Eucatastrophe ~ h.s.

✗ sixty-one ✗

I remember it was unreasonably cold that year, a blanket of snow covering the street outside my window. The slush on the street had tire marks painted on the surface as businessmen and women traveled home for the holiday. I would spend hours on end just watching them go to and fro, until I was called to dinner by the maid or my nanny.

I was sat in the dining room at dinner, yet again going on my parents about this doll's luscious hair and sparkling eyes and how Father Christmas was going to bring me her, when my father dropped his cutlery loudly.

It sent the three of us into silence, wondering what was the matter. My mother seemed unfazed, whilst I was the least bit startled by it. He then hit the table with both fists before pointing directly to me, with his eyes narrowed and a stern look upon his features.

That's enough, he had said. His words were like venom, seeping from his wine-stained lips. I do not want to hear another damn thing about this doll; do you hear me? Naturally, I didn't react; just sat there with wide, tear filled eyes. A child of your status shall not play with dolls. You need to grow up! Right this instant.

Surprisingly, I remember my mother warning him lightly. Andrew, not tonight. I'm too tired to deal with the aftermath. Then again her warning was all for her own selfish reasons.

This stops tonight, Libby. Father Christmas does not exist. He is nothing but a figure of childish imagination. Grow up Shay.

And from then on, including that year, we celebrated Christmas Eve with an awkward family dinner. My father would surprise my mother with her gift that evening, a trip to somewhere exotic for just the two of them. Then the next day they'd host a large party, with a guest list longer than a child's Christmas List could possibly span. And I would sit in my room, staring up into the stars and weep.

"Shay?"

"Huh?" I shake out of my awful childhood memories of Christmas and glance to see Harry smirking down at me. "I'm sorry, I was just really deep in thought. Can you repeat what you said?" Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead before starting over.

"Well normally we start off with a family breakfast and then we open all of our gifts from each other and, of course, from 'Father Christmas'. Then we spend the rest of the day in our pajamas until late afternoon. My parents like to host a small party of sorts with friends and family in the area. My nan and granddad come, a few thousand cousins, aunties and uncles, and then some old friends. It's nice; we eat, we drink, and we be merry."

I smile and shift my eyes up to the ceiling.

Unlike my family's Christmas parties, Harry's seem actually enjoyable and tolerable.

"That sounds quite lovely. Is there still going to be a party tonight?"

I'm a bit hesitant on the idea of a party after my childhood, also I've no idea how many of Harry's relatives know about us and the fact that we're about to have a baby. Sure it's been all over the news outlets, but I don't know his family. They could have sworn off television.

"Of course there's a party. It wouldn't be Christmas without it." He says shrugging as he throws an arm over my middle. "This year is extra special so we needed to have the party."

"And why's that?" I ask, cocking a brow upwards at Harry's cheeky grin.

"Because I get to introduce everyone to my smokin' girlfriend."

"You forgot pregnant." I add in, placing my hands atop my swollen stomach. Harry fakes a look of shock before breaking out into a small fit of laughter. The sight of his smile alone brings a smile to my lips.

"What were Christmas' like in the Nichols' household?" He asks, changing the subject.

If the look of being displeased and sadness could be expressed across one's features so quickly I think that I've mastered it then. I honestly hate every single bit of my childhood, especially the holidays; always parties and drinking, never singing Christmas carols and sharing love.

"Um, they were shite."

"How come?"

"Uh, I don't wanna dampen the mood."

I play it off and bring myself so that I'm sitting on the mattress. I really don't see the big deal of sharing my holidays with him, it's not like it needs to be brought up. Plus, my past Christmas traditions don't play any part in this year's. There's no need for the sadness.

"No, come on, tell me." Harry says, sitting beside me and wrapping his arm around my body; his warm hand coming into contact with my hip. I sigh again and nod my head, he's only asked once, but I know he'll continue if I don't share.

"Well, my dad told me Father Christmas wasn't real when I was only six, and told me to grow up. Then he would shower my mum with extravagant gifts until she was crying with excitement, all whilst I waited to see the new potted plant he got me. The Christmas when I was eight, I received a fucking Venus Fly Trap. What eight year old wants that as a gift?" Harry looks down in sorrow and shakes his head. "But it really doesn't matter," I say, collecting my composure, "What matters is this Christmas, with you and your amazing family."

"I'm sorry." He mumbles against my neck.

I shake my head and sigh heavily. Harry sighs and stands from the bed. I watch as he leans down and picks something up from the floor, before I know it he's tossing me his t-shirt from the floor. Though his shirt barely fits over my stomach I still quite like wearing it as much as I can.

"Whatever your mum is cooking downstairs smells amazing!" I exclaim as I stand to my wavering feet, the unnerving urge to wee a bit painful. The smell of breakfast is wafting up from the ground floor into the room as we speak.

"That would be her infamous cinnamon rolls."

I practically moan at the thought of a gooey cinnamon roll with a whole glob of sugary icing on top. The imaginary cinnamon roll in my mind already causing my stomach to growl loudly.

"And it seems as if someone is quite hungry." Harry says once he's slid some pajama pants over his tight boxers.

I can't be certain if I'm starving or if the baby is just hungry, but it's probably both. She does love to eat and as much as I hate to admit it, I love to eat too.

"Well, yeah, I'm pregnant! Of course I'm hungry, I'm always hungry."

Harry laughs and shakes his head at me from across the room as I search for some clothes for today.

"At least she's fed."

"Yes, well if she comes out weighing a ton, we'll all know why."

Harry walks up behind me and places his hands on my stomach whilst resting his chin on my shoulder. I lean back into his embrace and chuckle lightly as I watch his hands slide up underneath his t-shirt. His warm hands come into contact with my bare stomach, giving it a tiny squeeze before rubbing it, applying just the right amount of pressure. I love the feeling of his hands on my stomach, especially in moments like these.

"I love you both, so very much." He musters out, pressing a chaste kiss behind my ear. "I'm so thankful to be spending Christmas with you, Shay. Honestly, I'd always wish this would happen one day, but never in a million years thought we'd be together so soon."

"Stop, you'll make me cry."

Harry laughs and presses another kiss to my neck before breaking himself from me.

"We don't want that, especially today. I'll meet you downstairs."