Prompt: Corner

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Each night, Draco returned to his new favorite place, the corner of Ginny's couch. Some evenings it was after a delicious shared meal, sometimes it was after he staggered through the floo, exhausted from a long day in the lab. They never made plans formally, he just showed up eventually, when he could, finding her relieved and welcoming. Regardless, the stress and strain of the day evaporated as soon as he sank into the comfort and warmth of her living room. He thought she had far too many throw pillows for any single person, and that the couch could stand to be a little bit wider (but not much, or else they might not tangle together so tightly), but otherwise that spot was his new source of peace.

They were working their way through the first book of the trilogy, each night starting cuddled together but upright, sipping tea, nibbling on chocolate biscuits, just savoring physical contact. The book - the heroine stripped away from her family, forced to choose between two loves, fighting a political uprising - was addictive and emotional. It provided the perfect buffer for them, an excuse to be together but not to talk about whatever the thing that was happening between them was.

Some nights they ended up together, as in that first night, entwined, sleeping soundly and deeply, contentedly. Some nights they both had to admit that the evening had grown late, that they were both still awake, and technically there was no reason he couldn't floo home to his cottage, own bed. Those nights were difficult, the goodbyes stretching out longer and longer.

As they progressed through the book, Ginny began to read more slowly, prolonging their time together. Draco noticed, but didn't comment. She had already contacted Hermione about the remaining books in the series, as they were proving hard for Ginny to find in her traditional shopping districts.

It was a Friday evening when she finished reading the book. She closed the cover sadly, and looked up to the man wrapped around her. They were sitting, she between his legs, propped against the corner of the couch, snuggled down, at peace. As their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them, not tired enough to sleep, but unwilling to separate. She reached her hand up, cupping his cheek in her palm, and quietly whispered, "nox," extinguishing the lights in the room.

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A/N: 399 words

I have a friend that reads to her husband every night before bed - they've made it through the entire HP series twice. I admit I think it's dreadfully romantic.

Thank you for reading and your reviews (*cough* Nutmeg! You're great!) - they mean the world.