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A dull ache had settled behind her eyes, the pain slowly beginning to radiate down into her jaw forcing her to crack it every once in a while. The cup of coffee hadn’t helped, neither had the two she’d had previously. Instead, she felt jittery and run down and she was beginning to think that seeing sounds was actually possible. She pressed her fingertips against her temples and closed her eyes as her body sank back into the sofa.
The cushion dipped beside her and a smile twitched at the corners of her lips. Her knees fell to the side as he settled on top of her and propped his chin against her sternum. “You should come to bed,” he said, his voice a low husk.
“Did you wake up just to tell me that?” she asked, cracking open an eye to stare down at him. His glasses were askew on the bridge of his nose and she wondered why he even bothered putting them on before coming downstairs. Without even thinking about it, her hands found their way to his hair and tried in vain to smooth it down.
His arms wriggled beneath her and he pressed himself closer. “No. I just closed my eyes. No sleeping involved.”
“Liar.”
“Nope,” he said with a pop.
Hermione let out a hum as her head fall back against the arm of the sofa. The weight of his body on top of hers was comforting, the heat of his breath coming out in small puffs against her chest. She could easily fall asleep like this, ignoring the headache that had latched itself onto her like a leach.
“Hermione,” he muttered as his mouth found the strip of skin just above the collar of her shirt. “Come to bed.”
*
It took a near ridiculous amount of cajoling before he managed to pull her up only to hoist her body up over his shoulder and carry her up the stairs. She didn’t say a word as she bounced along, a stupid smile plastered on her face as he turned at the second landing and squeezed her backside. The smile didn’t fade even as he tossed her onto the bed and flopped down beside her. She curled up against him, her leg hooking over his hip as she pressed her face against his chest. He smelled of cedar and soap and she sighed as she breathed him in.
“Did the coffee help?” he asked as he shifted around above her head. She heard his glasses clatter softly on the bedside table and a moment later his fingers were pushing her hair away from the back of her neck.
“Not really,” she replied her voice muffled.
His fingertips pressed against the base of her skull, massaging the skin in slow circles before making their way down the line of her neck. Hermione felt a small, satisfying crack as he worked and slowly the tension that had built up within her began to melt away. The noise that rumbled in her chest sounded vaguely sexual and caused him to snicker. She let it slide as his hand continued to turn her into mush.
“You know, we do have a rather alarming stash of pain potion in the bathroom cupboard,” he pointed out.
“Coffee tastes better,” she replied. “And I have to keep a stash because you keep insisting on coming home with injuries.”
“I’m sorry, love. The next time I’m chasing a dark wizard around I’ll ask him not to inflict grievous bodily harm on me in the process.”
She pinched his side and he flinched.
“Oi. Now I’m gonna need a pain potion for that. Rude.”
*
Somewhere between his pushing her over onto her stomach so that he could better reach her shoulders and their easy banter, Hermione fell asleep. She didn’t dream and as her mind began to float slowly upwards to consciousness it occurred to her that she hadn’t moved an inch. It had been ages since she’d slept that hard and she found that she didn’t really mind the think fog that still surrounded her brain even as she lifted her head to glance at the clock.
His arm rested against her back, his hand buried in her curls, cradling the back of her head and only allowing her to lift it so far. They hadn’t even made it completely under the covers, she noticed, and his long leg was curled around her much shorter one making his body flush against hers. Letting out a contented sigh her head fell back against the pillow and her eyes closed again. They had nowhere to be, no one to answer to, so the time seemed irrelevant and she had half a mind to banish the clock to another room.
Then he stirred beside her, his body shivering slightly in the cool morning air, and he moved closer until he lay nearly on top of her. “You know,” she said, her voice muffled. “Contrary to what you might think, I am not a mattress.”
Harry let out a grunt as he pressed his face into her curls. “Of course you aren’t. You’re too small to be a mattress. A pillow on the other hand…”
She gave a delicate snort as his sentence trailed off. It was easy to simply lay there as he moved them around, the sheets and blankets turning into a tangled mess at their feet as he settled her in the crook of his arm.
“How’s the headache?” he asked as his fingers threaded through her hair once more, his fingernails lightly scratching at her scalp as he resumed his massage from hours before.
“Better,” she replied, and it was the truth. Only a small fragment of an ache still pulsed behind her eyes, and she tried to imagine it slowly ebbing away until it simply just disappeared.
“Good,” Harry pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “I appreciate you not dipping into my pain potion stash.”
“Rude.”
“Love you.”
“Love.”