Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: See 'All He Ever Wanted.'

Author's Note: The next part of this little series-because it might be my version of H/Hr's ideal married life but I am trying to keep their characters realistic.

Portrait of a Marriage

What Husbands and Wives Do

"Hey! That wasn't fair!"

Sabrina's voice rose, shrill and a little querulous, from where she and Andy were sprawled on the floor over a game of wizarding Monopoly.

"It was, too! See, it says so right there!" Andy retorted. "Aren't I right, Em?" he appealed to Emily.

Emily sighed loudly. "I don't know," she answered shortly. "Oh, just let her win, Andy-and for Merlin's sake, be quiet! I want to read this."

"No, why should I let her win?"

Andy's protest mingled in with Sabrina's renewed complaints and Emily's impatient attempt at peace-making.

Hermione tried to block out the noise and concentrate on the notes she was making from the treatise she was reading-tried, only to find that her hand had jerked, leaving a large blot on her parchment, and she'd lost her place for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past half hour. She threw down her quill impatiently. She couldn't work like this!

"Be quiet, all of you!"

Her sharp voice cut across the noise and silenced her children as nothing else could have, all of them turning to stare at her, as she continued, her voice rising. "For Merlin's sake, can't you three be quiet for even two minutes?! I can't hear myself think! How am I supposed to get any work done with you three constantly making such a racket and getting into rows? Andy, it's not nice to fight with your younger sister. Sabrina, you shouldn't be such a sore loser; you can't always win. Now, just be quiet so Mummy can get some work done!"

Her children stared at her wide-eyed, Sabrina, in particular, looking rather stricken, and for some reason, it only irritated Hermione more. With a last frown, she retreated into her study.

She wanted to slam the door but wasn't quite so lost to temper as to do that; instead, she closed the door with deliberate care. Normally, when she was in her study, she left the door open so she could listen to what the kids were up to but today, she needed some quiet.

Hermione fell into her chair with a huff, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

Today had not been a good day. She had woken up with the beginnings of a headache and, although she had, of course, taken a headache potion, the headache hadn't entirely gone away, had only receded to a dull throbbing. It had rained all morning (although the rain had, at least, stopped now) which meant that the kids were confined indoors and that made them more fractious and quarrelsome than usual. And while she was usually more patient with them, she was the first person to admit that she wasn't, by nature, the most patient person in the world and on this particular day, her usual store of patience was even lower than normal. She was worried over one of her patients who wasn't responding to the treatment she'd prescribed when she'd been at work yesterday and today was one of those days when she would have wanted to go in to work to be there herself to monitor his condition-except she'd had to stay home today as Harry needed to go to the Ministry for a meeting with the Aurors. And, of course, Harry had, in typical, male fashion, not even bothered to ask if she were okay this morning when he'd seen her taking the headache potion and had only left the house after breakfast with the most perfunctory of goodbyes.

She heard the faint murmur of voices and music and guessed that the kids had retreated into the family room to watch the telly.

Good. That should keep them busy and out of trouble until Harry got home.

She sat up straighter, pulling the treatise and her notes toward her and tried to concentrate on her work.

Harry unlocked the door, pushing it open with one hand. "Kids? Hermione?"

Emily, Andy and Sabrina filed into the front room so quietly he was mildly stunned. Usually, Sabrina greeted him with a shout and threw herself at him with as much enthusiasm as if he'd been gone for a month while Emily and Andy alternated as to which one showed more cheer, depending on their moods; it was one of the things he loved most in his life, how he was always greeted with a smile by his children.

They were not smiling today.

He quickly scanned their faces and dismissed the idea of illness or injury; they looked fine, if subdued.

He dropped a kiss on Emily's forehead, ruffled Andy's hair and knelt in front of Sabrina. "Hi, sweetie. Where's Mummy?"

"She's in her study," Andy answered quietly.

Sabrina tugged him closer to whisper into his ear with the air of imparting a grave secret. "Mummy shouted, Daddy."

"Did she, really? About what?"

"She said we were being too noisy," Emily said, her voice chastened. "And we were but not that loud. She wouldn't normally have yelled at us for it."

