"Lily. Lily. Lily. LILY, wake up!"

Someone nudges her shoulder, softly at first and then more urgently after she slaps their hand away and rolls over. She's having a nice dream. James and Harry are out for a father-son day – they're at the zoo or Florean Fortescue's or in Alaska, she doesn't know – and the girls have stopped by for a day of rest and relaxation. Mary has brought fluffy bunnies, Emmeline is fixing tea, Marlene is braiding Lily's hair, and Lily is lounging in a pile of soft, feathery pillows. For whatever reason, they are all wearing white, like in one of those ridiculous Muggle tampon commercials. She is calm, stress-free, for the first time in years. There is no war, no Death Eaters, no Harry throwing dry cereal at her and no struggle to get it out of her hair. She's at peace.

Another nudge against her shoulder and another loud "LILY" hits her ears. One of the bunnies Mary is holding falls to the floor with a squeak and the soft orange lights flicker overhead. The girls throw each other frustrated looks. Her shoulders are being shaken roughly now, and James' angry voice is saying "I swear to Merlin, wake up or I'm letting Padfoot sleep at the end of our bed for a week."

The girls stop what they are doing and glare at Lily, hands on their hips, clearly annoyed that James is interrupting them. She grumbles – in her dream and out of it – and swats her hand at him as her friends suddenly disappear and she is harshly pulled back into reality. A groan escapes her and she buries her face in her pillow. "What?"

James turns her over impatiently, forcing her to open her eyes. A cry sounds from across the hall, but it doesn't register. She's so used to hearing crying nowadays that it is only static noise to her. Staring up at her husband, her eyes narrowed viciously, she repeats herself. "What?"

James, unruffled by her tone, is just glad she has finally woken up. "He won't stop crying. I don't know what to do."

"Who won't stop crying?" she asks stupidly.

"Mad Eye Moody," comes his sarcastic reply. "Who do you think? It's Harry, you troll."

Lily closes her eyes and sighs. Harry does not cry often – she thanks God everyday he is not one of those babies – but when he does, it takes hours to calm him down and it takes more than one person to do the job.

"Okay. Alright. I'm up."

"Finally."

"Shut it."

After quickly pulling off her covers, throwing on her robe, and sending a scathing look toward James, they wordlessly exit their bedroom and trudge toward Harry's nursery. They stop outside his door before they enter, prepared to go over protocol.

"You've tried holding him?" Lily asks.

"Of course."

"Reading to him?"

"You know he hates that."

"But you tried it?"

"Yes."

"Singing?"

"Yes."

"Changing?"

"Yes."

"Giving him his sippy cup?"

"Lily, love, I've tried it all. He won't. Shut. Up."

She rolls her eyes but nods her assent. Her hand reaches for the doorknob. Turning to James one more time, she gravely asks if he's ready. His face is hard, determined; much like how it was before they would enter battle almost two years ago. The only sign that he is nervous is the audible gulp he gives as a response.

Together, they push open the door, only to be met with the uncontrollable, unbearable wailing of their son. They cover their ears and look at each other in disbelief. It never escapes their wonder how someone so tiny and gentle can make a noise so big and painful to their ears.

"What do we do?!" Lily shouts over the baby's cries.

"Hell if I know!" James yells back. "Why do you think I woke you up?!"

Finally, cautiously, they step into the room and make their way to Harry's crib. He is sitting upright, his eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling from between his lids. At the sight of him, Lily and James completely forget about the sharp pain being inflicted upon their eardrums. Instead, a new helpless ache takes its place in their chests.

"Baby..." Lily leans over the bars, her hands slipping beneath her son's arms and lifting him from his blankets. She holds him close to her chest and shushes and coos, swaying back and forth, stealing worried glances with James when he does not cease his bawling. Lily begins to sing him a lullaby as James steps closer and wraps his hand around little fists. It is not until Harry finally opens one eye and sees his father's face and his mother's hair that he begins to let up. He pulls back from Lily, from James, and takes the two of them in. A watery smile soon makes its way onto his face. In no time, his head is back on Lily's chest, his chubby fingers reaching out for James' again.

The pair stare at each other in confusion. They did nothing but cuddle him, which never, ever worked in any other case, and suddenly he was fine.

"Weird," James mumbles. He plays with Harry's fingers, his confusion easing into relief.

"Very," Lily agrees. She walks over to the rocking chair on the far side of the room, and Harry looks over her shoulder, whining and reaching out for his father.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Lily sits on the chair, James on the arm, and Harry still in his mother's arms.

"What do you think was bothering him?" Lily wonders.

James shrugs. "Maybe he wants to go trick-or-treating tomorrow and he's upset that you won't let us."

He receives a roll of her eyes in response. Now is not the time to pester her about Halloween of all things.

"Or," she begins, "maybe he just wanted us all to be together. Is that what you wanted Harry?"

Harry only babbles unintelligibly, then blurts out one of the words he is most familiar with. "Dada."

James smirks triumphantly.

"Mamama."

Lily smirks right back.

"Yeah, alright, maybe he did," James relents.

The family sits in comfortable silence; mother and father staring adoringly at their son, and Harry taking them in as though he will never see them again. One by one, they each drift off into sleep once more. In her dreams, Lily is surrounded by bunnies, pillows, tea, and sunshine again, except instead of her girls, James and Harry are with her, just as they are in real life. And this dream is far nicer than any dream she has dreamt before.