108 | The Morning After

                                    

                                          
The soft light of morning, or perhaps even the early afternoon, filters delicately through the curtains as I rouse from sleep, sensing Draco's arm wrapped around me, holding me close to his bare chest.
I glance up at his face, and I must say, he is an exceptionally pretty sleeper, positioned on his left side and facing me. His features appear serene, especially illuminated by the gentle sunlight streaming in, casting a soft, golden light that enhances the pallor of his skin.
I feel a heat rising to my cheeks as I reflect on the passion we shared the night before — the sensation of his lips on my skin, the exploration of my body's curves by his hands, and the tenderness with which he treated me.
This blush deepens as I come to understand that this moment, lying next to him with his arm enveloping me, represents a form of affection in itself, a subtle intimacy that communicates deep significance without the need for spoken language. The gentle rise and fall of his breath against my chest creates a rhythm that soothes my racing heart, grounding me in the present.
As Draco's eyelids gently part and he stirs from slumber, his face, too, is aglow with a flush that echoes the intensity of last night, as the sunlight continues to bathe us in a soft luminescence that imparts a sense of reverence to the moment.
This light highlights the distinct features of his face, drawing attention to his prominent cheekbones and the slight curve of his lips, which still hold the remnants of the smile from our late-night conversation. His tousled hair falls across his forehead in a manner that is both charming and messy, rendering him utterly irresistible. 
When his beautiful grey-blue eyes, which evoke the essence of the ocean, finally open, they reveal a blend of sleepiness and astonishment, suggesting a brief disorientation caused by the day's brightness. I can see the flicker of recognition as he acknowledges my gaze, and a languid, inviting smile unfurls across his face, kindling a warmth within me that competes with the sun's embrace as he pulls me closer.
"Good morning," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath, yet it carries the weight of all that remains unexpressed between us as I begin to smile, feeling the affection flow between us. "I hope I didn't wake you up."
"On the contrary, I'm glad you did," Draco murmurs, his voice still heavy with sleep, yet tinged with a playful undertone that elicits a delightful excitement within me; I find myself smiling more broadly, feeling a rush of butterflies that accelerates my pulse. "I could get used to this, waking up each morning beside my beautiful, loving wife."
His words remain suspended in the air, a melodious refrain that continues to reverberate well beyond their articulation. The intimacy of the moment surrounds us, and I am entranced by the depths of his gaze, where the remnants of our collective laughter from the night before seem to flicker like fireflies in the twilight.
The manner in which he enunciates the term 'wife' resonates with a harmonious quality, evoking a profound sense of joy within me. It ignites a warmth that blossoms in my heart, fostering a deep feeling of belonging that is immensely reassuring; this moment serves as a poignant reminder of the life we are collaboratively building.
I take a moment to study him; there is a certain defenselessness in the way he looks at me as if he is entirely present yet still ensnared in the echoes of his dreams. I cannot resist reaching out; my fingers glide over his cheek, tracing the outline of his jaw, as he only places his hand over mine, leaning in with a satisfied sigh while closing his eyes, and resting his nose against mine. 
In that instant, I scrunch my nose in delight, having never experienced such profound affection before. 
"Oh dear, I probably look like a mess right now." I chuckle, knowing that I must appear quite dishevelled at this moment, for my straight hair has likely transformed into a wild cascade of tangles, and I instinctively wipe my mouth, fearing any traces of dried drool that might linger there, as I begin to experience a twinge of embarrassment.