The Dungeons

I slept curled up against him last night. I don't remember the last things that I said to him, I was too tired, too content, too sated. He was warm and large and solid, seemingly more so than he is normally, and he held me close enough and whispered I love you into my hair as I ( dozed off that I almost couldn't tell how uncomfortable he was. )

I want to touch him, but...

There's something. I don't know what it is, but there's something. A certain stiffness that's not always there, but sometimes. A pained expression that flits across his face for less then a moment, though that might have had to do with wrenching his shoulder as we tumbled down onto the couch night before last, but no, it's not just that -- that expression stayed as loosened the muscle and he winced as it pulled.

Or maybe it's nothing and my fear over "us" is playing with my imagination. I shan't think about it anymore, not tonight and not tomorrow. I'll get what I need done finished at the Q and then I'll head back to Hogwarts to have coffee with Bill on Sunday before he leaves to have dinner with his family.