Sundays. His favorite days. A day of recreation for both him, his colleagues, and the divine person gracing his presence within his bedsheets. Harry feels you shift about beneath the comforter and watches silently, brown gaze awaiting your possible awakening.

He didn't expect you to fully get up. It was only 5 in the morning after all. Force of habit was his only excuse for being up so early while you still succumbed to your deep rest.