Harry Imagines

Proud Daddy

"I don’t want to drink that daddy,” your small girl whined, pressing her head against the Barbie pillow, closing her eyes and shutting her mouth. “You have to baby girl, I know it’s yucky, but you have to,” he cooed, stroking her sweaty forehead, looking how small the brown haired girl looked in her big bed. “I don’t want to!” she screamed crying, burying her head to a small teddy bear, letting sniffles fill the small room. “Baby,” Harry whispered sadly, looking at his big hands, feeling useless next to her suffers. “No daddy, It makes me puke,” she whispered crying, making Harry lift her small trembling body to his arms, soothing her instantly. “It hurts daddy,” she whispered couching, making Harry kiss her forehead gently, “Make it go away.” Harry shushed her, cooing at her, whispering nothings to her ear, kissing away the pain. “I wish I could kitty,” he breathed, rocking her in the pink room, hands stroking the dark curls she got from him. She looked like Harry, but everything else in her was just like you. “If you’d take the medicine, you’d feel a bit better,” Harry cooed, making the sniffles fade to the air. “Will you sing to me after that,” she whispered to Harry’s neck, making his heart melt. “Of course,” he smiled, showing his dimples to the little girl who was tangled in his lap. “Yuck,” she groaned, sniffing her nose when Harry helped her swallow the medicine. His eyes were on the little girl who tried to look brave even when Harry knew she hated medicine. “Good girl,” he smiled, placing her back to the bed, cuddling next to her, starting to sing a song he wrote years ago, knowing that it was her favorite.

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