Lullaby and Goodnight
Summary: Lily sings the same lullaby to their son every night.
Pairing: J/L
Word Count: 1,136
Rating: K

He first heard it when Harry was about a week old, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. James was half asleep on the sofa, his glasses askew. His eyelids were heavy but he kept his eyes open, even for a few seconds longer, and they were on his family, and in the back of his head, he thought that he really was the luckiest bloke in the world like he'd been claiming all these years.

Lily was sitting in the armchair that was parked in the alcove where the window was, its back to the world outside. Her eyes were far away, like they had been more and more often recently. He felt his chest contract at the sight, - and any other night, he would have worried himself to sleep after seeing her like that. He hated seeing that look on her face, like she was reliving happier times as if they weren't in one right now. Almost like she was wondering when her world would come crashing down around her.

He hated seeing this because for once, this wasn't something he could kiss away, this wasn't a problem he could fix. And he hated feeling useless.

He had the same fears, the same worries, but he kept them to himself. He didn't want to make any worse. But the scene before him was too perfect to dwell on her distant expression, her misty eyes. She was sitting up straight, clutching Harry to her chest – and thankfully, the little bugger was quite for a few minutes, seemingly intrigued by the pattern of his mother's jumper, which was probably all he could see. James could see his tiny fingers outstretched to touch it, and for what must have been the millionth time, he couldn't believe that he actually helped to make something so perfect.

She cradled his tiny head in her hand, and one finger stroked the little bit of hair he had, thin and fine. She was humming him to sleep. James didn't even know if she realized she was doing it.

She was quiet, and gentle, and every so often, Harry would do something that would make her laugh while she tried not to stop. He didn't know the tune but it was obviously familiar to Lily, she didn't pause or hesitate once.

James propped himself up on his elbows, and watched as Harry's eyelids drooped shut, his tiny fist curling around Lily's finger tightly. Lily looked up and met his eyes, her smile lighting up her whole face.

Every night, James watched from the doorway while Lily cradled Harry in her arms, singing to him quietly until he was fast asleep, curled into her chest. He wailed when he thought she'd forgotten, and never slept well without it, and never wanted to go to bed without hearing his mum's lullaby first.

James would watch as Lily would start humming to him, and Harry would smile up at her, showing off his gums, and as they started to grow, his pearly little teeth. James would watch as his legs would kick and he'd grip Lily's finger tightly in his tiny hand. Lily would beam down at him, and James would recognize the feeling that was clear on her face. It was still hard to believe that this was their son, this little bundle of excitement, with tufts of black hair and brilliant green eyes just like his mother's and a wide smile, he was their little boy, he was theirs. He was so wonderful in so many ways, and James felt his heart leap into his throat every time he heard the baby's gurgling laugh, and not a day passed that he didn't amaze the pair of them. James loved seeing his expression of wonderment when James showed him magic, or his proud little smile when he did something new (because this was nothing short of a miracle to his parents, and they never failed to celebrate each and every tiny achievement). There was nothing James loved more than when Harry lifted his head and looked up at him, and smiled when he recognized his father, giggling up at him and clapping his hands together.

He was his father, and he had the most perfect son in the whole world, and he reflected on this every night, watching his amazing wife sing him to sleep, wondering how this ended up to be his life and how Voldemort ever seemed to be a threat because it seemed so safe here, and Harry made everything fit together. For those few minutes while he watched his wife – his wife, he could still hardly believe he was married to such an amazing woman – sing their son to sleep, their son, everything seemed perfect.

Every night, when Lily was finished, and she'd laid Harry carefully in his cot, she'd look up at him and look torn between crying or beaming at him. He'd hold out his arms and she'd cuddle into him, sighing heavily, and James would understand, wordlessly. If only things could stay this way forever. He was perfect, why couldn't he stay a little baby, so bubbly and happy? How on earth were they so lucky?

Lily would kiss his cheek and watch Harry sleep from where they said, murmuring about how lucky they were, how perfect he was.

He'd kiss her head and have to drag her away.

Nothing came in Lily's way once she was singing Harry's lullaby. She didn't consider herself much of a singer or anything, but James knew how important it was to her, though he never asked her why. If she wanted to tell him, she would. Instead, he made it his business to never miss a single time, because if it was important to Lily, it was equally as important to James.

When Sirius came to visit, she seemed to not hear him when he spoke to her while she was in the middle of it. Sirius tried, poking her shoulder and calling for her over and over. She didn't seem to notice, until he raised his voice and earned himself a dirty glare from her once he'd threatened her son's peaceful slumber.

James never hesitated to hand Harry over, because as important as it was to Lily, Harry loved it. James liked to entertain him in the night time, conjuring tiny little birds or puffs of smoke, while Harry giggled and shrieked with delight.

It became routine, and it became comfort, and nothing ever seemed wrong, especially not when he looked into the smiling faces of his wife and child.

Lily was halfway through her lullaby when the door blasted off its hinges, and James' panicked yell sounded through the house, and little Harry Potter was never to hear his mother's lullaby again.

I don't own anything. Thanks for reading!