Songbird ; Fred Weasley

Fifty-seven

I was getting really annoyed by the seventh time I tried to do my hair.

Fred was in the bathroom and I was planted in front of the body-sized mirror in our room, trying to do my hair the way I wanted.

Today was the baby shower that Max had been planning with help from my family. He told me that my mother especially had been stressing about getting everything perfect.

Since I found out about her and my uncle, I was analysing everything my mother did. She wanted things to be perfect today, so automatically I assumed that she was just trying to make me forgive her and that she felt guilty.

But then again, I was her daughter so why wouldn't she want this day to be perfect for me?

I tried to be reasonable, but each time, the anger inside of me rose at the thought of my mum only wanting everything to go perfect because she was filled with guilt.

I groaned loudly after my ninth attempt of doing my hair.

"Fred!" I shouted. "You've been in the bathroom for thirty minutes!"

I continued to play with my hair for another two minutes before the bathroom door opened and Fred walked out, his face freshly shaven.

He walked towards the dresser, and I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something. Instead he just picked out a white button-up, slid his arms in and pulled the shirt over his shoulders.

He left it unbuttoned as he walked over to me.

"Let me try." He said, gently taking my hands and dropping them from my hair.

He took over braiding my hair in the exact way I wanted. I wanted two French braided but it kept coming out wrong when I did it, so I let Fred try.

I watched him in the mirror, the way he easily held my hair, but instead of continuing the braids, he undid them.

"Come." He said softly, grabbing my hand with his.

He guided me out of our bedroom, and I followed, being curious at to what he was doing.

He led me into the kitchen and pulled out one of the high chairs by the island. He gestured for me to sit in it, and when I did, he walked back to our bedroom.

I sighed, waiting for him to return.

When he did, he carried various items.

A wide-toothed comb, a spray bottle and some hair ties.

He put them down on the island and picked up the comb as the only thing out of the items.

"What's in the bottle?" I asked, pointing at it.

"Just water." He said softly, focusing on my hair and I felt him start to detangle my curls. "You've never actually braided your hair before, have you?"

I sighed.

"Not really. I've just let it be, or I've put it in a bun or a ponytail. I've never attempted anything that would take me more than five minutes." I said. "Since when do you know how to French braid curly hair?"

I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke again. "I borrowed a book from the library about hairstyles. I've been reading it and other books since we found out we're having a girl."

My heart melted and I couldn't get any words out. I held back tears of joy, getting so emotional by the effort he had put in.

"I want to be the kind of dad who can help her do her hair if she ever asks." He said. "My dad used to do Ginny's hair when she was little. I've always wanted to be able to do the same for my daughter."