No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Fifty Two

Hazel's P.O.V

The glow of the wintry morning carefully peaks through the curtains, waking me far sooner than I would like. I groan quietly, drawing my legs up towards my chest as I huddle beneath the thin blanket when a light rustling stirs from behind me.

"Cover hog," Harry grumbles.

With a tired chuckle, I whisper back to him, "Well good morning to you too."

Harry slips his arm around my waist and places a single kiss on my head as he nestles against me.

"Mornin', sweetheart," he murmurs, his sleepy voice crackling like the warm embers of a smoldering fire. "Did you sleep alright?"

"I'll let you know when I'm done," I tease, wrapping his arm tighter around me as I fasten my hand above his. We lay there side by side, huddled together as the chill of winter emanates through the creaking floorboards. In my head, I figure that I should be quite nervous to lie with a boy like this. But in truth, lying in Harry's arms, I feel more at peace than I would if I were fast asleep in my featherbed at Gran's.

I keep my eyes pressed tight, desperately clinging to every inch of this moment. The world is breathtakingly still, save for the distant ticking of the clock on the mantle. I dull the threatening reminder of reality by focusing on the sound of Harry's slow breath and the way his heart flutters as he holds me flush against him. The world is a lullaby and me, a tired soul finally at rest.

That is, until Harry begins to stir again, of course.

As a sweet little bird begins on a sunrise tune, Harry's fingers stroke up and down my arm. Goosebumps pepper my entire body, disturbing the perfect weight of comfort I had just achieved. I keep my eyes shut, doing my best to make sure my breathing doesn't get away from me when he nuzzles against my hair. The mere shadow of his lips dancing along my neck sends a massive shiver down my spine. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tighter than before.

"What are you up to?" I squeak.

"Nothing," he replies as he brushes the hair off of my neck. His hand travels down my side before landing firmly on my hip while placing a gentle kiss just below my ear.

"Harry..."

"Hazel..." he mimics. I can feel the grin on his mouth as he continues to press sweet kisses into my skin.

"That sure doesn't feel like nothing," I warn.

"Oh really?" he gleefully replies. I swat at his hand from my sleeping position, refusing to look up into what I already know is his proud smile.

"Hey!" he laughs. "I'm just trying to admire the new day and all the lovely parts of it."

"Good gosh almighty," I whine with a small laugh. "This is terrible."

"What's that?"

I turn onto my back, my face buried in my hands. 

"You're a morning person," I groan accusingly, "aren't you?"

My favorite sharp cackle bursts from his lungs. To my own added enjoyment, his tired voice pushes his impish laughter even higher. I peak up at him through one sleepy eye, ready to laugh at the goof, when my heart leaps into my throat.  With his chocolate curls standing in messy, tousled mop and a smile crafted into a delightfully crooked grin, Harry's a doggone charmer, even this early in the morning. I blink a couple of times while I remind my heart to cool its jets. Harry sits up beside me, pulling the blanket with him.

"I'll have you know there is nothing wrong with being a morning person," he says.

"Au contraire," I stammer, grasping at the edges of the blanket and whatever measure of decorum I can get. Harry notices and playfully tugs it even further from me.