She wakes up with his arm wrapped around her waist and a headache. Who is HE, anyway? Some stranger? Or worse yet – someone she knows? She rolls over, slowly, so as not to wake up this person who is, for some inexplicable reason, in bed with her, and a gasp escapes her lips.
No way. No how.
What is HE doing here?
Ok, of all the people … Hermione shakes her head angrily. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be such an idiot?
I'm never drinking again, she vows.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sweetie.
Her clothes were strewn across the floor. Her shirt was right next to the bed. She snatched it off the ground and pulled it over her head.
The movement startled him, and he opened his eyes quickly, watching Hermione's back disappear as the clingy yellow shirt went over her head. "Morning," he says sleepily, pressing his face into the pillow.
"Don't 'hello' me," she snaps. "Don't you even dare. I can't believe – I mean, we didn't – did we?"
He turns his face so that he's looking into hers. "Well," he says slowly. "I'm naked. You're naked. I think you can figure it out."
"Not helpful right now. I'm such an idiot. I can't believe –"
"Hermione, it's not a huge deal!"
"Oh, right, losing my virginity to the boy who lived when I was drunk out of my mind isn't a problem!"
Harry gapes at her. "Hermione –"
She slides her jeans up her legs, and he has a sudden urge to kiss her thighs. But she's turning away from him, and he can't do anything about it.
"Hermione!" he repeats.
"What, Harry?" she asks angrily, shoving one foot and then the other into her high heels.
He pauses. "Never mind."
She tosses her hair back, pulling it into a bun. "I need to go – I'm going to be – going to be late for work –"
"Wait, you're just leaving? What about breakfast? Can I get you anything to drink? Tea?"
"What you can get me, Harry, is Tylenol. I have a splitting headache."
He just stares at Hermione. With her hair piled haphazardly on her head, her jeans crumpled slightly, and her eyes flashing.
She's beautiful.
"Never mind, Harry," she says. "I need to leave right this instant. Where's my wand?" She bends down and looks under his bed, her shirt riding up in the back. Harry just stares at that skin – is that wrong of him? It feels almost … dirty.
After seeing all of her last night? Really?
Hermione emerges with her wand in one hand and a triumphant look on her face. Harry stares straight into her eyes. It's a very strange moment, honestly. Hermione, with a few dust mites in her tangled hair and Harry, with a thin white bed sheet wrapped around his waist.
And then he leans forward, and he kisses her lips, still frozen in a smug smile after retrieving her wand. It's a chaste kiss, by any standards, especially those that they set last night. But Hermione can feel her cheeks heating. This was why she was with him last night. For this. She wants to jump back on the bed and let him pull her clothing off all over again. She wants him to cradle her in his arms. She wants to kiss his chin. She wants to – but she can't.
Hermione pulls away, smiling slightly. "I'll see you later, Harry," she says, turning away.
"Hermione --"
She's gone. Just like that, she's gone.
Harry shakes his head and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow.
"I'm never drinking again," he mutters to himself.
