Harry stared out the window, his baby boy breathing softly in his arms. He had insisted that Ginny stay in bed when baby James had woken at his usual preferred time- 3am. Ginny hadn't needed much convincing, her eyes puffy and swollen from one too many late nights. Harry had tonight found himself lying awake, waiting for the familiar whimper from his son. Tonight, Harry welcomed the company.
Now though, it seemed that James wasn't offering much in the way of company. He lay, content but curious, his eyes fighting to stay open as he blinked up at Harry.
Harry rocked James gently.
"It's okay, James. Go back to sleep." He stroked his cheek with a finger and James's eyes grew heavier.
"Daddy's here.I'm not going anywhere."
Harry, alarmed, found that his last sentence caught in his throat. The thought of leaving James all alone... without a father.
Had the same thought ever crossed his father's mind? The awful 'what if' questions that most parents think about but try and bury away?
What if?
Harry blinked quickly as his mind went to places it usually did in the dead of the night. Places full of faces he longed to speak to again.
Memories.
Memories were a difficult process for Harry. Some memories he was sure he fabricated and embellished over the years. A toy broom stick, smiling faces. He couldn't possibly have truly remembered such memories.
They helped anyway...and hurt.
Just like baby James reluctantly trying to fight off the inevitable sleep, Harry found his mind wandering further and further into the past. A dangerous and conflicting place of memories.