You're My Flashing Light

Harry was in the kitchen, taking a piece of toast out of the toaster, quickly spreading a glob of strawberry jam over it. It was going on 3 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon which meant it was his turn to pick Ella up from dance rehearsal while his wife, Hanna, was upstairs in the nursery most likely changing the baby’s diaper or scavenging around for spare pacifiers they managed to lose on countless occasions.

“Brooke, do you want milk or juice?” He called out extra loudly in order for his daughter to hear him over reruns of Scooby Doo in the livingroom while he pulled a sippy cup from the cabinet.

Without missing a beat, Harry could hear the pitter patter of fast footsteps come rounding the corner and into the kitchen, her socks on the hardwood floor causing her to slip around until she reached her father. “Juice.” She finally answered out of breath.

Harry chuckled before opening the fridge, pulling open a jug of apple juice and another of cranberry, raising them with a questioning look in his eyes. In the back of his head, he knew which kind she’d prefer, used to the routine but still feeling like he should ask on the rare occasion she’d change her mind. With Brooke, he could never rely on the predictable.

“Uh...” She thought out slowly, struggling to climb onto a chair with a stuffed horse in her hand. “The red one!” She squealed, pointing to the jug of cranberry juice. Harry nodded, putting the apple juice back in the fridge before pouring the desirable liquid into a purple sippy cup.

“Thank you.” Brooke smiled, ripping the juice from Harry and immediately bringing it to her lips.

“You’re welcome, my love.” He trailed his large hand over her back while putting the plate of toast down in front of her with the other. He pulled the chair next to her out, looping around it and taking a seat.

He could already feel the fatigue set in his body from waking up four times in the middle of the night from a crying new born and a bad dream from Ella. Then, after he had gotten dressed and made sure his wife and kids were secure, he attended a meeting with his bandmates that took up the rest of his morning. That left Hanna to take Ella to practice-- a baby and toddler in tow-- which he never liked the thought of. Sometimes press and paparazzi could get a little out of hand, especially since his daughters had been born. Harry would never understand why they were more drawn to his personal life rather than his music and hard work.

Distracting him from his thoughts, he focused his attention on his bouncy daughter who was humming an unknown tune while chewing on a bite of toast with her mouth wide open, a few chunks of jelly sticking to her rosy cheeks.

“Did you decide if you want to come with me to pick up your sister yet?” Harry asked, attempting to wipe her mouth off with his thumb, but she consistently pulled away.

She swallowed loudly, flickering her dark eyes over at him and nodding her head so forcefully he thought it might fall off. “Yeah!” She shouted, licking her lips, then taking a few more swigs from her sippy cup. “Can Grace come?”

Although his heart softened knowing she wasn’t as jealous of her new baby sister like Ella had been when Brooke was born, he knew she had to stay for her nap, and quite frankly, he didn’t feel like setting up the stroller. “Sorry, baby girl, she has to stay home.”

Brooke frowned, shoving her Lion King plate further away from her. “Why?”

Harry sighed, leaning forward to push the plate of toast back at her, noticing she’d only taken a few bites, hence the reason he only made her something as simple as toast. She was too fussy when it came to eating. “It’s nap time, remember? She’s going to need as much sleep as she can get in order to keep up with you later.”

“But why?” She asked curiously, flashing her doe eyes up at her dad to study him before slowly inching the plate away again. Harry sighed, getting up to toss her left overs in the trash and the plate in the dishwasher.

“Just because. Why have you been asking so many questions lately?” He wondered, walking towards the door to slip on his shoes. “As much as I’d like to, daddy doesn’t have the answers to everything, baby girl.”

He admired that she was so curious, but for the past week it’s been ‘why’, ‘how’, and ‘what’ about every little thing. Yesterday he asked her to grab a blanket for Grace while he rocked her to sleep and all she had to say was “How come?”. Then the day before that, he had caught her sneaking off in the middle of the night to watch t.v. and when he explained to her the importance of sleep, she glared up at him and asked “Why?” like she wasn’t paying attention to a word he had said, then continued to take off up the stairs.

She shrugged her shoulders, looking away from him to scoot off the chair and brush hair out of her eyes with her little fingers. She tried to push the chair in after using it like she had seen her father do, but it was too heavy, only moving a few inches. So she hiked up her pants and ran as fast as she could towards Harry who was pulling out a pair of sandals for her to wear from the shoe closet because just like every father he was unaware socks and sandals did not go well together.

“Can mummy come?” She asked innocently, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder to keep steady as he slipped her feet through each sandal.

He shook his head, chuckling a little to himself. “Then who would watch the baby, silly?”

