Content notice: Coddling sexism and being a terrible father.
Phineas was deep in a biography of Salazar Slytherin, resting against the pillows he'd piled in front of the headboard, when the bedroom door opened to reveal Ursula. She was already clad in her nightgown and had braided her damp hair into a long plait that rested between her shoulder blades. Phineas sat his book aside, lips quirking upward in a smile as she approached. The lamp he'd been reading by illuminated her features in the most flattering of ways. A book he'd already read several times couldn't compete with her for attention, no matter what the subject matter.
"The children are asleep," Ursula said with a sigh, sliding into the blankets and bunching them around her waist. "I was starting to think little Phineas would never quiet down. It took three stories before he closed his eyes tonight."
Phineas leaned over to place a soft kiss to his wife's forehead, but that wasn't enough affection to satisfy her. She snuggled close, resting her head on his chest, and though he cringed as her wet hair made his nightshirt grow damp, he didn't protest. Her daily baths were a source of pride, and he would never ask her to stop them. He merely wished she would bother with a drying spell before coming to bed instead of feeling she needed to wear her wet hair like a medal.
"Phineas is still colicky then?" Phineas asked, playing with a ribbon that adorned the sleeve of her gown.
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
"It's not colic when he's three years old, dear."
She patted his chest twice before he swatted her hand away in protest. How was he to know the ins and outs of children? His namesake had started crying as an infant and never stopped, as if were determined to make things difficult for his family before he could even talk. Was it any wonder Phineas couldn't see a difference between the colic and what they continued to deal with each day?
"Here's merely acting as all toddlers do," Ursula continued. "There's no need to worry yourself with it. Little Phineas is perfectly fine. Or, at least, he will be once he matures."
Phineas was thankful she couldn't see his pursed lips while resting her head against his chest. When he'd raised the idea that she was too soft with the children, she had taken the criticism with offense instead of as a sign to change, and Phineas was far too tired to deal with the dramatics that broaching the topic again would bring. Instead, he kissed her head and ran his hand along her back, determined to distract the both of them.
"Of course, Ursula. You understand the children far better than I do."
A fact which she always loved to remind him of, but the time was nearing when Sirius would need to come under his father's wing and distance himself from his mother. Ursula was dreading the day. Phineas wasn't sure if he was looking forward to it himself. Sirius was a mild-mannered child, but shaping the younger Phineas into a respectable pureblood sounded like a larger task than Phineas had signed up for when he became a father.
Ursula raised her head to look at him, a large smile on her lips. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"You need rest," she said, reaching over him to extinguish the lamp. Phineas blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change. "There's no sense keeping yourself up all night. You know it makes you cranky, and you don't accomplish anything when you're cranky."
He grumbled, but she was right and would remind him so in the morning if he didn't listen to her and allow himself to drift off to sleep. He followed her lead in sliding further under the blankets, relishing the feeling of her pressed into his side. The dampness of her hair was forgotten as the warmth of their bodies mingled together beneath the blankets.
Prompts:
Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments
Seasonal - Winter in Japan: Christmas Cake - Write fluff.
Seasonal - Slytherin Prompts: Phineas Nigellus Black
Seasonal - Days of the Year: Spouse's Day - Write about a married couple.
Seasonal - Water Element: (word) damp
Word count: 665