that when all was said and done he was first and foremost her brother’s professor.  It had him fighting to ignore the fact that he had grown to look forward to her letters.

"How do you have your coffee?"

“I usually just drink it black, thank you,” he said, following the woman into the parlor after she drew him once again from his musing.

That habit had started in the field.  Even with magical means of transportation, communication, and food storage, sugar and milk had been rare during research studies.  After a certain time it had grown easier to take his coffee without milk and sugar then to hope that some would be available.

The stout woman nodded her head, acknowledging having heard Isaac's response but didn't move away, initially.  The questions and curiosity were written plainly across her face but they did not reach her lips.  The hesitation lasted a moment and then the woman ducked out of the room with a slight bowing of her head, leaving Isaac alone in the parlor. 

It was only a few moments before the woman returned with a cup of coffee on a small dish.  She placed it gently on a low coffee table before straightening back up.  Somehow, in the obvious lack of an alternative activity, the curiosity proved too much.  "So.  You're English?"  It was, perhaps, the easiest starting point in the conversation.  Or, perhaps, it was simply the only bit of relevant information the woman had.  "Do you currently live in England?  And, you're here visiting.  With Johanna?" 

The woman had settled herself in a straight-backed armchair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She eyed Isaac closely, clearly not missing a single muscle twitch.  "How do you know Johanna?  From school?  I don't recall expecting her coming by for a visit but she's always been a bit spontaneous." 

It took the woman a moment to leave to get the coffee and it was clear to Isaac he was not going to escape questioning.  When she finally disappeared from the room he spent the next several minutes trying to formulate the best possible response.  He knew which details to leave out, but what was the best way to explain his presence here of all places?  He had settled on a chair when she returned and placed the coffee on the table.  His suspicion that she would be questioning him was confirmed a moment later as he was raising the cup to lips to take a sip thankful putting a Muggle spin on things was something he had learned to do long ago.

“Well..Scottish actually,” he offered trying to keep to as much of the truth as possible before having to fabricate the details.  “I…well, I do live there.  I’ve been working on research outside of England though, my field is anthropology.”

He was being watched carefully he was well aware of that.  Hearing her refer to Jacoba as Johanna was strange to his ears, but he was certainly glad for the banter via their letters regarding names and titles.  He found himself wishing she would hurry back from wherever she had disappeared to in the house before the woman across from him demanded his entire life story.  Right now he could only hope that the woman wasn’t aware of the fact that Jacoba was no longer in school as it seemed an academic connection was the easiest one for the time being.

“We met when I was a guest lecturer for one of her classes,” he told the woman, trying to tell a convincing story.  “Her professor is a professional acquaintance I was visiting.  We…well, Johanna and I, had gotten to talking after and I mentioned that I would be visiting this area this weekend.  She was kind enough to offer to serve as a tour guide as I’ve never been.  It was a very last minute decision.”

There were bits of the truth woven into it.  He was a researcher, his research was comparable to the Muggle field of anthropology, she was basically his tour guide in all of this, and it had been an extremely last minute decision to visit.  He sipped his coffee again, hoping the answers he did give would satisfy the woman.

"Scottish?"  The woman repeated back, a pensive frown settling on her features.  "Anthropology?"  Her mouth opened but it quickly closed again as she seemed to think better of posing the question sitting on the tip of her tongue.  She managed to keep quiet until after the fellow grew silent again.  "You were a guest lecturer in one of her ... history classes?  Have you been in Munich all this time or did you come all the way from Scotland to meet her here so she could serve-" 

"Couldn't find it."  Jacoba quickly interjected as she stepped back into the parlor, empty handed.  She shot Isaac a quick, apologetic grin before turning back to the nurse.  "And, there's no reason to go looking for a reason to get suspicious.  He came in during our lecture on Ancient European history to talk about cultural group migrations from continental europe to the British Isles.  I ran into him while he was visiting Amsterdam.  I'm not in classes so it's not like he could influence my grades so, really."  For whatever reason, it seemed to be the last argument that was the most convincing. 

