A/N: Thanks a whole lot to Tome Raider, my beta, and to my LJ FList who put up with a lot of my shit. `-_-
::clings to FList::
Standard disclaimers apply
Chapter Three: The Most Ancient Language
She turned over on the bed and encountered his bright green eyes.
How long has he been awake?
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning," he replied.
"Slept well?"
He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. "Slept very well." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
She instantly felt a flutter in her stomach and seriously contemplated jumping him, mostly convincing herself that she had a scholarly interest in finding out whether all the dorm gossip about the desirability of certain positions relative to others were true, but the world shook, and she heard the gentle, but insistent tone of another voice.
~~
Hermione opened her bleary eyes and tried to puzzle out just who had dared to wake her from a potentially pleasant dream. It was greatly disorienting to find out that the object of her dream was most assuredly there on her bed looking as handsome as ever.
She paused to make sure if he was fully clothed, half-expecting that she hadn't actually been dreaming.
His clothes were well-worn. They'd been on him for quite some time now by the looks of the bit of dirt on the knees of his cargos.
"Good morning." He paused, surveyed her bed spread, and shook his head, chuckling.
"What are you laughing at?" she grumbled, self-conscious about her morning breath and stumbling out of the covers sluggishly.
He gestured to the books spread out all over the bed.
She had drifted off to sleep some time in the night with opened tomes. She probably had an imprint of a Gaelic poem on her cheek, seeing as she'd slept on a copy of Irish Folk Rhymes.
"You said you'd get some rest," he said. "You didn't. You read all night."
"I couldn't sleep."
"You should have come over, then. We could have been not-sleeping together."
Hermione adamantly refused to wonder about whether he meant what she thought he meant.
She was too grumpy to be fit to socialize with anyone, so she went straight to the bath chamber and took a quick shower, dressing within the confines of the locked door and being overly aware that she was naked while Harry was outside her bathroom, waiting for her.
It was almost embarrassing how her body and consciousness was suddenly so responsive to him. When before his kiss seemed enough for her, everything seemed ten times magnified now that he had touched her in her most womanly parts.
She was beginning to understand why Lavender and Parvati wouldn't shut up about it. If heavy petting with one's boyfriend generated this much restlessness and yearning for more, she couldn't imagine what actual sex would do to her.
Only one way to find out.
"Hermione, don't be a slag," she muttered at her reflection as she brushed her teeth, counting the strokes to a hundred in such a precise manner that her parents would have been proud.
And boyfriend, now? Is he? We haven't talked about that, either. Brooding heroes are quite sexy, but goodness, sometimes I wish they would stop brooding and try talking for once.
She lost count and had to start again. When she was done, she hurriedly put the finishing touches to her look and hurried out of the bath.
"I think maybe I've finished reading this book. It's actually very interesting," Harry said, holding up one of the thicker tomes.
"Oh, shut it, you. I didn't take that long. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"No. Thought I'd wake you first."
She obliged him a smile. "Nice of you. Well, then we should hurry along. We'll have a quick breakfast and then do some research, yeah?"
She led them out of her chamber, but she had a distinct feeling he was smirking. She caught him trying to stifle his grin. "Oh, what's funny this time?"
"It's not really funny, see, but do you honestly think you'd be able to find out more about the Lady of the Lake? This is the one place in the universe where all the information about that should be, yet there was nothing on your bookshelves. Don't you think its-I don't know, a sign that there's nothing about it on print?"
"First of all," she began with martyr-like patience. "Just because it doesn't seem to be in a book, it doesn't mean the book doesn't exist. Secondly, if I were the sort to give up so easily, I'd have already suffered death by troll-trampling-and, oh Harry, don't think I don't know you're going to make an Expelled Joke again. Honestly, it's getting old. Will you and Ron never let me hear the end of it?"
"Never. It's too perfect, but I'll let it go for now. Do you have a third point?"
"Yes. If the information isn't in a book, it doesn't mean we couldn't find it anywhere else."
His eyes twinkled. "Like Muggle Internet?"
Oh, the ideas Harry, not to mention Ron, sometimes come up with… "As much as I love it when you think outside the box, Harry…"
He stifled a grin and attempted to grab her by the waist, possibly to tickle her into submission. "Oy…"
She sashayed out of his reach. "I was talking about runes-on walls. We already saw a set of them on the huge monolith outside. Maybe there's more around the priory. Besides, it's not as if I can go on Google and find answers to the ancient secrets of Avalon, you know."
He shot her a dangerous leer. "So snarky to me today."
It was futile to stifle a laugh. "Well, you started it!"
"This from the woman who said she wasn't six years old. You are asking for a spanking, Granger. You're this close to getting punished."
Hermione could've sworn her toes wiggled with anticipation, but she wasn't about to let on that she found the prospect more enticing that it ought to be for a supposedly uptight swot like her. "Really, Harry. This is no time to be clowning around. We have work to do. Now, after breakfast, we should try to find the library…"
"Now, why did I expect you to say that?"
"Because you know me too well."
"You say that like it's a bad thing…"
Sometimes, Harry was just so utterly lovable, but she wasn't going to let him charm her this time. "Library after breakfast."
"I'm just saying… it's a beautiful day out."
"Your observation is duly noted." She cast him a smug look and crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.
He rolled his eyes as he sighed, though he was smiling-vastly amused. "Come on then. The breakfast hall is this way…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breakfast in Avalon was more like Hogwarts, but quieter. Occasionally, one of the children would laugh and shriek, but most of the time, the priestesses seemed engaged in quiet, unhurried conversation.
Zeke came by to ask Harry if he wanted to see his turtle pond.
"Sounds interesting," Harry said, at which Hermione dealt him a warning glare. He would not be intimidated. He never was like Ron in that respect. "I'll go see it after breakfast."
Zeke's eyes lit up and he cast Hermione a shy glance. "You can bring the lady too, if she'd like to come."
Harry turned to her for her answer.
Hermione's lips pursed, her refusal forestalled by the terribly adorable expression on Zeke's expectant face. She managed a passable smile, speaking through her grit teeth. "I'll be glad to see your turtle pond."
Zeke looked overwhelmed. He grinned, happily told them that he'd go tidy up the pond a bit, and ran off with a jubilant skip.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Harry said, smirking.
She shot him a frown. "Oh, you evil man. You did that on purpose."
