Rufus would have had to be an idiot not to realize she wanted to work. He knew that well enough, since speaking with her in January he had learned as much. But that wasn't the issue. "I know -" He started, but he stopped himself, allowing her the chance to explain instead of just jumping in trying to explain his sentiments.

Her hand trailed across his stubbled cheek leaving something akin to a path of gentle fire. He wished the warm presence of her palm would simply remain there, so at peace with the action, with the comfort it brought. He brought his hand up to rest on her own, gently cupping it. It would be so simple to turn his cheek and press a kiss into that delicate hand, and the joy at her words at the simple realization that this might work (if only he could get over his pride) made him to do it. The knowledge that she wanted him, that he could allow himself the simple truth that he too wanted her, it made him feel as if he had won the World Cup single handedly. "And I you." The admission almost startled Rufus as he had not yet allowed himself to fully think it.

"But how can I ask you to take such a risk as that?" He kept his hand cupped around her own on his cheek. "I can't guarantee you a comfortable life. A life you deserve. I can't offer you security." As much as he wished he could that was the realistic truth to it. And he couldn't give up his life dream of playing quidditch either. That would come soon enough - but not yet. Time. Such a stubborn and troublesome thing.