Potter

Chapter 91

Waking up the next morning was a gift I had no intention of overlooking.

The bed was warm, the sun didn't dare shine through the blinds just yet, and Draco was sleeping soundly next to me, head half-hidden in the fluff of the pillow and his fingers still curled into mine. He was peaceful, guard let down and face unbothered by stress or pressure or darkness that still lingered.

It used to be rare, for us to have moments like this. Even still, there were nights with nightmares and tears and indecipherable mumblings of loss and hurt and ache.

But not tonight. Not this morning. Not here, now, in my small bed.

Just the soft sunshine and us.

"You're staring," a quiet mumble prodded me from my thoughts, and I saw that Draco's eyes had opened, watching me sleepily in the early morning light. "What time is it?"

"Too early," I told him. "Sleep well?"

"Remarkably," he replied. "How are you feeling? No hangover?"

"I was not drunk," I huffed, and with a giggle that was much less convincing than I would've hoped. "I was happy. Blissfully delirious. There's a difference."

"I see," Draco said, an arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer, fingers drifting over the skin that my shirt wasn't hiding. "So your firewhisky intake had absolutely nothing to do with it?"

"Zero," I told him. "It was all complete happiness. Best birthday ever," I said, lifting my head to kiss his forehead lightly. "Thank you, by the way. For everything. The music, the cake, the houses... I'm not sure my mind has entirely wrapped around it yet."

"You have plenty of time to manage it," Draco chuckled. "Though we can go visit anytime if you think it'll help."

"You're not supposed to leave the country," I reminded him, frowning a little at the thought. Draco only shrugged though, looking entirely unbothered by the reminder that the Ministry had requested he stay within the country's borders.

"I'm not supposed to leave the country," he agreed with a small nod, blonde hair glinting white in what sunlight leaked through the blinds. "No one said the same applied to Marcus Thatcher."

"You– you don't mean you still have your polyjuice potion?" I asked in surprise, eyebrows rising at the insinuation. Draco shrugged again.

"Why not?" He asked, then frowned a little when he caught onto my clearly baffled expression. "Why are you so surprised? What happened to yours?"

"I sort of spilled it," I told him, lips pulled into a grimace at the memory. "My last few weeks at Hogwarts were spent... like myself. There was a lot of explaining that had to be done."

"I can imagine," he murmured, appearing quite amused at the thought. "How did Brown do with the news?"

"She got over it, clearly," I told him, using my elbow to nudge him. "She is just down the hall. You can go ask her yourself if you so like."

"I'm quite content here, actually," he told me, pressing his lips gently against my shoulder to hide the start of a smile. His fingers lingered on my hips. "If you don't mind."

"I think I am starting to get a bit hungry, actually," I warned him, my expression turning apologetic as my stomach growled as if to confirm my words. Draco considered this with a slight tilt of his head.

"We could go get breakfast in Diagon Alley."

"Mm. Breakfast," I hummed, pausing a little to mull over the idea. "I'm not sure how I feel about the Leaky Cauldron's breakfast options. Sketchy eggs."