slipping through my fingers (h.s)

wherever I go, you bring me home

"Are you sure that's right?" Harry whispered, admiring his newborn daughter, who was now passed out in her car seat, wrapped under a layer of blankets. He adjusted the pink knit hat on top of her head, which covered a few tight ringlets of light brown hair.

"I think that's right," you replied. The soreness radiating from your entire body was growing by the second, and had only gotten worse after you went to stand up properly next to the car. "Maybe I should sit in the back, just incase she wakes up,"

He opened the door for you, lifting your aching frame up onto the back seat of your SUV. He peppered a kiss to your forehead before turning back around to face her.

"We made her," he smiled, his eyes turning glassy. "All that time, she was in there," he pointed at your still swollen tummy.

"I'm glad she's out," you laughed. "It's hard to do things when there's a tiny human growing inside of you,"

"I bet," he chuckled. "Rather you than me,"

He smoothed a little strand of hair back from her forehead before rubbing her tiny hand in his. "I didn't think she'd be this tiny,"

She began to stir, whimpering as he checked her seatbelt for the fifth time, almost too paranoid that something was wrong with it.

"Oh baby, did I wake you? I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Baby, I think she's fine," you laughed. "Come on, I wanna go home now,"

"If you're sure," he said cautiously, before climbing in the drivers side of the car. "I just feel like everything has to be perfect for her, you know?"

"But you can't always be perfect all the time, can you babe? As long as you're there for her, that's what matters. No parent is perfect,"

He sighed, turning the keys in the ignition.

"You're right. But I just want to be the best Dad to her, you know? She's perfect,"

As he began to drive, the soft thrum of the car settled her once again, and she fell back to sleep. You adjusted the blanket to cover her tiny feet.

"Hey, green eyes," you laughed, catching him staring at the rear view mirror once again. "Eyes on the road,"

"Sorry," he muttered, diverting his attention back to the motorway in front of him. It was a crisp, clear summer evening, and finally you were bringing her home. The sun was setting and was a perfect shade of vibrant orange: it almost looked like a scene from one of those rom-coms Harry always forced you to watch.

—-

He let you out first, before beginning to unlatch her carseat from its base. She was awake now, bright green eyes slowly beginning to take in the world around her. He took the handle over his elbow and followed you through the front door, smiling down at her.

"Welcome home, Matilda,"