"Mm," Harry murmured, frowning inwardly. It sounded like Hermione had been having one of those days. He knew she'd woken up with a headache because he'd seen her taking the headache potion and, more than that, he recognized that slight frown on her forehead by now. He knew the look on her face when her head was aching. He should have mentioned it, would normally have asked if she wanted him to stay home except that he'd been preoccupied with the meeting with the Aurors and, at any rate, had known that it was impossible for him to stay home today, in particular, thanks to that meeting which he really needed to attend.

"She shouldn't have yelled," he told Sabrina solemnly. "I'll go talk to her, shall I?"

"Oh but Daddy, she might yell at you too."

He gave Andy a quick wink. "If she yells at me, I'll make her go to bed without dinner or dessert, so I think Mummy will be good now."

He was rewarded by Sabrina's small giggle and Andy's and Emily's smiles.

He stood up, resting a caressing hand lightly on Sabrina's hair. "Now, why don't you go back to the telly for now and think about what you want for dinner."

Sabrina smiled up at him, now quite restored to her usual self. "Okay, Daddy."

Harry knocked on the study door lightly.

"What is it?"

He winced slightly. Hermione's tone was not exactly harsh but it wasn't exactly welcoming either. No, she really wasn't in the best of moods.

He opened the door just enough to poke his head in. "Do I need to get my body armor and a shield or is it safe to come in?" he asked, only half-teasingly.

And realized his mistake when she didn't crack even the ghost of a smile, only gave him a brief look. "Don't try to tease, Harry; I'm not in the mood. What is it?"

He opened the door fully and came in, entirely sober now. "I think I'll take the kids out for dinner so you can have the house to yourself for a few hours." He studied her for a moment. "Is your head still aching?"

"Yes- no- not really," Hermione said, with enough of a sigh that he didn't allow himself even the merest hint of a smile at her uncharacteristic indecision. "You and the kids have fun; I really need to get some work done. I should have gone into St. Mungo's today," she fretted.

"I'm sure Alice would have Floo-called you if anything serious had come up," Harry responded mildly, referring to Hermione's deputy.

"Oh, of course she would have, but I still feel like I should have gone in."

Harry opted for discretion as the better part of valor and didn't respond to this. He only bent and dropped a quick kiss on Hermione's hair. "Well, if you want to go in for a quick visit now, you can. I'll take the kids out for dinner and be back later so you don't have to worry about us."

"Mm, 'kay," was Hermione's only response, her head already bent over the papers spread out on her desk.

Harry slipped out of the study quietly, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Hermione in peace.

Hermione put down her quill and pushed away the treatise she'd just finished reading with a short sigh. She had put in a good three hours of work in the quiet house, only taking a brief break in the middle to grab some food for dinner, and then returning to her desk. Her headache had subsided-or, perhaps more accurately, been forgotten about while she lost herself in her work. And now, she was done, could go into work tomorrow morning with a clear conscience.

She stood up, wandering into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and then curled up on the couch with it.

The house really was remarkably quiet-too quiet, really. Hermione laughed ruefully and shook her head a little at her own inconsistency but it really was true. She was too accustomed, now, to hearing the sounds of her children that an empty house struck her as odd and definitely too quiet. She glanced at the clock to see that it was just after eight so Harry and the kids would, no doubt, be returning soon. She felt a wave of remorse for how she had raised her voice earlier; the kids hadn't been that much louder than usual and she'd been unjust to lose patience the way she had. She sighed, closing her eyes and tipping her head back for a moment. She knew she wasn't the most patient person in the world and, having been a quiet child herself and an only child at that, she had to admit there were times when the sheer noise of having three young children in the house grated on her nerves, especially on days like today where she really had needed to get some work done while at home. She adored her children, loved them so much it almost hurt sometimes, and that made it easier to be patient but she wasn't always successful. She was heartily ashamed of herself now. Really, what sort of example was she setting for her children losing her temper over such a minor thing? What sort of mother did that? And snapping at poor Harry when he hadn't done anything-it was only a miracle that he hadn't snapped back.

