Harry Potter One Shots

Late Night

All rights belong to the author, LemonStar

Hermione Granger woke up in a complete panic when she no longer felt his body next to her. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she frantically looked around the bedroom, still pitch black with the late night hour outside. Her eyes went to the alarm clock on the nightstand table next to the bed and she saw that it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. There was no reason for him not to be in bed, sleeping next to her, their bodies tangled together as they always were whenever they slept.

She reached out to his side of the mattress, feeling that it was cool. He had been awake and out of bed for quite some time already, only heightening her panic and now, her confusion.

Hermione pushed the green bed sheets and the black goose-down comforter from off her body, instantly shivering slightly when she felt how cold the bedroom had become during the night. She only wore panties and one of his jumpers to sleep in whenever she spent the night at his flat – which was most nights – but she also had his large body to keep her warm.

She couldn't believe how cold she felt without him next to her.

The flat was absolutely silent and Hermione stood next to the bed, her feet bare on the cold hardwood floor, listening for the slightest sound that would let her know of his whereabouts. She heard nothing though and her lips weighed down in a frown. She had no idea where he could have gone to if he had left the flat.

Why would he leave in the middle of the night in the first place?

Marcus Flint, her fiancé of almost two months, was an officer for the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement and often got called away in the middle of the night when he was needed for a case but he always woke her up to let her know that he was leaving so she wouldn't wake up in a panic-state like the one she was currently suffering through.

She didn't want to worry though. Not yet. Not until she checked every room and saw for certain that he wasn't there.

Creeping like a thief in the night instead of a young woman spending the night at her soon-to-be husband's flat, Hermione slipped from the bedroom and after peeking her head into the dark bathroom to find it empty, she made her way down the hallway.

Sometimes, with little random moments in time like this, Hermione still found it hard to believe that she was in Marcus Flint's flat and not only was she spending the night, but she was engaged to marry him. She had made love with him countless times and any moment of free time she had, she wanted to spend it with no one but him. Him. Marcus Flint of all people. If she sat down and really thought about it, it almost made her laugh. She never would have thought a year ago – or even six months ago – that she would fall hopelessly and completely in love with Marcus Flint, Slytherin and nothing more than a brainless oaf to those who saw and judged without ever knowing him.

But there she was.

Hermione Granger, Gryffindor princess and war hero, trying to find Marcus Flint because she couldn't sleep without him.

Many people didn't understand. She knew that and frankly, she was tired of explaining her reasons for wanting to be with him for the rest of her life. Apparently, to some, loving him more than anything wasn't a very good reason.

They would never understand how Marcus made her feel. The way he looked at her and treated her when they were alone and no one else was around to see, made her feel as if she was the temple and he had come to worship her. As they laid in bed, Marcus would often just look at her and gently run his hands and lips over her body, tasting every inch, wanting to feel every part of her body so he could memorize it for all time. He treated her with such gentleness, it sometimes almost made her cry.