A/N Inspired by the prompt "Harry's first months"

Living with Anarchists

"Good news," Lily declares, flopping beside James on the sofa with a thump. "I've confirmed that you really are the father of my son."

It's just gone eight on a Tuesday night, but as James's eyes lift from the evening Prophet he sees that his wife is beyond exhaustion, and he lifts his left arm for her to scoot underneath. Sleepily, he presses his mouth to her forehead.

"Did that ridiculous hair we share alert you?" he hums.

"Close, but no." Lily opens her mouth to continue, but breaks off in a yawn, which is followed by a groan of frustration. "It's this asinine refusal to follow any semblance of authority."

"The wanted posters out already, are they?"

"I want him in Azkaban before society's endangered. It's been a month, and I'm already a sleepless zombie because of the little monster."

"Keeping you awake is something we Potter men do best."

Lily slaps his knee, but he feels her shoulders shake momentarily against his side. She sighs, closing her eyes. "I tried to put him down over two hours ago," she moans, "and he's been a right brat ever since."

"Next time just lock the door and run," James suggests.

"No, James, because when you did that he wailed so loudly poor Bathilda ran down the street to check that he hadn't had a leg amputated." Lily's head turns, and she glares up at him. "I'd be yelling at you right now for sitting down here in peace while I dealt with the little tyke, but frankly I think it's for the best."

He chuckles, patting her hip comfortingly. "Don't worry love; I'll handle the toilet training. And when he's walking and talking, Harry and I will go out on father-son adventures and I'll train him up to be a good little anarchist like his dad."

"I'll hold you to that," Lily mutters.

"Sirius, Remus and Pete can come too. We'll have to raise him among the same company I grew up in. We want total mayhem or nothing."

Lily closes her eyes, makes a tired sound between her teeth. "Merlin, I hope there's a girl out there as gullible as I was."

"'Look out for the pretty gingers', I'll tell him," says James. "'They think they're clever, but we know how to handle them'."

"You're both absolute gits," Lily laughs, and James thinks that she's got to be the best mother to ever exist, to be reduced to exhaustion and still be poking fun at the two boys she's ended up with. "He's definitely your son. You keep him, and let me sleep."