She opened her eyes, turning her head to stare thoughtfully at one of the pictures on the mantelpiece, one of all of them together, which Ron had taken the last time they were over at the Burrow. In it, they were all lying on the grass, flushed and laughing, as Harry had been spinning around with Sabrina in his arms until he'd pretended to collapse from dizziness. Emily and Andy had proceeded to half-tackle him, preventing him from getting up again, and then, as she'd been standing and laughing at them, Harry had reached up and tugged her down as well.

She smiled to herself, as she always did, at the memory of that day and the picture, feeling a fresh pang of guilt and regret. She had the best family in the world, was the luckiest woman on the planet.

How could she lose her temper so? How could she raise her voice to her children when they didn't deserve it-and for what? Because they'd been disturbing her work. Her work-it was always her work. She worked hard, enjoyed her job and was good at it-and yet… And yet she wondered if it was right for her to put so much of herself into her work. Was she somehow cheating her children… Did she, she wondered with a sudden chill in her heart, give her work precedence over her children? Worse, did her children ever feel that she cared more about her work than she did about them? As if on cue, a flood of memories poured into her mind-all the times the kids had wanted to go somewhere or do something fun and she had told them no, because she had to work. All the times she'd heard Emily shushing either Andy or Sabrina with the reminder, "Mummy's working."

Oh, she was being ridiculous. In some tiny corner of her mind-the rational part of her knew she was over-reacting, over-analyzing today's events. Her children were happy, she knew that. She looked back at the picture, focusing on their bright, laughing faces.

And yet… She wondered…

She finished up her tea and moved into the kitchen to clean the mug out when she heard the door open and the high, cheerful voices of her children mingled in with Harry's deeper one. She shook off her uncharacteristic bout of melancholy and conjured up a smile as she left the kitchen.

"There you are," she greeted them with a bright smile. "I was just beginning to wonder where you were."

"Oh, Mummy!" Sabrina almost danced over to Hermione to hug her enthusiastically and Hermione closed her arms around her youngest daughter, feeling a wave of gratitude for Sabrina's restored exuberance and the resilience of children.

"Did you have a good dinner? Where did you go?"

"We went to Pizza Express because Andy wanted pizza," Emily answered.

"And then we went to Florean's and we had sundaes and Mr. Tom gave me an extra scoop of ice cream in mine 'cause it's my turn," Sabrina chimed in.

"Oh, did he?" Hermione smiled. "What kind of sundae did you and Emily have, Andy-boy?"

"Chocolate and vanilla," he answered promptly, with a quick smile.

"I had a banana split," Emily smiled.

Hermione shook her head in mock reproof. "You each got your own? That's way too much dessert for you on a week night."

"Daddy said we could for a special treat," Sabrina spoke up cheerfully.

"Now, Sabrina, remember we said that was going to be our little secret," Harry interrupted mildly-and only half-seriously.

Sabrina threw Harry a contrite look. "Oops, sorry, Daddy. I forgot." She gave him a winning smile, the one she always gave her parents whenever she'd committed some minor infraction-the smile that Harry, at least, could never resist.

"So much for a secret," Hermione said indulgently. "And did Daddy have a sundae too?"

"Uh huh," Sabrina nodded. "He had a chocolate sundae."

Hermione caught Harry's eye as he shrugged, smiling half-sheepishly, a smile which she returned, even as she half shook her head at him for his indulgence. Usually they only ordered two sundaes and made the kids share-especially as Tom Bombadell, the new owner of Florean's (who had kept the name out of tradition and respect to his old friend, Florean Fortescue) always gave them an extra scoop of ice cream for free, a treat for the Boy Who Lived and his equally famous children. (This was a compromise measure, as at first, Tom had insisted that all their sundaes would be free, an offer which Harry had refused, and after some haggling, she and Harry had agreed that every time they went to Florean's, Tom could give one of the children an extra scoop of ice cream, rotating by turns. And while, at first, Hermione had been skeptical of the system, it ended up working quite well as the children were remarkably good at remembering whose turn it was to get the free ice cream.)

"We promised to be extra-good tomorrow," Sabrina explained.

Hermione gave in and laughed, dropping a kiss on Sabrina's hair, even as she addressed Harry teasingly, "Bribing the kids into being good again, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Hey, it works, doesn't it?"

