bad idea, right?

can't two people reconnect?

The touch on my back was light, and it brought me back to those good, albeit short, days that I had someone waking up besides me.

With a sigh, I reached the conclusion it probably was just Mary shaking me after me losing the time again.

Then it reached me that I didn't share a room with her anymore.

My eyes jolted open at once and my body stiffened: I wasn't in my dormitory.

"You weren't this confused in the morning," he said lazily, hands still running up and down my skin as I laid with my belly on the bed, "trying to remember whose bed is this?"

I slowly turned to him – noticing that I was naked under the thin sheet – and Potter was smirking.

"I think it's more likely you forgetting who you brought up here," was my brilliant reply.

He chuckled and kept his hand moving, eyes still on me. He had his glasses on – he had been awake long enough to do so.

"What time is it?" I asked with a yawn.

"Ten past eleven," he replied cheekily, "you didn't snore before. Is it the stress of being a Head Girl?"

"Bugger off, I don't snore."

He was laughing. I didn't understand why he was so happy and carefree, and voiced it out.

"Well, I just had a brilliant shag with a gorgeous bird. She's still in my bed, making me wonder if I could convince her to do it again before she runs off to her friends. My day started alright."

I felt my cheeks flushing and he laughed again.

"I'd forgotten how lovely you are when you blush," he mumbled, pulling me closer to him, "probably due to you not talking to me for almost two years."

"It was closer to one year," I disagreed, but allowed him to move me – the offer of comfort was too great to pass it up.

"So you admit it?"

"There's nothing to admit," I shrugged, "I wasn't hiding my dislike for you, was I?"

He chuckled and raised his eyebrow, holding my face with his hand.

"You hid it very well last night, I must say," he murmured.

"That was just hate sex," I replied.

"I don't do hate sex," he said, "and if you really hated me, you wouldn't have come last night," he smirked, "in all of the senses."

I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. My answer was swallowed by his kiss, and I only let myself be distracted for a few minutes.

"Listen," I said, his face resting on my neck. He grumbled to signal he was paying attention, "no one can know about this."

It was his time to stiffen, but he quickly moved again: to stare at me.

"I've heard this before."

"I mean it, Potter," I insisted, "not even Black. I won't tell Mary and Marlene."

"Potter again? I thought we could progress to James by now," he ignored my request.

"You had no problems with it last night," I saw myself saying. His smirk was so inviting I almost forgot I had a mission.

"You're right."

"No one can know," I insisted.

"Give me one good reason."

"Because I'm wondering if another shag might be in order, and it depends entirely on what you answer."

"Reckon I can keep a secret, then," he mused. I expected him to attack me just then, but he got up and put on his pants.