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bumbershots · 4 years

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Mistletoe & Wine

A/N: Hello this is my collaboration for @goldenbluesuit very well put together Christmas song fic challenge. It’s my first time participating and my first time posting my writing here as well (I’m sort of new, I have no friends) so, I’m kind of nervous and English is not my first language (sorry for any mistakes) thanks to my boyfriend for being a Brit so he could help me with the “slang” and for reading this about fifteen times and listened to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard throughout the entire week with me lol. Thanks for taking the time to read this :) If you want to befriend a twenty six year old Aries, or just send me an ask click here.

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Harry meets a woman that is not here to stay, he will need to decide if that will keep him from making the most of the very few days they have together or dread the imminent separation.

It was raining when her flight landed in London. The kind of rain that doesn't pour heavily, instead it settles over the city for days. And although she can't afford to take a cab, she steps out of the airport just to stare at the endless grey of the sky and wrap herself in her coat because of how cold it was. After a few more minutes she goes back inside to find the way to get out of there on the tube, she knew it to be possible after all the research she's been doing since the age of twelve on the internet.

Soon enough, the man she approached to ask for help, confirms that a train is leaving in a few minutes and she can easily get off at Hammersmith, he even helps her buy the ticket and recommends to get an oyster card if she is going to use London's Underground often. But she doesn't know, she relishes in the element of surprise that is surrounding her life for the next 3 weeks. It excites her to an unfamiliar degree to see people come and go into the carriage, it almost makes her miss her stop, but she manages to get off just in time, her hands clutching the heavy suitcase that contains all her nicest and warmest clothes. She follows the crowd up the stairs and out of the station, the busy street revealed before her is straight out of those books she restlessly studied at school, people wearing trench coats and long scarfs hurry in hopes to avoid the rain and then a red double-decker bus passes by. The cherry on top.

The spontaneous decision to spend Christmas in England instead of her home country was made months ago, on the night of her birthday, although her closest friends would say that she's been dreaming of it since she read Harry Potter. No one gave her a hard time for it, in fact, almost all her friends and family members went to the airport to wish her a safe trip. Her grandmother was cheeky enough to slip a twenty pound note when hugging her goodbye.

Every day of the first week went by in a blur, visiting museums, galleries and walking around the city, getting soaked in its beauty and the endless rain. By the beginning of the second week, a bit tired of the scarce options from the hotel's breakfast, she ventured out, burying half of her face in the scarf she bought the day before at Primark, her feet guiding her almost out of instinct to the little cafe at the end of Hercules road. The place is warm and the menu seems to have it all for a very fair price. After a couple of minutes the Full English wins, she iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds a cup of tea handing over the money.

"Get a seat love, I'll bring it over." The elder lady says making the girl smile and thank her before scampering across the room to sit by the window at the four seat table tucked in the corner.

It doesn't take long for her food to arrive and for her to dig in, feeling kind of full almost at the end, she slows down then, a trick her father passed down on her. Let it settle in for a few minutes before going back at it. Works every time. She gets lost on the daily life happening before her eyes, the people walking by, some in a rush maybe to get to work, others in a rush to get to the shops early and buy presents. She could easily tell the difference between one and other. The elderly couple walking to the market, slower than anybody else, arms linked and without a care in the world. A girl around her age doing "the walk of shame" elicited a smirk on her lips. Good for her.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" She almost missed the question by the stranger standing there. "There's no empty seats elsewhere I'm afraid, I won't bother you." He was right, in the span of thirty minutes the place was full to the brim with families, the three seats at her table the only ones free so, she nodded and even managed to smile in a friendly way. Unfortunately for her, the green eyed stranger did the same, a sweet dimple on his left cheek more prominent than on the right one and she had to eat a spoonful of beans in an attempt to hide her blush.

Two weeks in the country, almost two weeks, and the best looking man on it decides to show up on a greasy spoon cafe when she's eating what's left of her sausages and beans. His food is delivered by the same lady from earlier, of course it is something that looks healthy. The sudden need to fly away from the place pops in her head, it's not a bad one, he doesn't even know her name. She wants to know his. She remembers how he said he wouldn't bother her, it's almost disappointing, she wants to be bothered.

