Hermione chuckled softly, amused, but didn’t stop, raking her fingers lightly against his scalp and nearly making him purr. “I remember that, our first hug – you froze in place, and didn’t even hug me back at first.” She murmured fondly, remembering his little grunt of surprise as she had literally thrown herself at him in relief and happiness and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. “I think I took it as a challenge, teaching you to allow personal touch.” She scratched his scalp again, lightly, tugging his hair playfully. “Now you’re as bad as Crookshanks. Always angling for a snuggle.”
“s your fault.” He mumbled. “Magic hands.”
“Charmer.” She retorted lightly. “You know, with anyone else, this would be weird. But no one bats an eye – not even Ron. Not that he would have reason to, anymore.” She added absently, not noticing how he stiffened slightly. “We barely lasted two weeks without the distraction of fighting an evil madman and chasing after you, before we were bickering again.” Which was the main cause for Harry’s lecture today, and the subsequent conversation with Ron. She opened her mouth to say what she had meant to earlier, but Harry’s breath had evened out and slowed as she was talking – thinking out loud, really – and she was loath to disturb him.
She gazed down at her best friend, enjoying the peaceful silence and opportunity to see him finally truly rest. She was also a bit honored; there were very few people left in Harry’s life whom he trusted enough to let his guard down enough to deep sleep in their presence. Even with Dean, who had shared a dorm with him for six years, Harry would doze, or sentry sleep, which allowed his body to rest but didn’t turn his senses or mind completely off.