I don't own Hellsing, but my birthday is this month...
"Walter, what are stars made of?" 6-year-old Integra asked curiously. The young-ish man smiled and ruffled the blonde's hair.
"Why, the dreams of good little children, of course. Haven't you ever noticed that your dreams are bright? That's because you dream about the stars." The man smiled in that way that grown-ups do when they think you're just absolutely adorable. Integra huffed, unsure if the man was serious or just teasing her.
"I don't think you're telling the truth, Walter," she said dubiously, arching an eyebrow. She crawled up into the window-seat and made herself at home, craning her neck sideways with her face pushed against the glass. Her soft breaths made the cold panes fog, the winter air already frosting the other side. Grumbling, Integra pulled the sleeve of her nightgown up and rubbed the window, making a small opening to continue her stargazing. "Papa said that when you see a falling star, somebody went to Heaven. It's in my storybook." Walter hummed, looking up from the bed sheets he was currently preparing.
"I know that story well: The Little Match-Seller." He smiled gently at the child, who looked like a little angel perched on the seat with her blonde hair and long nightgown flowing around her. He finished pulling back the coverlet and walked to her side, looking out the window. "Hmm…It may snow tonight, Integra. Tomorrow, we'll make a snowman if it does." The girl seemed as though she was thinking hard. She turned, tugging slightly on the man's apron.
"Walter, did you see a shooting star when my Mama died?" she asked innocently. The man blinked, caught off guard. He looked down to see the girl's big blue eyes staring at him, waiting patiently for his answer. He sighed, bending down on one knee and placing a hand on Integra's shoulder.
"I'm sure that somewhere, someone looked into the sky and saw your Mama ascending to Heaven on a star. You believe me on that, Integra." The girl beamed, throwing her arms around the man's neck in a display of childish affection. Walter smiled, returning the embrace before picking her up and swinging her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Carrying the giggling child, he deposited her with a thump on the soft mattress, tucking her in like he'd done a thousand times before. "Now it's time for bed, young lady. Your father willflog me if I let you stay up too late." Integra snuggled into the warm comforter, her eyes already getting heavy.
"Good night," she said quietly.
"Sleep tight," Walter repeated their ritual as he moved toward the door. Looking back, he saw the child give a sleepy thumbs-up.
"I'll dream of stars tonight!" she promised.
Afterword- let the "daww"ing begin. On another note, I rather like writing Walter and tiny Teggie. Perhaps I'll do a short story about them?