"Nice example you set for them," she pretended to chide him.

It was Emily's turn to chime in, giving Hermione her brightest, most innocent smile. "We really will be good, Mummy, we promise. So we deserve treats."

"I'm sure you will," Hermione assured Emily solemnly, before kissing her forehead. "Now, what do you want to do before it's bedtime?"

"I want to finish up my book so I'll be in my room," Emily said. (Predictably. She was, just as Hermione had been before her, quite determined to read every book she could before she left for Hogwarts in September.)

"Ooh, it's my turn to pick what we watch on the telly!" Sabrina exclaimed, scampering over to the other room with Andy fast on her heels.

Harry watched them go with a smile before he turned back to Hermione. "Did you get some work done while we were out?"

"Yes, thanks," Hermione answered, letting her head rest briefly against his shoulder as she walked beside him, following Sabrina and Andy into the other room.

"Good." He dropped a kiss on her hair before letting his arm fall from around Hermione's shoulders as he sat down and then picked Sabrina up so she could sit on his lap.

Sabrina's favorite movie, "The Lion King," was just beginning and she settled back against Harry contentedly.

Hermione watched her youngest daughter's expressions with a fond smile; Sabrina's face was so expressive as she watched the movie, her eyes shining, smiling or frowning depending on what was happening in the movie. It never seemed to matter that Sabrina had probably watched the movie at least several dozen times already. She still enjoyed it just as much as ever and Hermione just loved to watch her daughter.

Andy dozed off before the movie ended but Sabrina watched the entire thing, wide-eyed and enthralled, from her perch on Harry's lap. She let out a happy sigh as the movie ended and leaned back against Harry.

Hermione waved her wand at the telly to turn it off before she gently shook Andy's shoulder. "Andy-boy, it's time to go to bed."

Andy awoke quickly and followed Hermione upstairs quietly as Harry hoisted Sabrina up into his arms and stood, carrying her into her room.

He helped Sabrina change into her pyjamas and then shooed her into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, at which point Hermione joined them to put Sabrina to bed.

Harry bent and dropped a kiss on the tip of Sabrina's nose as Sabrina threw her arms around Harry and hugged him. "Night, Daddy."

"Good night, baby," Harry smiled and left the room with a last caress of her soft cheek.

Hermione tucked Sabrina in, kissing her on the forehead. "Good night, sweetie."

"Night, Mummy." Sabrina closed her eyes and then a moment later, opened them again and sat up abruptly. "Mummy?"

"What is it, love?"

"I'm sorry we were noisy today; we'll be better tomorrow."

Hermione's heart melted as she felt another pang of guilt and she gave Sabrina a quick hug. "Oh, darling, you weren't really noisy today. I'm sorry I yelled like that, sweetie. Forgive me," she said soberly.

"I forgive you, Mummy," Sabrina said sweetly and then promptly switched tones and gave an almost spot-on imitation of Hermione as she added, "But don't do it again."

Hermione laughed. "I'll try not to, sweetie. Now, go to sleep." She tucked Sabrina back in and passed a caressing hand over her daughter's hair. Her baby. She felt a surge of love well up inside her, filling her heart with almost painful emotion. At that moment, she couldn't imagine ever feeling annoyed or angry at her daughter again.

Famous last words, she knew, but she did resolve to be more patient. If she couldn't make an effort to improve herself for her children, whom she loved so much, then she would never be able to improve.

Andy was already tucked into bed and half-asleep when Hermione went into his room to check on him. She brushed his black hair away from his face with a gentle hand as she slipped out again.

She spent the next hour or so in her study, as was her habit; this time after Sabrina and Andy were in bed was usually her most productive time to work. She knew Harry would be outside, checking to make sure all the wards were in place, as he always did, before he returned to lock up the house from within and put up the last set of defensive wards.

She was waiting for him sometime later when Harry slipped into their bedroom from wishing Emily goodnight in the little ritual they had which Emily, even at 11, still insisted on and which, Hermione knew, Harry was dreading the end of, once Emily left for Hogwarts at the end of the summer.

"I apologized to Sabrina for raising my voice," she mentioned as he headed into the bathroom.

"What did she say?" he called back.

