disclaimer: i own nothing.
James had always been the type of person to care for others. Or as Sirius would put it, smother them. He enjoyed taking the mickey out of James' need to fret over them when they were sick. The joke had started in first-year when Remus had been "sick" but continued on through the years. They had believed it had reached its peak during Lily's pregnancy, but it had been nearly as bad as when Harry had been born and the months that followed.
Having always been spoiled and adored, James saw no other way to care for Harry than by spoiling and adoring him. Although, Harry, being a baby, didn't quite understand everything his mum and dad were doing in order to make sure he had a wonderful childhood he wouldn't remember. This included James' many attempts at bribery that Harry refused to accept.
The first-month home was fine. Brilliant even, despite the lack of sleep James and Lily were receiving. Most of what Harry had accomplished to do was stare at his mother's beautiful eyes. It had been one of his favourite pastimes, and James didn't blame his cariad bach. He would watch her every second of every single day for the rest of his life if he could.
James wished he could go back to the second month when Harry had cooed at everything James or Lily did, but they grew up so fast, he supposed. Part of him wished he'd never grow up, feeling instantly guilty when he remembered the news they had been told. Knowing that Voldermort, he scoffed, was after his son, his love and there was nothing they could do about it but hide away.
Month three was filled with laughter. Laughter as his mother who blew on his stomach and kissed his cheeks at every moment. Laughter at his father who played peek-a-boo with his invisibility cloak. Laughing as his uncles made faces at him or tickled him. Snuggling into his father as he put him down for a nap.
Harry's fourth-month was the beginning of James' Harry-caused anxiety. He could see so much of Lily in him just by the way he held himself, or tried to. Head held in a look of defiance as his feet wobbled; James was always there to catch him with Lily watching in amusement as James kissed every inch of Harry's face when he cried–even when the tears had passed and the child had calmed down.
Next was Harry's anxiety-filled stage where he would cry anytime Lily or James left the room. His little lips would begin to tremble and Lily would take him into her arms, stroking his hair and back softly until he would look up at her with his big green eyes. James would bounce him on his lap gently, rambling a mile-a-minute until his own nerves calmed down only to notice that Harry had fallen asleep. With a small kiss on the forehead, James would place him gently in his arms and up the stairs to his cot.
In his sixth-month, Harry had begun exploring. Everything was his and had a right to be placed in his mouth. Whether it was his mother's potion vials or his father's old snitch. Lily would giggle before taking it away while James' mind immediately went to every worse case scenario in which Harry would need to be taken to St. Mungo's. His wonderful wife would tease him before placing consolation kisses on his cheek, neck, nose. Maybe he would find a way to bottle them, they'd work better than any Liquid Luck.
Harry in month seven had begun to get a twinkle in his eyes about giving his father every heart problem imaginable that James supposed was his own form of karma for all the mischief he had gotten into as a child. His eyes had begun to get fixated on Godric, that only meant trouble could be expected for their precious cat. He supposed the cat might have deserved it in his son's eyes for his initial mistrust of the baby.
Once Harry had begun to crawl at eight-months, the house was chaos, but James wouldn't change it for anything in the world. Even if he was the one running after Harry as he chased the cat giddily. Lily's reasoning when he asked why he had to be the only always going after Harry was that it was a way to keep him fit. He couldn't really argue with that logic–or maybe it was the way her eyes held a mischievous glint to them that would have had him falling in love with her if he wasn't already.
He was nine-months old, and James couldn't help but tear up as Harry began catching the toy snitch Sirius had gotten him. Grasping it in his tiny hand and showing it off to his mummy. Her laughter would fill the room as she looked at James with a teasing scowl before dramatically blaming James for their son's habit of showing off. He'd ruffle Harry's hair, affectionately placing a kiss on top of his black mane.
He was waving good-bye to James as Lily carried him away from the room. He smiled back at his precious son, letting it fall once he was no longer in sight. A moment later, he let himself fall apart. Let himself shake in fear as the overwhelming dread for his family settled into the pit of his stomach. He'd die before he let anything to happen to Harry or Lily, and he trusted Sirius with his life, but he couldn't help but be scared. He tried to clear off the look from his face when Lily returned to the living-room, but she knew him better than that. Placing herself in his lap, she rested her head gently on his shoulder, mumbling words of comfort into his neck as her own fears surfaced. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, reveling in the feeling that was just so Lily.