He chuckled. "It will only take a minute. And really, Hermione, can you find it in your heart to disappoint the boy? He was asking so earnestly."
"It's no wonder you and Ron abuse my good nature. I'm a complete pushover, apparently."
"Good Lord, Hermione. You're many things, but a pushover you're not."
Harry always did know what to say to her.
After breakfast, they went to see Zeke's turtles. They were brought to a mini garden to one side of the tower where there appeared to be an artificial pond. Water trickled gently from a bamboo spout while another out-pipe kept the water regulated to a certain level. The pond had tiny clay and ceramic structures decorating its surface, and on some of it, turtles sat beached, moving with painstaking slowness.
Zeke was refilling crude food dispensers and some of the turtles had already swum towards them. They were bog turtles, roughly 4 inches in size, but most interesting of all was that they were native to the United States, which made her wonder how the turtles got to Avalon.
Really, Hermione… as if you didn't know magic.
The other children stood around Zeke, giggling and teasing him, and Hermione wondered just when Zeke would start appreciating the fact that he was the only male in an island full of women.
"Did you know," Hermione began, "that the top domed part of the turtle shell is called the carapace while the underlying part is called the plastron?"
The children fell silent, looking up at her all at the same time. They seemed hopelessly confused by the fact that this lecture-making person was invading their playtime.
How typical of you, Hermione, she thought contritely. She always spouted out such uninteresting facts whenever faced with a situation she was yet unfamiliar with. It was like her Know-It-All button got activated as some kind of fail-safe against being mistakenly considered an air-headed miscreant for the more accurate description of brainy social reject.
"I didn't know that," Harry said, doing quite a good job pretending he was really interested.
She felt that she had to salvage the situation by saying something a bit more radical. "They can live to be over a hundred fifty years old, too," she added desperately.
The children seemed more enthused by this fact.
"Wow, that's old," said one of the girls.
Encouraged, Hermione went on. "Yes. And the oldest documented turtle to live was an Indian Ocean Giant Tortoise, which was captured when it was around fifty but lived 152 years more after that in captivity."
"Wicked!" Zeke cried.
The children then seemed to surge towards her and Hermione found herself scrambling back in panic-in dire danger of yelling, "Fall in line first years! I'm Head Girl!" But she felt Harry hold her in place, preventing her escape, and she could've sworn she heard him smothering a laugh.
Zeke shoved one of his turtles in her face and she yelped in surprise. "Can mine live that long?"
Hermione gently pushed the turtle away from her nose. "Erm, no. It's a Bog turtle, see, and they only live up to a little over 40 years… goodness, Zeke… dear, I see it. There is no need to shove it in my-"
"40 years! That's a long time! That's way older than you, Harry!"
"Yes it is, Zeke," said Harry, urging Hermione to sit with him on one of the bigger sized rocks. "Tell us more, Hermione."
Hermione felt the gentle yank and she plopped right on Harry's lap. She dealt him a most vicious glare over her shoulder but was quite unable to prevent the tilted grin from forming on her lips. "Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Every minute."
She tried to stare him down, which wasn't possible, of course, then she looked at the eager faces of the children around her. It was a lost cause. "Fine. I know when I'm beat."
Taking the bog turtle from Zeke's hands, she held it primly on her palm and began to tell them more. "They're good friends with Spotted turtles, so they don't really mind hibernating together during the winter months…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As was expected, most of the children easily tired of talking about turtles. Zeke was genuinely interested in listening to more of what Hermione had to say on the subject, but the girls had already decided that they wanted to play Hide and Go Seek.
Naturally, Harry and Hermione were most vehemently invited to join the game.
Hermione thought it was a splendid idea and resolved to get some work in while the children thought she was playing.
Zeke was It, and as soon as he began to count, everyone sped off.
Just before Harry ran off, he pressed his lips to her ear. "Now, don't you be running off to the library."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she said, straight-faced.
As soon as Harry left for his hiding place, she sped to her room, grabbed a book, a notepad, and the quill set, and marched off to find a hiding place that would give her a perfect view of the monument face.
She sat inside her hollow and sketched the monolith, paying careful attention to the runes. She used her book as a reference for the runes, to make sure she got the shapes right. She resolved that she would examine the monolith more closely later, to see if there were smaller runes that she had to copy.
She was so absorbed in her work that she failed to notice Harry sneaking up on her until he jumped up from behind the tree with a "Boo!"
Hermione yelped and almost ruined her sketch. "Harry! Don't do that!"
He laughed, leaning his shoulder against the mouth of her hollow. "See, I knew you would do this."
"Yes, well, I was born with a stick up my arse. Too bad."
He cocked a smile, staring at her for several seconds.
It was a bit unnerving. "What?"
"You always say that; that you're uptight, or ascetic, or born with a stick up your arse, but you know what? I've long since stopped believing you. You're immensely fun to be with when you decide to pen it into your schedule."
"Har, har. Very funny. Where's Zeke? Left him to the tender mercies of his playmates?"
"He'll be fine. He hates the attention they give him now, but in a few years, he'll consider himself the luckiest bloke in the world." He reached into her tree and took her notebook and quill.
"Hey! That's not funny, Harry. Give it back!"
He ignored her protests, pushing her hands gently away as he flipped the page she was writing on for a fresh one. "It was nice of you to oblige the children this morning."
Slightly disgruntled that Harry never could be bossed into doing things her way, she got a bit snitty. "Yes, well, you and Zeke didn't exactly give me a choice."
"You'd make an excellent professor. Ever thought about doing that? Teach at Hogwarts?"
She scoffed. "And put up with dunderheads like you and Ron?"
He laughed. "You sounded like Snape just now…" His tone dwindled and his expression darkened a bit.
Hermione said nothing. As far as she was concerned, this was dangerous ground for her. She'd let Harry broach the subject and she'd only respond accordingly, but instead of going on about Snape, the dark cloud seemed to clear and Harry smiled, holding up his finished sketch.
She couldn't help but laugh at the stick figures with its crude castle in the background.
The one with the hair standing in all directions was definitely Harry. The figure wore glasses and had a lightning shaped scar right smack across his face, as if to cleave it in half. A second stick figure with big lips stood beside him. This one had frizzy hair and she held a book. The third stick figure was the tallest one. He held a broken wand and he had on what appeared to be a wizard's hat. The castle in the background was no doubt Hogwarts. There was a snitch over the Harry stick figure's head, supposedly in the act of whizzing by. It looked like his stick figure was dizzy.
