Hermione was soft under his arm, her curls tickling his face. Harry breathed in the subtle orange fragrance of her shampoo. She slept, her sides rising and falling slowly.
This was what Harry thought peace might be, if he could draw a picture of it. Her skin against his, his heartbeat matching hers, love filling in the silence of the dark night and chasing away nightmares.
It could not last. He faced the window, and a faint lighting of anemic dawn started to leak through the glass. Ron would be home shortly, and Harry’s forbidden time would be over.
“Just five more minutes,” he whispered against her skin, feeling like a child again as he begged the universe for this small slice of time.
Hermione murmured in her sleep, rolling over and throwing an arm over his bare chest. He shifted, for he should go now. Her head lifted slightly. Her brown eyes were blurry with the first good sleep she’d had in weeks.
“You’re not going now?” she asked, her tenuous hold on him tightening.
“Just a couple more minutes, then I need to go,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and then to her lips.
Hermione’s eyes closed but she did not sleep. Instead, her head buried into his shoulder and she pressed against him as if trying to imprint his body on hers. He reciprocated by holding her as tightly as he could.
The window grew lighter, the sun creeping up over the horizon like Harry should be creeping out of this house. He was tempting fate by staying. Ron would be coming home—they couldn’t get caught.
Harry sighed and made to get up again. He had to get his clothes together. They could leave no clue to this infidelity.
“Please, just a couple more minutes,” Hermione said, looking vulnerable with her uncombed curls and tired eyes. She held his hand tightly, refusing to let him go.
Harry couldn’t say no to her, not when he had so little else to give her than a couple more minutes of this feeling. Together, they sat in the disheveled bed, watching the sky turn from dark to a faded pink.
There was a sound—the door of the flat opening. It closed, a trifle too loudly for someone who should be considerate of his sleeping wife. Footsteps shuffled down the hall, stopping where Harry knew the loo to be.
“Just a minute more,” Harry said.
Hermione turned her head to look at him, quiet fear and even quieter hope living in her gaze. Slowly, so slowly, she smiled, and it blinded him like a sunrise. In the hall, heavy footsteps resumed and then the door knob started to turn.
“Just a lifetime more,” Hermione said, and they turned to the door.
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timeasmymeasure
Lie Here Awhile -- Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Ron PG13
Date: 2010-11-26 06:35 am (UTC)This was what Harry thought peace might be, if he could draw a picture of it. Her skin against his, his heartbeat matching hers, love filling in the silence of the dark night and chasing away nightmares.
It could not last. He faced the window, and a faint lighting of anemic dawn started to leak through the glass. Ron would be home shortly, and Harry’s forbidden time would be over.
“Just five more minutes,” he whispered against her skin, feeling like a child again as he begged the universe for this small slice of time.
Hermione murmured in her sleep, rolling over and throwing an arm over his bare chest. He shifted, for he should go now. Her head lifted slightly. Her brown eyes were blurry with the first good sleep she’d had in weeks.
“You’re not going now?” she asked, her tenuous hold on him tightening.
“Just a couple more minutes, then I need to go,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and then to her lips.
Hermione’s eyes closed but she did not sleep. Instead, her head buried into his shoulder and she pressed against him as if trying to imprint his body on hers. He reciprocated by holding her as tightly as he could.
The window grew lighter, the sun creeping up over the horizon like Harry should be creeping out of this house. He was tempting fate by staying. Ron would be coming home—they couldn’t get caught.
Harry sighed and made to get up again. He had to get his clothes together. They could leave no clue to this infidelity.
“Please, just a couple more minutes,” Hermione said, looking vulnerable with her uncombed curls and tired eyes. She held his hand tightly, refusing to let him go.
Harry couldn’t say no to her, not when he had so little else to give her than a couple more minutes of this feeling. Together, they sat in the disheveled bed, watching the sky turn from dark to a faded pink.
There was a sound—the door of the flat opening. It closed, a trifle too loudly for someone who should be considerate of his sleeping wife. Footsteps shuffled down the hall, stopping where Harry knew the loo to be.
“Just a minute more,” Harry said.
Hermione turned her head to look at him, quiet fear and even quieter hope living in her gaze. Slowly, so slowly, she smiled, and it blinded him like a sunrise. In the hall, heavy footsteps resumed and then the door knob started to turn.
“Just a lifetime more,” Hermione said, and they turned to the door.