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 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