She arrived late because Urquhart arrived late, not too late, as he obviously was playing in the game, but enough that she felt awkward walking out to the grounds of the familiar manor alone. It was home turf in she was used to the halls and then gardens and the scenery, but many of the people there were going to be strangers; she didn't do well with strangers. Playing with her hair, Silas fingers ran and twisted along the red strands as she walked slowly, non-focused on the area around her, just letting memory and unconscious lead. At least until she saw what Terence had done to the grounds and her hand flung up to her cover her mouth as she laughed. It looked like a Quidditch pitch. Sure it made sense, they were playing a game on it--but she hadn't figured it would be that authentic. She couldn't play, she was in fact a terrible flier, but she loved the game--if only because Terence had loved it and to emulate him, so had she.
It was nothing, however, when she saw him. Little notes and owls back and forth were nothing to seeing someone you loved, that you missed in what felt like ages. Silas hardly gave him any warning before she was running the last yards to him, not caring how it looked, how ridiculous she seemed. Instead she was jumping on him as he was bent over doing something and throwing her arms around his neck, smiling like a fool and she did not care. "It looks awesome Terence!"