slipping through my fingers (h.s)

i want to write you a song

"Come on lovey, please go to sleep," Harry sighed, rocking his 11-month-old daughter in his arms, his green eyes now underlined with black bags. "Daddy's getting so tired, he needs his sleep too,"

He glanced over at the owl shaped clock on her bedside table- it was now three o'clock in the morning. He had tried and tested everything he had remembered you telling him before you left for the night to go out with Anne and Gemma for one of the first times since you had had Tilly- feeding her, sitting with her in the rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom, changing her into a different set of clothes, giving her a bath- and nothing had worked. Out of desperation, he reached into the drawer of dummies that you were hopelessly trying to wean her off of despite her teething and grabbed one. Her red rimmed emerald eyes lit up as she saw it in his hand, tiny fingers reaching out to grab it from him.

"Don't tell mummy," He whispered, smiling. "Because she says you shouldn't have it, because you're nearly one. When did you get so big, eh?"

Her dainty little eyelashes were glistening with tears, her eyes still glossy as she stared up at him, now sucking on the pink pacifier between her lips. She cooed softly as she stared at him.

"That's better baby, isn't it," He smiled. "Daddy loves you so, so much. He wishes you could stay this little forever,"

She gripped onto the grey material of his t-shirt with her fists, still staring aimlessly at him, eyes wide, listening carefully. She suddenly spat the dummy out and began to wail again.

"Oh no, no, no, no, baby," He moaned softly. "Please,"

He was out of ideas. There was only one option left, and he felt his stomach beginning to warm slightly at the idea of it. As he began to sing, he felt her tiny frame relax into his chest.

"You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know," He crooned slowly, watching her eyes begin to close. "You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days,"

It had come so naturally to him, that he hadn't even really thought about the words coming out of his mouth until she had finally fallen asleep. As he placed her softly back down into her cot, the realisation hit him. He quickly dashed downstairs to pour himself a glass of water, frantically rushing through the kitchen drawers to find a pen and paper.

As soon as the ink hit the page, the words just wouldn't stop coming. Harry had never thought he was good at English at school- he had always struggled come up with his own poems when he had been put on the spot. Over the years, he had realised that he had always written the best songs out of the most unexpected situations. He looked back down, his messy handwriting littering the page, and smiled to himself. This was the one, and pencilled in his diary for the next day just so happened to be a meeting with Jeff. He traipsed back upstairs, peeping in at the crack in Tilly's bedroom door to make sure she was still asleep.

"Goodnight, Tilly Gem," he smiled down at her. "I know you're little now, and you won't know what it means, but I think Daddy might have just found the best first birthday present for you,"

---

Two years later- Wembley Stadium, June 2022

As he opened his mouth to announce the next song, he felt that same warmth at the bottom of his tummy that he had felt when he had sung it for the first time to Tilly two years ago on that warm, May night.

"This next song is very special to me, because it's a song I wrote for my little girl, and tomorrow is her third birthday," he smiled. "So happy birthday, to my little Matilda. You make me a better person every-day,"

He met her gaze, as Anne held her up in the executive box. She was still tiny enough, that he could barely make her out, but he could recognise those curly brunette locks from any distance. He waved up at her, hoping she could see him too.

He had to hold himself together as he felt his voice beginning to crack. "I'm so proud of you, and I'm the luckiest man in the world that I get to watch you grow up,"

When he began to sing Matilda that night, he let the tears flow freely, with no shame whatsoever. There were more songs he had written for her, and he was now a dad of two girls, but that had always been their song, and it always would be, for the rest of time.

"You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up,"