"It's an eagle," Harry said. He was dirty, wet, and very tired.
Charlie looked up from his spot on the sofa. He'd clearly been napping with Lily on his chest. "What is?" he asked sleepily.
"My Animagus," Harry said. "I am."
Stretching carefully, Charlie smiled. "Of course you are," he said. Harry crouched awkwardly next to the sofa and attached his lips to his husband's.
"I can fly."
"I know."
Harry chuckled and kissed him again.
xXx
When Charlie took Harry out; him on a broom, Harry in his Animagus form, he said "Well, that's conspicuous."
To be fair, it was. The Animagus was a huge golden eagle, a species of bird not seen in the British Isles. It meant Harry would have to be careful, more careful than his father or Sirius had been when they were in their Animagus forms.
Harry wasn't too worried. He was well versed in concealment charms and could perform these even when his body had changed shape. Minerva had helped him fill out the paperwork to say he intended to study Animagi, then agreed to be his mentor and guide. When he completed the transformation the first time he was required to register, and only once the Ministry approved could he start to change on a regular basis.
According to Charlie, the eagle had a scar on its forehead.
The question about his legs wasn't really answered by the eagle. He could perch and hold himself upright when on a branch or on the ground. But his legs weren't steady, and it was clear the curse lingered in some form. He was stronger like this, though.
The work on breaking the curse continued at a much slower pace than anyone had anticipated and although being able to move around on his own, on crutches or a broom, gave Harry back his freedom, it wasn't quite the same. Once a month he was visited at Hogwarts by a team of Ministry experts – curse breakers, Unspeakables, Healers, politicians. There was never any change.
This new life was different, but Harry was finding his place in it. He had his husband, daughter, career, his escape route when it all got too much. It wasn't the free and easy life he'd lived before…
Every night Harry read Lily a bedtime story. Charlie would give her a bottle, just enough warm milk to send her off to sleep. Then they put her down in her crib, told her that her daddies loved her very much, and set her music mobile on to play softly.
"This is fucking weird," Harry said. He was stretched out on the sofa, his sore, blistered feet in Charlie's lap so his husband could rub them gently.
"What is?"
"My life."
Charlie laughed. "Good weird though, right?"
"Yeah. I think so."
"Good. It's a bit strange for me to see my Dark Lord vanquishing husband getting ticklish over a foot rub too."
"Oh, piss off," Harry said without venom.
"You're moving your toes, Harry," Charlie said softly. Harry had been doing it for a few moments now, wriggling them in reaction to Charlie's careful rubbing.
"I know. Don't scare it off."
Charlie laughed and looked down at Harry's inelegant sprawl. "Are you doing it on purpose?"
"I think so."
"How?"
"I haven't got a clue."
Charlie stroked the top of Harry's foot almost reverently. "Don't stop."