"She forgave me." Hermione paused and then added, "And then she told me not to do it again."

She heard Harry's choked laugh. "That sounds like her."

"Yes."

He returned and sat down next to her on their bed and she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for being so crabby earlier. You didn't deserve that but thank you for taking the kids out."

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "It's okay; it's not like you haven't put up with plenty of bad temper from me over the years."

"Still." Hermione sighed. "I know I'm not the most patient person in the world but I shouldn't take it out on the kids." She paused and then blurted out, "Harry, do you think I work too much?"

She sensed his surprise even before he drew back slightly to stare at her. "What brought this on? No, you don't work too much; you work just the right amount." He quirked a smile, trying to coax a smile from her.

The corners of her lips lifted slightly as a faint concession to his humor but it faded soon enough. "I was just thinking about today, how I yelled at the children because they were bothering my work." She paused and then straightened slightly as she met his eyes. "Harry, tell me honestly-do you ever think that I put my work first, before the kids or you? Do I act as if work is my priority?"

Harry's first impulse was to laugh at the somewhat ridiculous question but he bit it back, trying, honestly, to think about it with as much seriousness as she deserved, as much seriousness as she'd had in asking it. And, looking at her, he saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes and understood, the last vestiges of amusement disappearing. He knew, as no one else did, the streak of vulnerability in Hermione, the doubts she hid so well behind her cleverness and her strength of character. He knew of her well-concealed doubts and loved her for them, loved too that she didn't hide them from him.

He lifted one hand to touch her cheek as he met her eyes steadily. "No," he said flatly before he continued. "Hermione, your work is important to you, of course it is, but I know and the kids know, too, that we matter more to you than your work does. You're amazing that way, Hermione."

"Really?"

He gave her a small, very tender smile. "Do you remember our third year at Hogwarts?"

Confusion flickered across her face at this seeming non-sequitur, bringing up ancient history. "Yes, what about it?"

"That year, how many of my Quidditch games did you miss?"

"None, you know that. Harry, I don't--"

"You went to all my Quidditch games, Hermione, even when you were taking so many classes, you needed a Time-turner to get to them all. With all that, anyone would have missed at least some of the games, but not you. You went to them all-for me." He paused, seeing the flicker of something like embarrassment cross her face. "Did you think I'd forget that, love?"

"I didn't know it meant that much to you."

"It didn't," he answered promptly, surprising a laugh out of her, before he finished with a slight smile, "at least, not back then, but I was an ungrateful git. It didn't really occur to me how important that was until years later but you know how slow I can be at times." He gave her a quick, teasing grin, before he sobered.

"The point is, Hermione, that you've always done that. No matter how hard you studied or how hard you work, you've always put me and the kids first. That's just the kind of person you are. The one thing in my life that I've never doubted was you--your loyalty and your love." He paused and added, softly, "And I love you for it."

Really, it was a miracle she wasn't crying. Was it any wonder that she loved him so much? "Oh, Harry, I…"

"Now," he said, his tone shifting, becoming almost brisk, "what on earth could make you ask such a thing?"

She gave him a little laugh, that was only slightly shaky with the last vestige of self-doubt. "Oh, I was just having one of my bouts of not liking myself very much."

He brushed his lips against her hair. "Silly Hermione. And as far as not liking yourself goes, I think that's my job."

She turned to stare at him, even as a slight smile curved her lips. "It's your job not to like me much?"

He let out a brief laugh. "Very funny, you know that's not what I meant." He sobered, meeting her eyes. "What I meant was that it's my job to like you even when you don't like yourself." His lips quirked into a small, serious sort of smile. "I promised, didn't I? For better or worse, remember?"

She had the best husband in the world.

"Besides," he added, the intonation of his voice changing slightly but just enough for her to know that, for tonight at least, he didn't want to be entirely sentimental, "I happen to think you're cute when you're angry. I'm strange like that."

