Magic | D. Malfoy

00. Princess Behaviour

"Daddy, daddy, come on, tell me another!"

The man barely managed to keep himself from sighing, his head lowering somewhat in obvious defeat as he glanced down at his daughter, the girl that was barely six years old looking up at him with an incredibly wide smile, her dark blue eyes appearing more awake than they had all day. He cursed his luck. It seemed like he was going nowhere, for now.

"What more would you like to hear, Princess?" he murmured, a tiny smile forming on his lips despite his obvious exhaustion. The girl's smile widened and she stuck her chin out. The sight of her, engulfed by the covers, only her little blonde head appearing on her pillow among the mountain of teddy bears all around her, would have been comical to him if he had been any less tired.

"The tale of the Princess!" she exclaimed. "The one with the evil stepmother and the pretty Prince!"

He conceded. "Once upon a time-"

She squealed in answer to her demands being met and he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the pain that shot up his scull at the sound as he continued. A few minutes later, he was finished with the story. As expected, the girl didn't take it well.

"Daddy, just one more-"

"I've told you enough stories for tonight, Sophia," he insisted, stern in his decision. He ignored her little pout and her wide, pleading eyes as he reached down and pressed a couple of kisses across her forehead and her freckled face, bringing her to giggle. He pulled back with a small smile, uttered a soft goodnight she returned and so he straightened up and while taking care to not step on any toy of hers, he left the room. Only to see the figure of his wife standing by the door, peering inside.

"She loves stories," she murmured, a small smile on her lips, and although she had aged, he knew their daughter was a copy of her, despite the woman's lack of freckles. She turned to him and started heading to the living room. "She loves fairytales, thinks all endings are supposed to be happy and believes in magic. Can you believe that?"

He shrugged, "She's young, Martha. She'll grow up to know better."

"I almost hope she doesn't," she admitted, her gaze cast on the floor, at her feet, as she stopped by the door. "This way she'll have hope things will work out in the end."

She looked up as she heard him moving around, putting his coat back on, retrieving his keys. She had seen him go through the motions countless of times, and every time, she would feel peculiar, as if she were sad to see him go. She couldn't understand why. They had proven each other time and time again all they could do was hurt the other, every encounter leaving them with more scars than bandages could cover. Still she hoped. Perhaps it was because he was someone she had spent a lot of her time with, someone she held dear. Maybe the only reason was the girl laying on her bed a few rooms over.

"Hope isn't enough," he gruffly said, glanced up at her once before he looked away, headed to the door. "I'll see you next week. The court will have decided by then hopefully so we will know how to proceed."

"Yeah," she breathed, gulped down the invisible obstacle she felt stuck in her throat. "Take care on your way home, Patrick."

He nodded once, whispered his goodnight, and with that, he was out of the door. Martha let out a sigh the moment he was gone, her shoulders dropping, letting her exhaustion show. The next moment, she heard tiny footsteps coming from the corridor. When she looked up, Sophia was there, standing by the door leading to the living room, dressed in her purple pyjamas with the little stars all around Martha had helped her into about an hour ago, her favourite teddy bear at hand.

"Where's daddy?"

"He had some important stuff to do, sweetheart," Martha tried to console her, sent her a small smile she hoped was reassuring. "You need to go to bed. Daddy will come see you again, I promise."