Hermione loves when Harry gets like this.
It's usually on those lazy Sunday mornings when the sun has already risen and the birds are chirping, but you're still in bed and the kids haven't rushed in yet.
She'll be awake but feigning sleep because she wants just a few more minutes of sleep, and he knows this. He'll start at her wrist. A soft, barely-there touch of his lips to her skin. Then, he'll cascade them up her arm, passed her shoulder, and as he gets closer to her neck, she'll feel a smile form on his lips because he knows just what will happen next.
As his lips creep further and further up her neck, she starts to squirm. Not in a grossed out way; Harry's kisses could never do that to her. She's ticklish, you see, and Harry just loves to get her riled up about it.
She tries to fight it, but she always fails when he reaches the base of her skull, just under her ear. Her body gives her away. Harry chuckles right against her ear, and that makes her wiggle even more. He starts attacking her sides with his hands, and soon they're both laughing. She tries to escape his torturous hands, but he uses his strong, quidditch built muscles (another thing she loves about him) that she's no match for and wrestles her below him.
Now, there's a moment of reprieve. Harry's got both of her wrists in each hand, his knees on either side of her hips and he's staring directly at her.
So much is said between them, with just a single look. Like when they're out at the supermarket. The children could be begging and pleading for some sweets, and with one look at Hermione, Harry can know that it's okay to say yes. They'll cheer and hug him, and he'll be the hero for the day.
Or when they're out at some event that the Ministry is throwing. She'll see how guilty he feels, even after all these years and squeeze his hand. He'll break out of his trance to look at her, and he'll see how much she loves him. How much the memories of the war still pain her too, but they can be strong enough to get through it if they work together.
But sometimes, particularly times like this, small glances aren't enough. Sometimes they need to be able to look at each other and take their time wordlessly, letting the other know how much they love them. How they would do anything and everything for them. How they already had. How they're so happy in this moment that they wish it would never end. And how much they love these lazy Sundays and featherlight kisses.
That's when Harry will start it up again. Butterfly kisses scattered around her face, avoiding her lips as much as possible until she can't take it anymore. She'll break free from his grasp (not that he gives much resistance) and grab both sides of his head and finally force him to meet her lips in agony.
No longer featherlight kisses, but hungry-nearly famished even. Starved because sleep was much too long to go without this contact. Mouths moving against each other at a frantic pace. But just before they can get too far along, to the point that they won't be able to pull back, Harry will slow the pace and bring it back to quick pecks, and then, he'll put an altogether stop to it with nuzzling his nose against hers.
Harry will pull back, but he won't fully keep contact from her as he'll be rubbing his thumb across the apple of her cheek. He'll have a smile in his eyes-which is always infectious-and Hermione will smile in return.
"Good morning, my love." Harry will say.
Hermione will beam at him and brush Harry's unruly bedhead out of his face. His green eyes will sparkle in the sunshine. She loves that he has to be so close to her to see her without his glasses.
"It's always a good morning when it starts like that." She tells him.
She wished she could start every morning with those featherlight kisses, but saving them for Sundays almost makes them even better. Almost.