A Most Advantageous Match
Chapter 12: Marital Bliss
Harry woke with the sun that filtered through the sheer curtains of his wife's bedroom. Hermione lay on her side, fast asleep, her hair as wild as he'd ever seen it, and he lay curled around her. The bedcovers were up around their chests and he held her with an arm around her middle. Their naked closeness left his skin tingling.
He couldn't recall a more pleasant morning.
He really ought to get up, he knew; they still had guests who would be expecting them for breakfast. He didn't want to disturb her peaceful, sleeping face, though, and he didn't want to leave this bed, lest he find that all the wonderful things that had happened there were only a dream.
Harry didn't know how long he lay there, watching Hermione sleep, before she began to stir, murmuring and then stretching - languidly, like a cat reaching out with its paws. He felt the moment she realized she wasn't alone, the quick tensing of her arms and legs as she twisted her head around to look at him.
To his heart's joy and relief, she smiled at him.
"You're still here," she said, turning her body over to look at him more comfortably. He saw a flash of her breast and resisted the urge to reach out and caress it.
"I didn't want to leave," he replied, reaching for the lock of hair that fell into her eyes. He pushed it back, behind her ear. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No," she said quickly, smiling with some relief. "I didn't want you to leave, either."
It was then that Harry realized she still didn't understand how he felt about her. Otherwise, she would have known that there was nowhere in the world he would rather be. But did she want his love?
"Hermione," he began hesitantly, unable to look away from those dark brown eyes, "last night…when you said…that you loved me, did you…did you mean -"
"I wasn't talking about friendship," she said with a small smile. "I love you, as a woman loves a man."
Harry's heart felt as if it swelled within his chest. "I should have told you last night, Hermione…I love you, too. I think…perhaps I already loved you when I asked you to marry me. I said it was because you were the only woman I'd ever really cared for, but I think there was a reason for that - I think it was because you were the only one I wanted, even if I didn't know it."
Her dark eyes softened tenderly, and her fingers rose to lightly trace his jaw. "I would scold you for not telling me sooner, but I wasn't very forthcoming either, and now…things will be better, won't they?"
Harry might have smiled back at her, but as he considered her statement, he recalled the previous evening.
"We still have Mr. Malfoy to contend with, I suppose…."
Hermione's eyes darkened. "And Miss Weasley, as well."
Harry frowned and propped himself on his elbow. "What can she possibly have left to do about it?"
"Well, she can't do much of anything," Hermione said, a little smugly, he thought, and it was adorable, "But I suspect she's been working under Mr. Malfoy's instruction. Last night he told me, essentially, that his plan was 'subtlety.' His intention isn't to harm either one of us, apparently, but to seduce me - and have you enthralled by Miss Weasley in the meantime."
Harry was tempted to jump out of bed and have Miss Weasley bodily removed from the house, but restrained himself. "I suppose we foiled that plan rather effectively last night."
"Rather," she agreed suggestively, mischief in her eyes. He had hardly the time to feel aroused by that look before she continued on slyly, "By the way, where did you learn to do what you did to me last night? With your mouth, I mean."
The faint blush on her cheeks was the only sign of her discomfort in saying the words, and he grinned at her developing boldness.
"Well, Mrs. Potter, you're not the only person who reads books she's not supposed to have," he said, recalling the well-illustrated volume his dorm-mates at school had given him when he announced his engagement.
She grinned back, and he was only slightly stunned when she pressed up against him beneath the covers. "For being such a good boy and doing your reading, I think you deserve a reward."
Taunted by the playfulness in her eyes, Harry responded with enthusiasm, rolling to pin her beneath him on the bed. Her eyes held his steadily, daring him to take her.
"Just what would the nature of this reward be?" he asked, a little gruffly.
"Something like this," she said quietly and seriously as her hand wrapped around his hardness. He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.
"What have I unleashed?" he muttered, somewhat short of breath, as she stroked him with nothing short of diabolical glee.
"There's only one way to find out," she replied, taking her hand away and looking up innocently at him.
Harry considered reminding her of the guests in the house who were very likely wondering where they were, judging by the amount of sunlight streaming through the curtains, but then thought better of it and kissed her, instead.
Her lips were warm and welcoming, and her body was soft and small and delicate against his as he gathered her closer. Though he knew her strength, her smallness in his arms filled him with tenderness and protectiveness, the same rush he'd felt when he'd found her unconscious in the forest some weeks ago. This gentle creature kissing him for all she was worth was everything to him.
She held him tightly, returning his kisses fervently - because she wanted him too, he realized with a little shock. In his mind, he had yet to fully connect the fact that she loved him to this particular aspect of love. He'd never imagined Hermione would ever want him to touch her, or that she'd want to touch him. The concept was somehow staggering.
Harry pulled away and felt her sigh against his lips; the soft warmth thrilled his soul. He held her warm, steady gaze as he stroked the smooth skin under his fingertips, tracing over her hips, palming her breasts, all with trembling hands. He watched the look of desire intensify in her eyes and knew he would never want anything more than to please this woman who looked at him with such fire.
She whimpered out a strangled moan as he worked his hand lower, into the soft, dark curls between her legs, holding himself on one arm above her. He watched her eyes flutter closed, her lips fall open, her cheeks flush. All the while, he felt his own desire grow.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed, squirming rather tantalizingly. "Let me feel you…I want to feel you inside me again."
