Severus sat on the couch, bouncing baby Harry gently on his lap. The infant let out a delighted squeal, his tiny fingers curling tightly around Severus’s long ones, utterly oblivious to his father’s exhaustion. Severus’s normally immaculate robes bore the unmistakable evidence of a day spent with an infant—a faint milk stain on one shoulder, a smudge of baby food on his sleeve—and his dark hair was slightly disheveled from Harry’s grabby hands. His sharp features, usually so guarded, were softened by weariness, but his dark eyes still held their usual intensity, watching his son with something dangerously close to fondness.
The front door flew open with a dramatic flourish, and James breezed in, radiating the same unchecked energy that Severus had spent all day trying to drain out of their child. His Quidditch robes were slung over one shoulder, his broomstick in one hand, and his hair was as wild as ever. His glasses were slightly askew, smudged with what was probably sweat or dirt from the pitch, but his grin—broad and unapologetic—made it clear he didn’t have a single care in the world.
"Home at last!" James declared, tossing his broomstick into the corner with little concern for where it landed. He dropped his bag in an unceremonious heap before making a direct beeline for Severus and Harry, as if nothing else in the world mattered. "How’s my favorite duo?"
Severus barely spared him a glance before holding Harry out to him. "Your son," he said dryly, "has determined that naps are for the weak. And I, as a result, have not had a moment’s peace all day."
James took Harry into his arms effortlessly, cradling him with ease, his grin never faltering. "Sounds like a chip off the old block."
Severus leveled him with a flat look. "If by that you mean he’s inherited your utter lack of regard for anyone else’s well-being, then yes."
James let out a laugh, plopping down beside him, pulling Severus close in the process—Harry nestled between them. "You love me for it."
"Debatable," Severus muttered, though the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
James studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if something had just occurred to him. "You know, I feel like there was something I was supposed to do today…"
Severus sighed deeply, already bracing himself. "Oh, Merlin. You forgot, didn’t you? How shocking."
"I didn’t forget!" James protested, though the hesitation in his voice was wildly unconvincing. "It’s just… I can’t quite remember."
Severus tilted his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling with the expression of a man who had suffered greatly. "Let me guess. It was something of vital importance, like ensuring you didn’t miss your post-practice pint with Black?"
James snapped his fingers, his face lighting up as if he had just solved the mystery of the universe. "Nope. It was you."
Severus blinked at him, unimpressed. "Get your head out of the gutter, Potter. I’ve been stuck with your child all day while you gallivanted about, chasing a Quaffle like an overgrown golden retriever. All I want is sleep."
James leaned in, smirking, his voice dropping an octave. "I can help with that."
Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Help with what?"
James’ grin turned downright wicked. "Putting you to sleep." He winked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Severus groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "For Salazar’s sake, James."
"What?" James feigned innocence as he bounced Harry slightly, making the baby giggle. "I’m just being helpful."
"Helpful," Severus echoed in a tone so flat it could have been stone. He stood, stretching briefly before gathering what little remained of his patience. "You can be helpful by putting your son to bed. I am going upstairs to actually sleep."
James watched as Severus turned on his heel, robes sweeping dramatically as he made his exit.
"What a tease," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in mock despair before looking down at Harry, who was still babbling happily in his arms. "Don’t worry, Harry. Your papa will come around. He always does."
Harry, as if in perfect agreement, responded with a loud, wet raspberry.
James grinned. "That’s my boy."