𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 ━━
✧˖*. | ❝I don't want to see anymore.❞ | ✧˖*.
Marisol Bright can see the timer on people's lives, and when she sees Fred Weasley's timer, she can't help but feel saddened. She never wants anything to do with people's timers - es...
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It was Christmas break. Marisol was glad she was able to spend time with her father, especially on holiday. She knew he was worrying his head about the Order, Voldemort, and her well-being.
"Dad, stop worrying so much," Marisol advised. "You should relax. Come on. Let's make gingerbread cookies like we used to when I was younger."
He smiled at her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He walked into the kitchen, watching from the doorway as Marisol grabbed the ingredients to make gingerbread cookies.
"You seem happier," he stated.
Marisol froze for a moment, glancing over her shoulder with a blush on her face. Joseph, noticing, walked over to her.
"Don't tell me. Is it a boy?"
When Marisol stayed quiet, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
"Does my daughter have a crush?"
Marisol whined. "Dad!"
"You do? Merlin, I don't think I'm ready for this. Marisol, order that redwood casket I had in my wishlist."
Marisol gasped, smacking her father's shoulder. "That's inappropriate, Dad!"
He chuckled, jokingly rubbing his shoulder in pain. "Ouch, Marisol. Same hit as your mother."
She softly smiled at that.
"Now, really, tell me who this boy is," he demanded.
Marisol sighed, shaking her head as she took out the flour. "Will you berate him if I tell you?"
He innocently shrugged. "Would I be a father if I didn't?"
She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking about the circumstances of her actions. "Fred Weasley."
"Arthur and Molly's? Huh. You know, I did not expect that."
"You're okay with it?" she asked.
He leaned in to kiss her head. "Of course. If I were in your shoes and it was your mother, I would be furious if my parents didn't let me date her. I'm happy for you, Marisol, but if he hurts you, I'm Hexing him."
She chuckled, shaking her head. Joseph stared at his daughter as she combined the ingredients together in a bowl and began stirring.
"You seem more confident," he commented, causing her to stop.
"Really?"
He nodded. "I like it on you. Whatever that boy is doing to you, tell him I say thank you."
Marisol was on the verge of tears. She turned around and kissed her father's cheek. He chuckled.
"What are the tears for?" he asked.
"I love you," said Marisol.
He smiled, brushing the hair away from her face. "I love you too. Now, come on, gingerbread cookies don't bake themselves."