And whatever soft, sentimental thing she'd been about to say dissolved into a laugh. If anyone else had called her cute, she might have almost been offended-or severely skeptical, at best-but he was different. She couldn't explain it, really, but it did something to her, caught at her heart, to hear him call her 'cute.' She'd never been 'cute', not even when she'd been a child and most adults had chosen to comment on how precocious she had been-but not to Harry. To the rest of the world-even to their children-she was always strong, the clever one, the determined one, and it was an image she cultivated-but to him, she was all that and more… To him, only to him, she was also 'cute.' To him, she was… only herself… and he loved her anyway. She suddenly felt a surge of love so powerful it almost choked her with emotion-but she didn't say it, knew she didn't need to, really. Instead, she responded to his lightly teasing tone. "You are a freakish person," she whispered just before she reached up to kiss him, brushing her lips lightly, teasingly, against his, once, twice, three times, before she returned to press her lips against his more firmly.

And as always, his lips softened and parted as he returned her kiss, letting her tongue explore the familiar depths of his mouth.

She was the one that finally ended the long, leisurely kisses, drawing back just enough so she could see his eyes. "You know what I was thinking," she began softly, before trailing off.

His eyes opened to meet hers, still looking more than a little unfocused, dazed. "What?"

"I was thinking… you really deserve a reward for being such an understanding husband."

"Mm, I do, don't I? What did you have in mind?" he murmured, a smile in his voice.

She pretended to think about it. "Tickets for you and the kids to go to a Quidditch game?" she suggested with feigned seriousness.

"Only? But I can go to Quidditch games whenever I want." Harry's tone was a remarkable imitation of a petulant child (even if it was belied by the gleam in his eyes.)

"Well, if you don't want that, then maybe I could--" she stretched up to whisper something in his ear and his eyes widened as he almost choked on air.

"Hermione!"

She drew back slightly even as one hand slid down his chest until she was touching him intimately through his trousers, and gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. "Well, if you don't like that idea…"

"I like it," he interrupted her quickly, his voice a little strained. "You can feel just how much I like it," he added, trying to sound teasing.

She didn't bother to hide her decidedly smug smile. "Mm, yes, so I can," she purred.

Harry bit back a groan, a fresh surge of lust skittering down his senses at her tone and her look. He reached for her, his hands impatient to feel her warmth, her bare skin, but for once she evaded him, catching his wrists in her hands and pushing them back down. "Not this time," she told him huskily. "This time, I want to seduce you."

Seduce him! The woman was mad.

"I'm seduced," he blurted out immediately.

She let out a small laugh, giving him a mock-chiding look. "Oh honestly, Harry, I haven't even started yet."

"In case you haven't noticed, you don't have to try to seduce me." He tried to sound teasing but knew he failed in that attempt.

"I can do better if I try, though…" she breathed just before she kissed him, deeply.

His head spun as he gave himself up to her kiss, to her lips and her tongue and the familiar taste of her. Hermione trying to seduce him… He didn't doubt her success (that was never in question)-he doubted whether he'd survive it.

Hermione poured her heart and soul into the kiss, letting her tongue slide into his mouth, caressing his tongue in that way she knew always enflamed him.

Her hands weren't idle either as she busied them in pushing up his shirt to bare his stomach and his chest, letting her fingers lightly dance against his bare skin as she did so. She ended the kiss slowly, her tongue briefly teasing the corners of his lips before she withdrew fully to meet his dazed eyes, that had to blink a couple times before he focused on her.

"Let me thank you," she breathed huskily and saw the surrender in his eyes and his expression-not that she'd doubted it. It was what she loved about him, how he prolonged his own pleasure and his torment to pander to her senses. She loved it-loved him-and rewarded him for it in the best possible way.

So he sat up, just enough so she could pull his shirt up and over his head. She removed his glasses, placing them blindly on the nightstand by the bed, and then she scooted down, turning her attention to his trousers. She finished stripping him quickly-sometimes she deliberately chose to draw out the process but not tonight.

When he was completely naked, she sat back, letting the moment stretch and linger, as she simply looked at him, let her gaze wander slowly over every inch of his body.

She loved looking at him, loved the fact that his arousal visibly grew under her gaze, when she hadn't even really touched him yet. Loved that she could arouse him so quickly and so easily.

And, Merlin, but he was a beautiful specimen of a man… (In her admittedly biased opinion.) He was never going to be the most heavily muscled or muscularly-built of men but he had filled out, his shoulders becoming wider, his stomach flat and his hips trim, the body of a man now rather than the boy he had been when she'd first seen his naked form.

