Sirius woke with a start and groaned into his pillow. Harry was crying again. He turned and draped an arm over Remus, giving him a light shake.

"Moony," he croaked.

"I got up last time," replied Remus, his voice muffled by the heavy quilt.

"Please, I'm fucking knackered," complained Sirius. The first couple weeks of Harry's transformation hadn't been so bad because the house had been full of people to give him a helping hand. Molly had been at his beck and call, but he had been keen to prove he could handle things on his own and had convinced a reluctant Molly to leave him to his own devices with the promise that she'd be available any time he needed him. Sirius was now half-convinced that Harry had waited for Molly to walk out of the front door before he had dropped all pretence of being a happy bouncing baby and began bawling immediately.

Harry fought with Sirius at every turn; he squirmed and squealed every time he needed his nappy changed. He screamed and splashed whenever Sirius tried to bathe him. He refused to sleep when he was put down for naps and bedtimes, regularly escaping from his crib and crawling at lightning speed through the house, Sirius chasing after him helplessly. Mealtimes were a constant battle too, Sirius often ending up wearing most of Harry's food than managing to get him to eat any of it. Despite his woes, Sirius refused to ask Molly for help, afraid it would merely vindicate her belief that Harry should never have been left in the care of his godfather in the first place.

The other Order members never stayed long enough to be of any real help, and apart from Snape's daily visitations – and he was about as pleasant one of Harry's nappies - it was largely down to Sirius and Remus to take care of Harry.

And now Harry had taken to waking up every hour of the night crying. Remus and Sirius took it in turns getting up to comfort him, but come morning, both men were exhausted. Sirius pleaded again, "Moony, I'm begging you."

"Fine," he exhaled resignedly, slowly rising from his bed like a zombie from the grave. With great force of will, Remus got to his feet and shuffled from the bedroom, not even bothering to switch on the hall light. One of the few benefits of his lycanthropy was his superior night vision.

"Thank you," Sirius gave a sigh of relief and before Remus had even left the bedroom, he was snoring again. Remus rolled his eyes and entered the adjacent bedroom where Harry lay in his crib, wailing more loudly as Remus approached.

"There there," he cooed soothingly cradling Harry in his arms. "Did you have a bad dream, hmm?"

Harry's tiny fists clung to Remus' t-shirt and he whimpered, calmer now that he was in the man's arms. Remus paced back and forth, humming a lullaby and gently patting Harry's back, "Come on, let's get you a bottle. See if it'll help you get to sleep."

After preparing a fresh bottle of milk for Harry, Remus couldn't face the effort of climbing back up the three flights of stairs to Harry's bedroom. Instead he settled himself on the living room couch, Harry rested comfortably on his lap as he fed him his bottle. He looked down fondly at the baby in his arms and a dull ache grew in his chest, "It's still strange seeing you like this again. You weren't a heavy sleeper the first time around either. Your poor mum and dad were always exhausted, but Sirius and I were there to help—" Peter too, he remembered, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. "I'd long resigned myself to the fact that I'd never have any children of my own. But having you there, it felt like I did."

Harry drank hungrily from his bottle, staring up at Remus wide-eyed with interest. Remus sighed, "Back then, it seemed like everyone else in the world was going mad. We were all so frightened all of the time, we were losing hope of ever seeing an end to the war. But then you came along; you were like a bright light in a world of darkness. We were still afraid, of course – afraid for you, at what kind of world you were going to grow up in – but you gave us all courage to keep fighting. You were our reason to continue resisting, hoping for a better, brighter world for us all to live in. We never thought in a million years you would be the one to give us that world."

Remus shut his eyes tight, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill over. The ache in his chest throbbed now like an exposed nerve, "You gave us a second chance, but the cost was too high. You lost everyone who loved you that night – your mum and dad, Sirius, me…If I could use a Time-Turner to go back and stop it all from happening, I would. Save you the pain and the suffering you've had to endure. Everyone else be damned, I would."

Remus sat the empty bottle on the coffee table and lifted Harry onto his shoulder to rub his back, "It's wishful thinking of course; I can't change the past. I can never give you back those lost years that you deserved with your family. But this thing that's happened to you, strange as it may be, I can't help but see it as a second chance of sorts. For you as well as Sirius and I."

Harry burped and Remus chuckled. He leaned back on the couch more comfortably, Harry's head resting on his chest. Remus absentmindedly stroked Harry's wild hair, "I don't know how long you're going to stay like this Harry, but I'm going to do things right this time. Take care of you like we were always supposed to."

Harry yawned and closed his eyes, snuggling into Remus' chest. Utterly exhausted, Remus accepted that he would be spending the duration of the night here. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch.

"I remember the night you were born," he yawned, a gentle smile playing around his lips at the memory. "Your father was beside himself with excitement. Sirius was even worse…"

Remus' consciousness ebbed around memories of that perfect day; James beaming with pride, Sirius crying the first time he held Harry and Lily patting him reassuringly on the arm while she lay exhausted on the hospital bed. Silly old git, he thought fondly. He could feel the dark edges of unconsciousness surround him, but he did not resist, letting himself fall into the most restful night's sleep he'd had in many years.