𝔸𝕋𝕄𝕆𝕊ℙℍ𝔼ℝ𝔼

S

Eyes fluttering open, the first thing I was met with was the face of my husband. I blinked a few times and everything came into focus. Something soft and wet brushed against my lip and I jumped before Harry's hand came up to cup my face, moving some of my hair out of my face.

"How do you feel?" He asked softly. I suppressed a snort, instead, I sent a soft smile to Harry, who sent one right back.

"Like shit, honestly," I said, and it was true. My head was pounding and the feeling of nausea was steering somewhere deep inside me and I cupped a hand over my eyes with a groan. I heard Harry chuckle lightly before his hands were thrusted into my hair, stroking my scalp softly. I hummed contently, pushing into his caress.

"I sent her to The Burrow, Molly can handle her," Harry said and I felt him lean down to press a kiss to my forehead. I smirked beside myself.

"Her arse will be as red as her hair," I said jokingly, causing Harry to let out one of those hearty laughs that warmed me to the bone. He moved his hand down to stroke the side of my face. I smiled at him.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled, looking down guiltily.

I wound both arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss my lips. Our lips met and, before long, his tongue was prodding its way in, finding mine quickly. Our tongues interlocked, our lips moving in a dance only we knew.

I found myself straddling his lap, elbows resting on his shoulders, his hands warm on my hips as our heavy make-out turned into lazy kissing, lips moving together sloppily

I pulled away, somewhat breathless, and toyed with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Not your fault," I muttered against his lips, before pressing them back to his. He squeezed my hips and I pulled away, resting my forehead against his. A moment later, he moves us. Now, my head is resting on his shoulder, my hair to his neck. He rests his head lightly against the back of my head.

"'Love you," He mumbled quietly, kissing my scalp gently, his lips lingering there for a moment or two more before he moves to rest his chin on my head.

"Love you too," I mumble back, turning my head to tuck it into his neck, pressing a kiss under his ear. I don't remember falling asleep but, at some point, I do.

When I wake up again, I'm in my bed. I will my eyes shut as I feel the hardness of an all too familiar chest underneath me and a strong arm around my waist. The light of the sun is already peeking through the curtains that matched the dark blue color of our bedsheets,

I open my eyes and look up at Harry. He's still asleep, gorgeous green eyes locked shut. His long eyelashes cast small shadows under his eyes in the faint light coming from the en suite. I then realize my shirt has been taken off and my skinny jeans replaced with a pair of Harry's old trackies that had to be tied as tight as possible in the waist so I could wear them.

After a few minutes of simply staring at Harry, his eyes flutter, revealing a small ring of green, his pupils blown wide before they contract quickly. Harry blinks a few times before his eyes meet mine. I smile. He smiles back softly.

"Feeling better?" His voice is deep and husky and I bathe in it for a moment, savoring the moments we can have like this, where we can just be together. No crying James, no hungry Teddy, just Harry and I alone, together.

I nod.

"Much, thank you," I respond, pressing the palm of my hand to the warm skin underneath his left nipple. His tan skin is a stark contrast to my milky-white paleness and I stare for a moment, just looking at Harry's chest.

After becoming an Auror, he's gained many scars on his chest. I lean in to kiss the scar right below his collarbone, where the part of Voldemort's soul once seared through his skin. It's not my first time touching, kissing, or even tasting the blemished skin there but Harry reacts the same way he did the first time I kissed one of his scars. He inhales deeply before running his fingers through my hair, my name whispered on his lips.

"Of course," He responds, gesturing for me to come up. I crawl up his body until he's lying on his left side with me facing him on my right. His right hand comes up and cups my cheek, bringing me in for a tender kiss.

Our lips move lazily and the morning breath is something we can deal with as long as it means we can lie with each other for just a minute longer, touch each other for just another second.

"I love you, Draco," He says, pulling away to nuzzle that sensitive spot underneath my ear, pressing feather-light kisses to it, not enough to make me hard but enough to make me whine softly, my hands flying up to thread through his hair.

"I love you too, Harry," I whisper the promise into his hair, kissing his scalp through the messy curls.

And I do. I love him so, so much. And no one, not Weaslette, not even Mother can make that change.