“Harry, what the actual fuck!” Hermione whisper-shouted at him, dropping a heavy book on the table that smelled fresh out of the print.
Her husband pressed his lips together beside her, shoulders shaking as he hid behind the café’s menu.
“What?” Harry asked, knowing full well why she was pissed.
“You can’t do that!” Hermione forced out through gritted teeth.
“But you told me I can,” Harry said nonchalantly, a grin tugging at his mouth as he glanced down at the menu, torn between the full English and something sweet.
“Are you kidding me?!” She looked beyond exasperated—teetering on furious. Merlin, this shouldn't be so fun.
Harry leaned back and sipped his tea. “You said the winners write the history books. I won.”
“This is not what I meant and you know it!” She threw her arms up, barely missing the waitress approaching their table.
“Love,” Ron began, lowering the menu just enough to peek over it, “you have to admit this is hilarious.”
“Ronald!” Hermione’s head whipped towards him, hair flipping sharply. “Don’t encourage him!”
“Thanks, mate, you get it.” Harry leaned over to bump Ron’s fist.
Hermione looked ready to flip the table. “Harry!” she tried again, her voice painfully neutral this time. “You can’t just tell an actual historian who interviews you that after the war you started dating Malfoy, of all people! You’re not even gay!”
“I’m bi, Hermione,” Harry deadpanned.
Ron’s brows shot up. “Mate?”
Harry simply shrugged. Maybe he should have told them earlier.
“And you can’t spin this—this fantastical romance story about how you went on some cruise to study sea snakes together and fell in love along the way.”
“But I did go to Australia, didn't I?” Harry said, then looked up at the waitress who hovered nearby. “The continental breakfast, please.”
“That is not the same thing!” Hermione objected, “Harry—focus!”
“I am focusing. I'm hungry,” he said in his defence.
Hermione dragged a hand down her face. “And this utter nonsense about getting married by the Loch Ness Monster?”
“Don’t call her a monster, that’s rude,” Harry deadpanned. “Her name is Nessaltheanora.”
Hermione glowered at him, but didn't dare to suggest that Nessie didn't exist.
“She’s an ancient serpent,” Harry added, “Or, more like a nature spirit or God, depending on who you ask. Perfectly valid officiant for wizards in my book. Or yours, now.” He cheekily patted the book Hermione had brought with her, the evidence of his ‘crimes against science’.
“Mate.” Ron held up a hand, speaking slowly. “You didn’t marry Malfoy, did you?”
Harry pursed his lips. “Not legally.”
— written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'history'
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