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>Go find your father.
After a moment more of reflection, Hermione stands, and begins walking quickly to exit the dining room. “Maid! Find me an analog camera, and leave it outside my bedroom door!”
“Very well, my lady.”
The scarlet-haired girl’s footsteps echo down the empty halls at a rhythmic pace, as she pursues her father. She had to reach him before he retired for the night. She’d loathe to give this nameless emotion in her chest any label, but after her encounter with her mother, she found herself… quite wanting to speak with him for some reason. She ignores the slight shaking in her hands.
Hermione’s father turns to look when he notices her coming down the hall. He’d just been about to enter his room. “Hermione.”
“Hello, father.” The girl comes to a stop nearby, trying to mask the fact that she was slightly out of breath. “Were you about to prepare for bed?”
The setting sun sends light at an angle through the tall glass lining the hallway on their side. The shadows of the windows’ intricate latticework stretch across the floor. “Yes, dear. Did you need something?”
Hermione composes herself. “I’d like to actively participate in some of our charity work across the city, father.”
The man pauses. “That’s an interesting request. You’d never much been interested in it in the past. Have you had a change of heart?”
Hermione nods. “You might say so, father.”
Her father blinks, his slightly misaligned eyes darkened in the fading light. “Very well. I don’t see why you couldn’t.” He observes his daughter. “Was there anything else you needed?”
“I…” Hermione hesitates. She’s not quite sure what she wants. “I suppose not, father.”
A silence hangs in the air for a few moments. Eventually, her father turns back to the master bedroom’s door. “Good night, then.” He puts his hand on the doorknob.
Before she even knew what she was doing, the girl finds herself hugging her father tightly. The man’s hand freezes. “…Good night, father.”
The man puts his hand down, then pats her head once. After a moment, he gently pushes his daughter away. Behind her neutral expression, Hermione’s lip quivers a little at his response. …Of course. Why would she expect anything more?
When she lets go, the man glances down at his sleeve. The faintest speck of red dotted his white shirt. “…Are you bleeding, Hermione?”
The girl stares straight ahead. “Only a bit, father.”
He nods. “Take care to avoid being injured, if possible. Good night, Hermione.”
He retires to his bedroom to sleep, softly closing the door behind him. The red-haired girl simply stands in the hall for a while, before making her way to return to her bedroom.
