“Mornin’, poppet. Did you sleep okay? You sound like you’ve had a good night’s sleep. Do you want some pancakes? M’makin’ your favourite ones,” Harry smiled, turning on his bare heels and looking at his eldest daughter, a chuckle leaving his mouth when he took in her slightly disheveled appearance; a pair of sleep shorts hanging down her legs, a pair of slippers – matching with her Auntie Gemma’s – on her feet with a hoodie of Harry’s that he recognised as being one from his teenage years; one you’d worn many times through the dating stages of your relationship. The sleeves hanging over her hands and the material almost swaddling her petite figure, giving her a cosy and cuddly look that made Harry want to engulf her into a soft snuggle and hope she’d stay there for the rest of his life. “Chocolate chip with some strawberries. How’s that sound f’you, poppet?”
To him, it sounded perfect.
From the moment his eldest had been able to eat solids, it was all she would eat for breakfast at one stage. When she was just 2, and finding her words and forming sentences, the word pancake was always leaving her lips and rolling off of her tongue. Her stomach eager to suffice the hunger building up as she watched television with you and Harry, cuddled between the two of you as Harry completed work on his laptop and you read a few more pages of your book, as peacefully as possible.
When she was 5 and going off to school for full 6 hour days, she’d need a full tummy to start her busy day, and she was forever asking Harry to make chocolate chip pancakes. Waking him up with a poke to his cheek and a smile on her lips, she’d whisper to make sure you didn’t rouse from your much needed sleep after a sleepless night with a newborn Alfie in need of attention; because as well as having her favourite breakfast being made for her, she got to spend half an hour with her daddy before she was deprived of his attention for 6 hours of the day. With Harry’s attention at home being split between the new baby and herself, she rarely got to spend time with her daddy after schools and the half an hour before you roused awake with a hungry Alfie, were her most treasured moments at the young age.
From the moment she’d turned into a beautiful young girl who was finishing school and preparing herself for secondary school at the age of 9, she was still asking for pancakes with the added sweetness of fruits that you had introduced to the full Styles household with a fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen island. With young, two-year old twin girls coming on the scene, you had come with the idea on staying as healthy as you could after the birth, and with an active Harry in his early 30s, he had been all for the idea of making smoothies and fruit salads to feed his youngest children as well as having his eldest munch when she got hungry.
And even going on to 18-years old and staying at home for college, Persephone was always used to waking up to the smell of that all too familiar breakfast wafting from the kitchen along with the sounds of clanging metal pots and pans and the whirring and boiling of the kettle. And she’d forget all about being tired or in need of sleep and time wouldn’t exist during those hours because she’d always sneak downstairs and have an hour with her father where she would catch him up on how her studies were going and any ideas on what she wanted to continue as a career as well as organizing moments and dates to take trips to university showings and helping her plan her route to life.
“Sounds delicious, Pops. You always make the best ones,” Persephone cooed, hopping up on the counter and looking down at her phone. “When is Nana Anne and Grandad Robin coming up?”
“Nana text me this morning saying they left earlier but they’ll be here by 10. She’s very excited t’ see you, y’know that? And she’s so proud of you,” Harry stated, pouring a little of the pancake batter into the frying pan set on the oven-top in front of him, a spitting sound filling the room as batter splattered up swiftly against the apron tied around Harry’s waist. “We’re all very proud of you, no matter the results you get, alright?”
“I know, it’s just, it’s nerve-wracking because this is it. This is what determines me getting into Southampton. This is what sets me off on my journey and it’s scary, Pops,” Persephone mumbled, looking up from her phone and kicking and swinging her feet, her heels knocking against the counter.
He couldn’t give her pointers.
He wanted too.
But he couldn’t.
Because he’d never experienced college nor did he experience university nor did he ever have the day where he would wake up early and make his way to college to gather his exam results and have celebratory dinners with his mother and his stepfather and his own father making his way to see him. He’d never gone through anything that his eldest daughter had gone through, and the only resort of help that Persephone had was Gemma. And somewhere between the conversations of college and the stresses of A-levels and the looking at university websites, Harry felt a pang of guilt and jealousy because he couldn’t guide his daughter properly into the direction that was best suited for her.
He’d offered his thoughts and he could only hope for the best that she understood what he meant.
“Hey, you did fantastically. I got so worried when you would have your nose in a book for hours on end, every day and we’d hear nothing from you. You studied so much for this and you’re going to pass. We’re going to drive you down to Southampton in four weeks’ time and we’re going to be saying goodbye to you at the door of your dorm as you start your new journey,” Harry stated, looking over his shoulder and catching his nervous 17-year old biting at her nails – a habit she’d picked up from spending days on end with her Uncle Louis, when he would bite his nails and chew on the hangnails, wincing and grumbling in pain. “Don’t bite your nails, poppet. Breakfast will be done shortly.”
“Sorry, sorry. Just a habit. I can’t help but freak. The gates to the college open at 11 and that’s in 3 hours and I have to wait with this growing stress inside me until I get that envelope passed into my hands,” he heard her grumble, her cheeks puffing up as she let out a loud and heavy sigh into the atmosphere. “I just want to go back to sleep and waste the day away in bed but I can’t even do that because I feel like freaking out,” she sighed, and rubbed at her face with one of her palms.
