HP: I got Transmigrated into the World of Magic [Chapter 93: Lucky Bastard! ] (Patreon)

"Mm, little longer, baby, come back to bed," I say groggily, pulling her down and snuggling tight. Her squeak goes largely unnoticed by my sleep-addled brain, in no small part to the delicious smell of her hair in my face and her back pressed tightly against my chest. 

I quickly yank the covers out from underneath her and pull her even closer, then cover us both. I breathe in her scent deeply, let my eyes roll back in my head, and a deep, rumbling purr of contentment escapes my throat.

A shudder runs through her, so I squeeze her tighter. "William?" she says, voice barely above a whisper.

Somewhere in the back of my brain I wonder who William is. "Mm," my throat rumbles instead.

"Please..."

"Hm?" The drowsy fog begins to lift, after which the details around me resolve quickly. Other canopied beds, brown, bushy hair obscuring my vision... "'rmione?"

"Can you...can you let me up now?"

Suddenly, a number of observations regarding my current situation hit me. Firstly, I'm in bed in only my boxers. Secondly, I'm cuddling Hermione very closely. Thirdly, my right hand is in a nice and soft but rather inappropriate place. 

And last but certainly not least, it's morning, with all of the involuntary physiological responses that entails. "Oh!" I quickly release her, lifting up the covers so she can roll away from me. 

"Hermione, I'm so sorry!" I hope the full extent of my horror is conveyed by that statement.

Unfortunately, my horror only grows when she scoots out of bed and walks briskly out of the room without a word.

I try to rub the rest of the sleepiness out of my eyes. "Shit." Looking around, it appears that Harry is the only other one here. I toss a pillow at him. "Harry."

"Ungh," is the response.

"Harry," I repeat, "I may have done something bad."

"Wha—?" he says, sitting up quickly and squinting around the room. Apparently convinced there is no immediate danger, he rubs his eyes with one hand and gropes for his glasses with the other. He puts them on and looks around again. "What happened?"

"Um, well, Hermione came to wake us up, and I may have been confused from my dream, pulled her down under the covers, and cuddled with her," I say.

"Nicely done," he says with a sleepy chuckle that turns into a yawn.

I yawn, too. "I don't think she thought so. She ran out of the room as soon as I let her up." I rub my head in embarrassment. "Well, my hand may have been firmly pressing her against my chest...using her chest. And, uh...well, it's morning..."

He flinches with a jolt of embarrassment for me. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah."

"Lucky bastard," he mutters, yawning again.

"Yeah," I say with a grimace, thinking I'm anything but. "Think she'll be mad?"

He scratches his head. "I dunno, she didn't seem to mind when I woke up after using her chest as a pillow."

"Well, you didn't semi-consciously do that, and you weren't poking her in the nether regions with your own nether regions, either," I point out.

He grimaces back. "Yeah, she might be mad about that."

"Damn it."

"Lucky bastard."

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When Hermione spots me and immediately turns her head away from me, I grimace. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. Can we talk?"

I leave plenty of space between us on the couch, well away from the tree, about which many Gryffindors are currently swarming. Hermione doesn't answer. I take that as a 'go ahead and talk.'

I sigh. "I was confused about where I was. I thought you...I didn't know..." I trail off, not sure how to say it. I don't want to make it awkward by saying who I thought she was. "I'm sorry," I finish weakly.

She still says nothing.

"I...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She shakes her head.

"I don't believe you," I say, my voice breaking. "I-I wish I could make it up to you somehow, but I know...I'm sorry."

I try to stand up and run back to my room to hide for the rest of the day, but Hermione catches my hand and pulls me back down closer to her. I look up and see tears in her eyes, tears that burn through my heart like acid. I want to throw up. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"But I—"

"No," she cuts in, "you didn't hurt me. At least, not the way you think."

I stare at her uncomprehendingly.

"When you...h-held me like that – when you made that sound – it felt..." she pauses when her body shudders with a sob. 

"I didn't want..." She closes her eyes, then shakes her head to clear it. 

"It just reminded me of that night. That terrible night, when Harry came back. The worst night of my life."

I don't know what to say, and I don't know what to do. I want to hug her, but I don't know if that would just make things worse. She takes away the decision, and her head falls to my shoulder.

"You sounded so happy, William. And here I am, wanting you to...and then there's Harry..."

I run my fingers through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. "I think...I understand, Hermione." My mouth goes dry, and my heart pounds in my chest. "You know what makes the most sense, don't you?"

She shakes her head.

"Harry does. It hurts to admit it, Hermione, but you know we're going to get him through this thing. All of it. He's going to die of old age well over a century from now. Hell, probably over two centuries from now. But me...well, you heard Dobby. I'm not even a wizard.”

“Even if I don't just up and disappear just like I did before – which is a real possibility – I certainly won't live to see the twenty-second century. I'm an intruder here. I shouldn't even be here in the first place. And, to top it all off, I'm still keeping secrets from you."