Harry's Morning Routine
Every morning was the same. Harry would get up at the crack of dawn to head off for his healing duties at St. Mungos, while Draco would stay in the warm depths of their duvet, listening to Harry putter around the room. Every morning was the same, and that's the way Draco liked it.
He loved the sound of Harry's tempus charm going off followed by the small groan that always came. He loved the automatic way Harry would roll over to get just a little bit closer to Draco, if that was even possible, kiss him right where his fringe met his forehead, and rolled off the bed to go off to take a shower.
Draco loved the sound of the water pounding down on the shower floor, picturing Harry's lithe body under it and every day, thinking he would go and join him but then changing his mind, because really, these moments to themselves were sacred. He loved peeking out from under the covers when Harry came out of the shower, silently giggling to himself about how sneaky he felt.
He especially loved when Harry was dressed and clean because he would come back over to the bed and kiss Draco once more, this time on the lips, as if he couldn't resist. Draco loved it when he himself surprises Harry by kissing him back, leaving Harry panting for more and just a couple minutes late for work.
He loved that his job as a novelist allowed him the mornings to sleep to a normal hour, to hear Harry's routine, to keep their relationship at such a domestic but eager level.
The truth was, Draco never really thought of himself as a loving person, but thinking about Harry and all the things he could cherish in just one morning, maybe he was wrong just this once. Draco thinks he could get used to being wrong if it was as lovely as this.