Harry chuckled softly, his mind relating exactly to how she felt.
He’d gone through this growing stress when the night before his audition came along, his body in freak-out mode and his brain switched on and swimming with thoughts that lead him to have a lack of sleep for the next day. He’d gone through the growing stress each night before a performance or before the opening night of a world tour to thousands of fans, his mind full of hopes and praying that it would go well to give them a night to remember.
But he had nothing to freak out over, and, he knew Persephone had nothing to freak out over.
“You, poppet, have absolutely nothing to freak out over, alright? We’re going to be proud of you no matter what results you get. You’re the first to go to University out of Nana’s grandchildren so she’s going to be extremely thrilled about this,” Harry smiled, watching as Persephone jumped down from the counter and reached for a glass set up in the cupboard above the sink. “I’ve been getting so many texts from your Auntie Gem. Her and Uncle Michal are popping up to the college with Finn and Evelyn and with us to be there when you get the results. It gives Nana a time to see all of her grandchildren together,” he stated, flipping the pancake with a spatula and adding it to the ever-growing pile set on a plate beside the cooker.
He’d been stood at the counter for almost half an hour on his own, humming beneath his breath and stirring the batter in a glass bowl as he sipped heartily on a kale smoothie; something he’d woken himself up with each morning from the get-go of your relationship. 18-year old Harry had been scolded constantly each morning when he’d wake you up with morning breath that smelt strong of kale and mint from his quick brush in the bathroom, and it was much rather the same for 42-year old Harry who would still occasionally wake you up after an hour’s lie-in with kale-smelling breath and the soft aroma of coffee that he’d taken to making to give you a softer wake-up call than a kale-and-mint-tasting kiss.
“Do you want me to cut some fruit up? Or shall I make some coffee or tea?” Persephone wondered, stepping over towards her dad and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you, Pops.”
“I love you too, poppet,” Harry cooed, resting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Her body fitting perfectly under his arm, the familiar smell of her father bringing comfort through her veins. “I could use your skill in cutting some fruit up and maybe laying the table if you have the time too before they wake up. I think Alfie will want some Nutella on his ones and your mum will want some maple syrup,” Harry chuckled, and pressed his lips to Persephone’s forehead. His lips lingering as she closed her eyes in contentment.
“She loves that stuff. I never understand,” Persephone laughed and stood up on his toes to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “I love this time with you, you know that? S’always my favourite,” she whispered.
From a young age, she’d always been a Daddy’s girl. Right from the moment he’d held her for the first time in the hospital, it was evident that she was going to have that quality of being closer to her father than she would to anybody else. And Anne and your own mother made sure it was clear that it was the sweetest bond a daughter could have, and you couldn’t lie when claiming it was a sight you loved to see in the mornings.
Cuddled on the rocking chair situated in the hospital room when she was just hours old, snuggled up in her new bed when she was too afraid to sleep in her new bedroom on her own, cuddled on the sofa when it came to snuggles in the morning, going out for ice-cream when she was sick or when she was upset over boys and in need of a father’s comfort.
Hearing their conversations in the mornings would have you weak and emotional, listening as the two conversed about anything that came to mind. They could go from memories between you and Persephone to how she slept to what she wanted for breakfast to what she had planned for that day to what they thought of the new TV show showing on the TV at the moment. Whatever they came up with to talk about, it brought them closer and you had the hunch that it was a tough one to wiggle into it.
“M’going t’ miss this when you go away. Just want to swaddle you up and keep you here with me and your mum and your siblings,” Harry grumbled, the warmth of his daughter leaving his side and sending a cold shiver down his spine. Of the four left in the house when Persephone would be long gone down in Southampton, you know and had a feeling that Harry would be the one to handle it worse. “You’re going to have a great time at university and you’re going to get that degree and be a medical student,” Harry smiled, turning off the cooker and pushing the plate of a towering pile of pancakes further onto the counter.
“You think I can do it?”
“I know you can, poppet. And your mum thinks the same and Alfie thinks the same and even the twins know you can do it,” Harry reasoned, moving the frying pan to the sink and letting the cool water wash over the surface. A hearty and heavy sigh left his mouth as he brushed the remnants of the pancakes off of the still hot surface. “But, let’s not talk more about it, okay? I can see you panicking and I don’t want to have another little anxiety attack.”
Another.
She’d only had one, and it was when she panicked in a crowd at a concert when she’d lost her father amongst the leaving fans. The pushing and the rushing had made them lose one another, and Harry worriedly and frantically searched over the groups to see if he could see the familiar top of his daughter’s head.
“M’fine, Pops,” Persephone smiled, reaching for the knife and setting it upon the chopping board.
* *
Harry watched, surrounded by his sister and her husband and his mother and his stepfather and his mother-in-law as well as his youngest children, as his eldest daughter shuffled her way across the path to where her family was standing. An envelope tucked into her hand as she puffed her cheeks out with a heavy breath, and let out a sigh of nerves from the between her lips.
