Author's Note: Another pointless oneshot and more fluff from my favorite tandem! Let me know what you think of it. :)
Until He Gets Home
Hermione sat on the couch with a worried look on her face. It's been two hours since he was let off and he still hadn't reached home.
"Where could he be?"
Ever since Harry took the job as an auror, Hermione's worries came back and nagged her constantly. Yes, Voldemort was gone, but his followers weren't. Each Death Eater wanted the power and fame their Dark Lord once had. And now that he was killed by the famous Harry Potter, who better to replace Voldemort but his loyal followers? In this case, all of them wanted the glory.
She fluffed the cushions on the couch over and over, thinking that everytime she fluffed them, it was still at its original state.
She fixed the coat rack by the front door, arranging the shoes beneath and the coats that belonged to her, Ron and Harry.
She opened the refrigerator and fixed that as well, placing the mayonnaise and the catsup where they were supposed to be, on the small shelves to the right. Then she opened the freezer and arranged the pints of ice cream the three of them always splurged for their midnight snack, placing their lids back on and stacking them up in the corner of the space.
She fixed the books that were in disarray on the coffee table, repairing the edges that were slightly torn.
She fixed the picture frames scattered on a table, admiring every single one if them before positioning them in the perfect angle.
She walked into the study and saw the clutter of books on the floor. She obviously fixed those, placing them on the shelves and arranging them in alphabetical order, by author. Then she started with Harry's desk. The files piled on them were of Death Eaters, the ones still on the run. She shook her head at the number of them and placed them in the drawer neatly.
That's right, Hermione pretty much cleaned up everything.
She checked the time: three o'clock. Still, Harry was not home. She sighed heavily. Yes, she was tired, but not tired enough to wait up for Harry, she thought. Slowly but surely, though, her drowsiness got the best of her, and before she knew it, she fell asleep.
Hermione woke up to a bright and beautiful morning. She was actually surprised that she had a good night's sleep when she actually fell asleep on the living room couch.
"Wait a minute," she said to herself, feeling her surroundings. "This isn't the couch." She thought about it, then smiled to herself. "Harry."
After a few minutes in the bathroom, she ran to his bedroom, strongly expecting to find him sound asleep on his king-sized bed. To her astonishment, though, he wasn't there.
Thinking he took her place and slept on the couch, she walked into the living room a few moments later. He wasn't there either. Then she smelled bacon… and eggs… and French toast.
"Morning,"
Hermione jumped a bit. "Harry," she smiled at him warmly. "Good morning."
He returned her smile, and her heart melted. "I hope you're hungry."
"Starving."
They went into the kitchen and sat themselves on the seats by the kitchen counter. "Here you go," Harry handed Hermione a plate. She had been right: bacon, eggs, and French toast. Well, it was the only thing Harry knew how to cook.
"Thanks," she replied, always grateful that someone else cooked breakfast for her. "Is Ron up?"
"Left," he said. It barely audible for her to hear and understand since he was chewing on his toast. "Early practice. Don't worry, I fed him." He added after swallowing his food.
"Of course you did. If you didn't, he would've strangled you." She giggled at the thought.
A comfortable silence fell.
"The house is spotless," Harry started.
"Well, when you wait on someone for three straight hours, you're bound to get bored somehow, Harry." She said sarcastically.
"I'm sorry," He said guiltily, bowing his head slightly. "I got into a small fight with these Death Eaters and-"
"How small?" she said worriedly.
Harry lifted his shirt up slightly and revealed a cut on his well-toned chest. Then he turned around and showed her another cut, a bigger one this time, on his back.
Hermione gasped. "Oh, Harry," she said, touching his injuries lightly. "How did you get these?"
"Rookwood had a dagger, a bloody dagger!" he exclaimed lightly. "Of all the things that could have hurt me, it had to be a dagger."
She shook her head. "Come on, let's get those cleaned up." She held out her hand and he clasped it tightly.
Hermione tended to Harry's wounds, washing them and placing some bandages around his torso. "I don't think you should go to work today. Not until these wounds get better," she told Harry after settling him on his bed.
Knowing better not to argue with her, he replied, "I'll owl the office."
"Good," she answered, kissing his head. "I'll clean up downstairs." She started to walk out of Harry's room.
"And Hermione," he said, before bringing out his parchment and paper. "Come here."
She obliged, an eyebrow arched.
He wrapped his arms around her, looking into her eyes for what seemed like forever. "You can clean up all of my cuts any day." He let out a sly grin.
"Oh, shut up, Harry," she swatted his arm playfully.
Then, he kissed her. Shots of electricity soared throughout their bodies as the kiss slowly intensified. Hermione loved the feel of Harry's lips against hers. Although it's been almost a year since they've been doing this, every single time he kissed her, butterflies were always in her stomach.
As they broke apart, Hermione let out a contented sigh. She touched his cheek, relishing the feel of him under her skin.
"You know what?" Harry started after a few seconds.
"What?"
"I love you." He said simply.
"Really?"
"The least you could do is say you-"
"I love you too, Harry," she replied quickly. "Very, very much." She inched her way towards his lips once more, sharing another kiss.
"I might be home late again tomorrow." Harry said as he washed the plates and later handed them to Hermione afterwards.
She gave him a smile that was only reserved for him.
"Well then, I'll be waiting."