Post by Ink on Nov 12, 2011 13:01:06 GMT -8
Title: Little Girl Gone
Rating: PG
Word Count: 291
Warnings: Use of the word "bloody"
Summary: Lily spends one last night as a little girl
Without the music of the club beating through her, the July air seemed almost chilly. However Lily Potter wasn’t out in it long before she pushed open the door to her house. Kicking off her too-high shoes, she walked into the living room.
Where her dad was sitting.
His bare feet were propped up on the coffee table, and the wireless was relaying the Falcons vs. Cannons match, which apparently hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t look up as she walked in; obviously he was hoping she would think he had stayed up until a quarter passed two in the morning to listen to a game between two teams he couldn’t care less about.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said as she curled up on the couch next to him, “How’re they doing?”
“Hello sweetheart,” he said with a smile, draping an arm around her shoulders, “the Cannons are losing by a hundred and seventy. The Falcon’s seeker got knocked out cold ‘bout and hour into the game, and of course the Cannons haven’t had a decent seeker in years. Which is why,” here he paused to let out a yawn, “the bloody game hasn’t ended yet.”
So he was sticking to his story then. If she wanted to she could ask where his sudden interest in the Cannons had come from, but she was seventeen, out of school and moving to Spain to work with the magical historian department there in a week. She could let him play the worried parent, but pretending not to be card one more time.
She could be a little girl curled up with her dad, listening to the game one more time. And if she really wanted to, she could pretend the cannons were going to win.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 291
Warnings: Use of the word "bloody"
Summary: Lily spends one last night as a little girl
Without the music of the club beating through her, the July air seemed almost chilly. However Lily Potter wasn’t out in it long before she pushed open the door to her house. Kicking off her too-high shoes, she walked into the living room.
Where her dad was sitting.
His bare feet were propped up on the coffee table, and the wireless was relaying the Falcons vs. Cannons match, which apparently hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t look up as she walked in; obviously he was hoping she would think he had stayed up until a quarter passed two in the morning to listen to a game between two teams he couldn’t care less about.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said as she curled up on the couch next to him, “How’re they doing?”
“Hello sweetheart,” he said with a smile, draping an arm around her shoulders, “the Cannons are losing by a hundred and seventy. The Falcon’s seeker got knocked out cold ‘bout and hour into the game, and of course the Cannons haven’t had a decent seeker in years. Which is why,” here he paused to let out a yawn, “the bloody game hasn’t ended yet.”
So he was sticking to his story then. If she wanted to she could ask where his sudden interest in the Cannons had come from, but she was seventeen, out of school and moving to Spain to work with the magical historian department there in a week. She could let him play the worried parent, but pretending not to be card one more time.
She could be a little girl curled up with her dad, listening to the game one more time. And if she really wanted to, she could pretend the cannons were going to win.
