The Honeymoon's Not Over
She lay snoozing in the king-sized bed, her bare, lightly tanned arms wrapped around a pillow, her face resting upon another, a mess of curls splayed out behind her. She snuggled so far down in the white duvet that only her nose and top of her head was visible, though she wore a trace of a smile on her face. The afternoon sun shone through the wall of windows, cutting through the palm trees outside. The light and shadows created an angelic glow on the pretty young witch.
He pushed through the door, pulling the key out of its slot and closing it much gentler once he realized she was asleep. Again? he chuckled to himself, amused. Must have really worn her out. Memories of the last three days' activities, specifically the more...intimate ones...flashed through his mind. He put the full ice bucket on the table and walked quietly over to the bed, staring at the beauty before him.
I can't believe she picked me, he thought in amazement. I can't believe she's mine. He looked down in awe, more in love than ever.
Suddenly unable to hold himself back any longer, he dove onto the bed, bouncing her awake, and scooped her into his arms, kissing every part of her he could reach. Her eyes flew open, startled at first, but she calmed as soon as she recognized the loving touch of the handsome redheaded man holding her.
"George!" she giggled, snaking her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately in response to his touches. "You woke me up!"
"I did, love," George whispered, smiling down at her, "and I'd do it again for a kiss like that."
"Don't you ever get tired of being with me?" the charmed witch asked him with a sigh of contentment.
"Hermione Jean Weasley, I love you with all of my being. I couldn't get tired of you if I spent the rest of eternity with you. Why do you think I married you?" George looked passionately into his new wife's eyes, love emanating from his expression.
"Well, Mr. Weasley, the feeling is entirely mutual. Now kiss me again, before I wake up from this magical dream." Her eyes closed as their lips met again and he pressed her into the bed beneath them.
"This is no dream, 'Mione," he whispered against her lips, "and don't worry - the honeymoon is far from over."