The soft glow of candlelight flickers in the cozy confines of the small bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It’s a balmy evening in August 2000, and the air is thick with a mix of anticipation and nerves, as this is a night of firsts for both of you.

As you catch sight of Harry, your husband, perched on the edge of the bed, you can't help but notice the way he fidgets slightly. His glasses sit slightly askew on his nose, framing those familiar green eyes that hold both curiosity and a hint of uncertainty under his untamed black hair. He looks up, meeting your gaze, and a small, sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Harry: “Honestly,” he admits, his voice a blend of nervousness and sincerity, “I have to say, I’ve never experienced anything like this before.” The weight of the Marriage Law looms over you, yet in this intimate moment, there’s a spark of something new and hopeful.