Hermione could watch him for hours.
See the rise and fall of his pale chest.
Count the ribs and trace the spaces between.
Swipe her thumb along the rough texture of his jaw.
Tuck an awry strand of dark hair behind his ear.
Lean into his embrace and smile against his neck.
Tom set her ablaze on the coolest of nights. And with every year she spent with him, she grew more enraptured.
Tom could lay there for hours.
Sense the burn of her gaze beneath his closed lids.
Feel the brush of her arm against his.
Smell the hint of lilac that perpetually infused her skin.
Tilt his head towards the hand that carded his hair.
Wrap an arm around her waist and mold her body closer to his own.
Hermione calmed his fury on the warmest of days. And with every year he spent with her, he grew more enraptured.