Eleven-months old and running a hand through his hair as he watched James do so. Lily giggled before kissing Harry's cheek adoringly. What about me, Evans, James teased before receiving a kiss of his own accompanied with whispered promises. Hazel eyes widened as he began nervously grabbing onto his hair, followed by his son's imitation of it. Does mummy make you nervous too, Har, he asked as his eyes shifted back to Lily walking away with a grin. As he picked Harry up, he didn't notice Harry's small hand reaching for the wand James had placed behind his ear until his poor son had taken it in his tiny grasp. Waving the wand back and forth, he had managed to set the toaster on fire for the second time that week before James had managed to steal it back from him. With a soft sigh and a lazy flick of the wrist, he extinguished it; James wasn't even sure if it still worked from the last time, it was probably fine...he hoped. He turned back to his son who had an innocent look on his face, as if he hadn't just been misbehaving. James laughed gently, yeah, I get it, irony. Harry began nuzzling into his neck, looking up at him only briefly with dada escaping his mouth in a content sigh.
It seemed surreal that he was already one. Lily had begun sobbing into James' chest on Harry's birthday. James whispering to her for over an hour that it was a good thing as he watched his son chase after Godric who still hasn't forgiven the little troublemaker for his previous assaults. James chuckled, placing a lingering kiss on his wife's lips. Wait until he opens his godfather's gift, he said as his fingers trailed down her cheek. It's what we wanted, he reminded her before placing a kiss to the top of her head. She sighed sadly before moving away from him to attend to Harry who lied on the floor, his bottom lip quivering as he tried to gain the cat's attention. Godric, Lily look pleadingly at the animal who consented and cuddled up next to Harry. He held an exasperated expression as Harry grabbed onto his fur roughly. Mama, he said proudly, his joyful giggling enough to warm his mother's heart. Lily placed him gently in her lap, bouncing him up and down with kisses placed on her son's nose, cheeks, and forehead. James took a seat beside her, his hand going around her shoulder. I love you, Lily, he sighed her name gently. I love you too, even if you are corrupting Harry, her eyes caught his with a sly smile. Instantly he moved, letting his hands shift to her hair and his mouth to her neck. More giggles escaped the birthday boy's mouth, oblivious to his parents' flirting. Oblivious to the limitless love they held for one another.
Bye, Mama, Harry said waving his hand as Lily left the room. James sat back as the toddler walked around the bedroom. His toys scattered around the room. Harry's eyes shifted to his toys as he sat down to examine them before deciding on the broomstick Sirius had given him. Do you want to fly, Har, James questioned him adoringly. He watched as his son's eyes lit up at 'fly.' C'mere, cariad bach, he said, motioning for the toddler to come to him. Harry stumbled only slightly before entering his father's arms. I love you so much, Harry, he mumbled into his son's hair before taking the boy's hand in his and walking him over to the toy broom. Lily came back into the room a while later, her face set alight with the amusement from her husband's body sprawled on the floor with a toddler sitting on top of him. Your son exhausted me, Annwyl, his eyes shifted to the child on his chest. And to think you used to be fit, and here we have you in your old age, Mr Potter, her lips curved up into a gentle smile before taking Harry from him. Is your daddy being funny, love? He nodded, smiling up at his mother while pulling on her hair. Red, he gripped the hair again. Lily threw her head back, our little Gryffindor, isn't he?
James laughed as he fondly watched his small son stuff scrambled eggs into his mouth. Messy eater, aren't you? Didn't mummy just get you to use a spoon, cariad bach, Harry eyes had gone wide at the mention of his mother. Green eyes scanned the room for any indication of his favourite person, or so Lily teased. Mama, the word held a question to it. She'll be awake soon, he said as he handed Harry another spoon which he proceeded to bang on his plate. James looked into the emerald eyes sternly (or as sternly as he could), he was preparing to be a responsible adult to a fourteen-month-old when Harry decided to tell him off. No, was his son's brilliant statement that set James off into a giant laughing fit that only made Harry begin chanting the word. No, no, no, no, he said with a smile as his mother walked into the room. Harry learned how to say 'no,' a grin spread across her face as James nodded.
I want another one, James told her the morning Harry turned fifteen-months-old. His arms wrapped around Lily's waist as he watched his son drawing lines on a piece of parchment–although James thought it might have been Lily by the colours he was using. He laughed lightly into her neck, or maybe two. His mouth shifted to kiss the spot behind her ear delicately, what do you think? I mean perhaps not now, but one day. She leant back into him as she watch her son with pure adoration. Okay, she promised.
No matter how much trouble Harry got into, they would always want more of him. More time to love him, care for him, adore him. Time they would never get.