“Niall,” she said quietly.

Harry let out a full swing of laughter at that. She could be so random at times and he could never be sure as to where she came up with half the things she said. It had been a couple of months since she had even seen Niall, so he couldn’t help but wonder why he would magically show up to babysit.

“You want Niall to take care of Grace?” He asked appalled. “Should we let him set the house on fire and steal all of your dolls while he’s at it?”

Her mouth fell open, a worried expression creeping onto her round face as she stared up at Harry who was now standing and unlocking the door to the garage. “Not Olive!” She cried. “She’s my favorite.”

He patted the top of her head comfortingly, “Then no Niall. Mummy has to stay home in case sissy gets hungry.”

Brooke nodded her head, slipping her hand through her father’s as he led them to the car and opened the back door, lifting her up to place her in her carseat. She kicked her feet back and forth, continuing to admire the stuffed horse Gemma had gotten her for her third birthday, while Harry double checked her seatbelt to make sure it wouldn’t come undone while he drove.

Harry pulled his sunglasses over his eyes, getting into the driver’s seat and revving the engine right before flickering on the radio. An old Rolling Stones tune eased through the silence of the car as he backed out of the driveway, turning onto the road and praying Brooke wouldn’t notice the station. He only managed to make it to one stop sign before the young girl in overalls gave her dad a disgusted face through the rearview mirror.

Her nose scrunched up and her lips pouted and as much as Harry wanted to pretend he didn’t notice-- just so he could have one car ride listening to his style of music-- he couldn’t ignore the part of him that made his world light up.

“Disney princess songs, daddy!” She ordered, opening her hands like it was obvious. “Duh.”

He sighed, more than a little bored with the familiar Cinderella track that played as soon as he popped in the disk. She squealed with delight, loudly singing along and not giving an ounce of care in the world that she couldn’t pronounce most of the words. Harry hated the music, but he loved it when she’d sing and dance. He loved her energy that never seemed to fade, even when she refused to let him read her a bedtime story.

During Part Of Your World from The Little Mermaid, they were nearly a block from the studio. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to find a spot in the parking ramp, he pulled up next to a curb and cut the engine of his Range Rover before getting out to put some coins in the parking toll. Then, he skimmed the streets to check for any oncoming paps that were more than likely hanging around in the bushes. It made him more than uncomfortable that they liked to wait outside his daughter’s dance studio the whole three hours just so they could catch him when he came to pick her up. He would never understand what was amazing about that.

He cautiously moved to open the back door in order to unbuckle a wiggly Brooke. She lifted her arms to give him more space to see what he was doing, and with a hard push and a loud click, he was lifting by the her armpits to set her feet on the pavement.

Brooke clutched her horse closer to her chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, starting to step down from the curb and cross the street before Harry even shut the door.

“Nah, ah, ah.” Harry scolded, stepping in front of her before she could stray too far. “You have to hold daddy’s hand. You know that.”

She shrugged her shoulders, letting him take her hand and lead her down the street while she jumped over every little crack in the road, afraid that if she stepped on one she’d break her mummy’s back-- or so the saying goes.

While he stepped onto the sidewalk and waited for Brooke to muster up enough energy to shoot herself up onto it as well, a man with a long beard and fedora hat strolled up next to him, a camera wrapped around his neck. “Hey mate, beautiful day isn’t it?”

Harry forced a tight lipped smile, only peeking up for a short moment. “Sure is,” he said, trying to keep the unwelcomed conversation short.

Harry wasn’t one to be rude or lash out, he just didn’t have it in him. He was so gentle and tender and he hated the idea of being the guy to leave a room and immediately have people talk down on him. When he was alone and when he had been a bit younger, the constant attention was much easier and manageable, but now that he had children there was this new growth of protectiveness erupting inside of him that made being civil and kind a bigger challenge.

“She’s adorable, bro.” The pap eyed Brooke like she was a piece of candy while he staggered behind them. “What’s her name?”

Harry clenched his jaw and ignored him, pulling on Brooke’s hand, hoping she’d quit slowing them down by jumping over cracks and start walking properly. He noticed that she handled flashes and strangers very well in her three years, but maybe too well. Ella was a whole different story. She was naturally very shy and stayed more to herself, even when it came to her father sometimes, more intimidated by him than her little sister was.

“Brooke!” She answered, throwing her head over her shoulder and lifting her stuffed horse in the air with excitement.

Harry could feel himself growing hotter and the door to the studio was just in his reach. “Don’t talk to him.” He whispered loudly to her. He wasn’t mad at her, but he needed her to know he was being serious.

