A/N: I had this drabble in my head, and it just wouldn't go away. This could apply to a lot of Father/Daughters but I had Ron and Rose in my minds-eye while typing it. And Scorpius as the "new protector". It's kinda jumbled all over the place, but it wouldn't be the same if I went back and edited it to the extreme. Hope you enjoy it.
She had always loved to fly. She told him she loved it as much as she enjoyed learning something new. It was a rush, a thrill, and he knew it was her escape. She went when she was hurt, overwhelmed, disappointed, angry… Whatever she was feeling, she left it behind with gravity. He knew how she felt. It was one of the few things they had in common, along with their blue eyes, and sense of humor.
They were very different. But they were still family. He was her protector, and she his little girl. It had always been like that.
And when it all became too much, they had flying. They would take off for hours and hours on end and just forget everything but the scenery rushing past their feet in numerous kaleidoscopes of colors. The feel of slapping wind against their faces and the drops and twists in their stomachs as they looped and zigzagged, as the pressure increased as their speed did. They left it all. It was theirs, something they did. Their thing. They're escape. Always theirs.
Even when she left for school, winter and summer was their time. Their catch up, their thing in common. All action. Neither of them really did have a thing for words.
It was less of their thing as the years passed, as she came home every year, more beautiful than the last time he saw her. More mature. More of an adult. More of a woman, and less of his little girl. More of her own woman.
She needed her escape less and less as she got away to somewhere else. To him. Her new escape. And they didn't share that one thing anymore.
She was independent in her own, but more dependent on him. His little girl. She didn't need him anymore.
They had matching brooms to fly on. As the years wore further to her graduating, and created a distance between herself and her broom, it grew old and ragged. Unused. Unneeded. Hers stayed in the broom shed. By the time she left school, left behind her childhood home, it stayed there, gathering more dust as its partner left it behind.
No more flying. Nothing else of theirs. She moved on from her childhood toys. She bought a new broom. She flew with him, the new one she depended on. The one she moved in with, the one she built a new life with. She was his girl now. He was her protector.
She left behind her old life. Her old house, her old bedroom with worn stuffed animals. Her place at the table, stained and grooved. Her favorite chair in the library where she would spend as much time as on her broom. Her old protector. Her Dad.
Her old broom, gathering dust in the broom shed, from years of misuse. She grew up, and moved on to new things. She wasn't a little girl anymore.
And he still couldn't get used to the feeling of flying alone.
So.
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Later dudes,
Soho.