Sweet Dreams//O n e s h o t
Good Merlin, is every bloke in the ministry completely thick?
I apparated back to the mansion just as the clock struck midnight. I dropped my stack of various paperwork onto the closest table--hell, I wanted to drop it in the fireplace. It would do better there; aggravate less people, anyway--namely me. Though I might do better throwing Nott in the fireplace....I'll think about that.
I wouldn't actually do it, of course, but it was a very entertaining thought.
I ran my hand through my hair, stifling a yawn. If those incompetent, dumb-arsed, pitiful excuses for Misuse of Magic (save Mr. Weasley and Longbottom, of course) could rack their rather tiny brains and figure out a filing system, I could be home at a fairly reasonable hour. Then I could eat a hot supper, for a change, and see my wife before she fell asleep.
But, of course, they couldn't.
I shook my head as I strode into our bedroom. Finally, I can go to sleep, and she'll be right there, and--and where the hell's my wife?!
She wasn't in bed; in fact, the bed was still made. I spun in a circle, most likely looking a great deal like a circus clown (namely Ron Weasley), and raked our room with my eyes. The only living being in the room was Crookshanks. I leaned over to scratch him behind the ears. I liked that cat; never would I admit to that, but I liked him. Okay, she's not in here.
So where was she?
I quickly walked to the bathroom. Not there.
Not in the kitchen.
Not in the dining room (not that I expected her to be asleep on the table in the first place.)
Not in my study.
Not in her study.
Oh, Malfoy, you stupid git, she'll be in the library! I came very close to slapping myself on the forehead, butrefrained from doing so; I already had a headache. Father would be ashamed....and strangely enough, (not really; I'm being facetious. I recommend trying it sometime,) I still didn't give a damn what he would think. But I digress.
I made my way quietly, quickly, to the library. I felt a small smile grace my face as I thought of seeing her; I really had missed her today.
How soft of me....not very Malfoy-esque. Huh, she's got me wrapped around her finger, the little vixen!
Nothing I didn't know already, though.
I slowed as I approached the large, intricately carved oak door to the library. I inched it open, and slipped in. I turned, expecting to find her asleep over some book, and saw her--not there. Dammit.
That was one of the moments I cursed living in such a large mansion. I'd have found her already, had I lived in the burrow; I shuddered at the thought. Though I was on better terms with the Weasleys--particularly Mr. and Mrs., the twins, and Bill--the close proximity of all the rooms, and the noise, and--I cut myself off, shuddering again.
I blame her for my digression; my attention did not used to wander this easily.
Now here, you need to understand, I was not scared. I, Draco Malfoy, do not get scared. I was slightly worried, however. Understandably so, mind you. She was the greatest witch of our age, and also one of the most distinguished war heroes--making her a very wanted target, among the deatheaters. So, while I was not panicking, I was worried.
Can you blame me?
I wandered back into the living room, my brow furrowed, perplexed. How strange. Maybe I should owl Ginny. Or better yet summon a house elf, you dolt.
I decided to do so, but first thing first.
I am taking off these damned shoes! Whoever said that 'the more expensive, the more comfortable,' were idiots with double jointed ankles.
I sighed with exasperation, about to collapse on the couch to remove the torture contraptions. But a soft little noise stopped me. I turned to stare at the dark green sofa that was about to accommodate my arse. My eyebrows shot up.
What the hell?
That's when I noticed the blanket laying on the couch, and respectively the lump under the blanket.
In my defense, the soft throw blanket was the exact same shade of green as the couch. Whose idea was that?
The corners of my mouth lifted as I pulled the blanket gently off of her. My breath caught as I stared at her, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath. How on earth did I get her to love me?
She was sprawled out on her side on the couch, possibly as inelegantly as possible. One knee was pulled up, as if she'd been curled in a ball at some point, but the other was stretched out to its full length. Her turquoise and lime plaid pajama pants were pushed up halfway on one leg, past her ankle on the other, and my Quidditch jersey hung crookedly on her. Her right arm was laying across her soft stomach, and her left was flung up above her head. Her bushy curls were an absolute tangled mess on her head, some of them falling into her face.
Elegant? No. The most angelic, beautiful thing I've ever seen? Yes.
I watched her as she grunted softly in her sleep. Then as she began to snore quietly.
Honestly, I don't deserve this beautiful creature.
She'd been waiting for me. Knowing her, she'd stayed up late into the night on the the couch, waiting instead of sleeping.
That settles it. I'm taking tomorrow off. And possibly the next day. No, for her, I'm taking off the next month.
After a good thirty minutes went by, filled only with her soft snores, I slid my arms under her as gently as possible, trying not to wake her up. As I pulled her into my arms, up against my chest bridal style, she groaned and halfheartedly fought against me in her sleep.
"Shh, Hermione, love, it's just me."
I chuckled under my breath as she immediately stopped struggling and snuggled closer, as smile playing across her face. I carried her to our bedroom, muttering a simple spell to unmake the bed, and slipped her under the covers. With a flick of my wand, I was in my sleeping clothes, and I laid down next to her. She leaned into me, curling up. I kissed her forehead.
"Sweet dreams," I whispered, and, finally, just as I'd been waiting for all day, let my eyes close, holding her in my arms. Just before I dosed off, I heard a very quiet,
"I love you, Draco."
I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
A sweet little oneshot. I honestly have no idea where it came from, but I like it. Give me your thoughts. I love 'em.