"Why is Ron the only one with a wizard's hat?" she asked.
"That's not a wizard's hat. That's a Dun's cap."
She laughed. "That's mean!"
"I tried to draw a chessboard, but that meant I had to draw a table, and there just wasn't enough space."
"How about those wonky things on me? What are those? Are those S.P.E.W. buttons?"
He actually reddened. "Well, I thought your stick figure should look more like a girl…"
"Harry Potter! Are those my breasts?"
"They're evenly round, I swear!"
She laughed. Senseless as all their morning activities were, she had to admit that she did like the notion of having Harry so relaxed. She remembered a time when he was like this more times than not, and she really liked those memories.
It was reassuring to know that they hadn't forgotten how to laugh-really laugh.
A bell tolled, repeatedly, and Hermione had to wonder what it was for.
"Verspers of sorts," Harry said, perhaps noticing the questioning look in her eyes. "I've been asking around since this morning, while you were asleep, about how they run things here… thought I'd get a head start on things. I also happened to ask if anyone has actually seen the Lady of the Lake."
Harry never ceases to surprise her.
"Well, did you find anything out?"
"Yes, actually. I spoke to the kids. Didn't get much at first, but Zeke spoke to me in private; said he had a secret: He's seen her. Zeke's been called to the lake and had spoken to the Lady."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I cannot understand why you did not tell me about this earlier," Hermione said in a clipped tone as she hurriedly made her way across the courtyard in brisk, purposeful strides. The priestesses that saw them watched them go by with arched eyebrows, but Hermione paid them no heed.
Harry trailed after her, carrying her book and quill set, and laughed. "Because I knew you'd get this way-all obsessed and wound up. If I, Boy Fated to Brood His Entire Life, can find the time to relax, then so should you-"
She turned to him, inadvertently swatting his shoulder with her notepad. "Do you find this funny, Harry? Because honestly, the humor is completely lost to me! I am busting my arse trying to find answers, because in case you haven't figured it out, my singular purpose in life these days is to save yours! I can't do that if you randomly decide to keep important information from me! Really, I'd expect this sort of behavior from Ron, but not from you!"
His grin wilted and his expression darkened. He wasn't just frowning; he seemed genuinely offended.
She didn't really care at the moment. She was quite teed-off herself. She could match his mood just fine, right now.
"Look back on the past year, Hermione," he said, his gaze intense and piercing. "Look back and think if we're better friends for it-you, me, and Ron. I know you understand what I'm saying, because you thought it, too. Hell, you were thinking it when Ron and I refused to. Our friendship was crumbling bit by bit, yeah? You felt it, and I saw how you tried to keep it together for the three of us, but you had your own barriers, which is why you couldn't completely fix the gaps. You had secrets to keep."
Her eyes widened and she felt her stomach clench anxiously.
"You think I don't know? I've known you were hiding things since you began keeping them, but I trust you-I trust you unconditionally, and I know you wouldn't have kept them from me if you thought it wise to tell. So I won't even ask you about them now, and I'll wait until you're good and ready to tell, but at least admit that since the Dementor attack, the three of us have been painfully aware of what we've lost chasing those Horcruxes all year. This morning it was there. This morning it was back, and I realized just how much it meant to me… I wasn't in much of a hurry to put it off again, even for the Lady of the Lake…"
She didn't quite know what to say as she let his words sink in. She was dumbstruck. Many of the things he said touched her deeply, especially the part about knowing she had secrets. She had thought all this time that he had been too consumed by their mission to notice, but he'd been paying attention-watching her, and trusting her.
Truly, was it so bad that he had kept something from her now-with the sincere intention of telling her about it later-because he had rediscovered just how much their friendship meant to him? He who had spent eleven miserable years friendless and loveless being at the cruel mercies of his relatives?
"Oh, Harry…" she whispered. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-I didn't mean to be so horrible…"
The hard lines of his face softened. "It's alright. I wasn't-I wasn't looking for an apology. I just need for you to understand why, eh? I'm not skiving work. I know you're always worried about me so I wanted to help by asking around while you were still asleep, but this morning… it was just so nice spending time with you again. I figured a bit of time just being us would be even better than telling you what I'd found out."
It was almost heartbreaking, the earnestness in his eyes, and she was a bit ashamed of herself. She had always thought that in the last year, she was the only one out of the three of them who seemed to care about holding on to their friendship. She had tried, so many times, to rekindle the camaraderie in her own little way. Yet now, when it had come so naturally, she just had to step on it and become neurotic on him.
The irony was amazing.
She flung her arms around his shoulders and it caused him to drop the book and quill, but she didn't care. She held him tight, and he seemed to appreciate it, because he clung just as fiercely.
They stayed that way for a bit until she pulled away.
"Sorry I went off on you like that," she whispered. "I never would've stayed angry at you, you know."
"I know. I suppose I should've told you…"
"I understand why you didn't. The important thing is that we're in this together, and that you told me anyway. So… think we can go see Zeke now?" She was nothing if not determined.
He chuckled, shaking his head in resignation. "Yes. We should. Let's go."
Taking her hand, he led them back to Zeke's turtle pond.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sure enough, Zeke was there and he was carefully chopping up bits of worm to feed more of it to his turtles.
Upon seeing Harry, Zeke's eyes lit up. "Hullo!"
"Hi Zeke. You're feeding your turtles again?"
He nodded. "Found these worms by the swamps. Didn't want to waste them."
"Those seem like nice worms-"
Hermione nudged Harry before he got carried away again and Harry dutifully clamped his lips shut. He let her lead.
She stepped forward. "Zeke, think you can help us with something?"
Zeke seemed genuinely eager to please. "That depends. Will my mum be alright with it?"
Hermione looked to Harry for assistance. She didn't want to force Zeke into doing something he didn't feel comfortable doing.
Harry nodded. "It's about that stuff we were talking about this morning. You know, about the Lady?"
"Oh, that! Well, I think mum don't have to know about it, then. Like we agreed, yeah, Harry? You promised I can keep my secret and that you'd only tell Hermione."
"Yeah. I haven't broken that promise, so your secret's still yours, but Hermione has some questions about it. Is that alright?"
