It felt so good. Mattheo could stay in bed for hours as long as you were there, ever a sucker for waking up at dawn and being productive and busy, the boy could hardly believe it was almost late afternoon and you two still lounged in his sheets. Both of your hair messied and clothes rumpled after a night of passion

It would all be over soon. He'd recall how much he's supposed to hate you, how he has orders to hurt any muggle born he encounters in the worst ways possible. He'd push her away, again, just like always

but for now, she lay merely wrapped in a bedsheet, his hand traced idle patterns on her bare stomach, she hummed softly as the sunlight flittered in through the slightly open windows, neither one of them wanted to move, to speak, to come back to the horrible reality they lived in.