Hello again! Another oneshot. This one is slightly AU, in the way of technology not altering magic!

House: Ravenclaw

Category: Short

Prompts: Singing somebody to sleep

Word count: 1222

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"A gentle breeze," Lily sang, her quiet words the only break in the silence of Godric's Hollow. "On Hushabye Mountain… Softly blows over Lullaby Bay." Baby Harry yawned widely, watching his father over Lily's pale shoulder, as night fell ever so quickly down upon them. It was a relief to both parents for their child to finally be falling asleep, after restlessness of hours before, and the weeks before the month of calm.

"It fills the sails of boats that are waiting…"

James and Lily weren't entirely prepared to be parents. Who is? Of course, Harry Potter came along, with a smile and screams enough for the whole street. Suddenly, it had seemed just right that they were bringing this little boy into the world, and that they were doing it together. Even if that world was fraught with dangers on a global scale. He was endearing, with bright green eyes, and jet-black hair.

"Waiting to sail your worries away…"

Although their lives were nowhere near perfect, it appeared that they might sustain their bubble of indefinite happiness. Voldemort had no idea where they were, and they now had Harry for the even better company.

"It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain…"

Harry, like all babies, did not sleep well. He turned his parents almost nocturnal within a week, crying out for them during the night, and sleeping heavily throughout the day. He was adorable, and it appeased them, even though they survived on barely three hours of sleep for five days. To Sirius, it seemed like madness. Remus couldn't imagine it. And Wormtail didn't respond to the letter the Potter's sent him. Which was fine by them.

"And your boat waits down by the quay…"

The thing was, Harry wasn't a tired baby. Although his parents stumbled through their house like the walking dead, their baby goggled and gurgled at the sight of them. At least they knew the Fidelius charm was working if there were no neighbours pounding down the door, urging them to keep the baby asleep during the night instead.

Bathilda claimed that perhaps Harry had felt the tension from the beginning, and chose to stay awake during the night, but Petunia suspected that it was just a wrong cycle.

"The winds of night," Lily continued, her hands placed gently on Harry's back. His coughs had fully subsided by now, the steam having filled his lungs and rested his panic completely. James smiled, relieved. "So softly are sighing." She didn't have the most beautiful voice, but it was lovely enough to keep their child quiet and subdued. "Soon they will fly your troubles to sea."

One night, Lily had stayed up watching a film with Harry, as James had gone to rest for the night.

'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang' had been one of her favourites when she had been small, with her and Petunia spending Sunday afternoons watching it over and over. They'd even built a boat from an overturned table, which had sheets for wings, with three saucepans and a mixing bowl for the wheels. The pair of them had stayed in the boat, and sang along to all of the songs. At the beach, the two girls ran along ahead of their parents, spreading their arms wide, for the wind to fill them and carry them along to somewhere better. A strong-favourite tune was the title track. However, little Harry Potter was wide-eyed and restful at the beautiful 'Hushabye Mountain'.

"So, close your eyes on Husbabye Mountain." Harry's eyes began to close ever so slowly, flickering open and shut.

Of course, Lily began to play the same film whenever Harry was restless, and eventually figured out the ideal way to get him to sleep was to play that same song. In a moment full of calm and rest, just three days after the movie phenomenon, she sang to him. She knew James was downstairs, making dinner for the two of them, and making full use of muffliato.

"Wave goodbye to cares of the day." Harry's eyes fluttered shut once more, and he was asleep. Breathing slowed, mouth open, and eyes fastened shut by his tired eyelids.

Just four months after this time of absolute calm, something went wrong.

Little Harry was coughing. For half an hour, an hour, more than an hour. They tried resting him, the song, milk, burping him, and funny noises. None of these things worked, although they didn't exactly expect the funny noises to be helpful. James had just wanted to make funny noises to cover up his panic about his son.

After the months of relaxation and easy-going, this was a sudden awakening to a very real problem. The fear instilled in the pair of them was more real than Voldemort felt at that moment. But Harry was just a baby, no matter wizard or otherwise. Lily considered a very muggle solution, and she called her sister.

"Petunia said he might not be able to breathe," she told James, holding Harry for her comfort and his. "Do you think that might be the case?" James frowned at the mention of her sister, sighing heavily. He knew his wife was tired, and that he was tired, and that his son must be tired too.

"He's probably just got himself into a panic and can't get out," he replied easily, hoping to sound far more casual than he felt. Always the casual one, and that balance had to remain intact – even though he wanted to take the baby from between her arms, and soothe him until Harry was quiet, asleep, and okay. He wanted to take his son somewhere Voldemort wasn't a name, and where no one could or would come after his family.

"We should do something," Lily murmured, her anxiety increasing with James' silence, tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes. She stroked a swatch of Harry's black hair from his red face, something which her mother once did with her. "Petunia said the shower. Something about steam, and a kettle. Is that a thing you might do?"

"Lily, you are speaking gibberish to me," James protested, raising his hands in surrender.

Harry began another fit of coughing, causing the worry to flash over both of their young faces. They couldn't let anything happen to their son. Not through Voldemort, and certainly not through careless disregard.

"Can we please just try my thing?" Lily whispered. He nodded.

Together, they hauled up to the bathroom, James grabbing soft towels, and running behind his wife to the bathroom installed on the top floor. They closed the door, swaddled Harry in a white towel, and switched on the hot taps. Taps, shower, and closed the windows, keeping the steam in the one room. James pressed the awkward button which made the shower emit a harsh rush of boiling hot water.

In grey-white swirling patterns, the gas oozed into the room. It decorated their skin with tiny water droplets, condensing on the cold surfaces of the mirror and bathtub. Eventually, it began to calm Harry as well, opening his lungs, and relaxing the entire trio of Potters.

Both parents visibly deflated, laughing all of a sudden at the release of the stress. They smiled blearily at each other, feeling much better.

"And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain, sail far away from Lullaby Bay."

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Thanks for reading!