Hello, everyone! I’ve decided to start writing again. This will be a three-part series as of right now so I hope you enjoy the first installment.
A special shout out to @hcrrystvles for editing this, I love you bb.
dad!harry + teacher!harry
warnings: mentions death, nostalgia, fluff. loads of fluff.
word count: 3,648
summary: the one where Harry’s a school teacher who finds himself teaching the daughter of his first love
Every day that students walked into room 202, they were instantly greeted by the sweet smell of cinnamon buns and vanilla (an air freshener Harry always kept plugged into the wall when he first started working there because it smelt too much like wood). Fairy lights hung above the perimeter of the room, pictures students have drawn covered the wall behind the metallic desk which was covered in magnets. The whole classroom just felt warm. Stepping into Mr. Styles’ year 3 classroom felt like a hug from a friend you haven’t seen in years. It was a safe space for both little ones and teachers alike, no one ever left the room without a bright smile on their face. That was Harry’s specialty.
Harry had taken his job as a teacher very seriously as he took it upon himself to teach the younger generations the most valuable lessons. Not multiplication and cursive writing like the other teachers would say, but things like positivity, acceptance, and kindness. Harry took pride in knowing that when each and every one of his students left his classroom at the end of the year, they carried his teachings with them for the rest of their lives.
Tonight was back to school night and Harry felt himself getting a little nervous as he looked at the time. Parents could be brutal and all he wanted was to be on their good side. He had a feeling this year was about to be little easier though. This year the parents of his students were most likely his age and it brought a strange sense of comfort to him. He could tell because the kids were a lot more open minded and though he wouldn’t admit it, he had a few favorites. Like Harper. The little girl made him feel nostalgic in the strangest way. Maybe it was because she was quite witty for a 7-year-old or that she had an interest in joining his after school choir, but it was something else about her that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.