She took her time in inspecting him before advancing. It had been a long time since she'd seen him and she wanted to drink him in, in his entirety. He looked clean and well presented, his clothes pristine but his hair slightly longer than it had been and stubble had acknowledged his jaw. His face was still the exquisite fusion of soft and masculine; his nose finely sculpted, his lips perfect to the touch and his eyes enticing to no-end.

"Scorpius?" she asked loud enough to introduce her presence.

His eyes flickered up to meet her gaze and welcome surprise resided on his features. He set the book down and got up, unsure of his steps as he took them. In her eagerness, she also took the few steps between them and met him in a coy entangle on fingers halfway there. Scorpius allowed his eyes to linger on their fingers before his gaze returned to hers.

"So… eighty-seven days living on the street for me?" she asked, the note of shame at what she had put him through seeping lightly onto her voice.

"Only for you," he responded quietly.

"That's exceedingly…." She fished for the right word but couldn't seem to find it at that moment.

"Daft?" he supplied helpfully.

"Daft," she concurred, "but romantic."

The only answer he gaze her was the disappearance of his fingers laced in hers and then the comforting familiarity of his arms pulling her closer. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you," he promised before he tried to claim her lips but she turned away, his lips greeting the soft texture of her skin instead of the warm mouth he'd been expecting. Her hand came to rest at his neck and with gentle pressure, kept his mouth at her jaw line.

"I want to apologize before you kiss me," she said into his ear. "I'm sorry I accused you of intentional infidelity. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry for hexing you. I'm sorry for making you go through this ordeal. And I'm sorry I said I didn't want you; it was the blackest kind of blasphemy."

He pulled back to stare into her face though her eyes would not meet his. Stealthily, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before sneakily raising her face towards his. She blinked up at him, her eyes contrite. She positively looked like a five-year apologizing for stealing from the cookie jar. It only endeared her more to him.

Without preamble, he brought his lips down on hers and watched as she willingly accepted and her eyes dreamily drifted shut. His lips moved against hers gently, becoming acquainted once more with the feel and taste of her lips on his; his hands travelled to her waist, drawing her closer before his fingers deftly ascended to meet her hair. He kissed her with fervour that far surpassed desire and want, his lips velvety but bruising her mouth passionately.

Rose could all but acquiesce to the pressure of his lips. She responded with a fervour that rivalled his own, her hands coiled around his neck and drew him insatiably towards her. Somewhere in the farthest part of her mind, which wasn't reflecting on how pleasurable this was, she knew she'd missed these kisses. His cologne lovingly ensnared her senses and the warmth of his body was comforting in the cool spring evening. She was only just conscious of the fact that a reasonable crowd had gathered around them and the sound of applause lightly addressing her ears.

When his lips became more demanding and his hold on her infinitely tightened, she decided that they inevitably should stop. They were in the middle of Diagon Alley; she hardly needed little old witches glaring at them and mutterings of 'Outrageous! In the middle of the street as well!' Before he could progress the kiss she'd pulled back, slightly breathless, and suddenly very much aware of the many eyes on them, she blushed.

He bestowed a small, content smile on her. Before they could utter any words, a loud 'pop' had sounded and a gleaming flash materialized and temporarily blinded them. Quickly adjusting her eyes, Rose spied a photographer and an avidly scribbling journalist.

"I think I've had enough publicity to last me a lifetime," Scorpius muttered into her ear. "Lets go home."

She turned to the photographer once again and briefly smiled, only imagining tomorrow morning's front-page headline. The man has been moved