About Last Night

Witch Weekly Official

The morning came with a soft, gentle haze of orange and pink. Sunlight poured into Draco's bedroom, touching everything as it tickled his face, feathering over his eyelids. Doing what it set out to do, the sunlight reduced when his silver eyes came to life, blinking slowly until full consciousness had taken him hostage. With a silent yawn, he stretched his arms, turning over to fetch his first glass of water (with a squeeze of lemon) Delta always left on his nightstand. His morning routine was, of course, interrupted when he turned to his side and got a mouthful of vanilla-scented hair. Anger bubbled in his chest, ready to burst, but he held his tongue when his wife (oh, yes, he said wife) rolled into his arms.

It was to no one's surprise that Draco was not the cuddling type. He was never shown that sort of affection as a child, and he definitely did not adopt it as a grown man. He did not see the purpose of it; they were adults, why the hell did these cuddling sorts enjoy being held like they were infants seeking the safety of their mothers? No, no. Draco would not have any of that. Naturally, when one of his conquests wanted to canoodle after hours of passionate sex, he tossed them their clothing while saying, 'if you want to hug something, there's a pet shop around the corner. Find a puppy. Goodbye now.'

But Granger was not a conquest. She was his wife—his greatest mistake to date.

Of course, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were synonymous with catastrophe—them being naturally inclined to destroy each other and all, but in that very silent, unnatural moment, disaster slept. Her guard was down, making her gentle to the eye. There was no judging, righteous glint to look down on him, or no pestering, all-knowing voice to remind him of his series of bad calls. It was just her, calm and strangely beautiful. Warm. Was that a thing Draco wasn't even aware people could be? Not in the sense of body heat, per se, but the feeling itself. Like comfort.

It had been a few days since Draco announced to Granger that he wanted to try and make their current situation work. He thought it would be entirely impossible to feign such acceptance (bloody Brightest Witch of the Age being his wife and all), but it had been doable. Frustrating by all intents and purposes, but not to the point that jumping off the tallest tower seemed like the better option. Unsurprisingly, she was hesitant about it the next day. She kept tiptoeing around his flat like he planted death traps on every other tile, but when Delta assured her everything was perfectly safe, Granger stopped clutching on to her wand and released the suspicion in her brown eyes. She let herself be courted (in a sense) by him.

With her guard dropped, Draco was able to get her to adopt friendly (of sorts) conversations with him. He got to know a little more about her—dark secrets weren't revealed, of course, nor were there any trips down memory lane, but it was something. He knew the little things, like her favorite color, book, song, the way she ate her toast (peanut butter and slices of banana), the lamenting haze in her eyes when the skies were grey, and the mug of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows she had when it had been a tough day at the hospital. None of it helped Draco destroy her (in case he had a need to do so in the future), but it was not intolerable all together.

Sensing eyes on her, Hermione woke up to him. It took her a moment to realize why he had been so close to her (so close that she could count his blonde lashes) for her to then immediately tug away.

"Morning," she offered with a raspy voice.

Draco hummed in response, watching her as she stretched her limbs out. She yawned, eyes heavy with sleep, but she still pulled the sheets from herself and stood. She was in a nightgown, not entirely frumpy, but definitely boring; she opened the curtains to allow more of the rare sunshine in. She smiled at the rays, letting them illuminate her for a moment before turning back to him. She fetched the glass of water on her side of the bed and handed it to him.