She hated to admit it, but she loved when Hermione had a bad day. Not in the sense that she took some sadistic pleasure in her wife’s misery - quite the opposite actually. It killed her to see Hermione in any form of pain. Pansy loved the way she took comfort in her. It made her feel needed and loved, and she loved the way Hermione just relaxed in her arms. Like she was home. So when her wife came home looking exhausted and drained, she couldn’t help but feel a little jolt of excitement.
Pansy looked up from the book she was reading as the front door swung open. Hermione shuffled into their flat, lazily kicking the door closed. Pansy stood up, waiting until Hermione peeled off her heels. She unhooked the first two buttons of her shirt, letting out a little tired sigh that broke Pansy’s heart.
“I had the fucking worst day.” Hermione grumbled, pecking Pansy on the lips.
“I’m sorry.” Pansy frowned sympathetically.
Hermione sighed against her lips, and rested her forehead against Pansy’s for a moment. Pansy leaned into her touch, feeling disappointed when she pulled away.
“I gotta get out of these clothes.” Hermione said, pulling at her collar uncomfortably.
Pansy smiled as Hermione gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. She plopped down on the couch, waiting for Hermione to return. It didn’t take long. Hermione came back out in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Pansy desperately tried not to smile as Hermione climbed on top of her and wrapped her around her torso. She lied her head down on Pansy chest, tangling their legs together. Pansy loved this feeling. Wrapping her arms around Hermione, she soothingly rubbed a little circle against her back. She could practically see the tension seeping out of Hermione, her breathing evening out. Pansy carted a gentle hand through Hermione’s curls, feeling her wife’s heartbeat slow. She reached out and gently smoothed the crease on Hermione’s eyebrow with the tip of her thumb. Smiling softly as Hermione left out a small little sigh, like all the stress she had built up throughout the day had finally gone away with that little puff of air. Pansy felt Hermione slide a hand under her shirt, caressing her back. Her fingertips were gentle and warm. She could smell Hermione’s shampoo, and she unashamedly inhaled, the familiar smell of lavender and vanilla feeling her with a warmth she could never get elsewhere.
It smelled like home. Hermione was her home, and she was filled with even more warmth knowing she was Hermione’s to.