It Comes Down to This
Our conversation ground to a halt that evening as the fire dwindled. Byron was fast asleep on his back on a cushion near the hearth. His forelegs pedaled in the air meditatively as he dreamed. Harry sat on the end of the couch with his legs propped on an ottoman; I had rested my head on his legs and stretched the length of the couch. He ran his hand through my hair, and I closed my eyes.
"Anna," Harry's quiet voice carried down to me. I opened my eyes again. He looked down at me; his fingers were still tangled in my hair. "We should go to bed."
"You're right." I said, starting to curl up to a sitting position. Harry put a hand under my shoulders to help me get upright. I saw him send our empty glasses sailing toward the kitchen, and heard two light noises when they rested in the sink. I blinked my eyes hard and started to get to my feet.
"I'll be up." Harry said, walking toward the kitchen. I nodded, heading up the stairs. I was nearly at the top when two realities hit me: I was going to spend the night with Harry, and this was technically our wedding night. Every ounce of sleepiness shot out of my brain.
I walked into the bathroom to get a hairbrush and commanded myself to think logically. I stood near one of the dormer windows dragging the brush down my hair. I could hear Harry's even footsteps approaching the stairs, and I scolded myself for acting like someone I wasn't. It wasn't like I'd never been in a serious relationship before. For crying out loud. Then something slapped against my shoulder blade, hard. I yelped.
"Anna?" Harry's footsteps hastened up the stairs. "Are you all right?" He called. I stood by the window staring into the room with the hairbrush held uselessly in front of me. Harry stood a moment at the top of the stairs with a confused look on his face.
"Something ran into me, I think," I said, flummoxed.
"Ran into you?" Harry asked.
"There!" I hollered, lunging toward a glint of gold near the closet doors. "Byron's snitch, Harry."
"It's still flying, then?" He muttered, annoyed.
"Little help, here," I blurted, tripping over the end of a blanket. I heard Harry's choked snickering as I picked myself up off the floor.
"We'll corner it, Anna." He said, his voice finally free of laughter. "You come toward it from that end. I'll come from this side." I did as he asked. We moved slowly, glaring at the golden ball.
"What now?" I asked as we neared a low corner of the pitched roof.
"You hold back; I'll go for it." He instructed, never taking his eyes off the snitch.
"Got it." I confirmed, coming to a stop but staying at the ready. Harry watched the snitch make figure eights in the air for a few moments, then dove at it. Then several things happened at once.
First, Byron had shaken off the remains of his slumber and come upstairs. He ran full pelt toward the corner where we'd corralled the snitch. When he arrived he took Harry's knees out from under him, weakening the strength of Harry's jump and making it nearly impossible to land. In his shock and bewilderment, Byron slid onto his stomach with his paws in front of him to keep from slamming into the wall. Harry's abortive leap for the snitch sent him vaulting over Byron to land shoulder first on the wooden floor. The impact then caused me to jump, which startled Hedwig from her night perch. She took to the rafters, stirring globs of dust from the uppermost reaches of the ceiling. The rain of dust bunnies coated us all, sending me into an emphatic string of sneezes. Byron shook furiously. Harry coughed once, and, to my shock, raised a fist. In it was one knitted snitch-shaped dog toy, wingless at last.
"For chrissakes," I blustered, stopping to sneeze, "torch the damn thing!" Harry muttered a spell, and the toy flared in his hand before sifting through his fingers in a cloud of ash.
"Done." Harry said, finally rising up to lean on one hand. He gingerly rolled the shoulder he'd landed on. Hedwig had come to roost on one of the rafters, her brilliant eyes large and impatient. Byron let out a massive sneeze. I shot a cleaning spell at the entire room, removing the dust.
"If you take Hedwig I'll take Byron," I offered. Harry nodded, clambering to his feet. He held out his uninjured arm, and Hedwig flew to it. He simply asked her to return to her perch, and she flew off. Byron, however, had regained his feet on his own. He was grinding the sides of his face into the floor, desperate to get the remains of the dust out of his whiskers. I called him and shot a weak cleaning spell at his coat. He loped over to his bed and set to licking his paws. I stood, smoothing my hair back behind my shoulders.
"Before you say it," Harry said, his mouth curving into a grin, "my shoulder is fine."
"Will you let me see it anyway?" I tried to ask patiently.
"Anything for you, darling." He smirked.
"Do you want to sleep on the couch?" I teased.
"No," he said, his voice suddenly low and deep. He walked toward me, his eyes on mine. I reached to his shirt and started on the buttons.
