Affection, a harry potter fanfic

Discliamer: None of the characters belong to me, but that now should be quite apparent.

Author's Notes: Well, looky here! It's my very first one-shot. Go me.This is just a little ditty. Something small to pass the time and to reignite my love affair with fanfiction, which before this was quite nearly nonexistent, but then there were a few stories I had stumbled upon. Notably MaDeLaiNe's Something Not Wrongand Glassesfreak206's I Feel.

Also, much thanks must be given to the artists who kept me company with their soulful tunes: Teitur, Rachael Yamagata's "Ode To" and Cat Power's "I Found a Reason".

I hope you all like this and please let me know what you think.

Summary:Post-HogwartsJust a small one shot about affection, the need for affection, discovering affection and the few ways one can show it.

It was at night that he slept with her; arm wrapped possessively around her middle, body pressed firmly to her side, and his nose buried into the curve of her neck.

She wondered how it had ever come to this. He was never one for affection. Then again, she didn't think that she had ever come across a single boy who knew what affection was, let alone give it freely.

No, that was a lie. For there was Neville with his quiet smiles. There was Seamus with his appreciative laugh. Dean and his worry of what to wear next. Even Draco with a protective arm around Ginny's waist. And there was Ron and his seemingly begrudging way of taking Luna's hand outstretched, but when he thought no one was watching, he'd press his lips to her palm; a silent word for her ears alone.

And of course there was Harry.

Harry.

Harry with his face lit as he swung a leg over his broomstick. Harry with his mouth set firmly into a stubborn line. Harry with his cheeks tinged rouge in embarrassment. His head lolling to the side in sleep. His fingers grasping his wand with certainty. His arms outstretched. His quiet footfalls. His furrowed brow and his forehead creased in concentration while scratching words onto parchment.

Affection, the need for affection and the quiet, blinding release of it was in his every action and word.

His skin was saturated with affection, pores soaking it up, and from his eyes affection poured and shone and bled through Hermione's senses. Though neither of them was aware of it or at least they didn't seem to be.

No, that was a lie as well, for tonight and every other night before that Hermione grew to be aware of it; so very much aware that for the first time she was afraid to touch him. So she would lay there and feel his steady breathing warm against her neck, his arm a heavy weight around her middle.

Once she whispered his name tentatively just to see what would happen or to see if he would awaken so she wouldn't be alone in her awareness, but that only resulted in having him pull her tighter to him, his lips brushing against her skin as he murmured words incoherent.

And she'd take in a breath, going rigid, her eyes darting around the room in confusion. She would never know where to put her arms during these small episodes; sometimes opting to rest them crossed over her chest, but then she'd feel silly and would then let them hover just an inch, her fingers biting each other in mild discomfort.

Yes, it was all very awkward, but it could have been nice as well. Didn't she dream of this? Didn't she always wonder what it would be like to have a warm body next to hers, one whom she could curl up against and just drift to sleep? Well yes, but she never would have guessed that Harry would take that place.

Harry.

They never really arranged for them to sleep together every night. Now didn't that sound amusing? Sleep together. They were sleeping together. It's not often that people would use that term in its literal meaning, and that's all it really was. They were just sharing a bed, sharing some space, lying there wrapped under the covers, their bodies giving off heat and warmth and all those other nice things that two warm bodies pressed against each other could give.

Hermione smiled in the darkness.

"Socks. Socks are clean," she heard Harry mumble against her ear, warm breath faintly brushing her skin and she held back a laugh. Shifting slightly, she managed to give him a little nudge, which only succeeded in a slightly annoyed moan accompanied by a, "Check the trunk."

"Harry?" She whispered.

"No, the trunk," he mumbled and she bit back another smile.

"Harry." She nudged him once more, but he didn't move. "Harry, you're talking again." She offered, as if saying this would suddenly awaken him and she wouldn't have to be the only one awake at…what time was it? She shifted her head a bit to look up at the glaring clock. 3:00am it said. Dear Lord, it was 3 in the morning and she was still awake. She had a class at ten and she was still awake. Hermione sighed. It was good of Harry to offer her a place to sleep since her flat was flooded, but it seemed that during the past couple of nights that they shared his bed, he did far more sleeping than she.

"Harry?" she whispered and turned her head towards him. "Harry." Clearly he wasn't going to wake up, but maybe if she… Hermione slowly stretched out a hand to his shoulder and gently shook him, saying his name.

Not a sound emitted from his parted lips and he made no movement in response. She sighed, but with this first bit of contact, she seemed to have grown bolder until once she had been too frightened to touch him, now she was too eager to do so.

