Author's note: Thank you, always, for the reviews. I will try to answer all of them if you have a question or comment, but I fell so far behind between chapters 4 and 5 that I don't think I'll be able to go back and hit all of them. L I'm really sorry. Just know that I truly appreciate every one of them!
I'm going to do something a little different with this story, toward the end of it, if everything works out the way I want it. I don't think the mods will have any objections, but I'll have to ask them. Meanwhile, here's chapter 6. It's really a bit short compared to what most chapters are, so I'll have to make it up to you somehow. :D
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Hermione didn't have any idea when she had dozed off, but she was vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening somewhere nearby, and the sound of footsteps on the thick carpet. Some part of her mind was telling her that she needed to wake up, but she couldn't figure out why.
Then she felt the bed shift slightly and she jerked her eyes open.
"Sorry," Harry said, giving her a small smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you." He was still in just his boxers, his hair wet from the bath, his skin slightly pink from the heat of the water. "Do you want to get under the blankets?"
She sat up, staring at him. Her mind was still slightly sleep-fogged and she couldn't quite make sense of what he was asking her. "I fell asleep," she said lamely.
He nodded. "You're probably more tired than you realized." He took mercy on her and walked around the bed to kneel in front of her. "Let's get your shoes off, okay?"
She just nodded, and watched as he untied her shoes and slid them off her feet. It occurred to her that there was some problem with this whole scenario, but she was too tired to think much about it. "I can't sleep in these clothes," she mumbled, barely able to keep her eyes open anymore. He glanced up at her and there was a strange look on his face. She tugged at her sweater but couldn't seem to figure out how to get it off. When he didn't move to help her, she held the bottom of it out to him. "Help me?"
He hesitated, then stood to help her pull the sweater over her head. She tugged at the T-shirt underneath, but he put his hand on hers. "You may want to leave that on."
"Okay," she said sleepily. "The pants have to go, though. They're-wet." She hadn't the foggiest idea how they'd gotten wet. She didn't remember, come to think of it, how Harry had come to be in her room. It didn't matter at the moment though, because she wanted desperately to go back to sleep.
Again, he hesitated. She flopped backwards on the bed and felt sleep start to roll over her. She was only the tiniest bit aware of Harry sliding her jeans off of her, lifting her just slightly from the bed, and pulling the covers up around her.
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Something tickled Hermione's nose and she half-heartedly waved her hand around her face, trying to shoo Crookshanks off her bed. Her palm hit something hard, and she started to drift off again, assured that the cat would now leave her alone. She was too warm and comfortable to bother opening her eyes. Then, something shifted beside her and the bed squeaked slightly. A deep voice sounded close to her face. "Did I do something wrong?"
She slid one eye open and found herself staring at Harry. She shrieked, jumping backwards and nearly tumbling off the bed. Harry's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. "Wha-Harry! What are you doing in my bed?"
He said nothing, apparently knowing that it would all come back to her once she looked around. "Oh," she said stupidly. "Sorry."
"Why'd you hit me?"
She put her hand to her mouth, gasping. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. Something tickled my nose and I thought it was Crookshanks. Did it hurt?"
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Not with a skull this thick. Quite a way to wake up though."
She blushed, looking around the room again. It hadn't taken her even a few seconds to remember the night before, with the snowstorm and the long walk and all and she felt herself start to relax. So they hadn't--.
She reached her hand down to scratch her leg and stopped. "Where are my pants?"
Harry leaned back on his pillows, rubbing his eyes. "You said you couldn't sleep in jeans."
"Did-did I take them off?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
He dropped his hands to his sides, looking at her carefully. "Does that matter?"
"Yes, it matters!" she said, blushing.
"You asked me to help you get them off. Then you fell asleep. So I took them off, put you under the covers and went to sleep." His eyes were burning into hers, even more intense without his glasses. "I didn't touch you, if that's what you're worried about."
She was suddenly furious with herself. Of course he hadn't touched her. He didn't want her like she wanted him. "I-I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you."
