He could move when he woke up. He could see from the view of a man again, feel the space between his fingers and the weight of the jacket on his shoulders. Lumiere and all his associates had been lost to the curse only moments before, yet here he stood, and there was Cogsworth in front of him, which meant this must have been so for the others.

For her.

It didn't surprise him to see her hand - her hand - emerge from the cloud of feathers on the ground, but still every part of him swelled with elation and relief when he was blessed once again with the sight of his beloved's face. Gone were the beady red eyes that she had still been able to give life to all those years, and the narrow ivory body he'd held during that time. What stared back at him as he helped her to her feet were round cheeks, a pointed nose, and a pair of eyes resembling a sort of polished umber.

He couldn't have been breathing before she kissed him, nor could his pulse have returned. Anyone else there in that moment would, of course, argue to the contrary, but he knew better. He hadn't felt either sensation until he felt Plumette's lips meet his own. Both of them were soft again, and likely more vulnerable than they ever would have been as simple trinkets. It seemed as though the slightest misstep or sudden movement could pierce their flesh or rip a garment. He certainly would be more careful now, but if it meant the pale brown figure facing him now could move freely, if it meant she could walk and breathe and wrap her arms around him, that she was alive , he would gladly accept their fragility.

Due to the plethora of excited introductions (as well as apologies from villagers), it had taken nearly an hour for the two lovers to be able to break off from the crowd of other reunions, and with most of the crowd remaining in the courtyard and the Master and Belle having stolen away to the library, they opted to escape to the garden and see the life that had returned to it. As beautiful as it had been when the pond was frozen over and the ground covered in snow, it was truly incredible to see hardly moving water and irises in full bloom.

Plumette stumbled with every step. Her legs were heavy underneath her, and she had to hold onto Lumiere's arm to keep her balance, which, of course, he didn't mind. It did happen a few times that she nearly tripped and pulled him down with her, but it simply served as a reminder that he wasn't dreaming. She kept lamenting how silly her gait must have looked, but in his mind, to see her on two legs at all was to see her striding gracefully across the bridge they stood on.

Although she soon appeared to be growing frustrated with herself.

"Should we rest a moment, my love?" he asked, turning toward her and taking her free hand.

"Oui," Plumette sighed as she went to rest her arms on the railing of the bridge. Lumiere followed suit and they stared out onto the water together a moment before his gaze returned to her. As much as he had always loved to look at her, right now was different. Everything about his surroundings felt surreal. Not a quarter of a day before, he had fallen to his knees, the cold stone having little effect against brass, in quiet mourning for the stiff, lifeless utensil lain on the ground in front of him. And, for all the joy he felt now, a pang of grief still remained when he remembered the feathers closing tight around her.

"It's so peaceful now," her voice cut into his thoughts. He nodded, but with her eyes turned elsewhere, the only response she noticed from him was a sniff. Startled, she turned to face him and found him trying and failing to keep tears from falling down his face.

"Darling?" she said, gently taking his head in her hands, a look of concern on her face.

"It's alright," he laughed softly at himself. "All of this...it's hard to believe, is all." He took one of her hands off of his cheek and kissed it before lowering both her arms back to her sides, his fingers lacing together with hers. She seemed to understand, because now her eyes were watering as well, despite the smile on her face. She pulled him closer to her and into a reassuring kiss.

"You know," she said once they had pulled away from one another. "I believe there was something we planned to do when we became human again."

"Was there?" The mock-confusion in his voice was betrayed by his sly smile.

"Yes," she played along. "Now, what was it? Do you recall?"

"No, not quite...oh, of course! I promised to make you my wife as quickly as possible, didn't I?"

"That may have happened, yes," she laughed.

"Ah, but I can't just yet. It isn't right."

"Lumiere!" Plumette smacked his arm playfully with the back of her hand. "Don't tease."

"Mon amour," he replied, swiftly scooping her up in his arms the way he often had before the spell had been laid. "I would never. I fully intend to accomplish this, just, eh...not at this time."

"At what time, then?"

"Soon, Plumette, very soon. We've been patient for this long, oui?"

"I suppose," she agreed, although she didn't sound awfully convinced. "You know, I'll never walk properly if you're always picking me up like this."

"You may be right, ma cher, but you cannot expect me to resist a chance to sweep you off your feet."

