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Harry sits alone at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring the contents in the teacup placed in front of him. He feels as if he’s in a sort of daze, all his movements mechanic and automatic. He faintly hears one of his daughters call out to his husband somewhere in the background, vaguely registers when one of the twins-Miles, maybe, or was it Ethan?-walk into the kitchen and pat his back comfortingly, but Harry is too lost in his own thoughts to pay attention to the flurry of activities going on around him.
He can’t believe how fast this day has arrived. It seems like only yesterday he was teaching his little girl how to take her first steps and now, after twenty-two years that seemed to have passed in a matter of minutes, his little girl is getting married and instead of helping her walk down the cobblestone path in their backyard, he’s supposed to be walking her down the aisle. It’s surreal.
Harry feels a figure approaching him from behind and he lets out a soft, sigh as he is engulfed in a pair of strong, warm arms. He instantly leans into their touch, feeling himself relax.
“Hey, Curly,” Louis breathes, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“I’ve just been sitting here, thinking,” Harry says with a small shrug.
“Oh, yeah?” Louis asks as he walks around the chair, setting himself down in Harry’s lap, hands automatically wrapping around his neck and playing with his greying curls, which are styled back for the occasion. “What about, sweetheart?”
Harry just sighs, leaning his forehead against Louis’ and breathing in his intoxicating yet soothing scent. “Just. Why are we letting her get married again, Lou?”
Louis shakes his head, letting out an amused laugh. “Babe, we’re not letting her do anything. This is her decision. Rosie is a grown woman, whether we like it or not, and she fell in love with a wonderful man.”
“How do you know that, Lou?” Harry asks, shaking his head. “Maybe he isn’t as wonderful as you think.”
“Harry, we’ve known Jayden practically his whole life,” Louis says, rolling his eyes fondly at his husband. “One of the many perks of having your daughter date one of your best mates’ son.”
Harry huffs at that as he frowns at his now cold cup of tea, still not convinced and willing to give in just yet. So, he tries a different tactic.
“Maybe she doesn’t know what she wants just yet, Lou. Maybe he isn’t the one for her.”
“Haz, have you seen the way they look at each other? It’s the same way I look at you. Same way you look at me. They’re made for each other, trust me.”
Okay, maybe that bit is true, but this is his little girl he’s talking about here, so he tries again.
“But they’re so young!”
“Same age you were when we got married,” Louis reminds him, tapping his nose affectionately. “You’re being ridiculous, kitten.”
“How can you be so okay with our daughter getting married, Lou?” he says, letting out a weary sigh because his daughter is getting married and everything is not okay.
Louis gives him another smile and this time, Harry can detect a hint of sadness behind it.
“I’m not, Haz,” he says in a small voice, pressing his face against the crook of Harry’s neck. “I’m really not. I’m three fucking seconds away from having a breakdown, but I keep reminding myself that I can’t do that. Not today. Today is Rosie’s day.”
Harry sighs, hugging Louis close to his chest as their youngest daughter, Darcy, pops her head in, looking frantic and oh-so-beautiful in her bridesmaid’s dress.
“Dad, I can’t find my shoes!”
Louis lets out a breathy chuckle, pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck.
“I’m coming, baby,” he says to their daughter before turning to Harry and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. “We’ll be okay, kitten.”
And then Louis is gone, leaving Harry alone again with his memories to keep him company.
He remembers the day she came into the world, one late summer afternoon, as a whirlwind of screaming and sobbing and racing hearts and tight hand holding because after all the time they had spent trying and waiting and after so many failed attempts, she was finally here and they were finally starting a family like they had always wanted and it was all just so perfect.
She was just a tiny, little thing, with the tiniest patch of blond fuzz atop of her purple head and large, bleary eyes that Harry swore were the same blue colour as Louis’, and blue hands pulled into tiny fists as she stared up at both her fathers and Harry can’t think of a time when he’s ever been happier.
(Except, perhaps, when he met Louis, but the birth of their first daughter is a close second).
Harry looked up to see Louis, eyes shining with unshed tears as he stared down at the tiny, little person cradled against his chest and he couldn’t help but break out into a large, watery grin.
“She’s perfect, Lou,” he said, his voice breaking with all the emotions he’s feeling right now and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fully express how much he loves his husband and their little girl.
He made a mental note to thank their surrogate for what must feel like the thousandth time already, but Harry knew it would never be enough.
Louis leaned against his shoulder, giving him a large smile that made the crinkles by his eyes that Harry has always loved seem more pronounced, as the nurse approached them.
