“I can help you with that stammer,” she told him, smiling.

“I don’t have a st-t-t—” Xenophilius shut his lips in defeat, and sighed.

“You saved me,” Xeno said; his version of ‘thank you.’

“You save people, too,” she responded. From her new, horizontal position, she began staring up at the storm clouds smirking overhead.

Together, they’d ventured into the attic, Capria squealing in delight as Xeno explained each object in his eclectic collection. They’d trudged through the snow, making snow-hippogriffs and catching snowflakes on their tongues. They’d told stories to the neighborhood children together, of Hogwarts and magic, tales that the children would never guess were true.