Morning
“Is it a rat?”, Harry’s little head tilted in confusion as he dug into his pancake, “It looks like uncle Wormy!”, he giggled.
James turned from the stove, apron swishing as he did, “Hey! It’s very obviously a bunny. Your favorite animal”. He had to admit the pancakes were turning out a bit wonky but it wasn’t that bad.
Harry shook his head, “That was my favorite animal yesterday”, the gap from his missing front tooth flashed when he smiled, and made him say his S’s kind of funny “It’s giraffes now”.
“I see,” James stifled a snort that was interrupted by a long exaggerated gasp from upstairs.
“I hear intruders in my kitchen!”, Lily called, and James could hear the smile in her voice as it grew closer, “Somebody must have broken in last night!”.
“Muuumm, it’s only me and Dad!”, Harry erupted with mirth when Lily’s head poked around the corner, still mussed from sleep.
“Oh! Thank Merlin”, she sighed in faux relief before bounding over and planting a fierce kiss to Harry’s cheek. She whispered something in his ear that made them both laugh, and James could have sworn he’d never heard a more beautiful sound.
“So how’s breaky coming along? I’m famished,” Lily came from behind to rest her chin on his shoulder, she kissed his temple, smelling of toothpaste and coconut shampoo and home.
“Good morning to you too”, James bumped her with his hip and she only rolled her eyes, capturing his jaw and kissing him properly.
James barely registered Harry’s fake gagging noises over the floaty haze it put his head in. He was convinced that centuries could pass before Lily Evans Potter ever failed to turn his insides to goo.
“Morning”, Lily grinned against his lips when they broke apart, “Uh, love?”, her voice was more urgent now, “It’s burning”.
“Agh fuck!”,
“Oi! No bad language in my kitchen!”,
“Dad! You said that’s not a nice word”.
James shot water hastily at the pan with his wand, “Sorry Haz, that wasn’t very Dad-like”, he chuckled, and stared ruefully at the black lump of a pancake in the now flooded pan.
“What was that even supposed to be?”, Lily peered at it skeptically.
“It’s obviously a lily flower! It was supposed to be yours”, James groaned in faux exasperation, “No appreciation for true art around here!”.
Harry and Lily threw their heads back, and there was that beautiful sound again. James thought in that moment, that it could be the only thing he’d ever get to hear until the end of his life and he’d never tire of it. How could he, if it was what he lived for?
