“Hey, little man. Hey, wha’s all these tears for, hm?” Harry cooed, his bare feet stepping onto the plush white carpet of the nursery. His white t-shirt and a pair of loose boxers adorned his figure as his fists rubbed at the sleep lingering in his eyes, a yawn leaving his mouth as he wandered closer to the cot set in the far corner of the nursery. “I should be sayin’ good mornin’, you cheeky bugger. I shouldn’t be up at this time o’the mornin,” Harry chuckled, sleep lacing his voice.

Other than being found in the nursery with Alfie’s small frame tucked into the crook of his arm, Harry would usually be found sprawled out on top of the mattress in the master bedroom, beneath the plush white duvet with your head resting against his chest and his arms wrapped around your entirety. One of your palms pressed to his chest, just below his nipple, whilst your other was splayed across your stomach. Both yours and his legs entwining together sub-consciously with each twist and roll occurring through the night, feet knocking against one another with an occasional shiver running up his spine each time your cold feet came into contact with his warm ones; which you found oddly bizarre due to his legs being too long for the duvet and having the area below his ankles exposed to the cool atmosphere of the bedroom. His toes curling with each stretch he felt coursing through his body, soft grunts and yawns leaving his mouth as he tried to get as comfortable beside you, his head pressing into the pillow. His hair knotted at his scalp yet hanging loosely, splayed out in all directions on the cotton pillow-case.
Yet, for the past few days, Harry hadn’t be found in that position beside you, but rather being found taking the night duties to let you sleep, gathering the rest you needed after a couple of days of looking after a bumbling and energetic 5 year old as well as a baby that needed your attention - something Harry missed due to meetings and popping into the studios to hand in song notes to those he was writing for. An array of hopes running through his mind when he heard his little boy release one cry, hoping that it was just Alfie’s baby teeth poking through his gums that was disrupting him and causing him discomfort through the night, rather than his want for food to suppress the appetite in his little belly; food that would come from you, unless a bottle had been pumped the previous night.
To his luck of not wanting to wake you for a feeding required what Harry lacked in the chest area, an area that the tiny hands of his little boy was scouring Harry’s chest for. With each cuddle to Harry’s t-shirt covered chest, it was evident that Alfie’s gums were swollen and red, and his hands were in tight fists that rubbed against his jaw.
And it was when Harry knew it was his the high point of his first tooth poking through the gum.
“Are you gettin’ teeth through, little man? You’re goin’ t’have a set of white gnashers like daddy soon, hm?” He laughed deeply, his hands scooping beneath his 4 month old son, and lifting him to his chest. “Little man, I need you to stop cryin’ otherwise mummy and P are goin’ t’ wake up,” he cooed softly, cradling the small baby boy to his chest. Soft whimpers and mewls leaving Alfie’s lips as his head tucked beneath Harry’s chin. “Hey, little man. C’mon, now.”

