Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's.
Nighttime
When he finished reading the fifth chapter of "The Prince", his voice felt distinctly sore, he had no idea what time it was, and Morgan lay sprawled all over him, her head resting on his shoulder.
"We should stop now."
"Please? Pretty please?"
"Morge, I'm tired. We can finish tomorrow, I promise." He didn't know where the nickname had come from. It had seemed natural to him.
"You gave me a nickname." The girl looked right into his eyes, so much like his own. Her voice was quiet, filled with a strange awe.
"I did. Now, how about going to sleep?"
"But I'm not ti-", she yawned, "-red."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure of that, young lady? You belong into bed."
"O-okay." Another yawn.
He gathered her up in his arms, the book in his hand.
He put the book back on the shelf, then he carried her to the bedroom and layed her in the crib. There was a bed in there, too, he noted.
He was a bit surprised to see both clothing for him and her in the wardrobe, but he shrugged, figuring old Moldieshorts had planned this situation thoroughly, at least.
He looked at her. Her eyes were closed.
Quickly, he changed into pajamas.
"You look strange."
He turned around. Had she seen him changing?
"Can you help me with the pajamas?"
Most likely, she had.
He helped her change, also changing her - ugh - nappies. He was pretty sure that was simply disgusting. Still, Morgan needed it to be comfortable, so it was worth him feeling a little - okay, a lot - disgusted.
Then, he picked her up and put her in the crib. Just moments later, he collapsed into his bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
In the middle of the night, Harry was woken up by a strange noise, right in the middle of a nightmare.
It was little Morgan, turning and mumbling in her crib, also having a nightmare, then waking up with a scream.
He held her in his arms while she sobbed into his shoulder, babbling almost incoherently.
"There... Grandpa... Muggles... screams..." While it wasn't much, he was pretty sure of what had happened.
That sick bastard had forced his own granddaughter to watch?! Well, sort-of-granddaughter, but still, a child, barely older than a year!
"If you want, you can sleep in my bed." He didn't know where his offer had come from. It sounded fatherly, he felt. Nothing the Dursleys had ever done for him.
"I could?"
"You could."
"Yes, Dad." He didn't notice the label then, but later, he would.
For now, he took her out of the crib. She slept right beside him, in his arms.
Both of them slept, without nightmares, until the morning came.