heart shaped morning

It was morning, but still dark out - the mist clinging to the grass and trees in some lingering, desperate embrace. It was Valentine's morning, yes the silly Muggle holiday, and living among them one must adapt and blend in, so observing their holidays and rituals is key, isn't it? Besides it's exhilarating, but I suppose that's only true if you have someone to spoil on such a day, like I have Harry. I am so lucky to have him, even luckier to be able to spend this time with him as a free man. No more dementors, no more Azkaban, and one day there will be no more Voldermort. Until then I will protect Harry as much as I can, keep him safe, make him happy…

I quietly make my way to his bed. It's good to see him so peaceful, huddled in one corner of his bed, curled up in a little ball, the covers drawn tightly about his shoulders like a cocoon. His face is smooth, absent of any lines of worry or tension, and his lips… only slightly parted, and so pink… He shivers and mumbles something to himself, a dream maybe. I slip under the covers quickly, wrapping my arms around him and drawing him in close.

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I always know when he's there. I don't know what it is, you know like how you can tell if someone's staring at you…like static alive and vibrating around you, only I feel warm and the prickly feeling down my spine is exciting and thrilling and - and…ah…He slips into my bed like a shadow, very careful not to disturb the bed too much, and then I feel the heaviness of his arm drape across my chest and pull me in closer. I love feeling the weight of him around me; it's not crushing, just pleasant and solid. Deep breath…he always smells the same too, like the cold winter morning outside mingled with faint spicy cologne, and old yellowed paper, like old books. It's…mmhm…It's home. I lean my full weight against him, nuzzling in closer and closer still…oh…he nudges my neck with his nose, the cool touch of his skin against mine, his breathing slow and steady, feathering across my cheek. Uhn…he leaves a trail of light kisses down the nape of my neck, each one burning into me, sending sparks all the way down to my toes. I tilt my neck slightly to give him better access, nah ah… his tongue, the heat, the slick wetness at the back of my neck, slow circles - too slow. Sharp inhale. His hands wander the length of my chest, down to my hip, his fingers biting into and gripping pushing down my waistband.

"Good morning, Harry." In my ear like growling thunder, or rusty gates, his tongue flicking in and out. I think I squeaked, or meeped, or something. Something that if I weren't already flushed I would be turning red with embarrassment. "It's Valentine's Day, you know?" I think I nodded. And he proceeds to tell me about our plans for today, something about heart shaped strawberry pancakes, but my attention is focused on the hand that slips under my waistband, the rough, blunt fingers that pump me once, twice… oh yes. His thumb brushing lightly over my tip…oh uhn…I can feel him, he's hard against my backside, his knee wedging its way between my legs…oh god, good morning, yes, yes…

"I love…oh…the way you wake me…n'thmornin…" I barely manage, breath ragged, throat dry, and I think I'm shaking. He turns me towards him; the heat of him slipping away, and then I feel his lips on mine, searing, tongue whispering past my lips, teeth scraping the bottom of my lip. When did my pajama bottoms end up around my ankles? It's too fast, but certain things remain in slow motion like his hand slipping from the throbbing between my legs to the inside of my thigh. I marvel briefly at how big his hands are, how it aches every time his stomach brushes against my…ssss…his hair is so thick, my fingers tangle in them, as he works his way down, his tongue, his lips, his mouth, down past my shoulder, licking every inch. He likes to bite, and toys with my nipple, a low hum from his lips, it ripples right through me. I kick off the pants restricting my ankles…mah…he licks right there…gulp… in the cut of my hip. He likes that spot, I know, because he doesn't move away quickly enough, and I can't bare to open my eyes yet, I don't want it to just be a dream. He comes up once more, mouths crashing, bodies melting into one, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. I taste salt from his body, or is it my body? …arch into the heat…back strained…breathe, pant, pant…

"Happy Valentine's, Harry" a flurry of kisses, like wet snow, disappearing into my skin, as he pushes my knees against my chest, ankles hitched up on his shoulders. He disappears underneath the covers…oh so good. My fingers clench and unclench in the bed sheets, and the warm rays of the sun filter through the curtains, pouring over my face like the birth of life, exploding warm and butter yellow against the back of my eyelids. Happy Valentine's Day indeed.