Bed Clothes

Longfletch

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 17/12/2006
Last Updated: 17/12/2006
Status: completed

Number 12 Grimmauld Place is quiet. Hermione Potter hates it. A ficlet.

Chapters

1. Bed Clothes

1. Bed Clothes

Wowser, I've had such a great welcome on Portkey! Thanks to all of the people who've reviewed my stuff. This was something I just thought up, hope you enjoy.

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Night descended on Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The fire was crackling merrily, dinner was over, and a state of calm enveloped the once home of an escaped convict.

Hermione Potter couldn't stand it.

She wanted him to be home, but oh no, he had to cover surveillance at that bloody game in Puddlemore. He didn't have to go, but it was one of Ron's Cannons games and he didn't want to miss it. Her shift at St. Mungos had prevented her from going as well.

It was nine thirty and she decided to go to bed because of her extreme case of boredom. Sleep would eat away at the hours until he came home. After taking her shower, she reached for a pair of pajama bottoms that were on top of the toilet, his favorite pair in actuality. She grinned as she thought of the mock angry look he would have given her. She often borrowed, or as he liked to put it stole, these pants. It wasn't her fault that they were comfortable. He would demand for her to give his pants back, which she did. Of course, other things came off as well and neither of them would get any sleep that night, but she didn't mind one bit.

Next, she put on of his old shirts from Dursleys', an oversized grey shirt. As soon as she put it on, she knew it was a mistake. The smell of him assaulted her, the shampoo he used in the morning, his cologne and, oddly enough, wind on a spring day. Why he conjured up these smells was beyond her, but she didn't care to know. Anything other smell would have seemed wrong.

Now she missed him worse than before. Damn him and his love. She crawled into bed, turned off the lights except for the kitchen light with a wave of her wand, and lay down.

“I wish he was home,” she sighed. She tossed turned for two hours and was beginning to lose hope of ever falling asleep when she heard a small pop downstairs. She squealed one word as she rushed downstairs.

“Harry!”

Flinging herself into his arms reminded her why waiting wasn't all that bad.

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