The Marriage Decree

Chapter 135: Care Enough To Try

Sophie huffs, turning over in her bed, covering her head with her duvet. A few seconds later, she is too hot, so she throws and kicks the duvet to the end of the bed. After finding no comfort, Sophie kicks her legs against her mattress in a tantrum. Afterwards, she listens carefully in embarrassment, hoping she hasn't woken her dad up in his room next door. The second hand on the clock hanging from her bedroom wall had ticked over into the seventh of July a whole five minutes ago. She had yet to hear the tell-tale sound of feathers fluttering or a beak tapping against the glass.

A chirp from across the room sends Sophie clambering out of bed and pressing her face expectantly against the glass of her bedroom window. However, her view of the darkened street outside is unobscured.

"That's not funny, Athena!" Sophie stomps back to bed. "I'll give you back to Draco." She threatens.

Athena shakes her feathers and squarks, unimpressed by Sophie's empty threat. Both of them know Draco is never getting Athena back.

"Sorry, come here," Sophie pads across her carpeted room to unlatch the cage.

The not-so-tiny-bird soars over to Sophie's headboard, perching where she usually waits on a night for Sophie to complete her homework.

Sophie checks her clock, "Why is time so slow?" She groans, throwing her head back. "It's not even quarter past twelve yet." Suddenly, a great idea forms in her head. "Athena, what if I sneak downstairs and call Hermione on Dad's phone." She stands, tiptoeing across the carpet, only for her bedroom door to creak loudly as she pulls it open.

"Back to bed, Sophie," her dad calls down the hallway.

Quick as a flash, Sophie closes her door, diving back into bed and pulling the duvet up beneath her chin. Her eyes flicker across the glow-in-the-dark constellations her father had painted on the ceiling when she was five years old, and now she's eleven, just. She begins to count each star and makes it to one-hundred and forty-two before a timid knock at her door distracts her.

"Sophie?" Her dad gently speaks through the door.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go downstairs," he suggests.

Sophie frowns, wondering in confusion why her dad was allowing her to go downstairs after midnight on a school night, but she doesn't argue. When she opens her door this time, it doesn't make a noise.

"Come on, Sophie!" Her dad smiles, gesturing for her to follow him downstairs.

Sophie perches on the countertop beside her father in the kitchen, watching him mix two mugs of hot chocolates with marshmallows.

"Don't tell your Aunt Sarah," he warns, passing Sophie's mug over.

"Thanks, Dad," she takes a sip. "Perfect."

"Happy birthday, Sophie," her dad smiles sadly, and they clink their mugs. "Let's go into the living room." He helps his daughter down from the counter.

David sits in his usual armchair in the living room while Sophie lounges across the couch, facing him. He watches as his daughter uses a spoon to scoop out the marshmallows while she waits for the drink to slightly cool down. His daughter had hated hot drinks since an unfortunate tongue burning incident when she was seven years old. He's struggling to comprehend how his little girl can be eleven years old already.

"I can't believe your eleven already," he mutters.

"Not yet," Sophie smiles. "We have another fifty-two minutes."

"Oh, I remember, twenty-two minutes after one in the morning." He chuckles at the memories. "You were a day late, but you were still so small. I didn't hold you for two days; I was too scared of dropping you." He admits, smiling across at his daughter, who's avoiding his eyes. "What's the matter?"