"I s'pose. What sorter questions do you have?"
Hermione sat on the rock she and Harry were perched on earlier so that she could level eyes with Zeke. "Did you actually see her, Zeke? The Lady of the Lake?"
Zeke grinned. "Yeah. She was pretty, but she looked a bit like a ghost. She called me to the lake at midnight and I went. Mum didn't know. She thought I was asleep."
"Did you speak to the lady?"
Zeke nodded.
"What did she say?"
"Sowilo."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"Soooowiiiiloooo. Not sure what it means. She didn't say much more than that. She disappeared in a bit and she hadn't called me back. S'okay. I reckon mum won't like it if she found out I left my room at midnight more than once."
Her eye brow arched and she looked at Harry.
He shrugged, utterly clueless.
She took a stick from the ground and drew a lightning bolt on the soil.
Harry frowned when he saw it. "Hermione, why are you drawing my scar-"
"It's not your scar-or rather it is." She looked at him thoughtfully. "This is Sowilo. It's an ancient rune. It means wholeness, light, energy, and discovery. It's got characteristics, too, like a person. A Sowilo's characteristics include the spirit of life, boundless energy, strength of character, also the victory of light over darkness, and it demands that we use goodness to overcome evil. Its element is air and its polarity is… male."
"Fascinating."
She grinned. "Yes, it is. Yet, more interesting still is the suggestion, through this rune, that the Lady… was expecting you."
He looked doubtful. "The Lady was expecting me."
She waved her hand to dismiss his expression. "Oh, of course it's just a theory Harry, and I'd sooner dismiss it than take it as truth, but if I were to be open-minded, the connection of Sowilo to you in this instance seems compelling. The shape of the rune, its characteristics, its element, its polarity… it might as well be called the Harry rune, yeah? And then why Zeke? Why not someone else, like Brigit, or Morgana-someone who might be able to interpret it? Well, I have this theory… I think the Lady of the Lake can only communicate with men."
"Excuse me?"
"I think only men can hear her calling or speaking. Think about it. Throughout history, there were only three documented people who have established contact with her: Merlin, Arthur, and Sir Bedivere. And now we have Zeke. Or perhaps the Lady of the Lake is just like the priestesses of Avalon-willing to make themselves known only when there's a man involved."
"So she summons Zeke because he's the only one who would hear her?"
"Yes. If I were really crazy like Trelawney, I could say that the Lady knew Zeke would bring the message to you, and that you would have someone who understood it explain it to you, but that would be reaching, I suppose. Anyway, the important thing is…" She paused. What was the important thing?
Harry waited for her to go on, possibly just as eager to find out what the important thing was.
She counted the days they've been here and she realized that tomorrow would be their third day. If on the third day of their stay Excalibur still remains with the Lady, Hermione would take Harry with her and leave. When she thought about it, Zeke's revelation came at a most opportune time.
She shrugged. "Perhaps we should stick around a bit longer. Just a little bit. If she was expecting you, then perhaps she does have plans of making herself known to you, whether or not she gives you the sword."
He seemed mildly surprised. "Well, I'm fine with that. But will you be?"
She shrugged. "I'd have to be. I don't think it will be long, anyway. At least I hope not."
"This from the woman who walked out of Divinations."
"The subject is whooly, yes. It's not an exact science, but I've listened to Firenze, and to some degree I can understand the patterns of it. Besides that, we know that the future can be told, whether it's because you speak prophecies into a bottle or because you've gone back in time with a Time Turner… I don't think I find Divinations as laughable as I used to-at least when it's not under Trelawney's tutelage."
"Well, that settles that, then. We'll wait, and according to you, we won't be waiting long."
"That's just an educated guess. Give it another two days. If nothing happens, we have to leave, and I'd have to think of another way to destroy that locket." She sighed at the prospect. She was weary just thinking about it.
He settled beside her on the rock and cocked a smile. "No matter what happens, I think we'll be fine. You'll have answers. You always do."
She took his hand and squeezed. "Thanks. Avalon isn't a bad place to wait, anyway."
"No. Not a bad place in the least."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione did believe that she was right in the way only Know-It-Alls like her could be when it came to their well-founded theories. It enabled her to relax most of the day, and spend time with Harry that would have otherwise been spent obsessing in the library over information she might never find.
In Harry's part, he seemed quite relaxed himself.
Zeke stayed with them, and Hermione could tell that the boy was starving for male company. She could see how his eyes lit up when he did or said something that Harry asked no explanation for, because Harry understood what he meant instantly, in the way boys seemed to have a secret language.
She wondered briefly what it would be like having Ron there.
Well, there would be no snogging with Harry, for one.
She sighed. She had, at times, worried about Bill, but it only made her feel guilty that Bill might have been in grave peril, or worse, that his entire family might already be grieving for his loss, yet there she was in Avalon, with Harry, wondering when she could get him alone long enough to steal a snog.
Harry plopped beside her after sending Zeke off on some search through the thicket of greens. "Something wrong?"
"Just wondering if Bill's alright," she said. "I hope he is."
"He'll be alright. He's a Weasley."
She had to smile at this. "They are a tough lot, aren't they?"
"The toughest."
"I feel a bit guilty… that we're not with Ron."
He paused then fidgeted. "Y-Yeah… sometimes I think about it, too, but I keep telling myself that they don't really need us over there right now. What they need is for us to be working towards the completion of this mission so that we can put a stop to all this. Ron said it, didn't he? Do it for Bill."
She nodded. "Yes, but I couldn't help but think that we aren't exactly toiling for a solution." She gestured to their beautiful surroundings.
"What are you talking about? It's not easy to amuse an eight-year-old boy. I've spent the last few hours just trying to think of a game that would tire him into sitting still, but Zeke's just a bundle of energy. It's work, I tell you."
She grinned. "Well, he seems busy enough right now. What did you tell him to do?"
He smirked. "Nothing, really. He fancies someone. I told him how he might win her over."
She gasped, laughing. "Oh, but he's so little! And you giving him advice!"
"And what's wrong with that?"
She blushed, reconsidering. "Nothing, really. Just teasing. I think he couldn't have asked advice from anyone better."
He reddened but seemed terribly pleased.
Zeke shot out of the foliage carrying with him a bouquet of the prettiest flowers. He came running to them and upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that he had tied a mangy old ribbon around the stems to hold them together.
