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The Ficlet Machine by Bingblot
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The Ficlet Machine

Bingblot

Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1.

Author's Note: 3 unrelated fluff ficlets to make up for the angst in the last one. Enjoy!

~*~

This first one is for Gil- just because. *hugs*

The Morning After

He opened his eyes and saw her.

And memories of the night before flooded his mind. He still didn't understand exactly what had happened or why or how. How one minute he could just have been talking to his best friend and the next minute it seemed he was kissing her… How one minute she was just his friend and the next she was suddenly the woman he needed to kiss, to touch…

He saw her, sleeping still, her face calm in sleep. And wondered that he didn't feel odd waking up next to her.

If he had thought about this happening, he would have thought that waking up would feel awkward. That he would be lying here wondering what he had done, crossing a line one just doesn't cross with one's best friend. He would have expected to feel regret. Apprehension at ending a friendship. Dismay.

But he didn't.

He looked at her, letting his eyes wander from the face he already knew so well in all its moods, to the body which he'd only just discovered…

And all he felt was- peace. Peace. Because somehow, some way, this, waking up next to her, felt right. This was what he had been made for, he suddenly thought. He had been made and meant for this girl, this woman, his Hermione.

And she was his. He was sure of it somehow, even though no words had been said, no promises made… (Except maybe in the universal language which their bodies had spoken the night before…) She was his.

And he was hers.

He shifted closer to her, putting his arm around her, gently so as not to disturb her, and closed his eyes, letting himself drift back to sleep.

He was at peace, lying here with her by his side. All was right in his world.

~*~*~*~*~

Note: Inspired by Libbie's NC-17 "Kitchen Table Redux" posted on the erotic_elves LJ community.

Rated PG-13.

Hear

It started with hearing her voice.

Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one. At the time he'd only noticed the bossiness in her tone. What he should have noticed and thought of before was the kindness in it, this concern on behalf of a boy she'd only just met. How many other kids would have volunteered to go up and down the train searching for a toad she'd never seen for a boy she'd met just minutes ago?

He loved her voice, had heard it when she was happy, or afraid, or angry… He knew what her voice sounded like choked with tears, the sound that always hurt his own heart on hearing it…

It was her voice he heard in his mind most often, her voice which guided him and helped him when he didn't know what to do…

Her voice he heard in the Infirmary even before he saw her, full of so much worry and concern he felt the beginning of tears build up behind his eyes…

It was her voice which had spoken the most beautiful words he'd ever heard in his life… I love you, Harry. He still remembered, knew he'd never forget, the tenderness, the wealth of emotion, in her tone as she said those words it seemed he'd been waiting his whole life to hear. The way his world had narrowed down to that one moment and the sound of her voice saying those words echoing in his mind…

He knew what her voice sounded like throaty and full of desire, a sound which never failed to send heat and a rush of blood down through his body. Knew that he'd never hear anything as arousing as the sound of her voice saying, I want you, Harry. Never hear anything as sensual or that would provoke the same surge of lust and love as her voice saying, Now, Harry. Please.

He knew the sounds she made when he touched her, the gasps, the moans, the cries… Knew the sound she made when she came…

He knew and loved all the sounds of her.

But now, at this moment, he knew he'd never heard anything so beautiful, never heard anything which meant more to him, never heard anything like the love, the trust, the confidence in her voice as she said the two words which would make her his for life…

I do.

And those two words were all he needed to hear.

~*~*~*~*~

The Reason

She was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

Her familiar face was the first thing he saw, blurrily, in that one moment when his eyes flickered open and somehow just knowing she was there filled him with an inexplicable sense of comfort… Just the sight of her face broke through the pain-induced haze he was in…

She was there, beside him… He felt an odd sense of peace in the moment before his eyes closed and he slipped back into the mindless, dreamless sleep of complete and utter exhaustion. She was there… And that was all he needed to know…

She was gone when he opened his eyes again, only Madam Pomfrey leaning over him, murmuring under her breath something about sending helpless boys out to face Dark Lords. And he felt a sharp stab of loss.

Where was she? She should be here; she was always here when he needed her, always here when he was hurt… Mingled with his sense of loss was an irrational fear. Where was she? She would be here with him if she could be. Where was she; was she hurt, sick, or--?

"Hermione," he managed to gasp out, ignoring the sudden pain and the supreme effort it took to croak out even that one word. Just her name. Because he needed to know…

"Miss Granger? I sent her off to sleep for a while. She hasn't left your side in days and I told her straight off that she'd be lying in another bed in here if she didn't get some sleep," Madam Pomfrey replied, busily, but there was an odd gentleness in her tone and in her touch, as she moved him to sit up more so he could drink some vile-tasting potion.

He felt heaviness overtake him again, waves of oblivion washing over him and he succumbed, closing his eyes…

She was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again.

Her brown eyes filled with worry and fear and affection and- and love, he suddenly recognized, shimmering with unshed tears…

She caught her breath when she saw his eyes open, scooting in closer. She didn't say anything but he read everything he needed to hear in her eyes. All the worry she'd felt, all her fear that he may not wake again, all the long hours she'd spent waiting, and finally, her soul-deep relief that he was awake…

And looking up at her, seeing the shadows of sleepless nights spent worrying about him under her eyes, he suddenly knew the reason for it all. The reason he'd fought, the reason he'd tried, the reason he'd survived…

It was for her… More than anything else, more than his desire to avenge his parents and Sirius, more than his vague wish to make sure no one else was killed because of Voldemort-he'd done it for her. So she wouldn't have to be in danger anymore, so she wouldn't have to fear for his life or the lives of anyone she cared about… And he'd survived because of her too, because he couldn't bear to leave her. Not now, not like this, not yet… She was his reason.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, that would somehow tell her all this, that she was the reason he'd done everything, she was the reason he was alive… And all he could say was, "I- I love you."

The words slipped out of his mouth without conscious thought; if he'd thought about it, he somehow knew he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to say those words he'd never said to anyone before. But they did slip out and he did say them and he knew, too, that they, perhaps better than any other words could, expressed what he wanted her to know.

She smiled, her beautiful smile that he loved to see. "I love you too," she said softly.

And he didn't need anything else. He was home.