“Have you thought of a name for her, yet, Mr Tomlinson?”
They shared a look as Harry nodded, before announcing proudly, “Rose Victoria Tomlinson.”
“It’s perfect,” the nurse said, giving both fathers a smile and Harry couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement as he looked down at his daughter, a thousand different scenarios running through his head and he fought back a sob.
“It is. A perfect name for the perfect little girl.”
“Welcome to the world, Rosie.”
From the moment Rosie first learned to take her first steps, she kept her fathers on their toes. She was a lively and cheerful little thing and Harry swore she took after Louis, but Louis swore she was all Harry so it was no surprise, really, that she had-still has, if he’s being honest-both of them wrapped around her little finger.
They entered a previously unknown world full of lacy pink dresses and frilly bows and sparkly boots and ballet shoes and both Harry and Louis were captivated more and more each day by the way their daughter looks at the world, so big and full of endless possibilities.
Harry had always been told of the joys of parenthood, but he’d never thought raising a child would be this much of an adventure.
When Rosie turned five, Zayn and Liam gave her a book of fairy tales and, immediately, she was captivated. She had set to work trying to grow a beanstalk in their backyard, pretending to save the cat from untold dangers and drawing picture after picture of fairy godmothers and dragons and valiant steeds. What seemed to interest her most, however and quite unsurprisingly if Harry is being honest, were the princesses.
Harry fondly remembers that year as being a flurry of pink tutus and fairy wings because ‘princesses have wings, too, right Papa?’ and fake princess wands and long, white evening gloves and long playtime sessions in which Bubby, the ragged old teddy bear Gemma had given Rosie when she was born, was the prince who needed saving from the cat-turned-dragon.
(“Rosie, I think it’s actually the princess who needs saving,” Louis had told her once, but she had simply ignored him with pat on his shoulder and a look that said ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about’ and that was that.)
There’s a time in particular that Harry knows he’ll never forget as long as he lives.
It had been a long day at the studio when he had come home and was greeted by his daughter standing beside his husband, wearing her tutu, matching feathery pink boa and long string of faux pearls, along with a pair of high heels Lottie had bought her not long ago and atop of her flowing chestnut curls sat a brand-new jewelled crown.
Even though Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and not wake up for the next forty years, he couldn’t help but give his little girl a tired smile.
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite little princess! Where did you get your crown, baby?”
Rosie giggled as she shook her head, making her curls fly around in every direction.
“It’s not a crown, Papa! It’s called a tiara, right, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at Louis, who smiled down at her, smoothing her hair.
“That’s right, Princess,” he said, sharing a quick smile with Harry as Rosie turned back to look at him, grinning proudly.
“Do you like it?” she asked, twirling around in a circle.
“Of course, baby, I love it,” Harry said, giving his daughter a large grin. “Who gave it to you?”
Rosie smiled, playing with one of her curls. “We saw Auntie Lou and Luxy today and she gaved it to me. She says it makes me look like a real live princess.”
“Well, she’s right, baby,” Harry chuckled. “You look like a proper princess.”
Rosie grinned, grabbing her father’s hand. “Guess what else I did, Papa!”
“What?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and exchanging a look with Louis, who only smirked and gave him a little shrug.
“You have to come and see,” she said, pulling him in the direction of the living room.
Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softy as they entered the living room, to see a large blanket thrown over four chairs that had obviously been Rosie’s attempt at a castle, even though she had a perfectly assembled castle Harry and Louis had had built for her in their backyard not too long ago.
“I made a castle,” she announced quite proudly and Harry grinned, putting on his best awed expression.
“Wow. That’s a pretty impressing castle, Princess.”
“Only now I have a problem, Papa,” Rosie said, looking suddenly quite serious and Harry couldn’t help but frown.
“With what, baby?” he asked, kneeling down so that he was at eyelevel with Rosie.
“There’s a ball today and I’ve been invited only I don’t have anyone to dance with.”
“But what about Daddy? Why didn’t you dance with him?” Harry asked with a frown, looking over to Louis, who simply shrugged again, giving Rosie a smile.
“Oh, we did dance, but apparently it is midnight now and I turned into a pumpkin,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Harry laughed, looking back over to their daughter. “Well, if that’s the case, no problem then. I’ll dance with you.”