He gave the flowers to her. "Here, Hermione. Wanted to give `em to you."
Hermione took a moment to be surprised, and then realizing it was the most adorable thing in the world, she smiled brightly as she took the flowers. "It's very sweet, Zeke. Thank you." She kissed his cheek.
Zeke looked like he was going to die. He grumbled a "You're welcome," and ran away as fast as he could back to the tower.
Harry, mouth agape, finally laughed. "That little beast, he didn't tell me it was you!"
"Well, I was right then, wasn't I? No better advice than yours."
He appeared more smug this time. "Yeah? I must be doing things right, then?"
She walked right into that one, but it wouldn't do to give him a sweeping victory. "Oh, I don't know. Unlike some people, he gave me flowers."
He moved closer, and he practically had to whisper in her ear. "Well, I can't compete with that, now can I?"
She could feel his breath tickling the tiny hairs down the crook of her neck. "Giving up so soon? Thought you were made of… firmer stuff."
You did not just say that, Hermione.
Harry stared at her, then swallowed.
You did. Oh, Hermione, now you've done it! He's going to run just like Zeke did.
But Harry didn't run. He did, in fact, begin to press kisses on her shoulder, then her neck. She felt tongue, and she dropped her bouquet just so she could run her hands through his hair, clutching at the dark locks ever so gently when his touch sent tingling ripples down her back.
All her early-morning yearnings flared back to life with all-consuming need. She shifted so she could wrap her arms over his shoulders and kiss him back. The intensity of his response had her sighing happily into the kiss.
His hands were only slightly less tentative than they first were. His fingers skirted the edges of her shirt before they slipped underneath the fabric to touch skin. Hermione felt heat blossoming from the contact.
She slipped her hand from his shoulder and down the front of his shirt. Her heart hammered momentarily when she realized how bold she was being, but having Harry suck on her tongue didn't leave much time to agonize and hesitate about her intentions.
Pushing back his shirt, she slipped her fingers down the front of his jeans and sought to touch him.
She felt that tantalizing patch of hair on her fingertips and he gasped, moaning. "Oh, damn."
She remembered him saying the same thing when she grabbed his bottom, and being the fast learner that she was, she knew his saying it now wasn't a bad thing, either.
Encouraged, she undid his jeans with both hands, engaging Harry in a kiss just to distract them both from what she was doing, or perhaps it was just to distract her, because there was absolutely no way in Avalon that Harry wasn't completely focused on the workings of her hands right now.
She tugged so she could undo the zipper and Harry gave a yelp of surprise that didn't sound entirely sexy.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," she whispered hastily. "Did I hurt-"
"N-No… but I think my boxers got caught-"
She could feel her face getting terribly hot from mortification. When did she become such a klutz?
Since your brain's been addled by sex, Know It All.
A melodious bell chimed in the background, coming from the distant tower.
"It's fine," he said, appearing to have fixed things quite easily. "It wasn't badly tangled. Just-it's fine." He pulled her close, and Hermione was just so glad he wasn't laughing at her that she quite gladly started snogging him again. She didn't, however, try to feel him up again at once. She let herself melt into his kiss, just so she could regain her momentum and try again, but a distant voice pierced the background, and it seemed to wrench Harry away from her.
"Shite," he hissed, frantically righting himself. "It's Zeke…"
Hermione instantly tried to smooth her hair, checking to see if her clothes were in place. She grabbed the flowers and sat them across her lap, looking over her shoulder to see the minute figure of Zeke heading towards them in a sprint.
"Harry! Hermione! It's dinner time!" Zeke cried. "Mum told me to come get you!"
"Great," Harry said, not sounding very enthusiastic. "Thank you, Zeke. We'll be right over."
Zeke wasn't going to leave them. He went to Harry and took him by the hand, pulling to get Harry to his feet. "You have to hurry. They have custard pie, and if we don't get there on time, we'll run out."
"Well, we don't want that, now do we?" said Harry, getting to his feet. He held his hand out for Hermione.
She smirked, more amused by their situation than she was willing to admit. She took Harry's hand and let him pull her up.
Together, all three of them made their way to the castle, with Harry tossing longing glances in her direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner was mostly uneventful. Zeke, for the most part, kept telling stories of his day with Harry and Hermione to his mother.
Harry was Zeke's hero already, and every time Zeke spoke of Hermione, he'd blush and look at her bashfully.
This got delighted responses from the priestesses who teased and petted him for having a crush, which was perhaps why no one noticed how Harry seemed so intently fixated on her.
She secretly reveled in his attention, pretending she didn't notice how he watched her eat and laugh with the rest of their company. It was empowering, and Hermione began to wonder if Avalon's magic didn't favor women more than Hermione cared to think about.
Shaking the notion out of her head, she met Harry's eyes beside her. His gaze didn't waver, and it sent a thrill down her back.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied with just a hint of something.
Stifling a grin, she crossed her legs and felt his pants leg against her foot. Her first instinct was to apologize, but in a flash of awareness, she rubbed her foot against him. She heard his breath catch and she took a moment to enjoy her success before she gave herself the obligatory scolding of, Shame on you for playing footsy in the dinner hall of a priory!
As soon as dinner was done, they bade everyone good night and headed up to their chambers.
Hermione was distinctly conscious of the fact that she and Harry hadn't quite ended what they started out in the fields of Avalon.
She hadn't intended more than heavy petting when she was undoing his trousers earlier, but that was because they weren't exactly in a private setting. Right now, standing in front of her chamber door, there would be walls and doors. It would be very private.
Casting a cautious glance at Harry, she wondered briefly at what he was expecting. The thought that he might expect more than petting surprisingly didn't scare her in the least. It did, in fact, seem like a wonderful prospect.
"Um, I think I'll do some reading," she said nonsensically. "So-um, I'll be up for a while."
She cursed herself inwardly. She wished she were better at this. Why didn't she just come out and say it?
Harry seemed very uncertain. He shoved his hands into his jeans and fidgeted. "Oh? Can I-um, read with you?"
"Sure," she replied, almost too quickly. She turned to push her door open, rolling her eyes at her own ridiculous need to do this awkward dance.
She prayed for some kind of distraction-anything to put her at ease in this strange situation. She was just about to spout off something horribly unsubtle, like, "Harry, would you like to read on the bed?"