Jacoba cast Isaac another quick glance and discretely shook her head.  There was no sign of her brother having been in the house.  Not recently, at least.  As she glanced back to the woman, it occurred to Jacoba to use the woman's suspicion and confusion to their benefit.  "When I heard he was coming down this way, I figured it was worth coming along.  Just on the off chance my brother might be here.  Or if, at least, you might know if he's coming to visit soon.  They still won't tell me where he is." 

The woman's suspicion quickly turned to sympathy and she shook her head.  "We aren't expecting him until the holidays.  And, it's stupid, I know.  But, I'm allowed to tell you, either.  I'm sorry." 

"I know," Jacoba offered, nodding towards Isaac, turning towards the door before turning back, briefly, to the nurse.  "I stopped in briefly but Oma was sleeping.  Will you let her know that I dropped by?  And, you don't happen to recall the last time it snowed?"  Jacoba ignored the confusion on the woman's face that accompanied the answer of it has been a couple days.  She turned and led the way to the back to the front door, holding it for Isaac and shutting it behind them as she stepped out into the cold, turning towards the side of the building.

"He's not here.  And, if he went up to the cabin, there'd still be tracks in the snow out back.  Unless, I suppose ... could he use magic?" 

To say he was relieved when Jacoba came back into the room would have been an understatement.  Finishing the coffee quickly and setting the mug down he managed to give the woman a small smile, nodding in agreement with the further information Jacoba provided.  He didn’t miss the signal that Sasha was indeed not at the residence and he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.  There was still most of that sinking feeling he couldn’t quite ignore.

He followed her towards the door, trying not to let out a breath of relief when they were safely outside the house.  He followed her around the side, glad that his short foray into trying to concoct a convincing fabrication of the truth was over.  It was always easier when he didn’t have to try to figure out a connection to a person.  Explaining who he was and what he was doing was one thing, explaining why he was in a certain place with someone else was a different story completely.

“As much as I’d like to think it possible, I doubt it,” he told her.  “Apparation is only taught once a student reaches the age of seventeen and that particular landing point would be difficult for someone without a great deal of experience.  We also don’t teach students how to cover their tracks in the snow…that’s something that one doesn’t find many practical applications for.  If you want to check up there, we can give it a go, but I honestly think if he went up there then there would have been some sign.”

He didn’t want the trail to be cold either, but he wasn’t about to lie to her.  There was a part of him that was well aware of the fact that if she asked he would find a way to check the cabin without hesitation.  Part of him wasn’t entirely certain if it was because of her or the slight chance at helping Sasha if he had made it up there.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t more helpful,” he said, his tone soft.  “Right now, I think we need to go somewhere and figure out a next step.  He’s out there, we know that is certain and we’ll find him…it’s just going to take a little more time.”  At least he hoped they would find him.  “Is there someplace nearby we can get a bite to eat?  You probably don’t feel much like eating right now…but I would rather you not pass out on me on the return trip to London.”

Jacoba led the way around the corner of the house to the small stables behind it.  Shoving the door open, she walked down the center hall, peering into the stalls of each of the handful of horses.  Most of the stalls were empty, standing ready to house her brother's show animals who were currently back in London.  A quick head count confirmed what the nurse had said.  All the horses were here and accounted for. 

"So, he wouldn't have apparated.  He didn't ride.  They're all here.  And-"  Jacoba reached the end of the stable hall and pushed open the back door.  A long, wide snow covered valley stretched out towards the steep slopes.  Climbing up the ladder to the hayloft, she peered out.  The snow was flat, smooth and completely unmarred.  There wasn't any sign the surface of the snow had been broken with footsteps.  "He didn't walk."  She hopped down from the hayloft, her expression somber and defeated.  "He's not here." 

Jacoba leaned against the doorframe and peered out over the snowy valley, closing her eyes, her head drooping forward.  Her stomach churned, painfully as she shook her head.  She couldn't believe this - she couldn't ... how could no one know where he was.  Maybe he had gone home - maybe what was in that mirror hadn't happened yet.  Or, maybe Dreogan had seen it wrong. 

