Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The use of its characters, locations and universe in general is merely a lend. "Sleep like a child" was written by P. Seymour and recorded by Joss Stone, and I'm simply an admirer of their work.

A.N.: This is such a beautiful song; I recommend people listen to it as they read, if possible. I won't be putting the lyrics down here because it'd be against the rules of the site.

Sleep Like a Child

She watched as the sun disappeared behind the trees. She stood by the window and watched as the sky acquired its rosy, reddish colours when the light of the day died and the darkness of the night took its place, with the tiny speckles of the stars shining brightly above. She stood and watched and prayed. She knew the sun would rise again. But not for all.

She didn't know how much time had passed when strong arms encircled her from behind. She sighed and closed her eyes as his chin came to rest on her shoulder.

"Is he asleep?" He whispered softly against her ear.

"Hmm." She nodded in assent. She turned around and his arms slid easily around her body as she came to face him. They both looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms and smiled softly at their son. "I'll get him to bed."

Lily followed up the stairs to the second landing and into the nursery. She smiled softly every time she entered the room. It was decorated in the red and golden colours of Gryffindor, which gave it a warm atmosphere and awakened a perpetual longing inside of her.

Her mind turned back to the peaceful days in Hogwarts and how they had been unaware of the world outside and its dangers. They had always known there was a war, she'd been aware from the very start when she had entered the world of magic. But in those days they could pretend. Their biggest worries were grades, and unpleasant teachers, and the gossip stirring inside the castle. Teenage melodrama, as she now liked to call. The war only affected them in what reached them through the papers, or when a friend lost a family member and they'd be there to comfort them. They weren't part of it. Not directly.

She rocked her baby in her arms for a few moments before she walked to his crib. She smiled once more at seeing the Quidditch model mobile hovering in the air, miniature players flying in miniature brooms, chasing through the limited space of air the tiny Quaffle and Snitch, and avoiding the minute Bludgers in a sort of synchronized rhythm. James's bit of obsession that she instinctually knew had passed on to her son. After all, she was very fond of the sport as well.

Slowly, she lowered Harry over the soft mattress of the crib and deposited him gently. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up, and she covered him with the blanket. She watched, amused, as when every time he slept he'd lay with his arms stretched up. She wondered if all babies did that even as she arranged the small pillows to both of his sides.

Leaning over, she lightly ran a finger across his rosy cheek and remained there, watching him tenderly. Sometimes, Lily could barely believe that it had been a little over two years ago that she had graduated from the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In every other moment of her life, it felt like it should be more for all the things she'd been through. Right now, she felt it was frightfully little time. At twenty years old, she was already married and a mother, and not the only one from her class in such a situation either. In the face of the war, many people seemed to start living faster.

Because they were dying faster too.

Presently, Lily stood up and walked to the door. She stopped by the doorframe and surveyed the room once more. There were shelves with books and toys in the wall opposite to the crib and a cabinet with drawers of baby clothes and accessories. A hamper next to the window contained odds and pieces due to wash, and sitting in the rocking chair were four singular stuffed animals. A wolf, a mouse, a dog, and a deer made after their living counterparts known as Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Although Peter and James were constantly arguing they were supposed to be a rat and a stag, Lily simply dismissed them with a wave of her hand saying this way they looked cuter. Not that her argument was very strong, but James would always agree with her eventually, and Peter was left with no backup, so they'd give up the argument.

She turned off the lights and instantly a small lamp on top of the cabinet started glowing softly, alternating in shades of blue, green, yellow, and pink, and the ceiling changed to resemble the moonless, starlit sky outside. Lily had charmed the room herself, and was very proud of her work. Smiling, she left the room and let the door an inch open, turning off the lights of the corridor as she descended the stairs back into the living room.

James had lit the fire, and he was sitting on the couch with a book. A bottle of buttebeer was on top of the side table next to the lamp, and for a moment, Lily was torn between regret and relief that it wasn't firewhiskey, or gin, or vodka. Something more numbing. Stronger. Disastrous and desperate. Destructive.

She was glad it was only butterbeer.

Her smile was sad as she ran a hand through his ever-messy hair and walked towards the bookshelves. She too selected a book and came to sit at the couch next to her husband. She started reading, but the words were lost on her. Part of her was questioning herself. How could she read in a moment like this?

Halloween had always been a festive occasion in the wizarding world. That was something Lily quickly learned once she discovered she was a witch. It was the day they celebrated their magic. Most of the ancient rituals were now long forgotten, and at Hogwarts they'd had a big dinner party and the appropriate decorations all over the castle. She had sought in many history books the origins of All Hollows Eve, and had always been fascinated with what she learned.

