Harry Pearce rolled over as he awoke and groaned at being awoken. The clock on the bedside told him it was still the middle of the night and at his side Ruth lay sound asleep until she too began to stir at the sound of a sharp rapping noise from the window.

Ever since Harry had discovered that the love of his life was a real, legitimate witch who had a magic wand and could perform magic, his life had never quite been the same. They had been visited by house elves looking for employment and Harry had really had to put his foot down to stop Ruth letting them take up residence in the attic.

And if it wasn't house elves and quidditch it was noisy visits from entire packs of the wizarding community who clearly felt they could never do anything without at least twenty colleagues, friends and relations.

This, however, was new.

"Ruth?"

Ruth stirred.

"Ruth, there's something at the window."

Ruth did not wake up.

Reluctantly – not least because he was all but naked – Harry Pearce slid out of bed and padded barefoot across the bedroom floor. Wearing only a pair of boxers he cautiously he opened the curtain to find, of all things, a rather indignant looking barn owl tapping impetuously at the window.

The owl stared at Harry; Harry stared back.

"Ruth," Harry spoke, not removing his eyes from the creature before him, "There's an owl tapping at our bedroom window."

"...mmmm? Wha...?"

"An owl," Harry repeated. This time he tore his eyes away to see his beloved buried up to her eyes in the duvet and looking like she wouldn't get up for love nor money. "I'm sorry to wake you, Love, but there's an owl tapping on our bedroom window."

"Well let it in, for goodness sake!"

It was several long seconds and a bug-eyes stare from Ruth before Harry realised she was serious.

"You want me to let the owl inside?!"

Ruth sighed and threw the covers aside. Her night dress was on the skimpy side of slinky and it was rather cool at this time in the morning. She headed striaght over to the window and turned the handle to let the poor creature in. "Harry, you must have seen an owl before."

"Well of course I know about owls, in theory but not...I mean aren't they meant to be like pigeons and live in the garden?"

Ruth gave Harry the sort of long-suffering look that told Harry she loved him but he was being stupid. Harry pressed his lips together in a moment of self-restraint. Now was no the moment to lose it.

"Would you mind telling me why there is an owl coming in our window?"

"Why it has a letter, of course."

"A letter," Harry repeated. "Of course it does."

"Dumbledore never sent you anything by owl?"

"Oddly...no."

Ruth rolled he eyes at Harry's sarcasm. She found that a little difficult to believe but there were more important things to worry about. Ruth took the letter the owl was carrying and guided the owl over to the dresser where she arranged a perch and a bowl of water.

"Ruth it's going to shit all over the carpet."

"I'll put some newspaper down."

Harry opened his mouth to protest when Ruth reached for the dresser, grabbed her wand and yesterday's newspaper fluttered up the stairs and laid itself out underneath the owl on the carpet. Harry shut his mouth again. "I keep forgetting you can do that."

"It still freaks you out, doesn't it?" Ruth smiled.

"No," Harry insisted. It was, however, the insistence of a man whose words somewhat lacked the courage of his convictions.

Ruth's eyebrows betrayed her scepticism.

"Maybe a touch," Harry replied softly. With a hand he reached out to Ruth to grasp hers and kissed her finger tips. "But I love you for it. Why is there an owl again?"

Ruth shook her head at the silly man before her. "Hetty was bringing a letter."

"Hetty."

"The owl's name is Hetty?"

"After Hetty Sorrel. You know, George Eliot."

Of course Ruth would name her animals after literary characters. Which meant, naturally, the owl belonged here. The owl was Ruth's. "Ruth...are you telling me that in addition to two cats, the house elves you think I don't know live in the attic and a mandrake patch in the garden, you somehow failed to mention you live with an owl."

"Well to be fair, Harry, Hetty spends a lot of time outside. She's only here a couple of nights a week. There's a big owlry down the road at the post office and she has a mate there so she's not here all that often."

"Of course she isn't."

"Are you angry?"

"Ruth, I can't sleep in the same room as an owl!"

"Of course you can. Come back to bed," Ruth ushered Harry back in the direction of the king sized bed that dominated the room.

"Ruth, its staring at me."

"You're sleeping in her bedroom. Of course she's staring at you."

Harry, most reluctantly, began crawling into bed. His eyes never left Hetty's as they bore into him with the full force of a predator's stare. "Ruth...!" Harry grumbled.

Ruth shook her head as she climbed in beside him and put the light out. "Go to sleep, Harry."

"Ruth, I think she's still staring at me."

"She's an owl, Harry, she can see in the dark."

"I can't sleep while she's staring at me. And last time we tried to have sex the house elves were listening."

"On the other hand, when was the last time the house got bugged?"

Harry fell ominously silent.

Ruth smiled to herself.

Harry stared at Hetty in the darkness, and then at the ceiling above which the house elves (which he had spent the last weeks pretending had been evicted in order to avoid an argument) were almost certainly listening in to every word they said. Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since the last kidnap attempt. He was still reserving judgement on Hetty and he didn't like her sleeping in the bedroom.

"What about the living room?"

"Don't be daft."

"The attic?"

"Go to sleep, Harry."

"Why doesn't she sleep in a tree?"

"Henry James Pearce! If you don't stop asking questions and let me go back to sleep I'm going to make you sleep in a fucking tree." Ruth punched her pillow. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry but I'm exhausted. I have an owl. Her name is Hetty. She's sleeping over. If you have a problem with that by all means go back to your place."

Harry shuffled down the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. After a suitable lengthy pause he leaned over and kissed Ruth goodnight.

Ruth closed her eyes and sighed. She leaned into Harry's warm, cuddly body. A soft 'woo-ooo' echoed through the room and, for a few hours at least, all way quiet once more in the Evershed household.