22. She steals my clothes (and they always come back smelling of her)

Harry sighed as he closed another drawer. He'd looked everywhere, his drawers, Hermione's drawers, the laundry, under the bed… Nowhere… He couldn't find his favourite sweatshirt anywhere. He grabbed another sweatshirt laying on the armchair and as he was putting it on, he went to the living room in search of Hermione.

And he found her… and his sweatshirt…

There she was, all cuddled and cosy in his favourite sweatshirt, watching television while popping popcorn in her mouth.

"I was looking for that sweat." Harry said, falling beside her on the sofa and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl nestled on her lap.

Hermione took a second to acknowledge him. She was really into a telenovela that she accidentally got exposed to at her parents' house a few weeks ago. She claimed that she could understand it enough to follow the plot, she even told him what was happening from time to time. She teared her eyes away from the television to look at him, her eyes moved up and down his upper body,

"Wanna change?"

Harry felt something tighten in his gut from the look over she gave him. He took off his top without saying a word. Hermione's eyes slid down again, taking in his toned chest and she slowly removed her/his sweatshirt. Harry gulped at her slow, almost tantalising, moves. As they exchanged the sweatshirts, their fingers brushed each other and Harry felt the shock waves going up from his fingertips to his spine. 'Even after all this time, she can still manage to affect me with just a touch.'

Hermione wore the new sweatshirt and buried her nose in the neckline.

"Mmm, nice. That one had started to lose your scent." Harry smelled the sweatshirt he'd just put on and smiled as Hermione's scent filled his senses,

"Smells just fine to me."

Hermione smiled at his words and cuddled next to him. Turning her eyes back to the television, she proceeded to explain what was happening at the show. Harry angled his head and softly kissed her head, the sweet smell of her filled his nostrils once again. It was like he was surrounded by Hermione, all of his senses were seized by her. His eyes were feasting on her profile, her excited voice was like a harmonious melody chiming in his ears, her petite body radiating solid warmth beside him, warming his insides, her scent hugging him from everywhere, making him feel safe and at home. The only thing missing was …

Harry gently grabbed her chin and raised her face towards his, his lips finding hers, muffling her voice in doing so.

Her taste… Behind the saltiness of the popcorn, he could taste the sweet, unique essence of her. Hermione's moan of approval brought him back to reality. He knew if he didn't stop now, he was going to lose control of himself. Harry leaned back slowly and smiled upon seeing the dazed look on Hermione's face. It seemed like she had forgotten all about her telenovela. He couldn't blame her really, he'd almost forgotten himself among all the feelings she had caused within him.

"Where did that come from?" Hermione asked in a breathy voice. "Not that I'm complaining."

Harry smiled at her words. She was still in a daze from his sudden kiss.

"You smell so good." Harry said, his voice husky with desire. "I love it when you steal my clothes."

"Hey! I don't steal them! I just take them, use them and return them." she said with a fake frown, softening the lust packed air which had surrounded them since the exchange of the sweatshirts.

"And I'm absolutely fine with it, they always come back smelling of you."

"Well… When I take them they smell of you. That's why I like wearing them, it's like you're always hugging me."

Even if he'd never had time between their kisses to admit it, her soft admission and beautiful smile had evoked feelings in him that would put that damned telenovela to shame.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Hermione Jean Granger (Potter), the brightest, strongest, kindest and bravest witch ever! Happy birthday!