His barefooted steps carried him across the carpet, his hands holding Alfie as supportive as he could make it to keep his little boy against his chest. His little legs bent with his tiny toes curling and pressing into the flesh of Harry’s t-shirt covered belly, Harry’s hand cupping his bum with his other supporting his neck, holding his head against his collar bone to try and lessen the sounds leaving Alfie’s mouth. With each quiet and dainty step he took, he found himself getting closer to the rocking chair set up beneath the nursery window. The almost transparent curtains catching the wind, the street-lamps on the street below filtering through into the darkened room and causing silhouettes with each movement he made.
Bending down as carefully as he could, he set himself in the rocking chair, his heels pushing against the floorboards to give him some motion. Letting the chair rock on it’s own as Harry cooed and let out soft ‘ssh’s into his ears, almost inaudible over the cries and the whines emitting from Alfie.
“Oh, little man. I’m sorry this is so painful. I wish I could take this from you, bud. I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, the tips of his curls tickling at Alfie’s head. “Oh, Alfie. C’mon, buddy, m’not sure what to do. We don’t have a teethin’ ring in the freezer for you,” Harry sighed, the palm supporting the small baby patting sub-consciously in hopes that it quietened the cries leaving his throat. “Y’definitely have daddy’s lungs, hm? Y’goin’ to be a singer when your older, yeah?”
Growing up from the age was sure he knew what he wanted to pursue in the future, Harry always knew what he’d wanted to be. He was never swayed into his decision and he was never forced into using his voice in another matter other than talking.
With extra support coming from not only his mother and his father, but the two step-dads he had gotten to know through his childhood. A singer was something he was dead-set upon choosing as a career, and it was a natural response when asked what he wanted to do after school. Harry, with him being the topic of young stories told by Anne on multiple occasions t family get-togethers, would be found in the living room using make-shift microphones with his dad’s vinyl records playing softly around the room. His voice filtering around, off-key yet in tune at the majority of the song. And it was in those moments where he felt unseen and not the centre of attention, not only his mother but everyone who had heard him sing knew he was going to go far, and he was determined to make them proud.
“But, I’ll let you know now,” Harry whispered, “me and mummy will always be supportive of you career choices, Alfs. F’you want to be a performer on stage, we’ll be there to support you the entire way and f’you want to go into the army then me and mummy will always be there behind you. We won’t force you into what we want you to do, okay?” Harry cooed, his lips brushing over the smooth forehead of the baby snuggling yet crying against his chest. Alfie’s wet cheeks and his plump lips pressed against the showing collar-bones protruding from the neck line of the shirt adorning his chest.
As the minutes passed and the cries increased, almost louder than they were at the time Harry had entered the nursery, he found that the position he was keeping his son in was no help in calming him down. Shuffling the 4 month old onto his forearms, Harry shifted his baby-grow covered body onto the stops of his thighs, the hems of his loose boxers crumpled beneath Alfie’s bum.
“’ere we go, little man. S’that more comfortable?” Harry cooed, his bare feet pressed to the floor with a little bounce emitting from his limbs as he tickled her fingers across the plump belly beneath the soft blue material of the baby-grow you had dressed Alfie in once Harry had bathed him; with the help of Persephone along side him, passing him the baby shower gel and the talcum powder when Harry was in need of it. “I can see you a little tooth. Yes, I can, you little bugger,” Harry grinned sleepily, blowing a strand of hair from his face as it dropped within his eyesight.
A strand that had become a nuisance since it became longer and had missed a couple of haircut appointments that had been scheduled and rescheduled and end up being missed due to the stresses of the second pregnancy you were experiencing. Each craving you had experienced, Harry would attend to them. Each ache and pain you felt, Harry would try to soothe and comfort you as best as he could. Each pregnancy class you had scheduled, he would join you even though you had gone through one pregnancy and had ended up with a little girl that had grown up perfectly. With him missing his haircut appointments to make sure he was hygienic and up to scratch with looking his age, he had gone back to his hair growing to a unruly length with dead ends and dried roots becoming visible through the day with a tug as well as a hand running through to keep from his face.
A strand that had been something Alfie had enjoyed tugging on when it came into his reach. His fingers curling around the chocolate locks and tugging until he watched Harry writhe in pain and try his hardest to pry the tiny hands off. It wasn’t unfamiliar to ears to hear a groan and a soft scold from Harry, followed by giggles and laughter, until you ended up realising the hold on his hair was not loosening anytime soon. And you were sure that one morning, you were going to see the fistful of Harry’s hair in the tight fist of your small son, the cheeky smile that replicated his fathers emitting from his lips.
“Alfie, little man, m’not sure what to do for you. I know this is painful and I wish I could take the pain away,” he sighed, his chest aching as he listened to his son crying, feeling helpless as he tried to soothe him in anyway possible, in anyway that came across his mind. “Y’not like y’sister, you bugger. Y’know, she used to fall asleep in my arms every time I picked her up and rocked her around the room. You’re a handle, m’telling you. But, I wouldn’t change it f’the world,” he whispered, running the side of his curled forefinger down his sons cheek, the cries becoming less and less and decreasing in volume.
And that was when it dawned upon a sleepy mind what would soothe his little boy.
“Well, now I know what I need t’do, little man,” Harry chuckled, the warm feeling of Alfie’s gums unfamiliar and unusual against the pads of his fingers. “S’not what I had planned for this time o’the morning, y’know? By now, I’d be snuggled with mummy in bed, ready to wake up at 6 to feed you,” he stated, tapping the button nose of his little boy. “But, it’s almost 4 in the mornin’ and I’m bondin’ with you as you chew on my fingers for comfort,” he chuckled lowly, his chest rumbling as he prayed the loud sound emitting from his lips didn’t filter down the hallway through the cracked-open door of the nursery.

