[And of course he'd be allowed to; Waver's own boundaries on touch were drawn in the lightest semblance of lines, and he chose caution in return for Diarmuid's sake far more than his own.]

...don't have anything to thank me for. [He returned that kiss with his own, arms brought around Diarmuid in as comforting a gesture as he could manage. Running a gentle hand through his hair, pressing a second smaller kiss to his forehead.]

I just want you to be happy. You should have the right to live however you want and do whatever you wish to, especially here. And if there's anything I can do to facilitate that, of course I'm going to do it.