Perhaps he had been a little too gentle, the wizard reflected ruefully as he descended into the kitchen. Surely the bride falling asleep was not a good sign. Although admittedly the seven or eight glasses of enchanted wine she had consumed – no doubt trying to soothe her girlish nerves – probably had something to do with it as well:

One moment she had been next to him, half underneath him, whispering his name and gasping softly, so softly as he ran his hands over her perfect young body, marvelling at the fact that it belonged to him now and him alone, and then suddenly the whispers stopped and gasps turned to deep breaths and she was fast asleep. The only indication that she had been paying attention at all was the small, contented smile that played on her lips and remained there as he eased himself off the bed and out of the room, trying not to wake her. Not that he could have woken her, of course. That wine had been bewitched to give the drinker a sensation of pleasant relaxation, and that coupled with an exhausted girl who probably couldn't hold her liquor at the best of times was bound to produce a deep, dreamless sleep. Come to think of it, Howl was surprised she hadn't been out the moment her head hit the pillow.

Other men would probably be annoyed, even offended. He might be, too, he reflected, if he wasn't still feeling the effects of his own bespelled wine; who knew how he might feel in the morning. As it was, though, he could only find the whole thing faintly amusing and terribly, terribly cute

So much for that wedding night, then.

Howl pulled out a chair and dumped himself into it with his accustomed artless grace with a deep sigh, propping his un-booted feet up on the table. It really had been an exhausting day. The wedding had been paid for by Sophie's rich stepfather and thus largely arranged by Sophie's mother and oh hadn't it been a lavish affair. Too lavish in Howl's opinion (and wasn't that saying something!) and far too much so for Sophie's simple tastes. Lettie, who had a far better understanding of his new mother-in-law than either himself or Sophie, had valiantly undertaken to curb her mother's enthusiasm and thank God for that; Howl dreaded to think what sort of overdressed meringue he would have been wed in otherwise.

Nevertheless, Sophie's mother had had nothing but the best of intentions and they had had a lovely day for it. The company had been good (that of it he was familiar with, anyway), the wine heavenly (Howl allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk) and Calcifer had only set the decorations on fire twice. And Sophie… oh Sophie. It wasn't just that she had been beautiful – she had been, of course; with her simple white dress and shimmering silver hair, he had never seen anyone more beautiful, and sincerely doubted he ever would again – but it had been more than that. There had been a feeling about her, something about the happiness that had glowed in her eyes and shone in her smile that had lifted him and made him soar in a way magic never could. Not his kind of magic, anyway. It wasn't a new feeling, of course; he felt it every time she laughed, every time she smiled at him, but he had been more acutely aware of it today than ever before. He supposed it was one of those things that came with having a heart.

And afterwards… When they had finally made it back to the castle, Markl looking as though he might fall down at any moment, and he had shut the bedroom door behind them…

Howl caught himself and sat up straight, forcing his breathing to slow. It was no use thinking about that now: She was asleep, out cold for the night, and no amount of wishing would change that. (He had considered waking her by magic, but apparently feeling guilty about casting spells on your loved ones without their consent was another of those things that came with a heart – terribly irritating things really, hearts.) He had come downstairs to calm down enough to sleep, not to get even more worked up than he already was. Howl got up and found the kettle: He wanted tea and besides, having someone to talk to might make his mind less inclined to wander.

He knelt before the fireplace.

"Calcifer," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. When there was no discernable response, he repeated himself, more loudly this time. Still nothing.

"Cal!" he called one last time, hand already reaching for the poker hanging near the logs. This time, though, a small dark flame ignited in the middle of the hearth. In the centre, an even smaller mouth opened and yawned almost as wide as the flame itself. Then it closed and the flame grew into several flames until finally the fire was large to accommodate both Calcifer's eyes.

"What," he said flatly, and it was less a question than a statement. Howl grinned at him.

"I want some tea," he said, holding up the kettle.

"Well, I want to sleep." The fire demon closed his eyes. Howl kept grinning and holding up his kettle. After a moment, the eyes in the flames opened again and Calcifer reached for a fresh log as he muttered unsavoury things about castles and wizards, cocky blond ones in particular. Howl's grin widened even further and he got up to get his water and leaves.

"What're you doin' down here, anyway?" Calcifer asked after an interval, as he watched his former master rummage through the assortment of jars on the shelves, looking for something vaguely drinkable. "Aren't you supposed to be doing… something with Sophie?"

Howl stifled a snicker. Over the past many weeks various attempts had been made by various people to explain the concept of a wedding to Calcifer, most of them by women and none of them very successful, mostly because they were all flavoured by personal experience and thus all vaguely contradictory. If his knowledge of weddings was patchy, though, his idea of what happened afterwards was non-existent. One day when Lettie and her mother had been visiting, Lettie had put it into his fiery head that the wedding night was Very Important. When he had asked for details, as he inevitably did, though, all three women had blushed and stammered talked at cross purposes, and left him more confused than ever. Howl had laughed very hard indeed when had heard about the incident, and Calcifer had not dared ask since.

"She fell asleep," he said as he approached, still grinning madly at the memory. The demon gave him a dubious look and raised his flaming eyebrows.

"I don't know what it was," he began, "but if she fell asleep, you're probably doing it wrong."

Howl gave a snort of laughter and Calcifer cursed him roundly as water came flying out of the open kettle and onto his log. Howl managed to choke out an apology, but given that he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe at this point, it wasn't very convincing. Calcifer glared at him.

Forty-five minutes later, as the demon settled himself back down into his ashes for the night, a very tired but very happy wizard crawled into bed and fell sleep with his arms wrapped around his brand new wife for the first time.