With his back to the door, he was unaware of his eldest baby appearing between the crack and pushing the door open softly. Her silhouette dark behind him, with her face illuminating from the light of the street-lamp peeking through the curtains, her figure shuffling weight as she changed ankles.
It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up when Alfie woke. She was unaccustomed to the life of having a newborn in the house, and being 5, she wasn’t able to comprehend the consequences of what a new-born baby could bring to the home, behind closed doors from the streets outside. Persephone herself, at Alfie’s age, was the same when it came to teeth poking through and when it came to ear aches and chesty coughs. She reacted the way any new-born baby would, and Harry and yourself would try everything you could to soothe her and make sure she was comfortable, just like she watched you do for Alfie.
“Daddy?”

“Hey, poppet. You shouldn’t be up,” Harry cooed, a smile on his lips, turning his head over his shoulder to see his sleepy and fatigued looking 5 year old standing and taking in the sight in front of her. The hems of her white and cotton pyjama trousers covering her feet and the short sleeves of her t-shirt rolled up and crumpled beneath her arms. “Wha’s the matter?”

“Alfie woke me, daddy. He cries really loudly,” she sighs, shuffling further into the room and standing beside the rocking chair that Harry had occupied himself in. Her head dropping to his shoulder, his head tilting to rest against the top of hers, as they stayed content and silent with their eyes looking at the bewildered looking baby. Alfie’s green eyes wide with his eyesight dancing around the room, taking in his surroundings. “Why is he up?”
“Alfie’s got some painful gums, poppet. His baby teeth are coming through, just like you did when you were this small,” Harry explained, lifting his head and looking to her with a soft smile.
Her hair, the same colour as yours with a soft and smooth look to it, was beginning to fall from the bun he had put her hair into before she fell asleep, her complaints of the strands tickling her neck and getting in her mouth wearing him down as well as the pout she sported. Her dainty hands gripping at his and playing with his fingers as he stayed perched on the tiny pink chair he’d moved from her tea-party table beneath her bedroom window, to the side of her bed. With a chuckle and a nod, he pulled a hairband from his wrist and gathered her hair into a ponytail, wrapping the band around it in a secure hold.
“Did you have to rub my gums like you do to Alfie?” She questioned, her voice in a soft whisper. “Did I cry like Alfie does?”

“You cried a lot louder than Alfie did, poppet. But, we didn’t mind. You were our first little baby and me and mummy experienced it together, so, by the time you were just 2 months old, we were accustomed to when you’d wake and cry for us,” Harry chuckled, looking down at his little boy squirming on his thighs. “As for rubbing your gums, I did that a lot for you too, poppet. There were many times that mummy caught me and you sitting on the sofa downstairs, very early in the morning,” he smiled, the feeling of Persephone’s arm snaking around his neck making his tummy fill with love. “I did this a lot for you, poppet. And, I’m always here for you in the future when you need me. Much like I was there for you when you were this tiny,” Harry stated, looking to Alfie.

“I was this tiny?”

“Y’know somethin’, poppet? You were so tiny. Much tinier than Alfie was when he was born,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “You could fit in the palm of my hand. You were that small,” Harry smiled.

Almost 6 years ago, his world changed for the good. Once his tiny little girl was placed into his arms and with the word daddy leaving the nurses lips as well as your own, he felt his heart clench and his eyes begin to water. Compared to his features and the size ratio to his height, she looked almost minuscule and tiny, and she looked delicate and fragile and Harry knew that if he dropped her at any point or knocked her foot or little fist then it would shatter into pieces.
A size that made her seem like she could fit in the palm of his hand perfectly.
“Daddy, your hands are really gigantic,” Persephone giggled, covering her lips with her little hand as she looked at him, a dramatic yet playful gasp leaving his mouth as his eyebrows furrowed.

“They’re not gigantic, Miss Styles,” Harry grumbled, wrapping his free arm around his waist and hugging her as close and as comfortably as he could with the arm of the rocking chair set between them. “Although, the bigger they are, the better the tickles,” Harry chuckled against her ear.

