Sirius & Harry: Raising him after Lily and James die, for daretobeyourselftoday.
Sirius missed a lot of things since Lily and James had died, but most of all, he missed sleeping. Harry had a tendency to wake up in the godforsaken hours of the morning, crying. He never wanted changing, or feeding, he had just woken up from his sleep and needed someone to hold him. Sirius had to wonder if babies were able to have nightmares, because that’s what it seemed like, but he really didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about what he was doing here, he had to call Moony at least once a day for help. But he was Harry’s godfather; this was something he had to do.
He supposed he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, even if he didn’t have Harry to look after. Whether or not the kid was having bad dreams about the night his parents died, Sirius certainly was. All he ever saw in his dreams were flashes of green light and wide, staring eyes, and then he would wake up.
So like most nights, he sat on the edge of his bed with Harry cradled against his chest, rocking him gently and pressing his lips to the top of his dark haired head. The baby had fallen asleep again some minutes ago, but Sirius didn’t want to let go of him yet. He /loved/ his godson, and he knew how close he had come to losing him like he had lost Lily and James- and Peter, too, he supposed, the traitor. He liked the reassurance of holding Harry and knowing that he was still here.
Grudgingly, Sirius got up and wandered to the cot at the foot of his bed, laying Harry back down and making sure his stuffed giraffe was well within reach. He looked peaceful and untroubled, in his sleep, and Sirius breathed out grateful. He should have had his own room. Hell, he should have had somewhere to grow up that had a garden, that wasn’t just a flat.
He should have had his parents.
Sirius didn’t have as much as they had, but goddammit, he was going to give Harry all of it. He was trying his best.