Green eyes flickered open in the darkness, their owner stirring softly, awakened by a comfortable weight on his chest.
Glancing downwards, Harry Potter was met with the sight of his wife’s silvery hair, splayed out around where her head lay on his chest.
Her body lay atop his, their forms molding together, legs intertwined as they lay wrapped up in the covers.
Speaking of the covers, he noticed that his wife, with her frankly puzzling skill, had somehow managed to wrap both of them up in coiled layers, not unlike a burrito, pressing them both together with very little wiggle room.
A soft smile rose to his face, a low chuckle emerging from his chest.
The head of silvery hair stirred, face raising to look at his, cerulean eyes blinking blearily, sleep lacing his wife’s tone as she murmured, “‘Arry? Wh… what is it?”
He shook his head softly, whispering a reply, “Nothing, Love. Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”
Murmuring something intelligible, Fleur Potter once more snuggled into his chest, his arms involuntary wiggling their way up the wound covers to wrap around her.
Smiling, Harry’s head fell back, his eyes closing as he once more drifted off into sleep’s hold, comfortable and loved in his wife’s embrace.