Her blabbering was forestalled by Harry's smirk as he pulled out a tome from her shelves. "Arithmancy and the Quantum Magiks of Numerological Hypothesis… fascinating."
She blushed. "I need light reading just as much as any person!"
He laughed. "Light reading? Lord… you're brilliant." He kept his eyes on her shelves, but Hermione didn't think he was looking at the books anymore. Moments later, he tore his gaze from the shelves and regarded her with a tiny smile. "You're just… leagues ahead of everyone else."
Her blush deepened. "Well, not everyone, and not about everything, either. There are some things other people know more about than I do."
He reddened in turn. "But you're a quick study."
She wasn't sure if they were still talking about knowledge.
Daughter of Eve…
She wondered in slight horror if Brigit knew exactly what she was talking about when she called Hermione that.
Hermione recalled their afternoon tryst; how wonderful it felt and how delicious the sensations were.
Especially when Harry was… and he… oh, dear.
She wasn't sure if the hot flush she felt on her cheeks was a result of embarrassment or something else.
She fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, wondering again if it would be too much for her to just come out and say it without having to actually say, "I really liked the heavy snogging we did this afternoon, Harry, and I would very much like to continue it."
Besides that, the prospect of how far their snogging within closed doors could get them was turning her on more than she believed was reasonably proper, and she knew that he was thinking it too.
She didn't want to seem grossly forward-
Oh, to hell with it. Enough with the double talk!
"Harry, I don't think I'll be getting much sleep anyway, so if you can-you know, keep me company-"
It was like that was all he needed. "Be back in a flash. I'll just change-you know, more comfortable-"
"Don't take long."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He was gone, and the moment her door shut, she looked frantically about her, wishing she had packed something-
What in heaven's name should I have packed? A nighty? Something sexy? You're a complete fool, Hermione!
She went to the cabinets and threw it open. There was nothing but ugly flannel gowns that would cover her from neck to toe.
Argh! How can a castle full of women have no revealing nightgowns for their guests?
She moaned at her own musings. "Hermione, you're in a priory, not a whorehouse," she muttered, diving into her pack. She pulled out a tank top. It wasn't meant to be revealing, but it was better than any of her jumpers. She contemplated wearing a bra, but thought it pointless and stifling. There was nothing else in her bag she could wear to a proper bed, and she was absolutely not going to sit and wait for him in her knickers. Even if he was going to take everything off later-
Oh, goodness, what in the world am I thinking?
--she'd rather keep up some sort of pretense.
She remembered that there were unflattering pajamas in the closets and she hastily grabbed one of those. They were quite big and made of a worn material, but it didn't look bad with her tank top.
She had to wonder momentarily about the most embarrassing reality of contraceptives.
Where in the world am I going to get rubbers-oh, bollocks, there's a SPELL…
Diving into her rucksack, she brought out her not-so-standard book of spells and sought out the little paper note that Lavender wrote for her (for purely academic reasons, Hermione remembered saying) and which Hermione had sticky-spelled to the back flap of the book. She found the note and sheepishly began applying the spell to herself.
Not that I'd need it for sure, but you never know…
Oh, hang it, you randy swot, of course you're expecting it!
Hermione did have a vague idea of how mental she was being, but she figured she'd rather go mad conversing with herself in her mind than risk the more common disasters of premarital sex.
A knock sounded at her door and she had to bite her lip from yipping in surprise. She grabbed a book from her shelf, jumped on her bed and laid the book down in front of her, opening it to a page. The book was upside down and she had to turn it over while she composed herself as she sat cross-legged on her bed.
"Come in," she said as calmly as she could.
Harry probably didn't have any sleep clothes, either. To her relief, he didn't prance into her room wearing only boxers. He had on a starched undershirt and his old jeans that he'd accidentally ripped at the knee. She'd seen him wear it to sleep a few times, and he sometimes even wore it when they traveled by the road, free of scratchy woodland bramble. It was evidently his most comfortable pair, and he would wear it everywhere if it wasn't shredded, but Hermione had never looked at him in them until now, and seeing him look so loosened up had her heart racing so fast she was afraid she wouldn't be able to speak clearly.
He stood fidgeting by her bed, perhaps wondering what he should do.
With perfect dignity that hid the chaos of emotions roiling inside her, she primly moved the book aside and patted the space it vacated. "Come sit."
He did, and they sat there, both cross-legged and face-to-face.
She struggled to find a subject and cursed herself for being so lame-brained at a time like this. She was baffled by the sudden awkwardness they were feeling. They'd done the snogging and touching part over the last few days. They should have at least gotten the first-base thing perfected by now.
"What are you reading?" he asked, much to her relief.
Her relief, however, was short-lived when she realized that she had no idea what she was reading about. For sure it was a subject she was highly interested in. It was her bookshelf after all. But she couldn't think of a thing to say, and lying to Harry seemed so ridiculous.
The truth, though embarrassing, was so much easier.
"Harry," she said. "I haven't the slightest clue. I just picked it off the shelf and pretended to read. It's stupid, I know, but I'm-"
"Nervous."
She was so glad she wasn't the only one. "Yes!"
"So much easier when it's not premeditated."
"You are so right. Harry, I am so glad we can talk-"
"God, you're sexy…" he breathed, his gaze taking her in.
That caught her off guard and she momentarily lost the ability to speak. His eyes rested briefly on the slight cleavage peeking from the top of her tank.
Completely aware that he knew there wasn't a bra underneath, she had a momentary flash of embarrassment. Did he think worse of her for it? That she would be so presumptuous as to forego the usual underclothes?
Well, Hermione, you practically invited him to a shag. It's a little too late to be worrying about propriety.
But in the next second, it didn't matter, because he had leaned in to kiss her and she wanted to feel his lips with fierce resolve.
So their heads bumped-painfully.
They pulled apart, both of them holding their foreheads as they muttered, "Ow…" under their breaths.
Hermione began to laugh and he joined her.
"This is awful," she said through her giggling.
"Not nearly as smooth and suave as I'd hoped… ouch. That really smarts, doesn't it?"
She was, at that moment, struck by a rather naughty inspiration. She leaned over, gently pried his hand off his head and the glasses off his face, and kissed his forehead, her lips a loving caress. "Better?"
He was looking up at her in awed surprise, but she definitely hadn't lost him.
"I think so," he replied. "Best do it again just to make sure."
