Things I know about you
There was some kind of pleasure involved in observing people.
There was so much to read from someone’s stance, when they were unguarded, vulnerable; and Severus knew so. Years of observing people, trying to unearth secrets from the minute details of their movements would make him follow this habit to times of peace, too.
And it had become his favourite pastime for the past few years, watching her, reading her.
Hermione, talented as she was, couldn’t really hide from him even when she tried and so, as he got prepared for his work, he pondered about what tidbits he enjoyed knowing the most about the witch currently asleep under his covers.
When she was afraid, she was picking on her left thumb nail. She always looked so perfect, in all her appearances as the Ministry representative for Magical Cooperation; but when anxiety truly got a hold on her, no other sign was telling, but the monotonous sound of a nail breaking at the end as she scratched it.
When she did that, the best Severus –or anyone for that matter– could do, was to give her space. Hermione was the kind of person who could look social, but when her stress got to her, she needed to breathe. People would kindly remind him that in a relationship, so much space and private time could be detrimental; but he knew better, as evidenced by the way she clung onto him as if she was a koala bear when her bouts of anxiety were over.
Speaking of koalas –Hermione absolutely loved cuddling. If she could live most of her private life, perched on Severus’ back like a monkey, she would; she’d been mortified if anyone –including her boys, Dumb and Dumber– found out though, so she relished in the way Severus and her would only give fleeting, inconspicuous touches to each other, like a signal that they were still there for each other.
The Brightest Witch of her age, high-ranked Ministry official and all, was also a woman whose temper was wild. Hermione in the safety of her own home and Madam Granger as perceived by the public eye were two different personalities. And Severus wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he knew well that punching Draco Malfoy in her third year was something she still prided herself on, despite now being his best friend, and he felt too proud and aroused at the idea of his wife being able to bring a man on his knees on any capacity. She occasionally drove him mad with said temper, but mostly, he low-key adored it.
She loved him fiercely; like a true lioness, she loved and fought for her love with so much strength, that he was incapable of doing anything else but love her in return. That was how she had barged into his life a few years ago, and never left since, doing her best to convince him that they were meant to be. And he would have it no other way, for his life got the colour he needed thanks to her and her little quirks.
Taking a peek at their bed from the mirror where he was busy dressing himself, he saw the covers ruffle slightly. She was in that sweet state between slumber and consciousness, and he couldn’t help but go over and kiss her shoulder, over the many layers of fabric and stuffing.
“I love you,” he whispered, only to receive a huff as a response.
“Liar,” came her muffled voice from under the heavy duvet. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t leave right now.”
The man just smirked; another piece of information –some days, she just wanted to lay under the covers and listen to him narrate a better future for them both.
“You are right, as always,” he agreed, and gave up his attempts at leaving for work on time. He slipped under the covers, and as his hands came to rest at her –slightly fuller– stomach, he knew she indeed was right about anything in their life, really.