The situation seems to be straight out of a rom-com, she is cutting the banger in little pieces, as if the formula to spark conversation with the mystery guy keeping her company is hidden in them. But after five minutes she sighs quietly, knowing that her own shyness won't let her even glance at him again. She will have to do her best to remember him and observe from the corner of her eye until the last piece of minced pork is consumed by her. And maybe she will gush about how gorgeous he was with her friends once she is back home, describing his shiny emerald eyes for them, sharing a sigh when she recalls how dreamy his accent was and squeal upon the memory of his raspy voice.

Ten minutes later her last bite is chewed and swallowed, the cup is empty as well. She's about to grab her coat draped on the back of her chair. "I'm going to have to break my non-disturbing you promise but... um, that's a sick cardigan." His voice doesn't sound confident as before, he even clears his throat, but his eyes never leave hers.

"Thanks, my grandma knitted it for me." She forgets about her coat and straightens out a bit for him to appreciate the colourful patchwork and extends her left arm to show the over-sized sleeve. Her companion hums in approval. "She hates it."

"What?" His green eyes widening in disbelief and she just shrugs.

"As soon as I put it on she went on and on about how horrible it was, the wrong proportions and how it all seemed better off in her mind." They share a giggle and don't notice that their empty plates have been taken away and the place is no longer swamped by people. "But I like it, I like it a lot, does a good job keeping me warm." And makes her look lovely, he thinks but doesn't say.

Instead he licks his lips before speaking again. "I'm Harry." He offers his left hand and she quickly eyes the cross tattoo.

"I'm a tourist." She says before adding her real name, earning a deep chuckle from him before letting go of his hand.

The set of circumstances in which she met Harry is dreamy for sure, but something about him made the set of affairs so real. When he asked about the places where she'd been the scoff afterwards and the roll of his eyes made her ask what was wrong about them. But he didn't answer, with a shake of his head and a deep sigh he asked for her phone number. The promise to show her the real London lingered in the air as they parted ways outside of the corner cafe.

Her heart raced at the very sight of him outside Borough Market the following morning. "Morning love, alright?" he greeted her before hugging her tight and quick. It was so genuine it made her wonder if she really just met him the day before. "Do you like doughnuts?"

"Who doesn't?" she says with that grin he worries will wait for him in his dreams.

"Wisest words ever spoken." Harry's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her on their quest inside the huge market.

The early morning is spent too soon, Harry guides her to talk to the stall owners, they are so passionate about their produce, most of them willing when possible to give them a sample. The highlight is the stop at Bread Ahead, they buy more doughnuts than what she thinks they need. They eat them all while sharing a Monmouth coffee. Harry shares with her stories about almost every stall they passed by. "I'm not a fan of red meat, and oysters." She keeps record of it, basking in his lovely anecdotes that seemed to summon the sun from it's hiding place. "We're granted a sunny day in winter!" He celebrates and it's impossible not to join him. "Let's go to Richmond Park."

Of course she nods in agreement and follows him down the street where he parked his car before she gets in the passenger seat. The stranger danger alarm, should've gone off in her head. But there was something about him, like he was holding her in place. As she heard Harry speak about his job, it started to make more sense in her head. Harry was a lot like this country, foreign, new, exciting and hers for the next few days. He made that clear when they parted ways at the end of the day.

"Come home with me for Christmas." Harry asked her on what would be the beginning of her last week in London, while having a picnic on Primrose Hill.

"With your family?" Her eyebrows were shot up when he nodded, fighting back that deadly smirk of his. "All your relatives will be there?" He nods again and she scoffs completely agitated. "Don't be daft Harry!" She voices out her feelings borrowing an expression of his.

He laughs and it's impossible for her not to join him, her face growing hotter by the second. "I don't want to go without you, and mum will love to have you there," that's what she fears.

"I don't know Harry, might be weird." He disagrees right away.

"It's close to Liverpool, we could spend a day or two over there." The past week he's been trying to learn as many things from her as possible and if he chooses his words carefully he can convince her. "Pay a visit to Anfield, The Cavern." His fake nonchalant attitude makes her roll her eyes, "Strawberry Fields is there too, you know?" She agrees and he kisses the back of her hand to mask the proud grin on his face.