The fact that he had caught on so quickly made her feel tingly. She kissed him again, moving up against him this time. "How about that?"
He shook his head. "Try here," he whispered, pointing to his cheek.
She resisted the urge to giggle with delight. She had started the game and as usual, Harry had taken to it with expert ease.
She kissed his cheek.
"Nope," he breathed. "That didn't help,"
"Maybe here?" she whispered, pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw.
"Close, but not quite."
She stifled an impish grin. "Then I'm at a complete loss, Harry. Perhaps I'm not cut out for this." She began to move away with an exaggerated, miserable sigh, only to feel herself being pulled back into his embrace and getting kissed with utmost enthusiasm, an enthusiasm she was most willing to return.
She felt completely at ease. This part, she knew, and Harry seemed wholly sure about this phase of the foreplay.
Foreplay. Oh, God!
She wrapped herself around him, and she was amazed that so early on, she could feel that ache inside of her.
His hips pressed down in response, and even through the haze of their kiss, Hermione was quite aware of the hardness in his trousers.
It amazed her how they hadn't even gotten to the real touching, yet there they were, both utterly aroused of one another.
She felt a desperate need to feel his skin upon hers.
Her hands sought the edges of his shirt and she quickly found it. She splayed her hands over the skin of his back, familiarizing herself to his warmth and reacquainting herself to the bumps and dips of his body.
His lips left hers to make their way down her throat and she gasped as the sensation of his lips on her skin stoked the intensity of her need.
He pushed the strap of her tanktop aside, tasting the skin underneath it and following the edge of it to her breasts.
Gently, so as not to be misunderstood, she coaxed him a bit away from her so she could peel her top off completely. He seemed to think this was a good idea, because he helped her just before he did the same with his shirt, and again, she admired the planes of his body.
They're so nice to look at, she sighed with dreamy satisfaction.
Her gaze roved to his face, and she saw something entirely new in his eyes. Where the other day, he had gazed at her in rapt wonder and amazement, he now had an intensely smoldering look. He had already seen her naked, so the wonder was gone and was replaced by sheer possessiveness.
Hermione's insides fluttered. She had never, in her life, ever contemplated being a "something" that could be possessed, especially not when it came to men, but right now, with Harry kneeling between her legs and being in this situation of complete surrender, she wanted it.
Oh, heavens, is it like it this when it comes to sex? You become a completely different person, even so far as abandoning your most basic principles…?
Her thoughts trailed to nothing when he fell upon her, his lips suckling and his hands kneading, and then her thoughts were all about him. All things Harry. How good he made her feel, and how amazing he was. At that precise moment, melting in his arms and letting him make love to her, he was everything.
She might have said his name. Her memory was getting fuzzy on the seemingly unimportant detail of spoken words. But then he said her name, and she would never forget how it sounded, his voice hoarse and his breathing ragged. It spiked her desire, and she would remember her name spoken just like that whenever she felt unwanted and alone. She would tell herself that at some point in her life, someone she would give her life for wanted her just as much, with unbridled desire and need.
Harry's kisses traveled lower, down the line of her stomach and then her bellybutton. When he kissed that hollow, dipping his tongue in it, she thought she would die.
She might have thrown back her head, and made some kind of indecent sound that he liked, because he did it again.
He began to tug at her trousers, and by instinct, she lifted her hips off the bed to make it easier for him. She was mildly surprised when he pulled her knickers with it. She thought maybe he would do stages, like removing her trousers first and then removing her knickers, but then when one thought about it, it was pointless, wasn't it?
And so she found herself completely naked while Harry seemed to find her completely fascinating.
She wasn't expecting the feeling of pure vulnerability. He'd seen her naked, yes, but not like this. Not completely bare, legs spread, with him looking over her, full-frontal. Even as the yearning between her legs intensified, she began to contemplate pulling the bedcovers over her, but then Harry was suddenly right above her, his tongue seeking hers, and his hands, so seemingly eager to please, slipped-at first hesitantly-and then more surely, between her thighs to give his fingers access to that burning ache inside her.
Her thoughts became completely focused on the feel of him gently rubbing that bundle of nerves. Whatever their first bedroom encounter had taught him, he was ace in reapplying it. His gentle inquiries, "Is this alright?" or "Did you like that," spoken low and breathily in her ear was immensely arousing. She didn't know if it was his eagerness to please or the sexy tone of his voice, but she liked this pillow-talk very much.
Then his touch was suddenly gone and she opened her eyes, her gaze questioning. She wondered if she had done something wrong, but the look in his gaze showed no displeasure.
He pressed his lips on her throat, then down her chest. He traveled lower, until he was tasting the skin just beneath her belly-button.
The sensations of him kissing her body was scattering her thoughts, but the thought that his lips would go even lower was greatly unfamiliar. Even in her haze of desire, she fidgeted. "Harry, what-"
"I want to try something," he said softly. "I won't hurt you."
Of course he wouldn't. She found the very idea of such a thing preposterous, and she smiled down at him, running her fingers lightly through his hair, trying to convey perfect trust. He smiled back appreciatively, just before his smile turned intensely provocative.
She was greatly shocked when she felt his tongue against the very center of her. The velvety warmth that touched and then dipped inside her caught her completely off-guard. She lost clarity of thought, and everything was just a haze of blind desire. Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she moaned, and she could do nothing but let Harry "try" this "something" that was making her feel all sorts of wonderful sensations.
When the initial onrush waned, she realized that he was more tentative about it than she first noticed, but then she also realized that he did things in response to her. She was more than willing to help him along, letting her own body tell her what she liked and letting Harry know of it.
The amazing sensations his touch was pulsing through her seemed to free her of her inhibitions and she felt, not long into his ministrations, her release coming on.
"D-Don't stop," she breathed helplessly.
Their eye met, and his twinkled much the same way they did when he had perfected the Accio spell, or when he spotted the snitch.
In his gaze, she found pure accomplishment. It was exactly the kind of thing that triggered her basest desires.
She climaxed, feeling herself implode, and then explode. It came upon her in waves of wonderful sensations, and it had to be the most amazing feeling in the world. She let herself get swept with it until the waves calmed to a lulling pulse.
The tremors waned as she caught her breath, and slowly, her clouded mind began to process things. She stared at Harry, his eyes affixed upon her face, his breathing ragged, and his expression filled with desperate want.
