A Sweet Life

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It was rare when the grey, British skies broke apart dark clouds to let the sun through. When it did, those luminous rays were always right on time to break past the thick curtains of the master bedroom in the Malfoy home. Eager to witness what the household was up to, sunlight slithered across the plush, carpeted floor before dowsing over a sleeping Draco Malfoy curled into a ball, his cloak as a blanket. 

The same sunlight crawled onto the bed, caressing the mistress of the house awake. With the same untamable curls as always, fluffed out even more by her pillows, Hermione blinked brown eyes open, smiling at the warmth before it slowly started receding as she stretched. 

With easy and flawless wandless magic, Hermione made the curtains of her bedroom open further, allowing the rest of those nosy sunrays to burst in and drown the room. 

On the floor, Draco squinted but did not stir. 

"Wake up," Hermione said loudly, disturbing the silence. 

Trained as he was to react to any bit of noise, Draco sprung into a sitting position, pulling out his wand from inside the left pocket of his cloak. He glanced around the room, pointing it at every corner surveying for threat, but only found his wife. 

"Fuck sakes," he groaned, knowing well enough she was the menace, but too exhausted to care at the moment. Draco lowered his wand as he pushed himself back to his original position, closing his eyes. 

Hermione parted pink lips to tell him to get up once more, but chose not to; instead, she turned to the alarm clock on her nightstand, concentrating for two quick seconds before it sounded off with the worst sound ever produced in the Malfoy home.

Again, Draco sprung up, this time onto his feet and a glower at the ready. "All right!" he hissed. "I get it! I'm up! Make it stop now!"

His wife grinned. "You sure? You looked so comfortable on the floor."

Balling his cloak and tossing it on the grey armchair by the window, Draco said, "you're absolutely insufferable, did you know?"

"Of course I am, Malfoy," she said with a short laugh. "How can I not be? I've been married to you for fifteen years. Can't imagine the absolute torture that this is not causing anyone to be a miserable cow."

Draco mimicked her laugh. "It hasn't been all chocolate frogs and rainbows on my end, either."

"What did you expect? I warned you from the beginning, right when that stupid sorting hat put us together: this marriage was going to ruin us."

With his jaw squaring, palms balled into fists, Draco stalked to the bad, silver eyes darkening like the previous skies that gossiping sun sent away. "I hate you, Granger."

With a louder, longer laugh, Hermione said, "that's not your best comeback, Draco."

He leaned closer to her, eyes still narrowed, but Draco still pressed a feathering kiss on her nose. "You caught me off guard. I am still half asleep. And sore -- Salazar, don't make me sleep on the floor again, okay?"

"Fine," she said, "then promise you'll stop coming home late at night, drunk off your arse."

Draco groaned, dropping himself onto the mattress. The sides of his head banged one, two, three times, reminding him of the late-night bender drinking at a shady pub in Knockturn Alley that was known for making moonshine in a bathtub in their backroom. 

"Don't complain," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes despite nestling right next to him, "you just slept on the floor. Can you imagine the trouble the rest of the idiots got into?"

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