In the past, she was always careful not to let a partner know how deeply she cared about them. The thought of being vulnerable made her lose her mind, thinking it was a sign of weakness. But seeing Harry drive through the English countryside, singing at the top of his lungs to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard and smiling just for her. It made her want to tell him, but not even all the words in every single language ever spoken by humanity could be enough to give him an idea of how much she cares for him.

There hasn't been a proper kiss between them, it puzzled her at first. Because his gaze seemed to be constantly directed to her lips. But then there was all the touching, holding hands, tucking her to his side when walking, his tender touch before hugging her goodbye. And the way he was always running his hands through her hair.

"She's a friend," he introduces her to his mum Anne and sister Gemma, after saying her name, chewing on the word like it's that mint gum he carries in his purse everywhere he goes. "Was a bloody tourist when I first met her but now... she's a proper Londoner." She doubts it, but she agrees on them being friends and she likes it, a lot.

They help Anne and Gemma to set the table and the finishing touches for dinner. Only three more family members show up and she chastises Harry for making her believe that all of his offspring was going to attend. That's how they usually spend Christmas Eve back home, she explains.

It saddens him, the thought of her going back to her home country in five days time. All the way across the Atlantic, six hours behind him. It's almost unfair.

"Tell me more about it," Harry's curiosity is genuine, thinking that he would love to know more about her traditions. Perhaps even be lucky enough to share them someday.

"We don't have these," she regrets taking a tube of brightly coloured paper. "We have piñatas though." She adds proudly and Harry's jaw hangs open in surprise.

"No fucking way!" He is immediately told off by his mum as they all take a seat at the table. "I thought that was only allowed for birthdays."

"There's no rules for that!" She takes the Christmas cracker out again and Harry takes it from the other end. "So, I just pull it?" He nods and it makes a noise revealing the present.

"You get the crown." Harry unfolds it before helping her fix it atop her head. "And the little toy, what is it?oh... I get the joke!" His family groans, his sister hiding her face in hands, but all she sees is the glint in Harry's eye before he reads. "Who's Rudolph's favourite pop star?"

"I don't know," she's the only one that was going to ask him. And she really wanted to know.

"Beyon-sleigh!" Harry watches in delight how the girl before him snorts at the silly and not so funny joke.

"That was awful." She confessed.

"Agree, next year we'll make our own. Riddles only." His mum adds and Harry protests right away but is shushed by Gemma's voice reading out loud the riddle from her cracker.

Next year, she will probably be spending the day with her numerous family, she thinks. Harry will be here again, telling awful jokes, pulling away Christmas crackers. Perhaps he will bring another person with him. She tries to push the poisonous thoughts down with a big gulp of wine. Only succeeding when Harry's left hand rests on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin exposed by her ripped jeans while he listens to his sister talk about her podcast. It marvels her how he is there, for everybody.

After dinner they play family games and Harry makes a fake tantrum after his cousin Chloe claims his companion for her team.

"She's mine!" He argues, his long arms embracing her easily. She ends up joining the other team, but the quick kiss she bravely gave to his neck before he let her go, confirmed the words he spoke.

There is a three step process Harry follows to know he's fallen in love. If he finds himself talking about them with every living soul, if he does something they like just because it makes him miss them less and finally if he takes them home to meet his mum. He knows that for the past few days, there was no other topic to discuss with him than the girl sitting beside him in the sofa. He's been drinking tea every morning, just because it reminds him of her. He watches her talk to his mother about how much they like Rod Stewart and knows that he's in too deep.

It should bother him, because she will leave. And all these moments spent, will be just distant memories for him to torture himself over and over again. He wants to feel the angst of knowing that maybe she will forget him, maybe she has a partner back home. He gives up on trying to feel miserable, agreeing with that song from earlier. It is a time to rejoice in the good that we see, a time for living and believing.

Right now all he sees is her, he sighs before tucking her by his side, her brown doe eyes meeting his briefly before sneaking an arm around his waist. She continues to chat with Anne and Gemma even after the rest of the guests leave, still holding onto him. Harry can see the fondness radiating from his mother and sister for the girl in his arms. He sees trust, and he smiles thinking of a new beginning.

What a beautiful sight.

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #fanfic

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