Written for Hogwarts' Astronomy Assignment - Uranus: Write a story set in winter., the Granger Danger Event: Motherhood, the Writing Club - A Year in Entertainment: (object) jello.
Still a Muggle!AU, established PansyHermione relationship.
Word count: 881
Wanting
It's snowing the first time Hermione realizes that she wants kids. She's just left her usual coffee shop—for once, she didn't even get coffee, but treated herself to a nice, warm hot chocolate that is just what she needs by this weather—and she's walking toward a nearby park, enjoying the way snowflakes cling to her hair and eyelashes for a handful of seconds before melting.
She isn't supposed to meet with Pansy for another hour—something about a story she's been chasing leading her to weird places and even odder hours—but she doesn't have the heart to head back inside.
She's just finished with her drink, now picking at the cardboard edge with her fingernails and savoring the way she can almost feel warmth radiating through her veins from when she drunk, when she sees them.
Three kids, two boys and a girl. They're laughing, the girl chasing after the boys and pelting snowballs at their back—or trying to, anyway. She doesn't appear to be very good at making these, since almost all of her snowballs disintegrate in the air, snow drifting back down to the ground.
But she keeps trying, and she doesn't stop laughing—not even one of the boys, wearing the ugliest and reddest parka Hermione's ever seen, gets her right in the face, snow sticking to her blue scarf as she tries to wipe it off.
They're playing, and their parents are just there, at the edge of their made-up playground, taking pictures—and suddenly, yeah, Hermione realizes that she wants that.
She wants to have children she can make snow angels with, and fail to build a snowman with—she's never been good at those, and the one time Pansy had tried to help her they'd eventually both decided their interests were better served if her wife remained far, far away from the action.
She wants to make ornaments with them, the way her parents taught her, and have Pansy show them all up by making hers look impossibly professional, sending Hermione that smug look she gets when she knows she was the best at something.
It's a desire so strong it almost hurts, but more than pain, she feels fear also.
Because they've been married for a while now—almost two years (two glorious, wonderful years)—but they've never really talked about children, not even in passing, and Hermione has no idea if Pansy even wants to have kids.
She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't even realize that she's left the park and is now back on the street until a car swerves not to hit her as she crosses the street—the light is red, and Hermione runs to the other side, shouting apologies to the drivers, heart pounding in her chest.
With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she feels very warm, even in the chilled air of winter. Somewhat stupidly, she finds herself laughing in relief, and her smile hurts her freezing cheeks.
It hurts even more to try to stop smiling, though, so she doesn't—and some time later, when Hermione reaches the restaurant she and Pansy had settled on for dinner earlier, Pansy takes one look at her face and rolls her eyes fondly.
"Someone had a good day, I see" she smirks, pressing a soft kiss to Hermione's lips in greeting.
"Maybe," Hermione replies, trying to sound mysterious. They step inside, and Hermione's cheeks immediately start to warm—it feels a little odd, to get back the freedom to move her face normally. It tingles, like a limb gone numb from being leaned on for too long.
She thinks back to that park, and those children, and Hermione's stomach flutters. "Okay, fine, I did have a good day," she corrects, smiling happily.
That happy, bubbly kind of excitement stays with her all throughout dinner, but it is not until dessert arrives that Hermione finds the courage to voice the questions stuck in her throat.
"I… What do you think about children?" she asks, spoon playing with her fruit salad. She raises her head a bit, staring straight into Pansy's brown eyes. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and swallowing becomes difficult—this moment, she knows, has suddenly become so very important.
"About them in general or about children as they relate to us?" Pansy asks, arching an eyebrow at Hermione. Her voice is lightly teasing, and her eyes sparkle just that tiny bit with amusement, and something in Hermione's chest eases.
"Both. Either." Hermione shrugs, busying her hands with tracing the rim of her wineglass.
"I don't…" Pansy frowns, pushing at her own dessert with her fork. The green jello flops around, and Hermione bites back a laugh. "I guess I just haven't really thought about it. But…" Her lips pull up into a small smile, and when she looks at Hermione, her eyes are teasing. "Raising kids with you? There are worse things to think about."
Which isn't: I want to, let's do it. But it also isn't a refusal.
It isn't a no.
Hermione's heart speeds up, a trapped hummingbird beating its wings against her ribs. "So… What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, maybe we should talk about it some more," Pansy replies. "But maybe I wouldn't be entirely opposed to the idea."
She winks, and Hermione laughs.
"Alright, then. Let's talk."