"Harry?" And here she finally turned over to face him, letting her eyes roam across his angular features made delicate in sleep and shadowed in darkness. She allowed herself to devour his features as she had never done so during the time they have known each other, and she found that what she saw pleased her very much. So much so, that she took a daring leap and reached out hesitant fingers to smooth his hair aside.

Now that was strange. Hermione didn't think that she had ever done that before. So she did it again; fingers delicately pushing aside his black beetle hair and smoothing it. She found his hair to be a little coarse and in need of some good conditioner. He also needed a bit of a trim.

"Why did you ask me in?" she asked him. "I could have taken the couch, you know. I would have been comfortable." She probably would have gotten more sleep too and she pulled the covers up to his chin and brushed the hair out of his eyes, revealing his small scar. She traced it and wondered what his life would be like if this had never existed. Would they be still lying here together with the curtains shutting out the city and sharing whispered conversations until one fell asleep before the other? No, maybe not.

"I could have stayed at Ron and Luna's. They have an extra bed." But no, she didn't want to intrude, which was a ridiculous statement because she could very well be intruding in on Harry's space. But he had said himself that he didn't mind.

"Not at all," he had told her, "It'll be easier here with the subway just around the corner, if you don't mind walking. You can floo in too."

"I can use the floo at Ron's as well," she had said, but he had already started moving her stuff into his flat and she couldn't do much after that.

And now, her fingers grazed his cheek bones with a feather light touch and ran their way curiously towards his jaw.

"You could at least stay on your side of the bed, you know," she whispered, and he did. At least, he stayed on his side leaving a proper amount of distance between them once they got into bed, but upon falling asleep he'd roll over and his arms would reach out, as if searching for her. Then inhaling deeply, as if drawing in her scent, he'd close the proper space between them, leaving her fully awake and rightly flustered. "Harry?" she tried again.

Harry.

And she looked at his parted lips. Wondering. Thinking. Guessing. Then she turned away, shutting her eyes for a moment, feeling foolish.

And he inhaled deeply.

And she let out a long breath.

Eyes now trained to the ceiling, her lips pressed into a firm line in thought, she took a few beats to debate with herself until finally she bid herself to relax, and rested her hands on his. Slowly. Gently. And in an instant his fingers stirred under her touch and she felt him awaken.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at the blurry haze that turned to greet him. "Hermione?"

"Shh, go back to sleep," she said.

"Did I wake you?" He didn't seem to notice their close proximity, probably too muddled with sleep.

"No, it's the other way around."

"Oh."

And he inhaled deeply.

And she let out a long breath.

Then he turned over onto his back and pulled the covers up to his chin. She felt strange without his arms around her and his breath warming her skin, as if a piece was missing.

"You were talking in your sleep," she said.

"Yeah? What did I say?" He seemed to be staring up at the ceiling, though Hermione knew he was looking at nothing.

"You said 'Socks are clean. There should be a pair in the trunk.'"

Harry's eyes were closed now and she could see him smiling in the darkness. "Yeah?" he said. "I guess it's a step up from 'Frogs everywhere.'"

Hermione laughed.

"I don't even remember why I said that," said Harry.

"Well, that must have been one interesting dream."

Harry smiled. "Yeah."

Then he fell silent for some time that soon she thought he had fallen back asleep, leaving her alone with this painful awareness. But then, "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she whispered back.

"You hungry?"

"What? It's 3am."

"Are you nervous?"

"No, why should I be?"

"Angry?"

"No."

"Excited?"

"No."

"Scared?"

"No."

"Filled to the brim with ecstatic elation?"

Hermione laughed at this before saying, "No. Not at the moment, no."

"Right then," and he turned over saying, "Goodnight."

And she let out a long breath and stared at Harry's back.

Harry.

"You awake?" he said, breaking the stillness.

"Yes."

He inhaled deeply and turned over. "Come here," he said and reached out to her, gathered her in his arms, and pulled up the covers. Now Hermione found herself pressed tightly to his chest. The steady beat, beat, beating of his heart a constant rhythm in her ear.

Harry yawned a quiet yawn and asked her, "You cold?"

"A little," she lied not knowing why and soon felt his hands moving in a steady rhythm along her back, much like his heart thudding in her ear.

"Better?" he murmured.

"Yes, thank you."

And he inhaled deeply.

And she let out a long breath.

Warmth spread through their limbs and she grew faintly aware of the rhythm of his hand slowing until it finally came to a rest at the small of her back.

She shifted in his arms and leaned into him burying her face in his neck, wanting him too to know the feeling of warm breath caressing tender skin in faint wisps and whispers.

And he inhaled deeply.

And she let out a long breath.

And after a while Harry murmured her name once more, but she was far too tired to answer.

His scent filled her, lulling her into a deep sleep where she dreamed of frogs sporting socks, and of Harry's smile.