The human need for companionship had always mystified and, understandably, interested the Ravenclaw philosopher and scientist in Baird McLaggen. Consequently, it also gave him buds of butterflies flowering in his stomach and a discomfort in his jeans that couldn’t be relieved without some serious attention paid to a particular area. Of course, that was all part of the investigative process. Sleeping without a shred of clothing between his self and Sonia was something he enjoyed immensely and that, too, was part of the investigative process. He liked to see how his self control could go, would go, and so far he was doing oddly well. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was entirely ill at ease with the whole thing, he would’ve congratulated himself.
Sonia was a Slytherin. Slytherin Sonia. Sonia Slytherin. She wasn’t someone who Baird would’ve voluntarily joined with in any partnership, let alone a mutually exclusive romantic partnership. Needless to say, the idea was disconcerting but Baird could see many a decent reason as to why he’d want to continue such a charade. The first of many reasons, decent ones, was that he rather liked having a blobby, unmercifully soft creature curled up beside him more often than not. Now, that wasn’t to say Sonia was fat in any way but the human condition was so dreadfully interesting, females in particular, and while males were ropey and, well, masculine, there was this layer of soft, err, blobbiness about females that made them prime for nuzzling.
This was the first thing he had learned, trialled and proven to be correct in Sonia and there were many more that followed. Kisses helped, too. Kisses helped immensely and it was for one of those special little pecks of the lips that Baird reached for when he found his girlfriend had graced him with her glorious presence.
“I most definitely support you waking up like this every day,” he encouraged with the smooth drawl he’d developed over the summer as he’d wound up his mother, her screaming at him that he sounded like his father. Of course, he did cease when she started throwing things. It was totally unnecessary to destroy the urn of their deceased feline-creature once known as Richard III despite no other Richard’s in his immediate feline family predeceasing him. Nevertheless, that was his name and after spooning his remains into the fixed urn, Baird decided to call it quits.
Lacing fingers together was an important thing - a girl thing, he noted. Sonia liked to do it. Baird preferred to plant both hands on her chest and squeeze. Although, that wasn’t deemed appropriate any time or any place for reasons he had yet to discover. Through the thin, sheer material of her bra which did about as much lifting as it did concealing - not a lot, if you needed clarification - Baird could see most clearly the pieces of husky skin, swirling rather darker than the rest of the milky plane, that he rather liked the look of in the bright morning light.
Baird lowered himself down into the bed until he was head height with her chest. His fingers were nimble and lithe around the straps of her bra and he lifted it fluidly, slipping it away from her shoulder slowly, tantalising and teasing himself as bit-be-bit more skin was shed into the golden light of the morning.
Her words registered just as the skin changed in its colour from milk to blush, pebbling at the very surface, and Baird lifted his head, looking at her with his wide, expressive eyes that betrayed his confusion for a moment before he opened his mouth and nodded enthusiastically.
“Wonderful, truly wonderful. You have a very soft bed. In fact, I’d wager you couldn’t disrupt the comfort even with a pea! That woman from that fairytale would be hard pressed there. Perhaps we should test it!”
Baird scrambled up, Sonia’s chest momentarily forgotten as he had a brainwave that was, understandably, stupid, but what he considered absolutely logical and brilliant.
“We’ll go into the village,” he declared, bouncing on his knees. “And we’ll find every young virgin it has and we shall take them back here and test their sensitivity to all things pea-like and while we do that we’ll also try and distinguish whether they detest frozen peas over freshly picked ones and, also, we’ll cause arguments in many of the local families when they find out some of their precious ones aren’t, in fact, virgins. Why we need virgins, you ask? I’m not sure. It just seemed like a good thing to base my findings on. Perhaps we’ll find every young woman in the village, instead. Test virgins opposing, uh, non-virgins. We’ll start with you, Nia. Where do you keep your extra mattresses?”