He'd had one hand on her waist while kissing her, and when she started to pull back again he slid it around her back, preventing her from moving too far. It may have been raining (this cloud seemed to have taken on a personality and grown vindictive, or maybe it was just coincidence) but he didn't want to let go of her. There were raindrops running down her bare neck, highlighting the dips in her collarbone. He could have chased each one away with a trail of kisses. He could have bruised her neck with the intensity of his desire for her. He liked the idea of her having something she had to cover up before she went to work the next day: something that would remind her of him when she was dressing in the morning.

But they'd have plenty of time for that. He hadn't even been planning to kiss her today, so there was no sense carrying on and having her catch a chill because he'd kept her out in the rain. Oz let out a sigh of frustration and let go of her, fishing his wand out of an internal jacket pocket. He swore at the cloud for good measure (if it was developing a personality he wanted it to know he was displeased by interruptions like this) then cast a spell to nudge the cloud a dozen feet over, moving the shower to the garden wall instead of them.

He looked back at Miss Pomfrey — Thomasina, the woman he was going to marry, his future wife — and smiled, small but genuine. He plucked the marigold from her hand and leaned forward to tuck it behind her ear. Her hair hadn't been helped by the sudden shower, but the marigold suited her; the color made her eyes shine. "Time to go shock everyone, I think."

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