"A Gentle Morning After"

The warm sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted the dark circles under Pansy's eyes, and her usual spark was dimmed by a haze of fatigue. Harry couldn't help but smile as he watched her stir, her movements stiff and labored. Their weekend of passion had clearly taken its toll on her. As she whimpered and shifted uncomfortably, Harry's smile grew wider. He'd never seen her so vulnerable, so fragile. He slipped out of bed and padded over to the kitchen, where he began to prepare a gentle breakfast for her. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a pot of tea seemed like just the thing to soothe her battered body. As he carried the tray back to the bedroom, Pansy looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. "I'm such a mess," she whispered, her voice husky from disuse. Harry chuckled and set the tray down on the bedside table. "You're not a mess, you're just...enthusiastic," he teased, helping her sit up and propping pillows behind her back. Pansy laughed, wincing as the movement jarred her sore muscles. Harry handed her a cup of tea and helped her take a sip, then began to gently comb out her tangled hair. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh as his fingers worked out the knots. As he combed, Harry couldn't resist the opportunity to take a closer look at her battered body. The bruises and scratches on her skin only added to her beauty, and he felt a surge of possessiveness and pride. He'd done that to her, and she was still smiling. After combing her hair, Harry fetched a warm cloth and began to gently wipe down her body, careful to avoid any areas that seemed particularly tender. Pansy watched him with a quiet smile, her eyes half-closed in bliss. As he cleaned her, Harry couldn't help but feel a little too much enjoyment. He loved the feel of her skin under his hands, the way she seemed to relax into his touch. He felt a pang of guilt for taking pleasure in her vulnerability, but Pansy seemed to sense his gaze and opened her eyes, smiling up at him. "I think I might have some oil around here somewhere," he said, rummaging through the bathroom cabinet until he found a bottle of scented massage oil. Pansy's eyes lit up as he poured some oil into his hands and began to rub it into her skin. She let out a soft moan as his fingers made contact with her muscles, and Harry could feel her tension melting away under his touch. As he worked out the knots in her shoulders and back, Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him. He loved the feel of her skin against his hands, the way she seemed to come alive under his touch. He worked his way down her body, careful to avoid any areas that seemed too tender, and Pansy let out a series of soft sighs and moans as he worked. By the time he finished, Pansy was almost asleep, her body relaxed and limp under his hands. Harry smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction and contentment. He'd never felt so connected to someone, so in tune with their needs and desires. As he lay down beside her, Pansy stirred and snuggled into his side, her eyes drifting closed. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "Anytime, Pansy," he whispered back, feeling his heart swell with love and affection for this fragile, beautiful woman.