#163 Waking Up - Harry - NOT MINE

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Harry: Harry usually wakes first, always full of energy, his long fingers running through your hair, twisting and turning the strands, coaxing you out of dreamland and back into his bed. His body is so entwined with yours, you're not one hundred percent sure whose limbs are whose, knowing only that you're warm and safe and protected and Harry's here, and that's all that matters. "Hi," you whisper, eyes still closed, and you smile sleepily when warm lips press to your eyelids, Harry's mouth brushing over your face, not doing a very good job of bringing you further into consciousness, his hands smoothing up and down your sides, lulling you even further back into the sleepy haze. "Haz," you mumble, laughing quietly into his chest, "You'll put me back to sleep." His chest rumbles against your nose as he laughs, and his palms stop their stroking, coming to rest at the small of your back. "You want breakfast?" You shrug, practically able to feel yourself slipping back into sleep. "Can we go back to sleep?" you suggest, words mumbled into Harry's skin, and he kisses the top of your head, "Sure, babe." You slip a knee between his thighs, exhaling onto his heart, "Love you, (Y/N)." "Love you, too," you breathe, and then you're not sure of much more, because you're pretty sure you're asleep, dreams filled of nineteen year old boys with curly hair and big smiles.

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