Some nights, Lily wakes to find her bed cold, the other side empty despite the blankets thrown back and the lights out. She wanders from the bedroom to check on Harry, asleep in his pram in the little nursery, and muses silently at her husband's voice, hushed and urgent, in the living room down the hall. The two men might be laughing, covering their mouths so as not to wake the baby. They might be working, or reminiscing, or sometimes they just sit quietly in the firelight. She doesn't bother checking on him, and goes back to bed sure that he'll fill her in over coffee and pumpkin juice in the morning.
Some nights, James wakes to Lily curled tightly in a ball, back to him, her arms around his best friend. Sirius would have climbed in through the window, the wards enveloping him in their welcoming embrace. Lily, always the lighter sleeper of the Potters, will have woken and lifted the sheets in greeting. Sirius would pad, barefoot already, across their room after a particularly difficult day. He would probably have cuts and bruises that Lily would need to tend to in the morning, and he'd be the little spoon to the redhead who once hated him. Sometimes he would cry himself to sleep and this is how James would wake, to Lily softly murmuring and stroking his hair, like she might to when Harry's having a bad dream. James would reach out, his arms coming around his family, and hold both of them tightly, silently reassuring and giving his strength to them.
Their tiny bed in their small home was nothing compared to the large manor Sirius had inherited, but with Harry making slight baby noises just across the hall, their secrets kept close in the darkness, their tiny bed was their home. Their refuge from war and daylight and secrets too large for one mere keeper.
eeeeeeeee, this is lovely, thank you so much for filling! i love the domesticity of it despite the dangerous times, how you can see all of three of them are a part of this together, all in the same bed, and the different patterns how they wake and sleep and live around each other, and it just has such a feel of family, especially with raising harry, and god, the idea of it being their refuge, that's quite powerful, i adore it. <3 so, so sweet.
Some nights, James wakes to Lily curled tightly in a ball, back to him, her arms around his best friend. Sirius would have climbed in through the window, the wards enveloping him in their welcoming embrace. Lily, always the lighter sleeper of the Potters, will have woken and lifted the sheets in greeting. Sirius would pad, barefoot already, across their room after a particularly difficult day. He would probably have cuts and bruises that Lily would need to tend to in the morning, and he'd be the little spoon to the redhead who once hated him. Sometimes he would cry himself to sleep and this is how James would wake, to Lily softly murmuring and stroking his hair, like she might to when Harry's having a bad dream. James would reach out, his arms coming around his family, and hold both of them tightly, silently reassuring and giving his strength to them.
Their tiny bed in their small home was nothing compared to the large manor Sirius had inherited, but with Harry making slight baby noises just across the hall, their secrets kept close in the darkness, their tiny bed was their home. Their refuge from war and daylight and secrets too large for one mere keeper.
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