As I Wake With You

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

This originally started out as an ode to my inability to get up in the morning. It might be thought of as a companion piece to Strega Brava´s "Morning Reflections." Thanks to her for the inspiration, and to Amsev for beta-reading.

As I Wake With You

I remember that you laughed when I first told you I used Dreamless Sleep Potion, too.

You never expected us to have this in common, on top of everything else that knit us together. The fact is, I had learned to dread dreams a long time ago. Especially the most pleasurable ones.

I would lie in bed, satisfied, savoring the soft drapery and scent of the sheets, perfectly relaxed, wanting to prolong the moment forever. And then I would open my eyes. And gape in horror at the clock sitting across from me on the nightstand, its hands mocking me.

I could have sworn the alarm went off only half an hour ago. Well, girl... you have about fifteen minutes to throw on some clothes and choke down some breakfast. It´s a good thing you´ve learned that Smoothing Charm to make your hair look at least a little less mussed...

This always seemed to happen the most when I needed to be up the earliest.

So, for the sake of productivity, I took a little nip every night, and freed myself from that temptation.

Until I became close to you.

After our first time, I quickly slipped into deep sleep, and after some time I found myself dreaming again. `Pleasurable´ could not begin to describe this dream. It was powerful, it was restorative, it seemed my body was making up for years of unnaturalness, constraint, even starvation. I never wanted it to end...

I opened my eyes, and it dawned on me that I had forgotten to take my potion the night before. Frantically I glanced around for the clock... somewhat impeded by a pair of strong arms...and something heavy lying on my hair...

I got my hair free and craned my neck. The clock was not on the nightstand, so I summoned it to hover in the air in front of me. Seven in the morning. Well, what do you know, you actually woke up in good time. What day is it... Saturday, I remembered. I didn´t need to wake up this morning. Of course it would turn out that way. Hermione, you bloody workaholic. I can´t believe that would come first in your mind, even before what you just did last night... As best as I could, I turned my head. You were still asleep, and smiling slightly.

Do you know how beautiful you look when you´re completely at peace? Not handsome--beautiful.

You were even more beautiful when I rubbed myself against you, felt you tighten, and then turned to kiss you awake... the heat and desire in your eyes nearly made me swoon... as did the contour of your sensual lips, your spicy-smoke taste... the feel of your glorious hands roaming softly over my body...

I had no need for Dreamless Sleep after that night, and neither did you. Your presence was more than enough to refresh and re-energize me, for each new day. And the same was true for you.

How many times have we awakened like this, wrapped in each other´s arms? Nearly every night. Nobody, least of all me, expected you to be the one to calm my nerves... become the man I came to love...

In my school days I probably would have been disgusted, even horrified, to learn how much we had in common. I would have wanted to wash myself clean of any similarities with you. After all, that would only mean that deep down I was just the same. Cynical, depressive, unlikable...

Unlovable. After Viktor and I broke up, I spent years watching Ginny, Lavender, Parvati and others take lover after lover, while I spent all my free time working or poring over books. It´s just how I´ve always been, I told myself. I just don´t get as much of a thrill from love as I do from work. Work restores my soul, as love does for my friends.

But why do they look so much happier than you? said the nasty voice inside of me. When was the last time you looked that happy?

My friends were not foolish lovesick girls--Okay, maybe Lavender and Parvati were, but Ginny... I always said you could never get me to fall in love so much that I lose my head. I thought love was a problem, an irresistible force that made witches give up their dreams and choose to stay at home and bake cauldron cakes. Not the scenario I wished to find myself in.

But here was Ginny, just as clear-headed as me, just as hard-working--and Harry´s devotion to her was as deep as any I´d ever seen. They were completely besotted with one another--and she hadn´t altered an iota of herself to get there.

Well, she is prettier than you. How could any man resist her voluptuous curves and bright red hair? You are a drab little brown wren in comparison, Hermione, and you´re just jealous that Harry preferred her over you.

This was one of many unwelcome thoughts I used to make myself miserable.

And Ron, of course, never saw me as anything but a friend and colleague. It seemed every circumstance in my life conspired to ask me the question, What about love? Isn´t that what´s really important? Molly Weasley, upon her death, even in the midst of a Death Eater attack, found presence of mind enough to deliver that Muggle cliché about never wishing you´d spent more time at work, you always wish for more time to spend with the people you care about... And her eyes seemed to linger particularly on me as she said this.

My own mother, safely back in the Muggle world, had no inkling as to what was going on... it was the Irish terrorists, I think she said. She had always encouraged me to use my brains more than my looks. The men worth having are the ones who love you for your mind, she said. It will take a very special man to be the right one for you.

Was my mother wrong? Were some other mothers right... a girl does not get anywhere by acting intelligent? Because even with all my disturbing thoughts, I just couldn´t shake my love for work and reading. Highly accomplished women do tend to be less approachable, I read in the more complimentary Muggle books; and they´re a damper on men´s egos, I read in the less complimentary ones. Revolting as the idea seemed to me, maybe I did have to hide my light under a bushel to be loved. After all, in many other women it did seem to work ...

But I kept remembering Ginny. How could she gain love without selling herself out? Is she just lucky, and I´m the unfortunate kind of girl who has to sell out?

It was much easier to escape into my work before Voldemort was defeated. In many ways, my life was simpler during wartime, for afterwards I had to deal with the war within myself.