He shrugged off her apology and rolled over onto his side. "No big deal. I'm going back to sleep for a bit, if you don't mind."
She watched him for a minute, then shook her head. "Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you mad at me?"
He was quiet for a long moment, and she wondered if he'd already dozed off again. Then he shook his head. "No."
"I just-I didn't remember asking you to-and I'm sure I did. I know I did, because you said I did, but-well, it was just--."
"Hermione?" he said, not opening his eyes.
"Yes?"
"It's okay. Really."
She laughed softly. "Thank you, Harry."
He nodded.
She lay back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling. It was still early, the sun wasn't even up yet, and she was really thinking of going back to sleep too. She rolled over to face Harry and suddenly realized what had been tickling her nose. She'd been laying so close to Harry that his hair had been in her face. In fact, she seemed to remember feeling his warm body pressed against hers as she was starting to wake up. She had been cuddled up next to him.
She wanted to be there again; she wanted that more than she cared to admit to herself.
She edged a little closer to him, wondering if he was asleep yet. He hadn't complained at having her spooned up next to him. Then again, she thought bitterly, made he hadn't realized that it was her. Maybe he had shared a bed with women so much that he no longer realized someone was holding him. That wasn't anything she wanted to think about, though. He didn't go into great detail about his sex life, and she didn't care to ask.
She sighed, still trying to decide whether or not to scoot up next to him again. Finally, she couldn't resist any longer. She moved carefully, trying not to shake the bed, until she was touching him again. He was so warm and solid and she wrapped her arm around his waist, pushing herself tightly against him.
She jumped when he moved his hand up to take hold of hers, pulling her arm tighter around him. She didn't dare move, afraid that he would wake up if she did. Instead, she lay as still as she could until his breathing had evened out again.
It was more than she ever should have done, but she reasoned with herself that this wasn't that bad. She wasn't having sex with him, she was just cuddling. It meant nothing.
She sighed, letting her body relax until she was practically melting into his back. She nearly shot out of her skin when he spoke. "Are you settled in yet? Because I really want to go back to sleep."
She gasped, trying to pull her hand out of his. He held tight to it, somehow managing to roll onto his back without shifting her at all. "I thought you were asleep."
"Not yet," he muttered, pushing his free arm behind her head and pulling her right up next to him. She wanted to move, but she couldn't make herself. It felt so good to have his arm around her, to be tucked up so close to him. She lay her head on his bare chest and suddenly couldn't remember why she'd ever thought this was a bad idea. It felt so right.
His hand was resting on her shoulder, his long fingers gently brushing back and forth across the fabric of her T-shirt. She could feel the hard muscles of his stomach under her arm. She could hear his heart beating in his chest.
It was all great, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted to kiss him, to feel his hands on her bare skin. She wanted him, with her, inside her.
"That tickles, Hermione," Harry muttered, his voice thick with sleep. She had been running her fingers along the bare skin of his chest without realizing it.
"Sorry," she said, glad her couldn't see the blush rising up on his cheeks.
"Are you all right?"
She stiffened, worried what might be behind that question. "Yeah, why?" she responded in a tense, high-pitched voice that wasn't her own.
"You're acting strange."
"Am I?"
He chuckled, causing his chest to vibrate under her cheek. "Yes, you are. Can you save me the trouble of trying to drag it out of you and just tell me what you're thinking?"
She huffed. "Since when are you so insightful toward my feelings?" He didn't respond, but she felt his hand loosen it's grip on her shoulder. It hadn't been the right thing to say, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize to him again. "Honestly, Harry," she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. "I'm fine."
She waited for him to argue with her, to tell her she was a terrible liar, to say something. When he didn't, she couldn't resist turning her head to look at him. He was looking down at her, his green eyes heavy-lidded and darker than normal. There was something so intense in his stare that she only barely managed to fight off a shiver.
Then, his eyes slid shut and he said nothing more.