Sleep

Disclaimer: Property of JKR, etc.

A/N: Inspired by muddgutts drawing of Hermione: http://www.boomspeed.com/muddgutts/fluffy.jpg

Dedicated to muddgutts, Anne U. and thephotoman for their encouragement that gave me the nerve to post this!

Sleep

Harry entered his room only to stop short immediately.

Hermione was lying on his bed, fast asleep. But what made him stop short wasn’t the fact that Hermione was asleep on his bed, even if it was still early in the evening. Hermione’s work at St. Mungo’s was intense and her hours tended to be irregular, so she tended to sleep whenever she had a chance. So it wasn’t the sight of his girlfriend, lover, and love of his life asleep on his bed that made him stop short.

It was the fact that she was naked.

He very quietly put down his wand and then made his way over to sit beside the bed, scooting the chair closer to it.

His eyes lingered on her face, noting how relaxed she looked, before wandering down the rest of her body. She had apparently pushed off the sheet that had been covering her in her sleep, so her breasts were bared to his caressing gaze. She was lying on her side, her knees bent as she slept on in innocent abandon.

She had a perfect body, he thought, not for the first time. Her breasts were full but not overly large, just the right size. She was lithe, fit, perfect. He had always disliked intensely those witches that kept themselves bone-thin out of the mistaken belief that it was attractive. Hermione was attractive because she didn’t care overmuch about her appearance; she kept herself fit and healthy for her own sake, and the confidence in her air made what might have been an ordinarily pretty face into a beautiful one.

Her dreams must have been pleasant because there was the slightest of smiles on her lips, that with the combination of her naked body, was incredibly arousing. He bit his lip as he felt his jeans grow uncomfortably tight. For a moment, he contemplated waking her with a kiss or something so he could do what he’d wanted to do since the moment he walked into his room today. But he didn’t really want to wake her up at the same time.

She had had a long week, had hardly slept much at all for the past few nights, he knew. He didn’t want to cut short what looked to be the most refreshing sleep Hermione had had in a week or more, just because the sight of her lying on his bed like that was causing the blood in his body to race downwards at a rate that was nearly making him dizzy.

Valiantly ignoring the desires of his body, he focused his gaze on her face, refusing to allow his eyes to wander below her neck. Merlin knew, looking at Hermione’s face was not exactly a hardship. There were few things he liked to do more sometimes than just quietly watch her.

Then again, at the moment, his body was shouting that there were many things he’d much rather be doing than looking at Hermione’s face, but he ignored that.

She had been looking rather tense and strained the past few days, because of a patient that was giving her some worries at St. Mungo’s. He realized with relief that something must have happened to calm her fears. Her face was too peaceful in sleep to mean anything else. He knew that if Hermione was worried, she had a tendency to frown slightly even in sleep, sometimes even biting her lip. But now she looked calm, happy. And he reflected that it was odd how just looking at her had such a calming effect on his mood, despite the fact that her body was having anything but a calming effect on his body.

He contemplated joining her in his bed but then dismissed that admittedly tempting idea, knowing his weight on the bed would wake her up. No, he would let his Hermione sleep. His Hermione, he thought possessively, his to love, his to care for, his… His sleeping beauty, he thought, laughing silently at his own sentimentality.

But then she was beautiful. She never seemed to realize it but she was. Her hair was less bushy than it had been, but still thick and curly. Her eyes, that glowing, brilliant brown that never failed to warm his heart, were hidden in sleep, but he knew the way they could shine, or sparkle, or darken when she was angry. Her lips… the lips he loved to kiss, the lips that smiled at him, the lips that had spoken the first words of true friendship and love he’d ever heard in his life. But more than her physical attributes, it was her mind and heart that he loved. The mind that never failed to amaze him with its intelligence, the heart that tempered her brilliant mind with its kindness and generosity and faith in him.

Very lightly so as not to disturb her, he gave her a feather-light kiss on the cheek, before leaning back in his chair. Harry closed his eyes, smiling to himself, and he knew another moment of sheer gratitude and, well, wonder, that somehow Hermione had fallen in love with him.

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was Harry, asleep in a chair beside the bed. Immediately she realized that he must have come in, seen her sleeping and pulled up the chair so as not to wake her. She smiled to herself at his thoughtfulness, thinking it was no wonder she loved him.

She pulled the sheet up, wrapping it around herself, before getting up. Softly, she kissed Harry’s lips, lingering there, until she knew that he was awake because he began kissing her back.

His eyes opened when she finally pulled back slightly to smile at him. He returned the smile.

“I have to say that’s the nicest way I’ve ever been woken up,” he grinned.

“Come on and get into bed, Harry. You’ll get a stiff neck if you sleep in the chair longer.”

His gaze dropped to the sheet that covered her breasts and he gave her a mock leer. “Your wish is my command.”

He winked at her before making quick work of his clothes and sliding in beside her.

Hermione smiled at him. “Thank you for not waking me up earlier, by the way.”

A grin tugged the edge of his mouth upward. “I’d say it was my pleasure but I’d be lying.”

Hermione’s laugh was cut off by his mouth as he pressed her back into the pillows, his hands beginning to caress every inch of the body he had admired in her sleep just a few hours ago. Hermione shivered and then bit back a moan, as every nerve in her body came to life. Harry had always been able to do this to her, arouse her so quickly and so effectively, until every inch of her skin felt sensitized and hot, and she could only pull him down closer to her, her hands beginning to make a pleasurable exploration of his shoulders and then down his back to what she firmly believed was the sexiest backside in the history of man.

Harry let out a sound that was part gasp, part moan, as he tore his mouth from hers and slid his lips down her neck, pausing to flick his tongue at a particularly sensitive spot, delighting in Hermione’s gasp as he did so, and then continued on towards her breast. The world had narrowed to this bed and this moment, his skin on Hermione’s, his hands on her body and hers on his. He was rapidly losing all coherent thought and the last thing he could think of was that the world was well-lost. He didn’t need anything else in the world…