He stood up, walking over and pressing the shuffle button on his iPod, smiling as soon as the familiar tune to Isn’t She Lovely-his and Rosie’s song, the one he used to sing to her when she was just a dainty little thing to get her to sleep during those long, long nights when Louis was away at yet another footie match, still sings sometimes when she has a nightmare or is feeling sad-filled the room. He turned to Rosie, bowing solemnly while she giggled at him, swinging her hips.
“May I have this dance, Princess?” he asked, holding out his hand and Rosie nodded, taking his hand.
“Yes.”
He helped her onto his feet, holding onto her tiny hands and grinning widely as they danced around the room, Rosie’s lively giggles filling the air as Louis looked on fondly at them and Harry can’t help the warm feeling spreading throughout his body, full of love and adoration for his husband, their little twins fast asleep in the other room and the little Princess in his arms that had managed to captivate his heart.
/
After that, the years seemed to pass by in a flash and there was nothing Harry could do but watch helplessly as his little girl grew up right before his eyes. She was the perfect combination of Harry and Louis, with her big, cerulean eyes and long, chestnut curls and sharp cheekbones and dimpled grins and her Papa’s charm and her Daddy’s sarcastic nature.
Rosie seemed torn between wanting to grow up and wanting to keep being her daddies’ little girl for a bit longer, but soon enough, she was trading in her pigtails and pink tutus and princess tiara’s for footie kits and grass-stained jeans, because of course she has to take after her father, opting for skirts that always seemed too short and jeans that were just a tad too tight for Harry’s liking during the weekends. She no longer begged to be picked up by her fathers’, no longer followed Harry around the house, chatting on and on about her day like his own little shadow. They saw less and less the older she grew, fleeting from football practices, to friend’s house, to parties every other weekend when she was old enough.
Still, Harry held on to that image of the little girl with the pink tutu and large heels and princess tiara because deep down, she’ll always be his little girl.
She’s sixteen by the time Harry finally admitted to himself that his little girl has really grown up.
They were at Lux’s and Anthony’s-the nice boy she had met at uni and brought home one day for the whole family to meet-wedding when it had happened.
While everybody else’s attention was held by a beaming Lux who looked captivatingly beautiful in her wedding gown as she danced around with her now-husband, Harry couldn’t help but frown as stared at his own daughter in a royal blue dress that made the blue of her eyes stand out, as she danced a little too close to Jayden, Liam and Zayn’s eighteen year old son, for his liking.
He had thought nothing of it at first, smiling pleasantly when Jayden had pulled her onto the dance floor, because that was such a brotherly thing to do and Rosie and Jayden had always been close, so really Harry had nothing to worry about. Of course, his smile had faded into a frown the closer they got and then Rosie’s eyes were closed in bliss and Jayden looked like-well, he looked like Harry when he has Louis in his arms, if he’s being honest, and that just wasn’t acceptable.
The only relief he felt was the awkward yet familiar way in which they moved, because he knew it meant nothing had happened between them-yet.
And that’s what worried him because while nothing had happened yet between them, he knew it was bound to happen because all the signs were there. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way his daughter had been looking at the older boy lately, with a longing no father ever wants to see in their daughter’s eyes, but he had hopped his assumptions had been wrong because, no, his daughter couldn’t fall in love. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for it.
He turned away with a sigh, going to search for Louis, whom he had last seen talking to Zayn, when he bumped into Niall at the bar, who seemed to be glaring at something in the distance.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked his brother-in-law and he downed his drink as Niall nodded to where his own daughter, Olivia, was chatting cosily with Michael, Lou and Tom’s fifteen year-old son, standing awfully close to him and-ah.
Harry nodded in understanding, placing a hand on Niall’s shoulder.
“How much shit do you think Gemma will gimme if I go separate them right now?” Niall asked with a sigh, turning to look at Harry.
“Not as much shit as Louis and Rosie would give me if I separate them,” Harry replied, jerking his head back to where his daughter was still dancing with Jayden.
Niall looked at him, patting his back in sympathy as he handed him another drink. “Drink up, mate. It’s gonna be a long night.”
Harry shot back his drink, before ordering another two more for himself and Niall. “We’re so fucked, mate.”
Eighteen and Harry couldn’t help but look on helplessly as his eldest daughter twirled around in her dress, allowing her sister and Gemma and Olivia and Sara and Alice and Emma and even Louis-the traitor-fuss over her as they helped her get ready for prom.