She was no longer interested. This latest Halloween had shattered her fond memories. She was left broken and crying like a child lost in the world with no believes and barely hopeless. In the course of two years, she had lost so much and so many people, and she knew it wasn't done. She knew there was more to come.

Of course, she would be cynical if she said she hadn't gained a lot as well, and she had not reached that point. Not yet. Not ever. She was glad of the life she had. She had James, and Harry. They had friends, the greatest of friends that had also lost so much. They were all torn, tattered, broken. But they prevailed and lived on. She had her job, for which she was glad for it was a welcomed, wonderful, and useful distraction and she could do part of it at home while tending to her son.

In other times, she would be grateful for the Order of the Phoenix as well. It was important. They were doing something to help others, to change the world, to win the war. But right now, she felt she couldn't include the Order in her list. She wouldn't exclude it either, claiming it had only brought heartache. On the contrary, she was happy with all the work they'd done. But they had lost too much as well, as of recently.

She wondered how many people would still be alive if they hadn't been in the Order. She wondered if it would have made any difference at all, or if it'd have only delayed the inevitable. She mourned those they lost, every single one of them. But she felt a part of her die whenever one of the people she'd help induce into the Order were attacked and succumbed to death.

She wondered if her parents would still be alive if she'd been a nice little muggle-born girl and had kept her head down. In these times, she'd inwardly shake her head to herself. Her parents wouldn't want their daughter to be like that. They were proud that she was up and doing something to help. But of course, she thought they wouldn't want to be dead either. Cowardly attacked with powers unbeknown to them in their own home. Tortured. Murdered.

She thought if there was no war if Petunia would still talk to her. She wondered if it wouldn't have made a difference and she'd still walk out of her life. At first, her older sister had been afraid and suspicious of the notion that she was a witch with strange powers. But gradually, Petunia had grown to understand her little sister (if only to a certain degree) and accept her for who she was.

But the death of their parents had been a turning point. Petunia couldn't help the harsh words that came out in a torrent after their funeral. Freak. Abnormal. Unnatural. (Monster.) Petunia claimed Lily had been the one to get their parents killed. And sometimes she couldn't help but feel that it was the truth.

Lily knew James also had similar thoughts every now and then, for he too had lost his parents. But unlike her family, the Potters had always been in the Light side of this war. Though elderly and one of the ancient pureblood families, they'd fought inside the Ministry of Magic to establish equal rights and powers to muggle-borns. They'd been doing this for years before the war finally started per say. And they had been proud when their only son and his fiancée had joined Albus Dumbledore's Order.

She deposited the book on the center table and went to the kitchen. She wandered back with a glass of wine in hands and stood by the doorway.

Harry would never know his grandparents. None of them. They were long gone before he'd even been born, and Lily couldn't help but mourn their losses for her son as well. He would never have a normal, full family. Of course, they had their friends, their second family of sorts that had been formed inside the walls of Hogwarts throughout seven years. And although they sometimes felt like it, they weren't flesh and blood.

Sirius was a wonderful godfather, she admitted that wholeheartedly. He was the brother James never had, and even the brother Lily never had. He was simply a great man. He had his faults, naturally. But they wouldn't have him any other way.

Sometimes, Lily wondered if they should've asked someone to be Harry's godmother. She and Alice Longbottom had been good friends in Hogwarts, even though the girls had been in different years, and their work within the Order had only strengthened their bonds. But she felt deep inside her heart that the position had only been meant for one person, and now that she was gone no one should take her place.

Lily's friendship with Marlene McKinnon had been unique and irreplaceable. There so many differences between them, starting with the fact that Lily was muggle-born and the McKinnons were one of the ancient pureblood families. And they'd antagonized each other for so long because they didn't know how to deal with one another. And yet they'd grown to be as close as sisters.

James had always agreed that Marlene should be the godmother of their children because she'd also been his childhood best friend. At one point, James and Marlene had actually been promised to each other. Their parents thought it would make a lovely marriage, but decided against it once their children stated they hadn't any romantic interest in each other. They were left to their own devices regarding their love lives, and thankfully so.

Ironically, Marlene had later been engaged to marry Sirius Black. They had been maid of honour and best man back in James and Lily's wedding, and made their own relationship official afterwards. They should have been married for two months now. Unfortunately, Marlene had been attacked and murdered three months prior to the wedding date.

May 23rd 1980. Lily would never forget that day. She'd been expecting James for dinner when instead Remus Lupin came to the door of their house. He looked devastated. He gave her the sad, tragic news that her best friend was gone. He also told her James was with Sirius, trying to stop him from doing something reckless and stupid. Lily broke down and cried in Remus's arms right then and there in the middle of her kitchen.

