Work Text:
Hermione snuggled deeper into her fluffy duvet. The light was shining in around the drapes, but she had no intention of getting out of bed just yet. It was blissfully warm beneath the duvet, an event that was getting harder to enjoy without interruption—usually from either her bladder or her stomach.
A hand with long fingers and intermittent calluses found its way to her softly rounding abdomen, gently caressing it before pulling her flush to the body it belonged to. She smiled and settled more comfortably in her husband’s arms.
“Good morning,” his deep, somewhat gravelly voice whispered into her curls.
“Good morning, love. Did I wake you?” He hugged her closer, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her bump, just the right pressure to ease her tension.
“I daresay I wouldn’t mind if you had.” She smiled at the sleep still fogging his voice and turned in his arms.
“I can’t help but remember how frightening you used to be in the mornings. It seems like a lifetime ago that you’d mope about like a cross between a zombie and a hungry lion for hours before cheering up.” Her husband grimaced and buried his nose in her mass of curls, inhaling the light fragrance of her shampoo, still fresh from the night before.
“While I am highly suspect of your use of the word ‘cheerful’ in relation to me, I still wonder that you put up with me for so long. I was not a nice man then, Hermione.” She pulled him down for a languid kiss, pressing her breasts to his chest.
“You still aren’t, but then again, I’m not the goody-goody everyone thought I was in school, yourself included.” Hermione shared a knowing look with her husband. She had a vindictive streak to rival his own and the cunning mind to get away with no one the wiser.
“I’ll grant, I didn’t think you had it in you until I spied you knocking Draco around your third year.” She looked up at him, wrinkling her nose in a way he found adorable—not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, even her.
“He was a git in school. You never told me you saw that, though. Why didn’t you take house points?” Her husband smiled wickedly and proceeded to lick and nuzzle the sensitive spot behind her ear.
“He deserved it. Not to mention, it would have been a crime to punish such a bloody gorgeous shot at him. I always thought you were loveliest when angry. The fire in your eyes matched only by the frazzled electricity in your hair. You’re gorgeous.” A blush worked its way up Hermione’s neck, but she had trouble maintaining her train of thought as her husband moved to fondle her breasts through her satin sleep top.
“Even then?”
“Hmm?”
“Even then you thought I was gorgeous?” Her husband chose to let his hands wander as he captured her mouth in a fervent kiss instead of answering. Hermione decided to leave the conversation for later in favor of turning her husband’s penchant for wandering hands back on him.
When they first moved from friends to lovers after the insanity of the war died down, Hermione never would have pegged Severus Snape as an avid participant in morning sex. Now, almost ten years after Voldemort’s destruction, Hermione gleefully let slip all thoughts of the past and joined in, decidedly, her favourite morning activity. She could hardly imagine being anywhere else as Severus slid home between her legs.