She didn't, she realized, often take that much time to really look at his body, usually being much more eager to get to the touching part. But there really was something incredibly arousing about just looking… The warmth pooling in her belly was clear proof of that.

"Hermione, tell me this seduction is going to involve touching too." His voice was strained, although she knew he was trying to sound teasing.

She gave him a quick grin. "Just inspecting my property and deciding where I want to start."

He made a sound that was half-laugh and half-groan. "Merlin help me."

She started with a kiss, cupping his face in her hands as she kissed him with a focused intensity, deliberately using her lips and tongue to arouse him as only she knew how, letting her tongue flick against the corners of his lips before sliding inside his mouth, claiming his mouth.

She moved on, sliding her lips down his chin and his neck, pausing to graze his Adam's apple with her teeth ever so lightly, loving the way he swallowed hard and shuddered beneath her.

She flattened her hands on his chest and then set her hands to wandering, stroking, every inch of him, from his shoulders down his arms and up again, caressing his chest with a feather-light touch.

She scattered kisses across his chest, pausing to delicately touch the tip of her tongue to one flat, male nipple. He groaned, his hands clenching into fists. She repeated the motion and then deliberately swirled her tongue around his nipple, feeling the way his entire body stiffened even more under the touch. She hid a smile as she moved on to treat his other nipple the same way, savoring the familiar, slightly-salty taste of his skin.

She moved on further down his body, caressing him with first her hands and then her lips and teeth and tongue, finding all the sensitive spots on his body, all the places that made him jerk and groan and cry out.

There was something incredibly erotic about being fully clothed still while Harry was naked and she was touching him. Her breasts brushed against Harry's stomach and even through the cloth of her bra and her shirt, she felt her nipples peak and harden and, deliberately, she lowered herself so her breasts were flattened against him. She knew he could feel her hardened nipples, even through the layers that separated their skin and knew, too, what the sensation did to him.

"Hermione!" Her name was gritted out from between clenched teeth.

She looked up at him through her lashes, meeting his heated green gaze with a look of spurious innocence. "What? I'm merely trying to show my appreciation for what an understanding husband I have."

"If I tell you you've made your point, will you stop?" he grated out.

She gave him a small, deliberately lascivious smile. "No, this is too pleasant for me."

She resumed her caresses, tracing her tongue along the muscles of his stomach that tensed at her touch. Meanwhile, her hands continued on their journey of exploration, straying just above his arousal and then down, stroking his thighs but avoiding touching him with her hands.

She shimmied further down his body, leaving a soft trail of kisses down his hip. Her hair and then her cheek brushed against his jutting erection along the way and a cry strangled in his throat.

She smiled to herself. She loved the sounds he made when she touched him, loved how sensitive he was to her touch, loved knowing that she, of all women in the world, knew how best to arouse him and pleasure him. And most of all, she loved knowing that he was hers.

She turned her head until she knew he could feel her warm breath against his erection and felt the slight shudder that racked him. She waited for a full minute, letting the breathless anticipation ratchet up a few more notches, before she finally touched him with her lips, trailing her lips up along the rigid length of him. He groaned, his body jerking involuntarily. She touched her tongue to the tip of him and then, after another breathless pause, took him fully into her mouth. And proceeded to thank him for being so understanding in the best possible way, loving him with lips and tongue, using all the knowledge of years.

Loved him until his breath was coming fast and harsh and she knew he was on the verge of exploding; loved him until her body was burning, her clothes felt uncomfortably confining and much too thick, and her knickers were soaked through.

With one last lick, she drew back, sitting up.

His eyes flew open until he looked almost wild with lust as he stared at her.

God. She'd left her clothes on much, much too long. Her fingers trembled as she hastily tried to undo the buttons of her shirt and, for once in her life, she didn't care-hardly noticed-when one button was torn off in her haste. She had probably never undressed quite so quickly in her life but it still felt like an eternity until she managed to shrug out of her shirt and her bra and then shimmied out of her trousers with the same impatience.