"I ... yeah," she said, distractedly, shaking her head.  A place to eat?  "There are some in town.  Across the lake.  There's a ferry every hour or so.  If we had a car, it's about a fifteen minute drive around.  I ... there's a biergarten along the lake front."  No, she didn't feel like eating. But, they had to go somewhere.  The sooner they left, the less likely the nurse was to wonder if something more was up.  She was already suspicious enough.

Reaching the stables he followed her inside while she checked to make sure that Sasha had indeed not been there.  He couldn’t ignore the expression on her face or the tone of her voice.   Crossing the stable he moved to stand next to her, placing a hand on her arm.  She was holding up incredibly well considering everything that had happened up until that point.  Not knowing was always the hardest part of a situation.

“I’m not planning on giving up on trying to find Sasha until he’s safe and I know Dreogan will keep trying too,” he told her.  “I’ll ask around Hogsmeade tomorrow and maybe some of the kids might know something…Which is something to consider.”

What they needed was a fresh inspiration before continuing to search.  He wasn’t in any of the obvious places, but they had known that after speaking with Dreogan.  The image in the other man’s vision could have easily been anywhere, although having a description of the men involved might help.  With a little luck someone in Hogsmeade would be able to identify him and they could track Sasha down that way.

“Trying to stay positive in these situations is hard, I know that,” he said.  “It’s easier to focus on the worry and the concern…to let fear of what we don’t know for sure take control.  Right now I just think the best thing is to clear your head a bit before we continue.”

There was an urge to pull her into an embrace and attempt to provide a little shelter from all of this.  He couldn’t protect her from the fear or the possible hurt, and it wasn’t really his place to try to do that.  They had a friendship based on a drink and a few letters.  Yet still, he couldn’t stop himself from opening his arms as he added, “Whatever happens, it’s going to be alright.”

Not planning on giving up until he's safe.  Something about that statement clenched the reality of the situation for Jacoba.  Until he was safe.  Which meant, for the time being, the search was being put on hold and, chances were good, Sasha might not be safe until they found him. 

"Mein Gott," she whispered quietly as the reality sunk in fully.  "If he's just hiding somewhere because of the stupid suspension, I'm going to kill him." 

Isaac was offering suggestions and recommendations and they were finding their way past her ear.  Beyond that, some of the words seemed to register, others seemed to simply bounce off the interior surface of her skull and ricochet around a few times.  She knew she had help - neither Isaac nor Dreogan had hesitated to throw themselves into what seemed just another chapter in their messed up family history.  And both were really just recent acquaintances.  It was hard not to feel a little lonely and isolated.

That was until a voice offered a couple words of strong encouragement and a pair of arms opened to her.  Without a second thought, Jacoba pushed herself off the barn hinges and into the open arms.  She hid her face against Isaac's shoulder and cried. 

It was several minutes later before, with a mumbled apology, Jacoba pulled back.  With both hands, she pulled her hair back from her face, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  "I ... um - the ferry."  Jacoba glanced up at Isaac, watching him a moment before turning and leading the way back out of the barn down towards the lake edge.  She kept close to him; walking next to him as much as walking in front and leading the way.  Once out of sight of the house, she reached a hand out and took hold of his, needing the reassurance of the person next to her. 

She remained quiet until she found herself in the warmth of the ferry's cabin.  Once settled, she stared out the window at the steel cold water, her hand still in Isaac's.  Her one grounding connection to reality.  "It's really pretty in summer," she said, quietly.  "You ought to come back.  For real with a tour guide or something.  There are some neat castles in the area.  And, the Americans always want to visit the Kehlsteinhaus up there."  Referring, of course, to their cover story a short while ago.

It had been an incredibly stressful day, and when she moved into his arms and finally broke into tears he wasn’t entirely surprised.  He whispered a few words of comfort and encouragement as he held her.  The tears ripped at his heart as he wished there was more they could have done.  She wasn’t the only one who was going to be extremely angry if they simply found Sasha hiding out somewhere.  He didn’t voice that though as they stood there for several minutes and he let her release some of the various emotions she had probably been feeling throughout the entire process.

When she pulled away he watched her for a moment.  If it hadn’t been for their letters he probably wouldn’t have realized anything was wrong or that Sasha was unaccounted for and certainly wouldn’t be in Germany on that particular Saturday afternoon.  He would have done what he could try to help find the teen, but likely not to this extent.  He started to open his mouth the say something when she mentioned the ferry and settle instead of just a nod as he followed her out of the barn.

