Author: loonynamelass
Prompt: (Tea &) Scones for lazysundaydrab's Guy Fawkes Fest.
Characters: Rubeus Hagrid, Olympe Maxime
Rating: PG as always
Word Count: 340
Notes: If I were truly doing this in character, I might put Maxime's thoughts in French; but alas, I know next-to-nothing of French, and my French friend is away at the moment.
Madame Maxime was not a woman to be rushed. She was very much in control of her life, her speed, her preferences, and no one dared ever challenge her half-giantess independence.
"Rubeus, inviting me to 'eez 'ouse?" She marveled as they, arm-in-arm, approached the gamekeeper hut. "'Ow forward! 'Ow intriguing!"
As he settled her with a whiskery kiss into a chair around his large wooden table, his chatter was pleasant, sweet, and adorable to Olympe's ears, as always. "I know it's not much, compared to what yer use' teh."
"Nonsense! Eet eez perfect for just us two," she purred, though already their sizes filled the house. She could discard any thought of their dingy surroundings when her dashing amour was there.
His eyes crinkled with joy, and he took her coat, hung it by a suspiciously out of place coat stand, and went around to the kitchen to bustle about some tea. Olympe waited, content in admiring every detail of Hagrid that she could glean by the clutter.
She received the tea and scones politely, and sipped first. Finding this agreeable enough, she endeavored to take a dainty nibble of the scone- to find it more of a stone than edible.
All her refined French taste buds rallying in screaming protest, she could take it no longer. Tiny-ness, inexpensiveness, all well and good, but cooking can never be made allowances for! This was an emergency. Her amour, eating this- oh! he could get ill!- unlikely, but… this luxury was just one he mustn't go without, not while she had one last breath in her body!
"Rubeus 'Agrid. We must be wed." His thrilled expression, and his rush of affection, was all the Qui! Olympe Maxime needed.
After their premarital celebration, the bewildered man, only able to attribute this occurrence to her euphoria at the war's end, sputtered, "When?"
"Az soon az we can!"
The rush wasn't as deplorable, instinctive, or ill-advised as it may appear. The pair was seventy-and-some years old each… and, after all, she did love the man.
