Pillow Talk

He felt good. Very good. Of course, who wouldn't feel good when they had a beautiful red-head, sans clothes, curled up next to them in bed? And if you consider what they had been doing recently, well, then you can imagine just how good he must feel.

She tossed a leg across his, and pulled herself over so that she was half lying on top of him and drummed her fingers against his chest.

"What is going through your mind right now?" she asked, letting her hair fall across his chest.

"That this is the most relaxed I've been in…" he paused as he suddenly gave what he was about to say new thought, "ever."

She giggled.

"What about you? What's going through your head?"

She continued to drum her fingers across his chest and she brought her other hand to her mouth and nibbled at her fingernails for a moment then leaned forward so that their faces were only inches apart, "I'm thinking about how I will never get tired of looking into your eyes."

"That's probably because they're, 'As green as a fresh pickled toad'," he said, grinning broadly.

"Harry. James. Potter!"she said, accenting his last name by grabbing her pillow and using both arms to smash it over his head and hold it there. "I can't believe you brought that up," she said, blushing.

"Mmf?"

"It's embarrassing! I was only eleven at the time; I thought it was clever."

He pushed the pillow off of his face and said, "And I thought it was mortifying at the time, but now I find it hilarious."

She hit him with the pillow again before rolling off of him and on to her back, her hair spreading out around her like a crimson halo. It was now his turn to lift himself up to look at her.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he drew a line up from her navel, across her chest, to her lips, and then to her nose which he tweaked. She swatted his hand away giggling.

He paused then, and his gaze grew distant, seeing past her as his mind thought back to that day. For a moment he could see a flicker of indecision on his face, and then he slowly began, "You know… it was because of that that I figured out how the diary worked."

And there it was. They rarely talked about it, let alone in such an intimate and casual setting such as this.

"It was?"

He nodded, "When that dwarf ripped my bag my ink bottles broke over everything, but-"

"The diary was clean."

He nodded.

"Well, I guess it was a good thing I sent that Valentine then," she said, a smile coming back to her face. "Of course, the fact that you remember it well enough to quote it after all this time makes it worth it."

"It does indeed," he said as he leaned down and kissed her.

"So, Mr. Potter," she said, wriggling down the bed and into the covers, "you've finally defeated Voldemort. What are you going to do now?"

He smirked, saying, "You," and buried his face into her neck, kissing his way up her neck, "over and over and over.."

"Well, I like the sound of that Mr. Potter."

He suddenly rolled on top and she burst into peals of laughter as he tickled her relentlessly."