She felt responsible for Marlene's death like she'd never felt before. They'd both entered the Order together, one because of the other, but now she felt she should have done something to stop it. The shock had been so great that it'd nearly put her into labour. She'd been in her seventh month of pregnancy then, and for the next two months her Healer had ordered her to be in complete bed rest. James made sure she followed the orders to the letter.

Now she wondered if it wouldn't have been better if Harry had been born in that day. Or any other day than July 31.

She'd like to say that ever since Marlene's death she'd grown accustomed to losing people. That was a lie. She'd never get used to it. And they had lost many ever since. Benjy Fenwick. Lily remembered him from Hogwarts; he'd been a year above them and Head Boy too. Edgar Bones. They'd gotten his entire family. Only their youngest daughter survived, she'd been spending the night with her aunt, little Susan Bones; only seven months old and she'd lost nearly her entire family. Caradoc Dearborn. He'd simply vanished. She only knew him because of the Order, and because he was a friend of Dumbledore's. He had been a nice, funny man.

And two weeks ago Lily had lost her mentor. Voldemort had murdered her himself, one of the greatest witches of their age. It was a frightening thought, because she had faced the Dark Lord herself three times and come out virtually unscathed. And yet, he'd managed to kill that great witch. Dorcas Meadowes had been their Defence teacher in their fifth year as a favour for Dumbledore, and later Lily had been her pupil again when she started working at the Ministry.

Like James and Sirius, Lily had applied for a job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with the Aurors. She'd not been there for a month when Dorcas came to her offering a position in another completely different section of the Ministry, but with as vital and important jobs to be done.

Dorcas Meadowes had been an Unspeakable, and working and studying at the Department of Mysteries, Lily was now practically one too. She was accustomed to secrecy in dealing with business for both the Order and the Ministry, and more than often the two would mix together.

Therefore, she thought it natural that a week after her mentor's murder Dumbledore would call her to his office. He'd make sure Lily continued to work accordingly now that she was their only link to the Department of Mysteries. She didn't think much of James coming along. He was her husband, after all.

But what the old Professor had to say was much more terrible than anything she'd heard so far. There was a prophecy, one that in all probability involved their son. Lily worked with prophecies. She knew them, she'd studied them, she'd dealt with them. She knew how they worked. She knew that they could work. That was what frightened her so much.

It was Halloween. It was Halloween and Lily was being told that her son would either be a murderer or else he'd be murdered. Her son who was turning exactly three months old in that very same day. The baby with her vivid green eyes and the jet-black, unruly hair of his father, held in her arms and looking attentively at all the odd and wonderful things in the Headmaster's office. He'd told them that with saddened eyes devoid of any of their usual twinkle.

That had been a week ago and she still felt it was all so surreal. Lily watched the red of the wine in the glass in her hand and remembered the red, dying, bleeding sun in the horizon through the window, dyeing red the walls in Dumbledore's office. The same red she'd watched today as she held her son in her arms. Just as in that day. And it all felt so surreal. Surreal, and helpless, and terrible.

When the alcohol didn't do much to warm her against the cold seeping through her veins, she left the empty glass on the table next to the now empty bottle of butterbeer and came to sit next to James. He looked up from his book and was momentarily startled with what he saw.

Lily was looking at him so intently that she seemed to bore into his very soul. Through one look, she conveyed him so many emotions. Sadness. Hopelessness. Tiredness. They didn't any need words to communicate with each other right now, and he knew that all he could do was hold her. So he opened up his arms to her, and she came to his embrace. And she cried.

She cried her heart out, and soon they were both lying on the couch and crying. When she later calmed down enough to talk, she told him everything she was thinking, and feeling, and dreading. He listened and whispered soothing nothings in her ear, and kissed her, and held her.

"Hush Lily," he said, holding her close. "I know. I know. I feel it too, everything. But I'm here, and I promise I'll always be here for you."

"James," she sighed. She didn't know what she wanted to say. She didn't know if she was protesting to any of his words. She didn't know what to think.

"I know," he repeated, and she wondered if he did know. "I can see it in your eyes that you're tired of this all. I am too. But we have to keep fighting. Yes, I know it's hard to carry on. But you just have to hope, love. So just lay down your head now and sleep. I'll be here for you and Harry."

Lily sighed, and closed her eyes, snuggling closer to him. She thought it would be nice if they could spend the last days of their lives like this. Together, safe, and away in the darkness of the night. With nothing to bother or endanger their lives.

"Sleep, darling," James whispered in her ear. "Sleep now. For tomorrow is another day. And we'll still be here."

Some day, nearly a year in the future, they would learn they wouldn't be there. They wouldn't wake up to see another day. But that was then, it wasn't now. And right now Lily listened as James hummed a familiar lullaby, one she'd heard him sing to their son many times before. And she drifted off to sleep, trusting that he'd protect her, them to the very end.

Thank you for reading. I'd love to know your opinion.