Within a few weeks, the residents of the castle and Villeneuve had somewhat settled back into their respective routines - with some... minor changes, naturally. Plumette and the other maids had gotten Belle to hold herself back from insisting on helping with the cleaning of anywhere outside of her own suite (they did have jobs to keep, after all) by reminding her that this would give her more time to read or work on those time-saving contraptions of hers. Her relationship to many of the servants had grown into truer friendship the more time she'd spent in their lives. Often, while cleaning up around the library, Plumette took on the task of picking up the books Belle had finished and placing them back on the shelves. She tried not to disturb her as she read, but Belle said that she appreciated the company and, at times such as this evening, read her story aloud to Plumette as she worked.

"Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: Where fires thou find'st unraked -"

"Plumette! Plumette!" a small voice interrupted from the hallway. Chip struggled to push open the door to the library, and Belle rushed to let him in, open book still in hand. He charged past her toward a rather alarmed maid looking down from the ladder to the higher shelves. "Come quickly! There's a dust emergency in the ballroom!"

Plumette looked to Belle for any shared confusion.

"It sounds like something you should tend to," Belle said with a knowing smile. Chip began to pull on Plumette's wrist, and she stepped down from the ladder to follow him, nearly slipping.

Within seconds, she had been led halfway down the hall. Several times, they had almost rammed into other residents going about their business, one instance being the boy's parents.

"Sorry, Mama, Papa," Chip said.

"Where are you taking Miss Plumette in such a hurry?" Monsieur Jean called after his son.

Plumette was the one to reply, "There's a...dust emergency?"

Mrs. Potts only laughed and shook her head.

Chip didn't slow down as they approached the doors to the ballroom.

"Chip, what is this emergency?" Plumette finally demanded, prompting him to stop in his tracks, out of breath.

"In there," he motioned for her to enter the room, his crooked-toothed grin contradicting the sense of urgency he'd been trying to display.

She hadn't been sure what to expect. The only thing she'd thought a "dust emergency" could have been was, perhaps, a massive pile of dust that had somehow fallen through the ceiling or blown in through the window. What she was met with instead was a quite pristine place, with soft candlelight from the chandeliers and harpsichord music provided by Maestro Cadenza, who did not seem to even be aware anyone had entered the room. Walking toward her from the middle of the dance floor was Lumiere, smiling, his hands folded behind his back. When he reached her, he bowed silently, offering her his hand.

"I suppose I need more practice before the celebration tomorrow?" She took his hand and allowed him to lead her in a minuet. The first couple of times they had danced since the curse had been lifted, she'd struggled to keep up with his steps, having become accustomed to floating above the floor.

"Nonsense, mon amour," he assured her. "I only wanted to have another dance with just the two of us."

She glanced toward the maestro.

"He's not paying any mind to us, I guarantee it," he said. He must have been right; Cadenza did seem rather invested in his playing.

"Of course not," she concurred. "I gather there was no 'dust emergency,' then?"

"Is that what you were told?" he laughed, truly surprised to hear it. "Chip isn't very creative on short notice, is he?"

"No; you should choose a different messenger the next time."

"Yes, well, I'll only need a messenger this once," he said, twirling her around in front of him. As she spun, she saw the maestro grinning as he hurried out of the room, and when she turned back in Lumiere's direction, he had knelt to the floor, her hand still in his.

"Lumiere…"

"I still have a promise to fulfill," he began, feeling nauseous as Cogsworth had said he would. "But you deserved a more romantic occasion."

Plumette had to laugh. Really, she should have expected him to do something like this. It was in his performative nature.

He smiled at the sound and continued, "For so long, one of the only ways I could draw comfort was from thinking of how fortunate I was to have you."

He struggled to remember what he'd planned to say at the sight of her above him. As it was, it had already taken a few years for him to even form it into words. "You...have made my life so wonderful, and all I want is to do the same for you. I love you...I love you so much and if you'll have me, I will be the happiest man alive, and I promise to do everything I can to make you the happiest woman."

They were both on the verge of tears now.

"Plumette, my love," he said as he wrapped his other hand around the one of hers he was already holding. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she choked, the word hardly audible. She sniffed, "Of course I will."

Lumiere wasted no time standing up to kiss her lips, but she was laughing so happily that he opted for her cheeks, her forehead, her temples, - everywhere that wouldn't stifle the euphonic sound - until she took him by the back of the head and stopped to press her mouth against his, a smile still stretched across her face. He squeezed her arms gently and sighed, breathing life into her as she'd done for him.