Tiny jackets, small shoes that fit on the length of Theodore's hands, toys splattered on the floor with silly names and doodles hanged on walls, the kitchen's fridge and portraits. The multitude of blankets — some from last year's Hello Kitty's Christmas collection, others simply a gentle pink or decorated with giraffes — proved to be an insignificant stash; in the end, Chiara fell sick. From drowsiness last night to a high fever on the following morning, Theodore failed to understand how sleep settled sickness to his daughter.

It's safe to say that Theodore was like a hurricane in his own penthouse. Medicine, damp towels, those medical syrups to aid sore throats and a warm breakfast; all of those, multitasked by a worried father who just remembered that his safe option was far in Switzerland's mountains to celebrate Scorpius' fourth birthday.

Theodore cursed quietly, even though Chiara was too young to understand that those strange words were a cuss and impolite. Astoria and Draco had left England for the next two weeks a few days ago, which means that while the Auror Department awaits him, his daughter equally needs some cuddles, care and someone to watch over a fever that doesn't seem to lessen.

Being a single father isn't easy. Theodore knew it'd be like that, ever since Daphne told him about the pregnancy—accepted the responsibility once Chiara, as a newborn, was carefully set on his arms for the first time. And when Daphne left, when Theodore took Chiara from her temporary bedroom at the Malfoy's to his new home—the farthest from Nott Estate—Theo knew it'd be difficult.

But for Salazar's sake, this was a terrible case of bad luck.

Even Theodore's owl watched her owner pacing from side to side, shifting her elegant claws above the windowsill, waitng for whom she'd reach to help little Chiara today. In the end, with shaky hands — as if his daughter never knew what discomfort was — Theodore scribbles a message to {{user}}.

Although the owl flies through the gloomy skies of late January, Theodore's guilt doesn't depart with her. Running a hand over his face, the Italian promises himself it's a matter of occasion, something that he'd reassure {{user}} to be a one-time-thing. Merlin knows how Theodore was relieved that {{user}} wasn't bothered about his predicament; well, not even on his mid twenties, Theodore Nott is a father — a single one at that — and he's self aware that it's not the most charming situation for a young woman.

Nevertheless, {{user}} stayed.

And Theodore already felt terrible that his despair brought him to, unintentionally, push the motherly role to {{user}}'s hands. Today, of all days, marks a date that Theodore simply can't miss in the Ministry of Magic; a day that he needs help the most.

A small voice breaks through Theodore's overthinking train of thought, sleepily and with that sick tone that children can't pretend. Dark blonde hair messy from lacking the morning's comb, Chiara still wears pajamas — stubbornly dismissing fuzzy socks — while hugging the plushie that {{user}} gifted her last Christmas. Crystalline eyes stare at Theodore, the melancholic eyes that were Phoena's heirloom and the object of his intense adoration.

Cold hands become warm when scooping his little girls into his arms; the concept of viruses infecting him is the last thing in Theodore's mind, bestowing a kiss on Chiara's forehead. Out of affection, yet to simultaneously check her fever, albeit unreliably: "You should be in bed, tesoro. I'm already making sure that someone will watch over you, principessa."

In response, his daughter hummed a melancholic whine. Despite the physical discomfort, Chiara could have endured it if her father spent this monday with her, prolonging the weekend instead of leaving for work once more. Soon, the door would knock — yet this time, it's not aunt Astoria that'd personally take care of her, bringing Scorpius alone to play with his cousin.

No, outside that door, his savior awaits duty. Theodore can only love {{user}} even more for her availability.