“Open the envelope, poppet,” Harry smiled, as Persephone walked back over with the envelope tight in her shaking hands. “Let’s see how you did.”
Eagerness coursed through him.
And he wasn’t the only one desperate to know her grades. The whole family were excited and eager and curious to know whether she’d passed with flying colour – but, there was no lie in the fact that they knew she’d got the grades she wanted before she even opened the envelope in her hands. The paper was just confirmation for the grades they knew she had gotten.
He wasn’t pressuring – he knew how well his daughter did.
And he couldn’t be prouder.
“Harry, stop. She’ll open them when she’s ready,” Anne laughed, squeezing Harry’s hand tightly in her delicate one, her other linked around her husbands as they stood in the shade beneath a tree to keep them from the heat. Numerous families standing around either side of the small huddle formed by everyone who had come to see Persephone on her time to shine. “You’ve been so excited for this, haven’t you, H?”
Excitement with a hint of worry that maybe she’d overworked herself into a state that had her panicking and swamped and drowning in her stresses and notes and information.
“He’s been worrying his bum off,” you reasoned, leaning your head against his shoulder as you laced your fingers through his. His palms sweating and you could only presume it was due to the heat, his nerves for his daughter or both factors. “He needs to remember that we have one very smart little girl.”
“She’s inherited intelligence from both sides, haven’t you, sweetheart?” Your mother cooed, bringing her eldest grandchild into a hug and peppering kisses to her cheeks, like any grandmother would do to show her adoration to someone she loved with her entirety. “Grandad would be so proud of you, poppet. He’s praying from above,” your mother whispered into her ear, a squeeze being given to her petite body. A soft yet almost faux smile being given to your mother as you watched the two of them hug in front of you.
A month ago, your life had turned upside down.
You’d know your father was going to be around much longer and it had been a time where you would be spending more time down in Surrey than anywhere else, coming back when necessary and spending occasional nights at your old childhood home as you tried to squeeze in as much time with your family as possible before you lost the one person who brought you a sense of sturdiness and stability through your life.
He’d wanted to be there to watch as his eldest granddaughter received her exam results and waved her goodbye as she went off on her journey towards her dreamiest career possible. He was as supportive as a grandfather could be, and it took everything in Persephone to not drop her studies to go and see her grandfather before he left you.
She knew he would be proud of her, no matter the grades, and she felt it was in her honour to make him as proud as she could.
“Open it, P! Open it,” Alfie begged, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked at her with a pleading look. “I’m hungry and mum promised us we’re going to go for brunch to celebrate.”
“Alfie, stop. Let my lovely decide on her own,” Gemma laughed, holding a heavy and hungry Evie on her hip as Michal stood to the side with a tired and warm looking Finn resting against his body under the shade of the tree Anne was standing beneath. “Open them when you’re ready, Pea. It’s your results.”
“Alright, okay. I’m ready,” she grinned, bringing the envelope up and ripping the flap open with a tearing sound being heard, her hands visibly shaking as she looked nervously down and gulped.
Yet, what she couldn’t shake from her mind was the idea of failing and upsetting everyone who believed she could do well.
What if she didn’t pass the ones she wanted to do well in?
What if she failed?
What if too much studying had her panicking in the exam hall?
What if she lost the bond with her father if she didn’t do as well as he wanted her to do?
“What if I fail?”
She questioned with a voice that was soft and almost inaudible. And it broke the hearts of those that heard.
“Hey, no. Don’t you think that, lovely. You’ve done us so proud, no matter the grades you get,” Robin cooed, giving his granddaughter a smile. “You’ve done all that you can, Persephone, and we couldn’t be any prouder of you. I speak on behalf of myself and your grandmothers as well as your mother and father,” he added, Darcy tucking herself under his arm.
“We love you, P,” Rose cooed, a grin on her lips as Alfie chuckled. “You can do this.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” Persephone smiled, dipping her hand into the envelope and pulling out the one piece of paper that determined her next step of the journey. Her eyes scanning down and page as she took in the results that had been printed, silence covering all of you as you waited with anticipation. “Wow.”
“Poppet, how did you do?” Harry wondered, lifting her attention.
“I passed,” she whispered, looking up to her father with a glistening look in her eyes. “Pops, I passed! I got an A* in Science, a B in English and an A in Photography. Pops, I did it.”
“You did?” Harry gasped, dropping your hand and pulling his eldest into a hug; a hug that lifted her off the ground and lead to her head being nestled between his neck and his shoulder, her eyes dribbling tears and leaking onto his t-shirt. “I told you, poppet. I told you that you’d do it,” he whispered into her ear, his voice cracking, squeezing her to his chest and pressing his lips to her cheek.
“I’m going to university, Pops. I’m going to Southampton.”
* *

harrystyles: Proud as any father could be on A-levels result day. @PAnne_Styles, I love you so much. You may be ready for Southampton but, Southampton isn’t ready for you, poppet. #shepassed #topmarksforatopdaughter #iloveyou

Notes