She was going with Jayden-obviously, no surprise there, especially since they’d been dating for almost a year now-who had come down from uni for the weekend. Harry had tried to plaster on a smile when an excited Rosie had told them, because it was all happening so fast. First prom, then graduation and she’d be leaving them in a few months to go to uni and eventually she’d come one day and announce she was engaged and she’d be forming a family of her own. And it was inevitable, Harry knew, and he was happy for her but, still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious at the thought of losing his little girl.
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Louis nudging their daughter in his direction, nor did he notice Rosie approaching him, until she was standing right in front of him, giving him a small smile.
“How do I look, Papa?” she asked with a twirl.
“Wow, Rosie,” he breathed, giving his daughter a large grin. “You look beautiful.”
And he meant it. His daughter really did look stunning in her aqua-green ball gown that was accented with shimmering silver jewels and whose bodice criss-crossed, before flowing into a skirt that billowed over several layers of tulle, her long curls flowing freely down her back.
He remembered fondly when Rosie had picked out the dress, shaking her head at the other, ‘more sensible’ choices Darcy was holding, claiming that she wanted to look like a princess, beaming widely when Harry had simply said “You always look like a princess to me, baby.”
Rosie grinned, holding out her hands for him to take and Harry was suddenly hit with the memory of a five-year old Rosie asking him to dance.
“You know, Papa, I think I might have a problem.”
“Oh, yeah? And what might that be?” he asked with a grin because he knew exactly where this was going.
“There’s a ball tonight, see, and I don’t know how to dance.”
“Well, it’s really not that hard,” he said, taking her hand as he stood up. “I can show you if you like.”
“Okay.” She grinned, reaching up on her toes to place a kiss to his cheek, because, of course she had inherited Louis’ height and even in her heels she was still shorter than him. “Thank you, Papa.”
Harry smiled as he grabbed a hold of her hand, placing her hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Louis, who gave him a fond smile and a quick wink as he waltzed around the room with his daughter and, for a moment, he was able to fool himself into thinking she was still the small little girl in the pink tutus and too-large heels and princess tiara’s who had asked him to the ball all those years ago.
Twenty-one and she’s sitting in front of them, staring at both her fathers’ in excitement and worry and Harry felt himself squirm with uneasiness at the intensity of her gaze. It was made even worse by Jayden, who’s sitting next to her, looking apologetic yet as elated as his daughter, with Zayn and Liam, who looked as confused as Harry felt sitting beside him.
“Alright,” she finally said, biting her lip and sharing a quick look with Jayden. “So, I guess you’re asking yourselves why we asked you here. Well, Jayden asked me to marry him…” She paused and Harry swears his heart stopped, before grinning widely. “And I said yes!”
Rosie held up her left hand, a large, diamond ring glittering from her ring finger. Squeals erupted from both Zayn and Louis who shot up to engulf them both in tight hugs, while Liam sat there looking shocked and Harry tried as hard as he could not to choke on his own breath because ohmygod, his daughter was engaged and the room was suddenly becoming uncomfortably hot and the walls seem to be closing in on him and oh, god, oh, god he can’t breathe he needs to get out of here, somebody help-
“Papa?” Harry was dragged away from his inner breakdown by his daughter’s soft voice. “Are you okay?”
Harry shook his head, clearing himself out of the daze he was in, before plastering a too-wide grin on his face.
“Of course I am,” he said enthusiastically, and he knew he was overdoing it by the sceptical look Louis sent his way. “This is wonderful news. Great! You’re getting married! I’m happy for both of you, really. So, so happy.”
He knew he was probably coming if as maniacal as he engulfed the young couple in a hug but he couldn't bring himself to care because his daughter was getting married and he wasn't okay.
He pointedly ignored Louis' questioning looks as Rosie and Jayden launched into detail about the wedding and he only half listened as they talked about things like wedding themes and dates and flowers, too busy trying to stop himself from pushing Jayden out the door and locking Rosie in her room until he’s ready for her to get married-which would probably be never, if he’s being honest.
He waited until they were discussing locations, before slipping away, completely unnoticed as he slowly made his way upstairs, before making his way into Rosie’s room and sitting down in the bed, with a long, weary sigh. He looked around her room, evidence of how much Rosie had grown up over the years. Long gone were the pink walls and princess doll, replaced by white walls covered in posters of her favourite bands and collages of pictures that showed Rosie at different stages of her life.
He smiled as he spotted the tiara sitting on her nightstand she had worn all those years ago, just the tiniest bit surprised that she had kept it after all this time. He picked it, turning it slowly in his hands and wishing for a way to turn back time because it just wasn’t fair, his little girl was already grown up and when had it happened?
