Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling
On the first morning, Draco awoke to a mouthful of hair. Now this was not a common occurrence, most women didn't spend the night. They were long gone by the time he woke up. It wasn't as if he kicked them out, it seemed Draco had a reputation of a different sort. Wonderful in the bed, not so nice the morning after. He only had to be a complete prick to a few girls, and he no longer had to deal with the rather awkward morning after. When he wanted nothing more to do with the woman.
Seems this one was different, made of tougher stock. The first one in a helluva long time to stay and brave the morning after. This was no ordinary woman though, she had fought men much tougher than him, and come off better. She obviously held no fear of what was to come, so why should he. If the general soreness over all of his body was any indication, last night had gone swimmingly, so there was no reason why this morning should be any different.
She was fidgeting, and it was annoying him. He peeked out of the corner of his eye to the clock on the wall, he had another hour before he had to get up, and damn it all if Granger wasn't going to ruin it. She couldn't just lay there and wait, couldn't even get out of the bed, she had to sit there and move constantly.
He knew what she wanted, but he didn't want to give it to her. It would mean that this meant more than it did. Draco thought it was bad enough that she kept in the habit of staying the night, but this was taking it a little bit too far. He may do many things, but this, he did not. Although if he wanted to sleep for the next hour, instead of lay her next to little miss fidget, he'd have to make a sacrifice for the greater good.
He rolled over onto his side, and lifted his arm, and patted the spot next to him. Granger had a small smile on her face as she crept over, placing her back to his front, she pulled his arm down and curled it around herself, and much to Draco's relief, she stopped moving.
He knew Granger was good at most things, she was handy at Potion making, brilliant at defending herself. This however, was unexpected. He hoped she had learned how to do that from a book, because if she'd done this to some other bloke, well, he'd have to kill him.
A good morning wake up call indeed, she was going to kill him. Her tiny little hands were driving him crazy, smoothing over him, setting his skin on fire. That tongue of hers should be classified as a national hazard, no man could remain sane under it's attentions. Then she opened her eyes, and met his eyes straight on, and it was official. She was trying to kill him.
A light touch, and then other. They were spreading across his face, not touching all the time, just brief ones here and there. A soft puff of breath accompanied each touch. She was counting.
"What are you doing Hermione?"
"I'm counting," she said, "Quiet, or I'll lose count and have to start again."
"What are you counting?" He grumbled, rolling over onto his back.
"I do not have freckles."
"Just little ones, you can hardly see them, you really need to get more sun," she said, and he could see the smile trying to break out.
"Come here," he said, pulling her over, she giggled as she moved, "If anyone has freckles it's you, you are covered in them. One, two, three... they are everywhere, four..."
He wasn't disappointed. It was a relief, for the first time in a long time, he awoke to an empty bed. No hair in his face, no one wanting a cuddle, or to talk. It was what he wanted, he didn't want an attachment. He was glad that it was over. There was no disappointment at all. He was glad she was gone.
Draco got out of bed, and went to the bathroom for his morning ritual. It was going to be a good day.
He headed down to the kitchen, and there she was, sitting at the table, calmly reading the paper. Draco poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down next to her. She looked up, and passed him the half of the paper that she wasn't reading.
Hermione leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Good morning," she smiled.
And it was.