And he watched. Watched her with eyes that seemed to scorch her until she was finally naked and crawled back onto the bed, straddling him wantonly. She lowered herself onto him slowly, slowly, with excruciating care, letting him slide into her wet heat inch by inch. Deliberately, she tightened her muscles around him and he groaned. She did it again-and just like that, his control snapped and he surged up inside her with one forceful thrust, tearing a cry from both their throats.

Hermione let her eyes close as she savored the feeling of him inside her, filling her; she never tired of this, of the intimacy of being joined with him like this.

She bent to kiss him, possessing his mouth with voracious passion, a passion he returned, his tongue tangling with hers, invading her mouth. Her breasts were flattened against his chest and deliberately she moved, rubbing herself against him, breaking off the kiss with a moan at the friction against her over-sensitized nipples.

And then, she began to move, undulating above him, finding the rhythm that gave them the most pleasure with the ease of years.

She opened her eyes to meet his. "Touch me," she gasped.

He obeyed almost before the words had left her lips, his hands immediately flying to cup her breasts, kneading and squeezing them, until she felt fresh jolts of arousal shooting through her to pool in the center of her.

Pleasure was building, building, inside her, stealing her breath and her heart and her very soul.

She was vaguely aware of his hands moving to grasp her hips and then, in one swift motion, he rolled over, flipping them until she was beneath him.

She gasped, her body arching beneath his, softening to accommodate him in this new position. He bent to capture one taut nipple with his lips and she could feel the wet tugging of his lips and tongue radiating outward from that spot through her entire body, joining with the heady pleasure from where they were joined.

One hand slipped down to touch the slick heat of her where they were joined at the same time as he thrust inside her even more fully than he had been and just like that, she shattered, her mouth opening on a scream as ecstasy exploded inside her.

She was only peripherally aware of him thrusting one last time before he, too, exploded, his body stiffening and shuddering above her.

He collapsed on top of her, so she could feel his pounding heart, his quick breaths against her ear as he fought to steady his breathing. She closed her eyes, loving the weight of him above her, loving the feel of him still inside her. And as usual, just when he was beginning to be too heavy, he moved, rolling over onto his side. His arm curved around her as she settled against him, her body fitting against his as perfectly as it always had.

Oh but she loved these moments, when satiation was sliding heavily through her veins, weighing her down like a warm blanket. When the intensity of their passion had been sated, leaving the more comfortable bliss. When she could close her eyes and drift, secure in the knowledge that all was right in her world.

These moments were all the more precious to her because she usually had trouble turning her thoughts off long enough to fall asleep or truly relax but not with Harry. Whenever he touched her, kissed her, whenever she touched him, the rest of the world faded away, narrowing down to him and her and their entwined bodies…

She didn't know if it was minutes-or hours-even days-later (and cared less) before he finally stirred, brushing his lips against her hair. "On second thought," he said softly, lazily, "this is why I love you."

It took actual effort for her to move, lifting her head and propping her chin on his chest so she could meet his eyes. "That's okay, then," she informed him with mock solemnity. "I love you for your body too."

His lips quirked into his best attempt at a rakish grin. "Glad to be of service."

Their eyes met and held for a long moment before they both succumbed to laughter, their soft chuckles only ending when he slid his hand into her hair to cup the nape of her neck, angling her head so he could kiss her, in a lazy kiss now that their lust had been sated, a gentle kiss of shared humor and shared understanding.

The kiss ended slowly, lingeringly, and Hermione brushed her lips against his chin and throat before nestling her head more comfortably against his shoulder. Her fingers strayed idly over his chest until he reached up to catch her hand in his, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss her palm.

Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed against him, her body fitting itself against the warm solidness of his body with its usual ease. She felt Harry tug up the blanket to cover them both as she slipped closer to drowsiness.

Almost at the last moment before she succumbed to sleep completely, she heard his voice, entirely serious now. "You're the most loving person I know. Don't ever doubt that."

She smiled to herself, the words sliding into her heart, warming her, healing her, the last of her doubts fading away.

"I love you too, Harry," she murmured against his shoulder.

And, content, reassured, she drifted into sleep to the sound of his deep, even breathing, her body nestled against his, and his hand holding hers…

~The End~