A poem written from Harry's viewpoint. Harry/Hedwig.

You are willing

So am I

We meet at midnight in the Owlery

I long for the feel of your warm feathers upon my skin...

I thrust myself upon you and you respond, your beak upon my flesh

Holy friggin' shit that hurts!

My eye!

My fucking other eye!

You fly away as fast as a bullet

I lie there, overcome

Blinded by my love

And by your friggin' sharp beak

I sigh as my blood soaks into the hay

I guess you weren't so willing after all