When they were no longer in view of the house her hand found his, which caused him to glance over at her for a moment in surprise.  He didn’t comment though as he turned his attention back in front of him and to where they were headed.  If he wasn’t careful he was quite certain he could end up caring about her more then he should.  He couldn’t let himself think to closely on that in the given moment, a small part of him a little afraid at what he might discover if he did.

On the ferry her hand remained in his, and he made no effort to break the contact.  Sometimes in a time of tribulation a physical connection was the most helpful thing anyone could hope to find.  He gave her a slight smile at the mention of returning at some point his eyes moving to watch her instead of the water outside the window.

“There is a certain charm to seeing it covered in snow though,” he said, willing to go with a subject change if that was what she needed and a little relieved to have one himself.  “Before…when I was doing field research instead of teaching, I was usually some place warm.  The holiday would approach and it just didn’t feel right until I was able to see the snow.  I guess I’ve always sort of liked the stillness and peace of winter.”

With a slight smile he added, “It would be nice to see everything though when everything is green and you don’t have to spend the day shivering when you’re outside.  It may take a little convincing, but I'm sure I know of someone who would make a good tour guide.”

His comment helped bring Jacoba's thoughts back to the present and her eyes focused, more properly, on the landscape.  A charm to seeing it covered in snow.  The phrase cycled through her head several times before it seemed to fully register and become applicable to the context.  "It is nice in winter," she agreed with a slight nod.  "I always preferred Christmas here to back in London."  London managed some of the charm - the lights, the decorations.  If they were lucky, there'd be snow but Jacoba couldn't remember a single white Christmas in London growing up.  The opposite was true here.  White Christmases were the norm; dry ones were the exception. 

"Warm places?  Like the Amazon and such?"  The worry and uncertainty remained, ever present, at the back of her mind.  But, at least for the time being, it seemed capable of flipping through the card catalogue of recent memories and other topics.  "Isn't that more hot than warm?"  Of course, she didn't know.  She doubted any of the places she'd ever been came close to what she'd seen.  "Even in those nature programs it seemed like an oven."  Those exotic places would be a blast to visit, certainly, but the heat would be a challenge for her.  She, as well, loved the stillness of winter, especially an alpine winter, and would gladly bundle through the sub-zero temperatures that came with it.  "Guess it never gets quiet in those places."  The howling monkeys seemed a constant on those programs. 

"I'd love to travel one day.  Beyond Central Europe and the UK.  Maybe when things have settled down."  Which they, certainly, weren't settled now. 

She finally pulled her gaze from the windows and looked at Isaac.  Her mind was moving at a more usual pace but it still wasn't quite up to full fighting strength.  Certainly not enough to catch subtleties, at first.  "You know someone else from this area?  From research or school?  You don't mean Aleron, do ... oh."  Indeed.  It had taken far too long for her to read between the lines.  With a slightly embarrassed though still fully committed grin, she shook her head.  "You mean me, don't you?  Wow.  Sorry.  I'm not usually that slow.  Well, I don't think it'd take much convincing.  Since, it seems, travel's not an issue."  Financially or in terms of time restraint.  Good grief.  With that poofing stuff he was doing one could come for dinner.  Not that, afterwards, one felt much like eating.  "Actually, I'm a pretty cheap sell.  Wouldn't take much."  A beer.  Food, if she's being stingy. 

"Our mad King Ludwig's castles are always a highlight.  Neuschwanstein's not far from here.  My mother's, apparently, somehow related to his fiancée but I never figured out the details.  But, I gather, it's the same with purebloods so it's not entirely foreign."  The drama of families seemed a universal concept.  "I admit, I haven't seen much of Scotland, though.  I hear they have a few castles."  Actually, that of Scotland that lay between London and the highway nearest Hogsmeade and Hogsmeade proper were the extent of her knowledge with the area.  Her parents had never had much interest in exploring their new country and she'd returned to Germany a little over a year after she had left home.  "The food seems rather similar, though.  Except you all like sheep and we like pigs."