Work Text:
“Hang on.” He was mortified at the words that came out of that teachers mouth
“Harry!” Mrs. Wormwood
Harry felt the rage bubble up. At the woman across from him trying to take his child away, at his wife who screamed his name to try and let her. He knew that his wife was always desperate to be rid of the child they called Matilda. But even when he was disappointed that Matilda turned out to be a girl, he’d always wanted a child.
“You want us to leave our daughter here with you?” his stance was aggressive, accusatory. How dare this random stranger stand there and ask to basically adopt their daughter. It was only after Matilda turned around that he had realised what he’d said.
Harry was always a stubborn man. When he convinced himself that his baby was a boy it was a struggle to convince him otherwise. Of course he’s let go of that perception of his child long ago, but well, he never stopped being stubborn. Too stubborn to start calling her a girl, plus he finds humour in how Matilda reacts. But now he’s realised that was the first time he’s ever let go of his stubbornness, let his mask slip just a bit.
“We are going to miss the plane!” his wife screamed from behind him
And then he feels like the world is crashing down. There’s no space in the car, he’s running away from the country as a fugitive, the plane is going soon, and now he can see that his little girl wants to stay.
“Did you just call me your daughter?” Matilda’s face has lit up, unsure but happily surprised.
Ehem. Harry’s eyes look up to the teacher who continues talking.
“If that’s what she wants.”
Harry looked back at his daughter and ignored the curling in his stomach as he asked her “Well, is that what you want?” he hesitates “You want to stay here with Ms. Honey?”
Harry knows the answer long before his hears it through whispered lips.
“Yes.”
Harry looks back to his wife who gives an unhelpful shrug. He swallows the lump that has now appeared in his throat. “Yeah.” Another gulp “Yeah alright. Yeah.”
Matilda’s face lights up as she makes her way to her father. He backs away instinctually for fear of being hugged before his daughter brings up her hand. He feels dumbfounded as he reaches for that tiny hand. Scared that that’ll be the last time he gets to hold it, suddenly launching him back into his first memory of his baby girl wrapping her tiny little hand around his finger. Shit, he’s going to cry. He looked into her eyes, a little fearful that she’ll give him one last trick before they part. He tries to leave her grasp before tears become reality and he cries in front of his little girl, but is strongly pulled back by her weird strength. He watches in horror as Matilda brings her hand up to grab his hat, fearing a particularly gruesome trick again since this’ll be her last. What does come instead is an unusual kindness, slowly and painlessly pulling off the hat she had glued on him. He’s overcome with giddy laughter, ignoring his wife’s complaint’s about taking too long and prancing about. Hiding the tears in his eyes with squinted joy. As he drove off, bawling his eyes out much to his wife’s demise, he watched as Matilda stayed on that road, watching them leave her behind. And even later on he would wish that he’d taken her instead of her mother.
One day he’ll come find her by himself.
One day he’ll be the father he never was.