“Oi! A little harsh don’t ya think?” The pap questioned like he was offended. Harry rolled his eyes, thankful his sunglasses covered them before finally grasping the door handle as it approached.

He heard a few clicks and flashes behind him and tried his best to shield Brooke as she stumbled through the door.

“Styles!” The man yelled. “Turn around, Styles, come on!”

Harry shut the door in his face with a hard expression before he could stalk them into the building. He looked down at Brooke who was wearing a confused expression on her round face, jelly still stuck to her cheeks and her hair a tangled mess from jumping around.

“You alright?” Harry asked, playing with her fingers while he still held onto her hand.

She nodded, smiling up at him and stuffing her thumb back into her mouth. He knew she was, but he needed that reassurance. The little dimples in her cheeks that appeared when she smiled didn’t hurt either. He led them through a hall and into a room filled with chairs for parents to sit and watch their kids through a window revealing the dance studio. Barres, waxed floors, two story windows, high ceilings, but most importantly and most beautiful, his little prima ballerina.

A few of the moms gave him friendly waves and allowed him to sit down. Brooke crawled into the seat next to him, placing her horse in her lap and petting it like a dog. Harry’s green eyes searched through the glass, skimming the room for his first born-- a bun on top of her head, pink tights, and a frilly pink skirt she insisted she couldn’t go to practice without. Ella spotted her dad, immediately recognizing his curly hair and cross pendants from a distance.

An admirable smile crept onto her face, feeling like she had missed him for months instead of a few hours. She threw up her hand, almost smacking another little ballerina in the face, and waved overdramatically. A few of the moms next to Harry cooed at her efforts while he waved back at her, opening and closing his hand repeatedly as she had.

After Ella helped her dance instructor wheel the extra barres to the storage closet, she circled up with the others, slipping off her small pointer shoes and shoving them into her duffel, along with her polka dotted water bottle and a few barrettes that had fallen out of her hair. Rehearsal was called off and as soon as Madame Moisel counted down from five, every little girl in tights stampeded out the door to find her parents.

Ella went a little slower, taking her time to reach Brooke and Harry, getting her shoulders clipped and a few scrapes to the backs of her heels every so often. Harry stood as she walked through the door last, smiling at her frizzy updo and sweat glazed face, feeling proud that she always worked so hard because he knew she loved to dance. That’s why he wouldn’t let Hanna sign her up for cheap lessons, he had to give his children nothing but the best.

“Hi baby,” he cooed as she approached, lifting her pink duffel bag off of her shoulder. “How was it? Everything go okay?”

Ella nodded, sighing loudly and slouching to show how tired she was. Harry chuckled and helped Brooke get down from the chair. “That tiring, huh?”

Ella was reluctant to crack a smile. “She made us do demi plies forever, daddy!” She whined, wiping at her forehead. “Then I got so tired doing jumps.”

“Then I guess it’s bath time as soon as we get home.”

Ella’s eyes widened, her bottom lip jutting out. “I mean, I’m not tired though.” She tried to recover, not wanting to waste play time on taking a bath.

A few moms had smiled growing on their faces, laughing along with Harry at Ella while they grabbed their jackets and helped their kids take off their ballet shoes. Then, he grabbed onto Brooke’s hand to pull her along with Ella down the hall to the front doors. A lot of the dance moms were staying behind to share cookies and milk, but something told Harry it was best to leave as soon as possible.

The three of them stood next to the double doors, Ella staring wide eyed through the glass at the mob of men with flashing cameras. Immediately she scooted closer to Harry, tucking herself behind his knees. Harry frowned, feeling the pressures of his daughter’s anxiety boil in not only her, but him as well.

“Daddy,” Ella whimpered, a film of gloss over her brown eyes as she reached up at him, a string of bad memories flooding her brain.

The sound of her sad voice broke his heart, she had been so happy a few seconds ago. “Come here,” he soothed, picking her up and settling her on his hip. “Just keep your head down, okay? Don’t look at them.”

She nodded her head into his neck, taking a deep breath and letting his familiar scent of home wash through her and comfort her, but her body remained stiff as a board, completely terrified. Harry rubbed her back a few times before leaning over to grab Brooke’s hand. She obliged, furrowing her eyebrows at her sister with worrying eyes. As much as she got on her big sisters nerve, she didn’t like to see her sad.

“We’re gonna go outside now, okay?” He explained to Ella, pulling on Brooke’s hand to bring her closer to him. “Brooke you gotta stay close to daddy, no running off.”

