*Them*
They lie together, pressed close. As golden rays of sun creep up the bed, they begin to stir, slowly shaking off the warm comfort of sleep. She wakes first, blinking deep mocha eyes against the bright glare of early morning. Feeling the warm weight against her, she notices an arm slung over her side, long fingers intertwined with her own. Panic and confusion begin to set in, her mind begins to unfog and her pulse quickens as she realizes that that is his bare chest against her back, warming her through her thin nightgown. That is his hot breath against her ear. Never before has she stayed with him. Before, when she came to his bed seeking solace and safety, he would eventually return her to her own room to send her to sleep with a chaste peck to the cheek and a crooked smile, unsure but comforting. She shivers at the contact, begins to plan escape, for she could not bear for him to wake, to pierce her with those eyes and stir her soul in a way no man has ever. Not even…
He tightens his hold around her slim frame, grips the thin material gathered along her upper thighs. Still mostly asleep, he mumbles slightly against the nape of her neck, words she cannot decipher, but that nevertheless induce a reaction from her traitorous body as his lips graze her skin. Her skin tingling, desperation takes hold. She inwardly resigns herself, commits herself to leaving him in peace, to smothering the flame of desire which has begun to lap at her deliciously from within. Moving slowly, she lifts the enemy limb from her waist and begins to slip from the bed.
"Mione," he pants, lost in a dream. He is amazed at how real she feels, this dream lover of his. He can feel the smoothness of her skin and how the free wisps of hair tickle his nose; hear the tiny gasps she emits when he breathes lightly onto a delicate spot below her ear. How amazing this fake woman is, how lifelike. She even has a tiny scar on her left ring finger, right above the knuckle, just like the one his real love has had ever since a long fall through a trap door when they were too young to know the depth of love and devotion. A scar she has worn ever since she made him feel loved for the first time, loved and admired for more than his own scar that he carries. The scar that cost them a friend and changed their relationship forever.
She begins to leave, to retreat into the bright light his subconscious seems to have chosen as background, but he will not let her go. He will not lose her too, the only Hermione he is allowed to love freely. He pulls her back to him, holding her with a firm and unrelenting grip. He breathes her name again, tasting lips full and sweet, just as he has imagined them for years. She gasps against his mouth, stiffening slightly. "Harry?" she whispers, sounding surprised and confused, but neither appalled nor angry. She shakes him awake gently, and when he sees those eyes, large and full of shock, he knows. Her tiny mouth has formed a pink O, so cute and enticing, yet he cannot move, frozen in his bed. He laments his obvious blunder, inwardly chastising himself for letting her stay asleep in his arms, mourning the lack of self-control that has probably cost him her friendship…the last thing he has.
Moments pass in silence, each of them trying to read the other as if they were books, but utterly failing at first. She has once again begun to cry, but he cannot see sadness or shame in her eyes. He sees….is it hope? Hope filling dark chocolate pools, her eyes are begging him to not be sorry. She shifts and her leg brushes against his own under the sheets, shaking him out of his trance. He reaches to her, pulls her close once more and brushes the wetness off of her cheeks, planting kisses upon closed eyelids. She tips her chin and his resolve crumbles; he is kissing her gently, lovingly. Her palms are pressed to his bare chest, scorching his skin. She moans against his lips, deepening their kiss. Soon he stops and looks at her, smiling the first real smile in many months. She smiles back, shyly, in a way that makes his pulse quicken and his breath catch in his chest. They lie back down and curl into one another; he shuts the curtains with a murmured spell as they fall back to asleep in each other's arms, content and happy, finally at peace with themselves and their pasts. They know that they should not feel guilty anymore. Because love really does conquer all, as the old saying goes...even if it remains unspoken.