It seemed the time it had taken him to leave work, ponder on his movements, get to Hogsmeade, and then to the garden had been enough time to work some things out within his own head, as the anger he'd sworn would burst out the moment he saw her seemed to slip right out of his mind. It was definitely in part due to her despair, but even then he thought he'd feel something—resentment at the very least.

The soft spot he had for her—literally—was very obvious as she rested against his chest. His arms wound themselves around her shoulders, pressing her tightly against him while leaned down to press his lips against her forehead.

She was concerned for his job, and while that was definitely a concern of his, it was far from the only one he had. It was ridiculously silly how she'd managed to work his way into his heart without knowing much about him or his past at all. Of course, she knew trivia facts about him, but she didn't know his deepest fears or worries.

She didn't know, and she had to... eventually.

"Don't cry," he murmured, struggling to hear his own soft tone over her quiet sobs. He angled her face so he could look at her, and carefully wiped her tear-stained cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm not sure how I'm meant to kiss you when your face is so wet," he soothed. "It's been a week, you know."

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