Defence Against the Dark Arts • dɪˈfɛns|əˈɡɛnst|ðə|dɑːk|ɑːtsɛ • The study and teaching of how to defend against dark: magic; spells; curses or animals.
I’m reading this cool ficby@atyd-wolfstar and it’s very cool, so I did a fanart, and tomorrow I’m going to London for the first time (and visit the Harry potter studios ⚡️⚡️ …)
Summary: Your daughter has been the mailman’s little helper for weeks, unbeknownst to you. You decide to take up the chance to get to know him better, after all, it would be a shame if your daughter knew the handsome man who wrote you love letters better than you did.
Contents/Warnings: Reader is referred to as ‘mummy’, mother!reader
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Your fingers brushed gently against the translucent plastic covering your name on the front of the envelope. The paper tore easily, your nails scraping against the bills inside as you slit the letter open.
You let out a half-hearted ‘thank you,’ to the mailman who lingered at the door, your eyes downcast towards the letter before you could take in his appreciative smile at your words.
“See you tomorrow,” He called, boots scuffing against the steps of your front walkway.
You only hummed in agreement, and probably not loud enough for him to hear.
Your mind was completely immersed in the bills you clutched. You should have enough to make ends meet this month. Groceries would be tight, but you could cut back on Alyssa’s breakfast budget by sending her to school early this week, in time for the complimentary toast and eggs they served in her school’s cafeteria.
She didn’t mind. She never did. Really, you were grateful to have a daughter who understood you and your situation so well. Long hours, not enough pay, constant stress. She was the light of your life, and it hurt to have to brush her off for overtime hours or because you couldn’t pay for enough food, but you knew she’d understand.
“Mummy,” There she was now. Her bright yellow sneakers, dulled only by loose dirt that she’d managed to grind into the canvas fabric, pounded down the hallway as she ran up to your side, “Mummy, did I get anything in the mail today?”
“No bug,” You smiled down softly at her, your fingers raking gently through the wisps of hair that stuck out around her head, “Why, were you expecting something?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes caught sight of something behind you, and lit up in glee. You spun around as she sprinted to the door, your brows furrowing as she reached eagerly for the knob.