“Okay,” she retorted, still worried about Ella. “Ella sad?” Her eyes welled with tears as well and Harry gave her a reassuring smile, not wanting them to take pictures of his two crying girls. He kissed the side of Ella cheek and she nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck.

“Yeah, baby. Ella doesn’t like those guys outside, the flashes can get a little scary.” He explained to his middle daughter, watching her nod and feeling her fingernails clutch deep into his skin. “Do you want me to carry you too?”

She shook her head. “I’m a big girl,” she said, pushing her fear to the back of her head to focus on her growing ego. She insisted she was a grown up now that she had gone a whole week without wetting the bed. She always felt bad and useless watching her parents peel off her sheets, so now that she could relieve them of that, she thought she could handle anything, including nosey and aggressive paparazzi.

“I know, you are a big girl.” He beamed a smile, nodding his head. “If you get scared though, let daddy know. I’ll pick you right up.”

The second he pushed the doors open with his shoulders, an overwhelming amount of flashes and loud, discouraging voices erupted in front of him. Brooke walked with her head down next to her father, staggering over her own feet to keep up with him while Ella plugged her ears tightly, letting a silent tear roll down her face and onto Harry’s t-shirt.

“Harry, what are your plans for the next album?”

“I just love you with your daughters Harry, it’s adorable. Where’s the baby?”

“Does she do anything other than ballet?”

“Harry, are you and Hanna gonna be the new Brangelina? Maybe you could adopt from Ethiopia. What’dya say?”

“Can you back up, please?” Harry asked over the buzzing of questions.

The bustle of paparazzi followed his order for a few seconds before inching closer and closer to them again. Comments and hot breath being strewn in his face. He screwed his brows together, growing more and more frustrated, “You guys really need to step away.”

The same man with the beard and camera that was pestering him earlier stepped a bit too close to Brooke and squatted down next to her, causing her to jump in surprise and fall into the side of Harry’s leg. “Hello, Brooke. That’s quite the horse you got there.” He smiled crookedly with teeth to match.

Harry jerked her arm, yanking her to the other side of him to keep her away from the pap. He didn’t mean to hurt her, especially when she let out a squeaky yelp, but it was better to rip her away from him before the stranger did. He would apologize and give her a long cuddle later to make up for it.

The bearded camera man stood up suddenly and Harry stepped up next to him, chest to chest, towering over him by a few inches. “Listen, I know you’re just trying to do your job, but if you get that close to her again you won’t have your bloody job anymore.”

The pap raised his hands in defense, cameras still clicking around them. “I was just--”

Harry cut in, raising his voice. “No, stop! You can talk to me and ask me whatever questions you’d like, take my picture, I don’t care.” Harry glared at the man in front of him, speaking directly to him but meaning it for every paparazzi. “But don’t you dare talk to my kids. Is that clear?”

The man nodded, “Yeah, bro. Sorry.”

Harry scowled, pushing past him and turning off the sidewalk as his range rover came into view, still holding a sobbing Ella in his arms and a hand belonging to an awestruck Brooke. He opened the back door, prying Ella from his torso and set her in her booster seat. She rubbed at her eyes and once again, Harry heart tore in two.

“I’m so sorry.” He kissed her forehead three times fast. “You’re okay. I’d never let them hurt you.”

She sniffled, “You got so mad.”

He strapped the seatbelt over her, peeking up at her tear stained face that looked just like his wife’s. “Daddy had to, sweet girl. But I wasn’t mad at you, not at all.”

She nodded, laying her head back on the backrest. “Okay,” she whispered.

Harry was reluctant to shut the door, but when he did he scooped up Brooke, who was sucking on her thumb, and brought her around to the other side to set her in her carseat as well. Ella was still whimpering quietly, his face softening when he realized how hard she was trying to keep herself together. Brooke situated herself, holding up the horse so Harry could click her belt into place. He kissed her cheek, shutting the door and walking back around to get into the driver’s seat. He pulled them away from the curb, slowing down as paparazzi lined the car, not wanting to run anybody over.

“I really hate them,” Ella choked out, looking out the window, flashes in her face.

Harry swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. “I know you do, baby.”

The soft melody of a Snow White song symphonized through the space of the car, and for the first time Harry was thankful to hear it. When he looked at his girls through the rearview mirror, what he saw shattered his heart into hundreds of tiny pieces and took his breath away in the most glorious way possible, knowing that for every bad moment in time, came a good one as Brooke handed her stuffed horse to Ella, who immediately wrapped it up in her arms and nuzzled into it.

Brooke leaned forward as best as she could in her carseat, grasping Ella’s hand. “Love you big sissy.”