The first thing Moira saw when opening her eyes the following morning was white, white everywhere. She had forgotten to close the curtains so she could easily see the layers of snow on the windowpanes of the building opposite hers.

The temperature instantly felt colder in the apartment; either that or it was just her, since she did tend to feel cold in the mornings no matter the weather outside. She pulled herself out of bed, rubbing at her arms in an attempt to warm them, and trudged to the window so she could properly inspect winter wonderland.

And like expected, there indeed was snow. It was just about time for snow, anyway, since November started about two weeks ago. The news always said that our weather was running fast; typically it snowed back in the beginning of November or at least towards the middle like now. And she liked snow, because hey, it was beautiful. But she also didn't like snow because it was freezing, and also because the roads were icy and there were cases when they could get snowed in. Which wasn't all too often since she lived in the city but there was still a possibility?

Snowy weather had a lot of ups and downs to it-for instance, she could stay inside all day without feeling guilty for being lazy. However, she didn't like when the snow grew dirty as time progressed; when January came, the snow was an ugly black color on the New York streets because of the car exhaust and whatnot. That was not a pretty sight to look at.

That reminded her of another not-pretty sight: her bedhead.

She tamed her hair in the connected bathroom and brushed her teeth, pulling on a long, salmon colored silk bathrobe that aligned her bump subtly.

Making her way downstairs and to the kitchen, she aimlessly opened the fridge, wondering what to eat for breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, she prepared the batter and started baking. A mountain of pancakes later, she was done and ready to dive into this morning feast.

Just then, did she realise she had a guest.

"Oh my god," she mumbled to herself, feeling stupid for forgetting.

She walked to the guest bedroom and spotted Harraël sound asleep.
The bed seemed so tiny with his large body sprawled atop it. She was not sure what to do, waking up a -probably- hangover Harraël would be a bad idea but standing here indecisively was doing nothing for her either. He rolled towards her and mumbled something inaudible. She leaned forward and poked his cheek, in attempt to awaken him from his slumber. When nothing happened, she poked him again and he let out a small groan. Finally those piercing eyes of his opened showing a hazy green color. She couldn't help but smile at him.

"Time to wake up, sunshine." She said cheerily.

"I was having such a good dream and you spoilt it." He grouched as he sat up yawning, and glaring at her.

"I'm sure you were." She rolled her eyes. "Now get up, I made pancakes."

His face lightened up at the word 'pancakes', resulting in him nearly jumping out of bed.

Moira walked into the kitchen and sure enough, Harraël was eating pancakes like an animal.

"You're a good cook," He complimented her as he finished eating, leaning back and petting his now full stomach.

She nodded in thanks and he opened the fridge to get something to drink. He grabbed a carton of milk and drank straight from the opening.

"Harraël!"

"What?"

"You drank right out of the carton." She replied, snatching it out of his hands to return it to the fridge. "Why don't you act like a normal person and drink it out of a cup? You're contaminating it with all your germs."

He sighed, "Women."

"What did you say?"

His eyes widened, "Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

After she -too- finished her breakfast, they moved over to the living room, a comfortable silence settling over them. That was, until Harraël spoke up.

"I'm sorry." He said, out of the blue.

Making Moira blink in confusion, "For what?"

"For letting you go to your ultrasound alone while I promised to join you." He murmured, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. He would barely look her in the eyes. He sighed heavily before grumbling, "Damn it."

"Is that why.. you were drinking last night?" She asked hesitantly, though instantly feeling futile for even considering he was drinking because of her. The world didn't revolve around her, she had to remind herself.

"Umm yeah." He said quickly -to her surprise- as he ran a hand through his hair. He met her eyes evenly again, and the hint of a small smile tugged at his lips. "Baby girl."

She let out a high pitched giggle, "So you remember that, eh?"

"I remember everything." He muttered, and her heart skipped a beat when he suddenly put his hand on top of hers. "From drinking until my eyesight was blurry to eating that remarkable quiche you made."

The skin he touched tingled with uncontrollable warmth. "I really am sorry, Moira."

"It's fine." It was a mere reflex, to say that. Of course, she didn't think it was fine. She'd felt disappointed to the bone. He had promised, after all. But he did seem to be truly be sorry, so she couldn't help but forgive him. "Just keep your promise next time, Mr. I'm-in-a-band."

He chuckled, "Oh right, I told you about that too."

"I would've figured it out sooner or later." She said calmly.

"Rather sooner than later."

"True." Was all she could say, sitting back against the couch's cushions.

"I don't like keeping secrets from you." He confessed.

"Then don't." She retorted.

He tried swallowing the lump in his throat, "Easier said than done."

"I'm still scared of the dark." Moira said, suddenly.

Harraël stared at her in confusion before catching on. "Oh! Umm, I ate cat food as a dare once."

She made a disgusted face, which looked so adorable that it made him laugh uncontrollably. The sound of it echoing throughout the open space. They went back and forth like this, confessing silly secrets. Moira could eat literally anything with Dutch mayonnaise while Harraël stole a pack of chocolate cigarettes when he was 19. Until eventually, something less silly came rolling out of Moira's mouth.

