breakfast," Draco whispered.
Seemingly satisfied, Crookshanks put his blocky head down and went back to sleep.
Draco resumed watching Hermione. He had been doing so for the past hour, in fact. She slept like he remembered: deeply, limbs thrown every which, an almost intent expression on her face. Some people frowned and twitched in their sleep. She was still. Like a child, Hermione released the occasional soft sigh, the corners of her cupid-bow mouth curving upwards ever so slightly.
If she was dreaming, it was a good dream.
She was lying across the top half of him, her cheek pillowed on his bare chest, rising and falling gently with each breath he took. The top of the sheet and quilt they shared lay across her bottom half, just above her tailbone. Draco stared down, past her head and relaxed shoulders, down her elegant back, over the gentle curve where back became buttocks.
The view, in Draco's estimation, was superb.
She wriggled a little and turned her face to the left side, revealing curls on the right side that had been flattened from sleep.
Draco touched one of the bigger curls on her mop of short hair. He did this cautiously, afraid that taking his good fortune for granted was going to tempt fate to whisk her away. Like a burst bubble. Or worse, maybe he would wake up alone and cold at the Manor.
There was real light now coming through the windows, such that he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. It was officially a new day and thankfully, it felt real. This was no dream.
When he looked back at Hermione, her brown eyes were open. She didn't look all that awake. In fact, she looked a little grumpy. Draco didn't know why, but he suddenly held his breath, bracing himself for her change of heart.
"Your feet are cold," she grumbled, scrunching up her nose a little and then, she was asleep again.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco resumed stroking her hair.
**
Someone knocked on the front door. Hermione raised herself on her elbows as she woke up. She twisted around. Draco was seated at the foot of the bed, already mostly dressed and pulling on his boots.
His clothes still looked a little damp. She remembered hanging them beside the fire before they finally got to sleep.
"Stay there," he said, curtly. It took her a moment to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. So much for a tender, affectionate, "Hi, good morning." Hermione felt a twinge of hurt.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts. "What time is it?"
The knocking sounded again. He stood and buttoned up his fly. "Quarter to seven. Are you expecting anyone this early?"
Hermione frowned. She decided she much preferred Draco naked. She knew what he was about when his clothes came off. Fully-clothed, he seemed distant and businesslike. "No. But it won' t be anyone who shouldn' t be here or else the alarm would have gone off."
His eyebrow lifted. "This would be the same soundless alarm that alerted you when I entered your front yard?"
"Yep. It's all in my head," she replied, with a small, smug look. She knew he was impressed by the spell.
"You' ll have to tell me how that works later," he said and then had the audacity to walk toward the door.
"Hang on a second, Malfoy. Come back here."
Feeling playful, Hermione shuffled to the edge of her bed on her knees, pulled him in by his shirt front and kissed him soundly.
"Good morning, Draco," she admonished. His lips parted and she thought to reward his compliance by deepening the kiss, but as usual, things got out of hand very quickly.
The sheet fell away. He looked at her face, his expression grave. She wondered if daytime was bringing with it a myriad of worries that were now tempering his passions.
But no, apparently not.
He arched her over his arm, kissed her neck and then lavished attention over her breasts. Hermione had always thought them a good deal less than ample, but if Draco found them lacking, you wouldn't have known it to look at him. His warm palms took hold of her breast and massaged. He laved and then suckled on the hard, sensitized tips before placing gentle, sucking bites oh the undersides of her breasts.
In the brightness of day, seeing his blond head moving over her chest was stirring.
He was being incredibly soft, a marked contrast to the dominance and aggression the night before. It didn't matter how he made love to her,