He let out another sigh as he heard the sound of someone walking up the stairs. He was half-expecting it to be Louis, probably having noticed his absence, and was actually surprised when he looked up to see Rosie standing in the doorway, giving him a small smile.
He said nothing as she took a seat beside him, placing her hands in front of her as she looked to her father, as if waiting for him to say something. Finally, Harry did, breaking the silence with a weary sigh.
“You know, I always knew this day would come. When you’d come home and announce you’re in love and you’re getting married and I am happy for you, Rosie, I really am. It’s just. I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”
Rosie let out a sigh of her own, taking his large hands into her smaller ones as she gave him another, soft smile.
“I know, Papa. I know it’s a lot to take in right now and I understand. I mean, it’s not every day that your little girl tells you she’s getting married.”
Harry let out a chuckle, squeezing her hands. “It’s not.”
“I know that you’re scared, Papa. I am too.” She looked up at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears, looking vulnerable and young and Harry was able to catch a glimpse of his little girl, hidden beneath this new, more matured version of Rosie. “I’m excited, yeah, and I really, really love Jayden, but I’m scared.
“I mean I know I’ll still be able to see you and I know I don’t really live here anymore, but it’s still scary, knowing I’m leaving because this is, like, for real now. I mean, who’s going to prepare your tea just the way you like it and who’s going to remind Dad to pick up Darcy from dancing classes and I just…”
She trailed off with a little shrug, wiping away the few stray tears that had managed to escape and Harry couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, ignoring the lump in his throat, as he placed the tiara gently beside Rosie, before reaching over to gather his daughter in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.
“I know we’re old, Rosie, but we’re not senile so you don’t have to worry about putting us into a home just yet.” She let out a small laugh at that and Harry sighed, kissing her hair.
“And I know what you mean, baby. It’s scary, the thought of forming a life with someone, of leaving your parents to raise a home of your own and having children. I know. But, it’s something you have to do, and we get that, baby. And we’ll always be here, for whatever you need, Rosie. Never forget that.”
Rosie nodded, nuzzling closer against Harry’s chest and they stayed silent for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. He knew they’d have to go back soon, knew Louis would come looking for them any minute, but he didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
He looked down toward the tiara and he's suddenly reminded of that time, all those years ago when he had come home to find his daughter in a princess tiara, asking him to dance with her.
Rosie seemed to have the same idea, because she pulled away from him suddenly, reaching out take the tiara and twirling it in her hand. She looked up at him, giving him a smile, before standing up.
“You’ll help me practice for the reception, right, Papa?”
Harry swallowed down the lump forming in his throat when Rosie placed the tiara gently atop of her carefully-styled hair, before reaching out her hand to him.
“Of course, baby.”
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Harry looks up from where he was seeing his newlywed daughter dance with her husband, looking breathtakingly beautiful, to see his own husband standing beside him, large blue eyes twinkling happily as he gives him a grin.
“No, I guess not,” he says with a smile of his own as he watches Rosie throw back her head and laugh and Harry can’t think of a time he’s seen her happier.
(Except, perhaps, a few hours earlier when both her fathers had walked her down the aisle, standing proudly on either side of her and Harry was afraid her face was going to split in two with how wide she was smiling, even though her tears. Not that he had been any better.)
Harry snakes his arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer as they watch their daughter in comfortable silence. He is about to suggest they go dance, too, when Louis turns to him, giving him a smile.
“You know, we’ve still got Darcy.”
“Yeah?” Harry asks, smiling down at his husband as he places a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Yeah,” Louis breathes, nuzzling in to his touch. “And I reckon we’ve still got plenty of time before she decides to get married. Especially since I’m not planning on letting her date until she’s forty. Maybe.”
They both turn to find their youngest daughter dancing quite cosily with Marcus, a friend from school he remembers her saying, and no that just won’t do.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Harry asks with a mischievous smile, which Louis returns with a wicked glint in his eye.
“I’m way ahead of you, Curly.”
And then he’s off, Harry hot on his heels as he shimmies his way in between Darcy and her date with a loud ‘Excuse me, old man coming through’, followed by Darcy’s loud and indignant ‘Dad!’ and Harry’s laughing, not caring one bit at the commotion he’s causing as he grabs his youngest daughter by the hand and pulls her toward him before twirling her around, causing her blond hair to fly around her.
He looks up just in time to see Rosie looking at them with a fond, amused expression and he grins.
“Love you, Princess,” he mouths, sending her a wink and she grins, shaking her head.
“Love you, too, Papa.”