Deep breath.

And another one. You try to steady your shaky hands by clutching on to your glass of tea until your knuckles turn white. Because you're meeting his parents. They sit across from you, proper and straight. His mom is smiling lightly at you and his father sits there, emotionless. They look calm, a heck of a lot calmer than you are, and you take another breath.

He returns from the kitchen, setting the plate of warm cookies down on the coffee table as he takes his place beside you once again. It's all you can do not to jump on him. To have him hold you in his arms and reassure you like he did this morning.

You feel uncomfortable, but it's all for him.

He smiles warmly at you before taking his place by your side and you can feel the warmth of his body heat as he sits as close to you as possible without seeming improper.

His mother asks a kind question about your job and you stutter and stammer and look at him gratefully as he answers the question for you. His mother smiles at you again and you wonder briefly if she is faking her happiness. And then she says that she loves the book you had written and your heart leaps with joy and you find yourself returning her smile.

You thank her and then continue to reminisce about how difficult it was to write the book, but how glad you were with the finished product. She, in turn, asks more about the sequel and you delight in smiling secretly and telling her that she'll just have to wait. She laughs lightly, and he takes your hand and squeezes it, letting you know how much this means to him. You squeeze his fingers back automatically and flash him a quick smile.

You return your gaze to his mother and see her staring lovingly at her son, the one with whom you have fallen in love with. She winks at you and you feel yourself begin to blush. Oh, you just know that she knows that you two made love before you came over here. You can see it in her eyes.

Then his father asks everyone if they're ready for lunch and you're in shock. You can't believe that you just spent a whole hour talking about yourself with his mother! Where were the manners your mother taught you?

His mother makes a move to go to the kitchen and you stand up immediately, offering to help her. She smiles gratefully and you follow her into the kitchen, well aware of the stares of your love and his father on your back. You turn back and wink at him and you see a flash of his smile before you continue to follow his mother.

In the kitchen there is a brief, awkward silence as you stumble around, trying not to be an inconvenience as his mother bustles around, levitating pots and pans. She tells you what a nice girl you are, and how happy she is to see her son happy. You almost squeal with happiness; you have his mother's blessing. It's like a dream come true.

She hands you a plate and you carry out to the table where he and his father are sitting, discussing something quietly. You place it on the table and when you turn you almost run into his mother who is almost right behind you. The two of you laugh, grateful that an accident hadn't occurred, and you can't help the blush that rises to your face from embarrassment.

You feel as if one wrong move could blow this whole thing.

The four of you sit, eating quietly, the meal scattered with polite conversation. You try to converse with his father, but he is a quiet man and you can't get more than one or two words out of him. You're a bit discouraged, but seeing the bright smile on the face of your love you can't help but feel proud of yourself for being here. And happy that you could make him feel just a fraction of the happiness he has given you.

And then he insists that it's time for you two to leave and you feel yourself wishing you had more time to spend with his mum. His mum begs you to come back soon, even offering to cook the two of you a wonderful Sunday brunch if you so desired.

Her son laughs good-naturedly, assuring her that they would at some point take her up on that offer and you stand to clear the table. His father insists that clearing the table is his job; after all, his wife cooked the meal and wouldn't hear of letting you help him. You sit down again cautiously, afraid of doing anything wrong again.

His mother smiles at you encouragingly as her son helps you up with a proffered hand. He leads you to the floo, from which you came, and kisses you on the cheek, telling you he'll be coming right after you. His mother hugs you, an act that surprises you because it shows so much affection and his father smiles awkwardly at you-you feel that that's the best reaction you can get from him.

You smile and thank them, for what feels like the millionth time, and then step into the fireplace. You anxiously await his appearance beside you, and almost two minutes later when he joins you in your little flat, the first thing he does is kiss you senselessly and you know you've done well.

"I love you, Rose." He whispers fervently against your neck.

"I love you too, Scorpius." You reply automatically.

And then he kisses you again.

Deep breath. And a deep breath again.

You will do anything for those you love.

A/N: Just a short thing I wrote in about 10 minutes. I have absolutely no idea where the inspiration came from...this just appeared on the screen before me.

Let me know what you think!

~wwccd