the lucky one

one more kiss

Miranda blinks as the dawn breaks, bright rays of sun streaming in through all the windows. She yawns and stretches, snuggling herself closer into the warmth of the gorgeous boy beside her. Harry, whose arms are currently wrapped around her, is also stirring.

"Good morning, beautiful." He reaches for his glasses, then kisses her. Miranda is so caught up in it. In him. His black hair, sticking up at all angles. The subtle lines of his muscles and the deliciously scratchy, low way he said 'beautiful'. Not to mention she is still pretty groggy. That she fails to notice where they are. Where she is. The realization hits her smack in the face,  panic setting in.

"Shit—has Matt gotten back yet?" she asks, eyes darting warily around the room.

"Nope," Harry shakes his head, irritatingly. "It's still early,. Sometimes he stays on Snape's couch, and comes back in the morning."

"Thank god," Miranda breathes a sigh of relief. Her pulse stops racing. "What time does he usually come back?" Miranda pats the comforter, searching for her discarded clothes from the night before.

"It depends," says Harry, yawning.

"Wait—" Something else dawns on her. "Where's everyone else?"

Harry waves her off airily, self assured, "Ron is— well you know..." Miranda grimaces. "And I told Dean, Neville, and Seamus to bugger off an hour ago," he tells her offhandedly.

Miranda's mouth falls open in horror, "You did not!"

"I didn't want to wake you up," Harry shrugs unaffectedly. His manner is so casual that Miranda wants to throttle him and kiss him senseless all at once. "They were being very loud. And you are a very pretty sleeper."

Miranda chooses to ignore that heart melting comment, "Loud?"

"Well with all the cheering and whatnot—"

Miranda turns a fierce red. Beet red. Fire engine red. Howler red. She swats Harry across the chest, "Harry!"

Harry just beams at her, "You're so pretty."

"You're the worst," Miranda moves to get up from the bed, but Harry pulls her back into his chest. "Oof! Harry! What are you doing?" she exclaims,  his nose buried in her hair. She tries to break free, but his arms are string and secure around her waist, unrelenting.

"Stay, Mandy," he pouts shamelessly. His plea is muffled by her neck, mouth closed over the hollow of her throat.

"Harry," Miranda shakes her head in amusement, fighting a smile.  "Matt could be back any second," she reminds him, inhaling as his hands grip the tender skin of her inner thigh. Focus. "Oh—oh— do you really want him to find me here?"

"I'll take my chances," he says, still smothering her with kisses. His hair is ticking her chin. Miranda giggles, gasping for breath, "Hermione specifically instructed you not to give me any more hickeys."

"I think we already broke that rule, Mandy." Harry smirks, playfully biting at her. Miranda swats him teasingly, finally disentangling herself from his post coital clinginess. She traipses around the room, picking up her clothes. She slips Harry's jumper over her head, not particularly wanting to zip her crumples dress back up. She just can't find—

"Looking for these love?" Harry raises an eyebrow, voice dark and dirty. He dangles her lacy panties over his index finger.

Miranda blushes furiously, snatching her underwear from his hand, "Someone's awfully cheeky this morning."

"You love it," Harry drags his teeth across his lower lip, and Miranda vividly remembers him dragging his teeth along a different part of her last night. Even the memory of it makes her run hot.