Not to mention, the war of my emotions concerning you.

You were invaluable to me during the battle years, a strategist of subtlety I truly envied. You had to be in order to maintain your double life with us and with the Dark Side, without having it blow up in your face.

Almost daily you risked your life--as I did, too, merely by working so closely to you. And though you were never demonstrative about it, I could feel the depth of your gratitude for my being there, my offering some solace during each of our projects, especially the riskiest ones...

You were already a different man than the one who had taught me Potions. So much more serious. Your sarcasm seemed to have lost its edge for a while. All your--and my--resources had to be harnessed for fighting.

The day we were presented with our dual Orders of Merlin was the proudest day of my life. And as I looked in your eyes, I saw immense pride there too, and thankfulness, and-- something else?

Could you possibly feel...?

I had fallen in love with you, officially, that day. But it wouldn´t work unless you loved me in return. And till then you had given me no indication that you even found me desirable. It was too much to ask for even this moment to give me the answer I needed.

You nearly left me before I discovered the truth--that you did indeed return my feelings, but were growing frustrated at my lack of any sign I wanted you.

I almost lost you over not knowing how you felt about me. I shiver when I think of how close we had come to never being together. And every day, as I did that first morning after, I thanked God and Godric for giving me the courage to set myself free, and let you into my heart and my life.

As I bend over you, watching you chest rise and fall with your deep breathing, I run my hand over your warm skin and through your hair. I cup your face in my hands and give you a long kiss, and when I pull away you smile. Even in your sleep you know when I show my love for you. No more unsaid, no more lack of answers for us. We will not let that happen again.

~~*~~*~~*~~

In the shower I pick up the bar of soap--Crabtree and Evelyn´s goatmilk soap, which I had picked up in a shop when we paid a visit to downtown York some weeks back. Milk and cream was the theme for that day. You were there to buy milkweed sap for your potions, I was there to pick up some paperwork on cows. Apparently the Muggles needed my help with a problem of their own as well. We had enjoyed cream tea at the most popular tea room in town.

I never knew you could enjoy escapades into the Muggle world so much.

I place my soapy hands on your naked chest and rub them so a rich lather forms. I cover your entire body with the lineny-smelling lather before rinsing you off, and then I wash your hair. Everybody marvels at how your hair has changed, how your whole appearance has changed, since we´ve been together. Ginny once asked me if I ever get jealous that so many women swoon over how erotic you look. And I always answer, no, I am never jealous, because I am secure that your heart is with me. Completely and irrevocably.

Then you wash me, first my body and then my hair. As you point the hand shower down my head, I look down, watching the suds slide off my body, down the drain... and your arms folding themselves around my waist, drawing me even closer to you. I close my eyes in rapture as I feel your lips touch the back of my neck.

We step out of the shower and dry each other off... and I thrill at the way you take a dreamy look on your face as I rub the towel down your body.

When we are completely dry, you draw me into a passionate kiss, one hand on my neck and the other on the small of my back, my arms around your waist. When we pull apart you look serious, like you used to in the tentative first stages of our relationship. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You still seem to not believe that I really love you... even after all we´ve been through."

A cold swoop of amazement wells up in me. "Oh, no, Severus. I know very well that you love me." Then a hot flash of embarrassment as I say, "I just have trouble believing...that I´m as deserving of your love as you say. I mean... I mean... there are other women, women who are prettier... more pleasant... less workaholic..." I trail off, blushing, kicking myself for saying more than I needed to say.

"Hmmm." You frown as if deep in thought, and kiss me again. "Close your eyes," you whisper against my mouth, and right after I do I feel a rush of air. You turn around so you are embracing me from behind, and say "Open them now." I do to find we are standing in front of a mirror.

There you are, your wet, glossy hair cascading over your shoulders, your strong arms linked around my waist, your eyes glinting with passion. And there I am... I blush scarlet. Surely that woman in the mirror is not me, with the shimmering waves of golden brown hair, the pale, creamy skin and the soft curves--the woman with eyes half closed, lips parted and throat sensually exposed.

"Watch," you say, your voice darker than the blackest night, sending shivers through me. I am feeling vulnerable, completely caught off guard, but I force myself to look, at the reflection of you roaming your hands over my body, your lips slightly smiling as you cup my breasts, long fingers undulating as they caress. And one hand drifting lower... I jump and squeeze my eyes shut, and you soothe me with another deep kiss on the back of my neck. I dare to open my eyes again... and I swallow hard as I watch your hand caress down my belly and lower, lower... My cheeks are flushed, my lips are reddened, and I cannot take my eyes off their reflected expression -- blazing, lustful.

Seductive. With you, I am no longer drab and brown and too wrapped up in herself to love. I am seductive, desirable, glowing.

And I can´t thank you enough for that.

You turn my face to yours, your eyes just as smoldering.

"But remember," you say. "I would never have been drawn to you in the first place if it weren´t for your mind. That came first, Hermione."

And you cup my chin and give me your hungriest kiss. Whatever is going through my mind at this moment--desire, comfort, affection--pales in comparison to the sense of victory.

I was right. It was good for me, after all, to be so dedicated to work and knowledge.

Mum was right. It took you, a very special and unconventional man, to be right for me.

Ginny was right. I didn´t have to change to be loved by you.

For I am perfect for you in return. I am very lucky.

No--I am blessed.

And so are you.

THE END