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He sees his perfect girl and knows he’s gone quite mad, for she’s still in the sleep clothes he saw her in just a few hours ago as she stepped out of the hallway loo. He could still smell her spearmint toothpaste and see her pinked cheeks from embarrassment from her lack of clothes. How was a thin tee shirt with a faded Bee Gees logo and the shortest shorts he’d ever seen on a person considered clothing? Why were his dreams becoming more lucid when he’s had one too many firewhiskeys?
After her squeal of surprise from his quiet pop of apparition and self body-dump on her bed, she asked, “What– What are you doing here, Professor?”
She covered her chest with the book she was reading, and her quiet, unsure tone made him hesitate as he reclined on the bed, facing her. This full-sized bed of hers in his dreams was quite luxurious and soft. Much like she was. He liked the closeness of it, too. He reached up to catch the curl that had escaped the messy bun atop her head. He watched as his fingers instinctively curled around it and he saw his dream Hermione shiver. His eyes caught hers. What was he supposed to be doing? Oh, yes. She asked a question; he was supposed to answer. -
Bookmark Notes:
sshg好看
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Bookmark Notes:
Прочитано 8гл
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