She woke up in the middle of the night and had to pee. She shook him awake, despite his groanings, and made him go upstairs with her. She deposited him on his bed before retreating into his bathroom.
She used the loo quickly and then stared at herself in the mirror a moment. Her clothes were still scattered across the living room floor. She'd lost weight, a little, in the time they hadn't been speaking. She had love bites up and down her sides and on her neck. She looked thoroughly shagged. She felt thoroughly shagged.
Her toothbrush was still by the sink. It nearly made her cry. She'd rejected his offer of marriage, hadn't spoken to him for weeks in the aftermath, and yet he'd endured seeing all the domestic reminders of her exactly as she had left them.
Her closet door was just on the left. She was apprehensive of opening the door but steeled her nerves. Gryffindor courage.
Nothing had changed.
The closet, the "smaller" closet of the master suite, was still over half empty, with her clothes and a few shoes occupying just a corner. Draco had called it a linen closet the first time he had showed her and that had made her snort. It was bigger than her childhood bedroom. He had been storing his off-season clothes and his scuba suit ("they said it was a muggle suit" he had insisted "How was I to know it was just for watersports?") in the closet when they began dating. When things got serious, and she was spending most of her nights at his place, she insisted he make room for her. She had effectively wormed his way into his heart, his bed, and his closet.
They went back and forth on it for weeks before he moved his clothes down to the guestroom closet. They'd made love on the closet floor when he showed her.
The "linen closet" was that big.
Her party dresses were still lined up on their hangars. She had a few clothes folded on the shelves that hadn't been touched either. Her heels were still in the middle of the floor, where they'd landed haphazardly when she'd thrown them off in the middle of their last fight.
It had been three weeks and he hadn't let go.
She pulled her bathrobe of the hangar. It was Chinese silk, a gift from him after he'd visited Shanghai for business. It was the longest they had spent apart since they had begun dating. Until now.
They'd only been together three months when he left for two weeks. Honestly, she hadn't been sure how serious they were, how serious she wanted to be with him, even that far in. They were going slow. It still felt casual.
When he left it didn't feel casual anymore. His absence hit her hard and felt like a gaping hole in her chest. Twice she had to stop herself from trying to portkey to him, just to see his smug stupid face, just to hold him. It wasn't casual. He'd snuck into her heart with books and gentle teasing and soft kisses and she hadn't realized it was too late, her heart was all his, until he'd left the continent with it.
When he came back she was on him immediately. It'd be two weeks of aching and that was foreplay enough. They made love for the first time on her living room floor because they couldn't make it to her bedroom. He'd joked that if that was the kind of homecoming reception he got, he'd leave more often. But he never did.
She rummaged through her drawers and found her fuzzy socks. The bathroom tile was frigid and she instantly felt warmer. She padded back to the bedroom softly. She could tell that despite all his grumblings about being sleepy, he was still awake, waiting for her.
She batted his face with the sash of her bathrobe. "Hi," she whispered playfully.
He reached out suddenly and grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto the bed so she was straddling him. She leaned forward to kiss him and his hands massaged her hips a moment.
"Chinese silk robe and ratty fuzzy socks and no knickers," he whispered, enunciating his words with kisses to her cheeks and down her neck. "Such a sexy combination." He nibbled for a moment at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she moaned.
"But I think I'd prefer you without the Chinese silk robe," he murmured and with deft fingers untied the sash and reached up to push it off her shoulders.