Those words aroused Harry like none he'd ever heard before in his life, and he knew only his wife could say them to such effect.
His response was to settle between her legs and slide into that beautiful, warm place he never wanted to leave.
"Oh, Merlin," he breathed as her legs wrapped around him and he gave up on thought.
~
They were terribly late for breakfast. Hermione entered the dining room first, Harry to follow subtly after a little later.
"I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting," Hermione said to a knowing look from her mother, which she ignored for the moment. "I'm afraid I'm not used to such late evenings."
"Evidently, Mr. Potter isn't either," Miss Weasley commented as Hermione took her seat.
Hermione wasn't sure if a barb was intended in that statement, but she decided she ought to respond as if it were. "Yes, I think last night's exertions quite did him in."
"It was a lovely ball," Luna said, ending what might have escalated into a civil war, and Hermione was thanking her when Harry made his entrance.
"Good morning, everyone," he said. Hermione didn't meet his eyes, afraid of showing too much in front of all their guests, but he touched her shoulder as he passed her and took the seat next to her. The gesture was a subtle reminder of all that had transpired overnight, of what had changed between them. She glanced over to him, finding his eyes already on hers, and she knew nobody, not Miss Weasley, not Mr. Malfoy, could come between them.
"We were just discussing how exhausting the ball must have been to keep you in bed so late, Mr. Potter," said Miss Weasley, right on cue. Now Hermione felt quite certain that Miss Weasley suspected their nocturnal activities - and she desperately wanted to confirm the girl's suspicions. Let her know how her schemes had failed; let her know who the real Mrs. Potter was.
"Indeed," Harry answered vaguely. "Especially since we had a few unexpected guests."
Hermione glanced quickly at Harry and then to Miss Weasley, realizing what he was after.
Miss Weasley looked appropriately bemused, but there was a stiffness to her expression that suggested its lack of authenticity. "Oh? I didn't see anyone extraordinary last night."
"Perhaps they escaped your attention," Harry said. "I can only wonder how they found a way into the house without my knowledge."
"That is very strange," Miss Weasley said, suddenly very intent on her breakfast tea, and Hermione felt all her suspicions confirmed.
"Very strange indeed," Hermione said wryly, and Miss Weasley threw her a sharp look which Hermione returned in full.
~
Mr. Longbottom left them that morning to return to his grandmother's home, where he resided most of the year. Hermione rather wished all her guests had left so that she might be alone with her husband, but fortunately, the Weasleys would be leaving in two days' time, and they would take Miss Lovegood with them to London, just in time for the two girls to be transported to Hogwarts for the next term. Miss Lovegood seemed very happy with this arrangement, although the two Weasley siblings were a little baffled as to how the arrangement had been made at all. That, Hermione mused, was the brilliance behind Miss Lovegood's oddness.
The afternoon did pass quietly. Miss Weasley evidently decided to forego her attempts to woo Harry and kept largely to herself. Miss Lovegood engaged Mr. Weasley in an intense conversation as to the possibility of flying doing damage to the air, which Mr. Weasley argued vehemently against. Harry and her father had some sort of political discussion, although Mr. Granger did most the talking, as Harry was not an avid follower of non-magical events.
As for Hermione, she found herself sequestered in a corner with her mother, who unfortunately was the source of Hermione's own shrewdness.
"I take it by your late start this morning that you have finally resolved all your marital difficulties."
Hermione felt her face grow very hot. "Yes, we have finally understood one another, and I am loathe to admit you were right."
"About what, my dear?" her mother asked curiously.
"It seems irony can be kind…he did love me all along," Hermione said with a small smile, fighting not to look over at the object of her thoughts.
Her mother did not seem surprised by this information, which Hermione found a trifle frustrating.
"Did he give a reason, then, for his…hesitance?"
"He needed me to love him as well," she said, torn between discomfort and the warmth she felt for her husband.
"I take it he was very considerate, then?" Mrs. Granger said slyly.
"Very," Hermione admitted with a blush.
"It seems all is well, then," Mrs. Granger replied, smirking. "Well, your father and I will be returning to London tomorrow, I think, but you must be sure to let us know when we can expect the first grandchild."
"Mama!"
"Oh, and that is when my impropriety shocks you, my dear? You needn't be so prudish; you are married now."
Hermione rolled her eyes and made every attempt to change the subject.
~
That night, finally away from all the guests, Hermione walked alongside Harry toward their rooms, suddenly uncertain. What was the correct procedure now? Would they make love again, or would they share a bed at all?
She stalled uncertainly when they reached her door, and he, still moving, looked back at her with a single raised eyebrow.
"I don't suppose you'd like to stay with me tonight? My bed is exceedingly comfortable."
Hermione smiled. "I would like that."
"Good," Harry said, taking her hand and drawing her nearer, "because you've spoiled me. I'll never be able to sleep without you again."
Hermione didn't resist as she was pulled into his arms and his lips neared hers. "Yes, I know exactly what you mean."
TBC
A/N: Still one more chapter to go, with a little comeuppance for the conspirators and a little more connubial bliss for our favorite couple.