Her logical mind, mingling with her desires, decided that she desperately wanted to touch him back. Before she could think twice about it, she had coaxed him back above her and her fingers were fumbling for his fly. Relinquishing control to her, he let her.
He wore boxers, and given that they were lying side by side, it was difficult to remove his trappings, so she pushing the garter aside, reached in, and grasped.
He gave an unintelligible moan, just as he pressed his lips upon hers and began another torrid kiss.
Hermione thought maybe he was applying some sort of magic. It had to be that, or else he could so easily sweep her back within the realm of aching need as if she hadn't just been sated.
Her hand gently explored him, feeling the texture of his skin, velvety to the touch, while her fingertips traced the shape of him. Her thumb made a tentative pass over his tip just before she slid her grip down his length, and he whispered her name with such tender approval that she did it again, and his head fell forward, burying against her shoulder with a moan.
She felt his hand join hers in her boxers, coaxing her grip to tighten around him. He began to slowly thrust against it, and it was then she felt-inexorably-that she wanted so much to please him in the best way she can. Her arousal spiked anew. The thought that he would be inside her filled her with both dread and excitement.
Gently, she eased her hand from him and motioned for him to push the rest of his clothes off.
He looked up, his glazed and questioning eyes only making her more determined.
"I'm ready, Harry," she told him gently. "I want you inside me."
At first she thought he didn't understand her, unmoving as he was, but then he was suddenly pushing his trousers and boxers off, and she finally saw him.
It wasn't without a bit of curiosity that she stared at him, fully erect and most decidedly fascinating. She'd never seen another one, but his seemed to fit all indications of it being of normal appearance. She had no way of knowing what his "size" was, so she wasn't sure if his was daunting or if she was just quite nervous about the entire thing.
She reached out and grasped it again, repeating her earlier motions, and his arms seem to buckle, bringing him directly above her.
"Slow down, Hermione," he breathed in her ear. "Or I'll-" He gave another moan, even as she did as he asked and loosened her grip.
His breath rasped for several seconds before he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "Guide me."
She didn't even have to ask him what he meant by that. Carefully, she let him settle against her, coaxing him closer.
Their foreheads touched, and for a moment, Harry remained unmoving.
She was grateful for his consideration, cupping his face in her hands and whispering his name.
He pushed, and she felt him enter. There wasn't any pain at first, but then Harry pressed his lips to her forehead, like a kiss for apology, before he leaned in some more and she felt that stab of pain.
She couldn't help the cry that escaped her, even as she bit her lip.
Harry stayed still, the heavy breathing of his chest pressing against hers.
Seconds later, his hand smoothed back the hair from her face, and she met his gaze, appreciating his tender thoughtfulness.
She pulled him close for a kiss, and while their tongues tangled, she linked her arms over his back and coaxed him to move. He did, slowly; his movements seemingly attuned to her reactions.
She tried her best to stamp back any sound of pain, but as Harry moved to a slow cadence, she found that the pain was receding. She listened to Harry's voice, heard his faint groans of pleasure.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders and moving her legs further up his hips, she began to push back.
That seemed to unleash something in him, and his thrusts gained speed. She could feel him against her, a pleasant force within and beyond her. It was only beginning to feel pleasurable when he pushed deep into her, stiffening as he made a low-sounding moan, his lips against her ear.
He settled against her, his weight surprisingly comfortable. He was panting, and a thin film of sweat had broken from the skin of his back. She felt strangely replete, and loving the fact that she had done this to him.
After a bit, she ran her fingers lightly through his tousled hair. She wondered if he was asleep. She'd heard about men doing that, too, and while she had thought it crude when the others talked about it, she didn't think it was all that unpleasant now.
But then Harry stirred, and he looked up to meet her gaze. He was a bit droopy-eyed, but the small smile he wore endeared her to him and she smiled back.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
He seemed completely content just staring at her.
A minute later, he shifted off her and settled on her side, gathering her in his arms. She snuggled against him. She felt a little sore, but his warmth was reassuring and she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep in his embrace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione awoke in the dead of night. Or perhaps it wasn't night. Maybe very early morning.
In spite of the blankets covering her, she felt cold. She was alone in bed.
He's gone and left to sleep in his room, so that he wouldn't have to deal with me in the morning.
Her lips pursed as she stifled her tears.
Perhaps she shouldn't feel too terrible about it. Given his reluctance to discuss any of their nocturnal activities the last few times, she should have been inclined to think that he would be evasive about this, too. She should have expected it. He always came around the next day, anyway…
Anger stirred with her feelings of wounded pride, rejection, and plain heartbreak.
Why the hell should I always have to be the one to wait? she thought bitterly. I am Hermione Granger! I am the brightest witch of my age and I am a Know-It-All who will not stand by and WAIT.
She decided to barge into his room and make him listen. She didn't care if he was asleep or if he didn't feel like discussing anything. He was going to listen to her and she wasn't going to give him a choice.
She grabbed the edge of her blanket and was just about to throw it back when she saw, through the faint light of the moon, Harry's silhouette. He was standing on the balcony in his jeans and leaning on the railing, his eyes affixed at the cloudless sky.
It caught her short, and she had to reel in her feelings of anger, especially finding out that they were completely unfounded. She grappled with the momentary guilt, and she chastised herself for her constant feelings of insecurity.
Sitting up in bed, she held the sheet to herself, watching Harry stare at the sky.
For the first time since she began to really know Harry, she couldn't guess at what he was thinking. She couldn't see his face, but standing outside in the dark of night, alone-he looked so lonely and lost. She wanted to go to him and keep him company, but she didn't know if he'd welcome it.
He stirred, and she didn't know why, but she didn't want him finding out she'd been watching him. She shot back into bed, turning over to pretend that she'd been asleep all along.
She felt the mattress compress on his side as he slipped back under the covers.
His warmth returned, and his arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close against him. He pressed his nose to the crook of her neck, kissing the skin there once or twice. The sigh of contentment that followed went straight to her heart. His simple, gentle caresses made her feel wanted and treasured. She wanted to turn and throw her arms around him, wrapping him in her embrace, but she was supposed to be asleep. Maybe that's what made it even more special.
She wanted to stay awake, savoring these moments that felt even more intimate than making love to him, but it was too comfortable; too warm, and slowly, she drifted back into her dreams.
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