“No, daddy. Not right now. Alfie’s sleepin’,” she pointed out, her voice quiet with a finger held to her lips. “Alfie’s sleepin’, daddy. His teeth don’ hurt anymore,” she smiled, watching as Harry pulled his index finger from between Alfie’s lips. A soft whine following a string of saliva emitting from between his lips, before he fell back into a sleep, ready to be set back down in his cot to sleep through the rest of the morning.
Standing up shortly after, he made his way to the cot with Persephone hot on his heels. Her arms wrapping around his thigh as he hunched over and carefully set his little boy down on the soft padding-like mattress, curling his fingers around the blue knitted blanket made by his mother over the nine months you had carried him, tucking him up cosily and securely to make sure he stayed warm and covered through the night. The stuffed animals and the personalised pillows set up at the end of the cot, with one set beside him as a go-to-comfort.
“Now, let’s go and tuck you back in bed, poppet. You’ve got a busy day with Uncle Louis and Freddie tomorrow,” Harry grunted, lifting his 5 year old up and setting her on his hip as comfortably as he could for his back. “Y’know, daddy won’t be able t’do this much longer. Y’gettin’ too big for me t’pick you up now,” he sighed, her arms wrapping his neck with her fingers clasping together at the top of his shoulder blades.
“Daddy, m’not too big. M’only 5,” she sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Uncle Louis can still pick me up,” she whispered.

“But, Uncle Louis doesn’t have a bad back, does he?”
“He does always complain about having an aching back though, daddy. When he took me and Freddie back to his home from the park the other day, he said he had a sore back and that he was going to have a bath when I left,” she explained, her feet coming into contact with her duvet as Harry hunched over and set her down on her bed. “But, he doesn’t have to go to the oscaropath like you, daddy.”

‘Y’mean the osteopath, poppet?” Harry chuckled, reaching for the shorter side of the duvet to bring over and cover her body. “Get some sleep, poppet. You’ve got a busy day at the zoo and you can’t fall asleep when you go see the animals,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I love you, Persephone.”
“Stay wi’ me, daddy?”

“Poppet, I can’t. You need to sleep on your own,” Harry reasoned, running his palm over the top of her head. “And if Alfie starts crying again, I’m going to need to rush out and I don’t want to wake you up trying to get out of bed,” he added, giving her a sleepy smile. “We can always nap tomorrow when you come home, okay?”

“Bu’ daddy, please?” She pouted, her green eyes wide and her face illuminated and lit up by the night-light plugged in beside the beside, a Frozen themed night-light emitting purples and blues onto the ceiling. “Jus’ want to cuddle wi’ you. You always spend time with Alfie and cuddle with Alfie,” she groaned, jutting her bottom lip out in hopes it tugged at the heartstrings of her father; something that she knew would wear him down.

“Alright, alright. But, just f’tonight, okay?”

With a sigh and a soft smile on his lips, he hitched a leg up onto her bed, bringing his other up onto the mattress and falling slowly beside her, nudging and nestling himself between the beige wall her bed was pressed against and her body that fell lax once his body was beside her. Her pink duvet was brought up to his chest, which settled below Persephone’s chin, with her stuffed bunny he had brought for her the day she was born pushed between the two of them. The room fell silent, with the soft sounds of her breathing being clear to Harry’s ears as he closed his eyes.
“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, poppet,” Harry smiled softly, her small body curling up into his side with her legs latching in a grip around his thigh. Her head resting on his chest with Harry’s resting against the top of hers, one arm tucked around her with his palm set flat on her back. His index finger drawing patterns on her back in a soothing motion that had her flat-out and sleeping after moments of being beside her, with his other arm slung across his duvet-covered belly, limply with his bones lose and lax. His feet were poking out from the end of her duvet, hanging uncomfortably over the edge of the mattress, but without a care in the world crossing his mind because his little girl was curled beside him in a position that stayed throughout the night without a change in movements.
A position you had found them in the following morning.
A position that you hadn’t the heart to interrupt.

A position that made your heart melt.

Notes

it gets a bit boring when I write about Persephone all the time so it’s always fun to mix things up and write about the other Styles children. x