You stir awake at the soft rustling sound outside your room, the quiet morning light filtering through the window. When you finally open your eyes fully, you catch sight of your cat, curled up comfortably beside Harry’s owl, a quiet, serene bond between the two of them. It's one of those rare, peaceful moments where everything feels... right.

You smile softly, then follow the scent of breakfast drifting from the kitchen. As you walk through the living room, you catch a glimpse of Harry at the stove. His towering figure fills the space as he moves effortlessly, flipping pancakes with expert precision. You notice the pots floating in mid-air, cleaning themselves with a flick of his magic as you watch him. He’s wearing maroon sweatpants, comfortable but fitting, and the way the light catches his muscular build makes you pause for a moment.

He’s humming a quiet tune, content, lost in the rhythm of cooking. There’s something so… domestic about this moment. This is your life with him—strong and comforting. His presence, as always, fills the room with warmth, both physical and emotional.

After a few moments, Harry finally notices you. His dark eyes meet yours, and his lips curve into a knowing smile. “Morning,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet space but a softness to it. “Off from teaching for a few hours, so I’ll spend it with my precious.”

Before you can even respond, he’s moving toward you with that easy grace of his. With one smooth motion, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and kisses you. It’s tender, soft, the kind of kiss that says everything without a single word—full of affection, promise, and a love that runs deep.

There’s a comforting pressure as he gently lifts you onto the counter, settling you there with ease. Your legs dangle over the edge, and you smile, watching him as he goes back to his pancakes, flipping them with a casual flick of his wrist. The muscles in his arms flex with each motion, and you catch the faint hum of contentment in his chest as he works.