Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 42

I finally finished my finals, so you guys get an update. Sorry for the wait. Love you all and hope you enjoy this.

The morning welcomed endless possibilities. I was warm under the sheets, my head cushioned with the feather pillow, and my body pressed against something warm and glorious called Harry. Waking up to Harry reminds me of Christmas morning, the excitement, the content, and the skip in my step to find what was under the tree that year.

With the sun blaring through the window, splashing a puddle of light on the old carpet, and the sheets tangling around our body like grape vines, I could only focus on one thing: something warm and slightly hard pressing against my thigh, and really it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I mean it was the morning and we'd had sex less than six hours ago.

I slowly twisted my leg to stop feeling the warmth of him pushing against my thigh. I didn't mind, it felt kind of nice to know that it was because of...me. Me, I'd made him feel like that.

My lip caught between my teeth, I moved slightly, waited, then moved again until the only thing I felt was a tingling from where his member had sat, warm and hard. I waited a beat then let out the breath I had been holding in. He still, however slept peacefully, his full lips slightly apart, blowing the hair on his face away and back towards him. One hand took refuge under the pillow while another was thrown around me, large warm fingers slightly ticking the junction between my hip and waist, and his legs were everywhere. I learnt one thing about Harry tonight, well two. One: Harry was detailed- detailed like the little mixtures of light on a butterfly's back- when he took me to bed. Two: Harry slept like a fish out of water, legs tangled around the sheets, spread wide like the wings of an eagle. One leg thrown over both of mine, and the other dangled off the bed.

I didn't want to wake him up, but I needed to get up. I didn't pay any mind to it last night, or I'd simply not noticed and just gone to bed with it, but my hands were still filled with dirt, it covered the creases between my fingers and under my fingernails. I was itching to go and wash my hands.

I thought about shimmying away, but one little movement had him furrowing his eyebrows and pinching my skin with his hand. I ignored the pain and decided to relax, getting him to relax. He did. And with the calming breath he took, he moved forward to bury his face in my neck. This became an extremely uncomfortable position.

"Harry," I shook his shoulder.

He just groaned as an answer.

"Harry," I tried once more.

Another groan, he moved forward then started snoring.

"Harry, get up. It's ten in the morning." It was a guess, but I'm guessing a very poor one from the light seeping in brightly as ever. It was probably closer to twelve, definitely twelve.

The green eyes opened, adjusted to the light by blinking a few times. Once they were opened fully, he looked around the room, at me, then at the window. "D-did you..." He stopped, and eyes wide, shook his head as if he were asking if I'd just seen the boogie man walk by.

"Did I...?" I urged him to go on. All I can wonder while he looks around shocked is: did he forget about last night? My mind wanted to shoo the idea away like dirt that follows you in a windy day; consistent and very hard to stop.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just tired, I suppose." He let his fingers massage his temples slowly. He still had this look in his eyes as if something wasn't right, like he was seeing something I wasn't. I'd felt so close to him the night before, I felt close to him like I hadn't felt with anyone before, even my mother. It made me wonder why I couldn't see this thing, what was so private that it was reserved just for his eyes? "I'll make the coffee, do you wnt some? Or hot chocolate?" He asked, throwing the blanket on my side, wrapping me in more heat. "They said it would be really cold today."