Tainted Love

The Morning

DRACO

Movie protagonists often wake up with strange women in their bed. They roll around, casually opening their eyes, when they notice that somebody else has invaded their space while they were sleeping. Their eyes widen, they gasp, they're taken aback. They rub at their eyes in disbelief, wondering if she could be some hangover-wrought hallucination.

Then they remember that they brought the girl home themselves, that there's a girl in their bed because of their own rushed decisions.

That was not the case for Draco. As soon as he regained even the slightest bit of consciousness, he knew that Iris was somewhere on his right side, just out of reach.

He opened his eyes slowly. Draco was no stranger to rushed decisions. But he wasn't usually stupid enough to spend the night anywhere, and he certainly had never let a girl stay overnight in his bed.

That privilege was reserved for Pansy, who hadn't exercised it since they were still at Hogwarts.

But that didn't change the fact that Iris was there.

Draco woke up slower than he normally did. He usually got out of bed as soon as his blinds went up, preferring not to laze around in bed and watch the sunlight pouring through the window. Sleep was a purely functional activity that he didn't take any real pleasure in.

Years ago, he used to spend a lot of time lazing about in bed. In sixth year, in seventh year, during those long breaks under his father's thumb at the Manor, then later under the Dark Lord's thumb. He would stare at the ceiling or out the window, practice a couple nonverbal spells - he would do anything to delay having to get up.

Because once he got up, once his feet hit the floor and he was no longer in bed, his life would resume. And the reality of his life was incredibly bleak during those days, even darker than the new tattoo on his left forearm. So grim that Draco often looked back and wondered how he got up at all.

Since then, he had taught himself to get up quickly. Lingering under his sheets was too reminiscent of the war.

But today he didn't. His eyes squinted in the sunlight and he blinked a couple of times, his mind feeling cloudier than usual. He sometimes got like this when he drank a lot, but he hadn't had a drop the night before.

He inhaled. Iris wasn't touching him. She was seemingly still asleep, or at least awake and making no noise. He couldn't even hear her breathing. But he knew she was there. There was no way she would have left, not when he had given her what she wanted.

He had been so desperate to prove to himself that Iris still cared about him yesterday. It was a bit shocking how far he had gone - his lips on her neck, hands brushing her arm, reading her notes and making careless analogies.

She had managed to resist him for a while, but in the end it was Draco who couldn't resist.

He had asked her back to his, knowing she would say yes, and she did. He was leading with desire. He usually didn't allow himself to do that, but he hadn't slept well the night before and supposed he wasn't alert enough to force his logical brain to take over.

He had gotten her back to his.

He closed his eyes as images of her on top of him floated aimlessly through his head, but he felt more awake now. Every time they fucked they fit together better than the last time. They had both learned each other without meaning to and proved it every time.

The first time he had fucked her it had been good. Above average. Otherwise he wouldn't have done it again. But lately it had been a lot better than above average. She did things sometimes, knew exactly what to do, exactly what he liked, and he couldn't recall ever telling her. They were in each other's heads while he was inside her, they had to be.