"Ollie is a boy."

"I once-" He began before interrupting himself, his eyes widening when the reality of her words dawned upon him. "No fucking way."

She nodded happily, as she was being swept off her feet, and spun around with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Told you so!" He mocked, jokingly. Pointing a finger at her. "I told you he was a boy!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

He lowered her back to the floor, "Congrats, sweetheart."

Glowing and blushing as she did, she looked like an angel. "Thanks Harry."

He grinned fondly, "You called me Harry again."

"I've been calling you Harry a lot lately."

The way he stared at her in that moment made her heart flutter, it also scared her. They were just friends, never anything more. Yet, these odd feelings kept arising inside of her again and again. And she found it about time these feelings were being categorized.

"Now let's hear that band of yours." She tried changing the subject.

Harraël connected his phone to her stereo and did as she asked: putting on a Bones song. And as the music began pumping, she instantly loved the pop-rock-ish beat. Nearly forcing her to start dancing throughout the living room. She swept across the wood floor, throwing her hair up in a bun hair as the music consumed her. For once, she didn't care how she looked. She felt free, and joyful. She sang -off tone- to the song, even though she didn't know the lyrics. Oh, she loved it when songs made you want to dance. It was impossible to not dance to some of them. This one especially.

She was so avidly moving around that the locks of hair began to fall from her messy bun. After the song finished, she stopped abruptly. Breathing heavily, clearly exhausted by her little work out. Her stamina wasn't what it used to be, and being pregnant only worsened it: the extra weight and all.

And then he heard the best sound that he had ever heard in his life, her laugh. It was honest, intoxicating, genuine and mesmerising all in one. His eyes were glued to her.

"Great song." She exclaimed enthousiastically.

"That's beautiful." 

"What?"

"Your laugh." He said simply and she looked surprised, as in that moment, her hair tumbled down entirely and smoothened along her back. Harry caught his breath as he observed her wild state. Her face was hidden by a curtain of hair, and she looked absolutely ravishing.

His strides were fast and determined as he moved towards her, and Moira stood watching him in a frozen state. With utter gentleness, he tucked a few fallen strands behind her ears. Staring at her a little longer, before tilting her face and lowering his head. Making their mouths meet in the softest of ways.

Tremors of pleasure and surprise ran through her as his lips brushed hers over and over. He had captured her mouth in a tight embrace, his plump, juicy lips urging her to kiss him back. And it didn't take long before she did. Her hands involuntarily moving up to grip his shoulders. In reply, he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and she gasped with the desire that burned through her at such a simple gesture.

They were struggling for air as their emotions ran all over the place. Moving from his shoulders to his hair, she gripped tightly, pulling the roots and making him groan. Only when he tenderly placed one of his hands on her swollen stomach, did she wake up from the dream-like state she was in. And realised what was happening.

"What are you doing!?" Moira screeched, distancing the two of them by harshly pushing him away. Not waiting for his answer, she stormed off to the kitchen.

The slamming of pots and pans greeted him as he walked into the kitchen. He shouldn't have tried kissing her, which was obvious to the world. Still, he did not regret it. That mouth of hers was awfully kissable and he'd wanted to ravish her lips for a very long time.

Moira in a temper -however- was quite a glorious sight to behold. He stood and watched her as she vented her frustrations.

She felt his presence and turned her steely blue eyes on him. In the next instant, a pot came flying with dead accuracy at his head. He barely ducked in time. The next item was a plate that shattered a mere inch from his cheek. On the third throw, his luck was gone as a ceramic bowl glanced his shoulder making him stumble and fall to the floor.

He pulled his shirt to the side to inspect the spot that was hit, "That bloody hurt, Moira!"

"I'm so mad at you! Don't try to turn our friendship into something else!" She shouted out, even as she knelt down beside him to check the degree of his injuries. Luckily, it only seemed to be a little bruised. She hadn't thought she would actually be able to hit the target, hence her relief.

"There's something between us, you know that just as well as I do." He stated as a matter-of-factly.

"No I don't!" She denied.

He moved onto his knees and sat closer to her, "Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes."

She was speechless for a moment, "There can't be anything between us, I'm going to be a mother. I don't have time for a relationship."

"The baby can be mine, then. We can tell people that Ollie's mine. I'll be his father."

Her breath was caught in her throat, "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You can't see the truth, but I can. Every person in my life has ditched me except for my mother. You have to admit that you're only here for the challenge. I won't let you step into Ollie's life for you run away later on, so don't say things you don't mean."

"Is that what you truly think?" He asked in shock.

"No, that's what I know." She stated matter-of-factly.

"But I'm seriou-"

"No! Stop talking about this, it stresses me out. It's snowing, I'm cold, Ollie has been kicking nonstop throughout our entire conversation and I want to watch a movie."

What the pregnant lady wants, the pregnant lady gets.
And thus he followed her command, and they spent their afternoon watching Disney movies.
Still, Moira had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her they weren't done talking about this yet.