Harry, as he was used to, woke up in the firm embrace of the woman he loved and was going to marry in the near future. As usual, he was basking in the warmth Fleur exuded and relaxed, knowing there was no rush. Even if there was, he did not have the heart to disentangle himself from her arms, nor the strength to pry her wings open.
Her breathing changed and he noticed her brilliant blue eyes watching him fondly. He caressed her wings gently, enjoying the feel of the soft feathers, silvery and tinged with purple. They were red during the night when she triumphantly threw her head back and splayed her wings, the glorious sight filling Harry’s vision.
“Hey,” he smiled at her. She just hummed in response.
“Your feathers are showing darling,” he teased her.
“Mhm.” Fleur nodded and tightened her embrace. “Mine.”
He could only chuckle and lightly kiss the sharp tip of her nose.
=======(/)=======
Once again, Harry woke up first, though it was a close thing. It was fortunate that they had the day for themselves, since they both decided to merely languish in bed, in their marriage bed, after last night’s exertions. And nobody would blame them, for it was their wedding night. He still felt the glow of happiness at the memories and at the thought, the hopes for the future, the promise of joy.
“Good morning, Mrs Potter.” He stole a quick kiss, firmly ensconced in her arms.
“Lovely morning, Mr Potter,” his wife giggled and nuzzled him.
Harry enjoyed the embrace and the slightly ticklish sensation of her feathers, undeniable proof of the love his wife held for him and of the passion of last night. But she kept quaking a bit, a feeling Harry recognized easily.
“What is so funny, my wife?” He asked her with a grin.
“Nothing, just…” She caressed his messy hair and removed a silvery-reddish feather from his head. “Your feathers are showing, ‘usband.”
“Mine?” He asked her in a mock offended tone. “You mean yours, no?” He accompanied his accusation by a poke to her ticklish side.
“Ha ha, no, you see, all that I am, is yours.” She captured his lips again. “So it is your feather, mhm?”