QLFC Finals Round 1 — OTP Chaining
A/N: Player 5: include an example of personification AND a metaphor. The pairing chosen by the preceding player was Harry/Hermione.
OPTIONAL PROMPTS: 2. (word) hazelnut, 11. (setting) a Muggle café, 13. (word) tradition
A big thanks to Shannon and Jordi for proofreading.
It was the first weekend of the Christmas holidays for Harry and Hermione and the last weekend before Christmas Day. It was snowing a little and the air was a bit colder than last December ("It's global warming, Harry," Hermione had said, but "How can it be about warming if the weather was so cold?" Harry wondered). However, the weather didn't bother the bustling Muggles who tried to squeeze into every shop and boutique along the street before the day ran out of hours and they'd have to start the shopping rumba all over again the next day. The passing Muggles didn't pay attention to Harry or Hermione; they were far too busy to notice anyone else but themselves.
But unlike the Muggles, Harry and Hermione didn't have to hurry. They walked slowly, hand in hand, admiring the bright lights and neatly wrapped presents in the shop windows. Harry let Hermione lead them.
"Look, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, pointing at the window with plastic snowmen. "Aren't they pretty?"
Harry squinted at the window. There were pastel coloured baby clothes on realistic, robotic baby dolls that waved their little arms. They looked straight out of their showcase at expecting little mothers as if begging to be picked up and pampered. Harry had to remind himself that they weren't real. Hermione kneeled in front of the window and smiled, her eyes glued specifically on the white piece of clothing with snowflakes on it. She seemed to like it, Harry noticed.
"I think Morty has outgrown your taste in baby clothes," Harry said, his brows furrowing. Ron and Lavender's firstborn was turning three in few months and the clothes Hermione was looking at certainly wouldn't fit the round little boy any more.
"I wasn't thinking about Mortimer," Hermione said, dusting the snow off of her knees. She offered her hand to Harry. "Shall we?"
Harry and Hermione stepped into a nice little Muggle café. The warm scent of coffee and cinnamon wafted through the air and the traditional Christmas carols, which even Harry remembered from his childhood, played softly on the radio. The world of hurry from outside was left far behind. Hermione had taken Harry to the cafe for the first time at Christmas six years ago, when they had finally started seeing each other as something more than friends. Mr. and Mrs. Granger used go there with Hermione every year, when she had been younger, and now he and Hermione continued the tradition.
They walked to the counter and Harry was about to order two Christmas ciders, like every year, when Hermione interrupted him.
"Actually, I'll have a hot chocolate with hazelnut," she told the woman behind the counter. The woman gave her a knowing look and Hermione, blushing slightly, nodded at her.
Harry instead looked at Hermione in slight disbelief. "Really? But we've ordered ciders since we started coming here."
"Yes, Harry, we have," Hermione said softly, "but not this year."
Harry sighed. "Okay, so one cider and one hot chocolate with hazelnut."
With their drinks, Harry and Hermione sat into their usual table next to the window to talk about the upcoming Christmas festivities. Molly had invited them to join the Weasleys for the Christmas dinner on the 25th, because to her, Harry and Hermione were part of her family, even though neither of them had married into it. Harry and Hermione would spend Christmas Eve with Hermione's parents after taking a wreath to James and Lily's grave at Godric's Hollow. Hermione had insisted they visit the Hollow and Harry was glad she had thought of his parents as well.
After a while, Hermione had to excuse herself for a moment and Harry was left alone. The waitress, the same woman who had taken the orders, was cleaning tables. She smiled at Harry. "It seems like your girl has a bun in the oven," she said kindly with a little twinkle in her eye. Harry looked at the woman in confusion.
"Hermione doesn't know how to bake," he said. She was brilliant when it came to potions, but baking? No, Hermione didn't bake. The waitress laughed at Harry, but when she noticed Harry wasn't joking, she stopped. She seemed to wonder if she should explain what she had meant to Harry, but luckily for her, Hermione came back and continued her conversation with Harry. The waitress's words had left him wondering though, so when the woman moved to a table further away from them, he asked Hermione about her comment.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head a little. "You misunderstood. It was a metaphor. And, on that note, I need to tell you something." She took Harry's hand and looked into his green eyes very seriously. Harry nodded at her, encouraging her to continue.
"Harry, I," she started quietly, "I'm pregnant."
Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly opened but no sound came out. His brain was too busy trying to find the right words. How had this happened? To be honest, he very well knew how it had happened, but it was still very, very weird, especially since they made sure to be careful—most of the time.
"Wow," he said. "That's... great."
Hermione grinned at him. "I know."
"But, Mione," Harry asked, holding Hermione's hand in his own. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I've been hinting about it for the past few days," she said softly. "You just don't pick up hints very easily. Even earlier today..."
"I didn't notice," Harry whispered, the realization dawning on him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mione."
Hermione shook her head, her warm brown eyes gazing straight into Harry's green ones.
"It's alright. I was going to tell you today anyway. Merry Christmas, Harry."
"Merry Christmas, Mione."