Chapter Text
Preview of "Arms Wide Open - Grimmauld Place":
Harry was tired. Exhausted.
More to the point: He was drained.
He’d thought he knew the feeling, from endless nights sitting watch in a wintery forest during the Horcrux hunt. He used to pinch himself, relying on the pain to revive his brain enough for another hour, another thirty minutes, whatever time was left until Ron or Hermione would take over and he could sleep.
Harry of the past, Horcrux-destroying Harry hadn’t realized what a luxury that had been. To look towards a fixed point in time when rest would come; to know that he’d be allowed to pass out on his bed and sleep undisturbed until morning. He’d taken it for granted, more fool he.
Present-day Harry, much wiser and sadder, almost wished for a peaceful night in their wartime tent. For five, perhaps even six hours of uninterrupted sleep. What a life of leisure he’d lived without even realizing it.
Nestled against his chest, the baby stirred in the sling. He’d slept fitfully during Harry’s endless wanderings of Grimmauld Place – from the den to the kitchen, to the entrance hall, up the stairs to the drawing room, to the bedroom and back again downstairs, like a nervous lion pacing the confines of his cage. Now that Harry had paused, just for a moment to lean against the wall next to the ugly umbrella stand, Scorpius began to make his displeasure known. His squalls began to fill the corridor, unrelenting demands for the soothing rocking movements of Harry’s pacing to continue.
“Pi,” Harry groaned. “Just sleep, mate. Close your eyes and sleep. I know you’re tired.”
He couldn’t be hungry. He’d had his midnight bottle, and wouldn’t want another until 3 or 4 am.
He didn’t need changing. Harry had checked only ten minutes ago.
Could be his stomach again, Harry thought, wishing for a way to know for sure. Scorpius had a sensitive tummy and was prone to gassiness. They burped him religiously, made sure he swallowed as little air as possible during feeding, but sometimes he’d be near inconsolable, crying and crying until he more or less passed out with exhaustion.
Quite often, his fathers followed shortly after.
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Read more at https://archiveofourown.org/works/42086559/chapters/105662430