Harry's POV

"Come on, buddy," I whisper, trying to be soothing and not desperate like I actually am. "Please go to sleep for Daddy."

The little boy continues to cry despite my pleading. Babies are probably the most contradictory creature on the entire planet; they're so bloody cute but then they start crying and when my baby cries, then I want to cry. I'm just tired. All the time.

"Still not sleeping?"

I look up at her voice, feeling guilty to see my mother standing in the doorway. I sigh and shake my head, resorting to sitting down with the baby.

"Let me," she suggests, holding out her hands. "You should get some rest."

"No, Mum, I'm fine. You can go back to bed."

"Give me my grand-baby and go sleep." I might be twenty-nine, but my mother still makes me nervous. I hand her the baby and kiss him on the forehead, muttering a thank you to my mother and making my way back to my bed. Sophie is sound asleep in the centre of it, her curly hair longer than ever and sprawled out into a tangle of knots that I know are going to be a pain in my ass tomorrow. But I can't worry about that now; I feel like I haven't slept in three months.

---

"Daddy!"

I groan and move my face into the pillow as Sophie pounces on my back. This is her favourite way of waking me up lately. Which isn't fun when I feel like I haven't slept in three months. After a moment I lift my head and try to peek back at her. I can't believe she's three. That just doesn't make sense to me.

"Yes, Soph?"

"Anne make breakfast," she says, leaning her little palms against my back.

"It's Nan," I remind her. But she really doesn't care. She'll always call my mother Anne. "What about that other kid?"

"Daddy," she giggles. "Mimo wif Anne."

"Okay, off you get. Daddy's too tired to play today."

She rolls onto the mattress and I slowly sit up, my back aching a little as I stretch my arms over my head. Sophie sits next to me while I rub my hands over my face and then through my hair. I want to play with her, I do; there's nothing left. All of my energy is gone and sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to sleep enough to get it back.

"Let's go get Mimo," I suggest, smiling at her. She nods and hops off the bed, running out the door. Her facial expressions sometimes...everyone always says she's so much like me, but she's so much like her mother sometimes that it scares me. When I round the corner I notice Robin sitting at the table already, which makes me a little uncomfortable because...well, I don't want to think about it. As promised, my mother has the baby in her hands.

"Mimo," Sophie says, pointing up at Mum's arms. She laughs and hands him off to me.

"Morning, little man." I set him easily in one arm and use the other to help Sophie into her chair. "Apple juice, Soph?"

"Did you sleep?" Mum asks, flipping a pancake.

"Like the dead. Thanks, Mum, you didn't have to do that." I couldn't get him to sleep and my mother felt like taking over so I wouldn't lose my mind at three in the morning.

"That's what I'm here for."

I smile at her and look down at the baby boy in my arms. Miloh Mason Styles. I don't know where she got Miloh from...but it was a major relief when I didn't have to pick something myself. Thinking of her makes my heart hurt, though. Sophie calls him Mimo because it's easier, I guess; I like to call him Miles. It's more than three months ago already that he was born. It's still a little surreal to think about. Even stranger that we now share a birthday.

"Daddy, go to park?" Sophie asks, standing on her chair.

"Sit on your bum," I tell her. She slumps over in protest. "Soph."

"Daddy," she whines. "Go to park today!"

"Fine, but you need to sit down." I raise my eyebrows and she finally complies, sliding down the back of the chair and facing forward again. "We'll go to the park, angel."

"Mimo, too?"

"Yeah," I laugh, setting her juice in front of her. "We'll bring Miles."

"Do you want us to come with?" Mum asks, bringing over a giant stack of pancakes. I sit down on the seat beside Sophie and keep Miloh in my arms while I cut one up for Sophie.

"No, it's alright. I'll be fine."

"I'll get a diaper bag ready for you," she suggests. I don't need her to do that, but she likes to so instead of trying to stop her I just stay quiet. Despite her constant worrying I am capable of doing this on my own. There's already a few bottles of formula in the fridge for the baby, so she hands me one before sitting down to eat with us.

Sophie has transformed in the last few months from the most unpleasant morning child to one with more energy than the rest of the day all put together. Maybe it's because we moved. After Miloh was born we couldn't stay in New York; it didn't feel right after everything that happened. Moving to Holmes Chapel to live with my family seemed to make the most sense so that's what happened. Sophie absolutely loves it; after living in the city and only seeing tiny patches of grass outside Central Park, she can't get enough of being outside. Even when it's raining.

We're living with my mother while on the hunt for a house. It's a little hard to go house-hunting with a newborn so the process has been slow. Plus, Mum has been an amazing help these last few months. I forgot how tiring it is to have a baby. This one, though, is the cutest thing I've ever seen. His hair is growing like a weed, straight but dark like mine is. He's got a tiny little nose and he's just a ball of chub and he's so bloody adorable.

"Mimo pancakes?" Sophie asks, stabbing a piece with her fork and holding it out. I set the bottle down and sit him on my knee to burp him.

"That's nice, baby, but he's too little for pancakes." She sighs and looks down with a heartbreakingly sad expression. "Can Daddy have some?"

That fixes it. She nods and holds it out for me to eat from her fork, giggling quietly at the dramatic happy expression on my face. After a few pleads to hold him and a few times of me telling her not right now, she hops off her chair and sits in front of her mound of toys in the living room. I feel like we've turned an adult's house into a daycare center and I feel bad, but my mother doesn't seem too bothered. She's actually so happy all the time to the point of tears. It's excessive. But it's nice.

Then Miles pukes on my hand. Not so nice. Mum laughs and hands me the cloth she had draped over her shoulder. She suggests calling Gemma to see if her and Jackson want to come to the park with us, and after assuring her that I can manage to call all by myself she takes Sophie to get her dressed. I'm already exhausted.

---

"Any luck with a house?" Gemma asks, sitting down on the bench next to me. She takes Miloh out of my hands and smiles at him.

"Not yet."

"Haven't seen anything you like?"

"I haven't looked a ton." I shrug and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, watching my daughter and my nephew chase each other around.

"I miss having a baby," she says, pouting slightly. I laugh and look at Miles again, happily looking around the park. "But then I see how tired you are and I remember how much I hated that part."

"S'not so bad," I mutter. He sneezes and it's the most fucking adorable thing I've ever seen in my entire life and the giant smile on my face is ridiculous. "Definitely worth it. Plus, it's not usually like this."

"That's true. When does-"

"Daddy!" Sophie wails from the playground. She starts crying and Jackson runs over to get me. Gemma nods for me to go and I leave her with the baby, jogging over to my little girl who has now scraped her elbow.

"Let me see," I tell her gently. She continues to cry and I pull the sleeve of her sweater up carefully. It's not bleeding. "You're okay, baby."

She holds her hands up for me anyway, silently asking me to take her into my arms. Of course there's no way I could ever say no, so I lift her up and tell Jackson to keep playing, that Sophie will come back in a minute or two. This is how she gets when she's hurt; she needs to cuddle for a minute or two and then she's good to go.

"You've been sleeping in Daddy's big bed, haven't you?" Gemma asks her. Sophie nods, her head against my chest. "Lucky girl."

"Not tonight, though," I remind her. She looks up at me with sad green eyes. "No, Soph. We already talked about it."

"Your Daddy is mean," Gemma says. I roll my eyes at her and she laughs. "Uncle Brad isn't mean."

"Me like my Daddy," Sophie mutters defensively, sticking her thumb in her mouth. I laugh quietly and brush her hand back from her face.

"Do you want to go play?" She shrugs. "Do you want to go home?"

"Go see Mummy?" she asks, peering up at me. I try to smile, shaking my head.

"No, baby. We can't go see Mum." I wish we could.

---

"Seriously?" I mutter, tossing the blankets away from my body when I hear Miles crying through the monitor. It's been twenty minutes since I put him back to sleep. Halfway to his room, though, the crying stops. Which is weird because that never happens during the night. I begin to walk back to my bed but then I go to his room anyway, just to check why he stopped crying. When I round the corner I stop in his door, startled at first and then too happy to contain the smile.

"You have impeccable timing," I say, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm never leaving ever again for the rest of his life."

Notes

:o whos thaaaaat

yeah. doesn't picture harry with a baby make you want to burst? cuz its too many feels for me.