Everything wrong with Harry
Draco's long fingers curled around empty sheets. A longer reach and still no body. Damn. Harry must've snuck off without waking him up. It never mattered how often Draco implored to wake him up if he had a nightmare, if he needed some water, if there was anything wrong at all, but the Gryffindor was too proud and too independent for his own good. Draco lifted his head and checked the clock to see the heavy hand ticking close to three. He would have to be up for work in four hours and at the St Mungo's Apocothary in five. It's not that he needed a job. Between his Malfoy gold and Harry's inheritance (not to mention lavish sums that he was still bestowed for saving the world Merlin knows how many times), neither of them would ever have to work again, but the normality kept them sane, kept the war memories at bay. Of course this was only true during the day. Once again Draco found himself alone in bed with the bathroom light on.
"Harry? Love?" Draco's feet hit the lush carpeted floor and carried his sluggish body towards the light and unwelcoming colder tiles. He pushed the door open slowly and like always felt his heart fall at the sight that greeted him. His once nemesis and now lover sat head in hands on the side of their tub for two. This sight never got easier to bear. It was going on three years now, but each occasion that Draco found Harry after a nightmare felt like the first.
Draco knelt beside him and bestowed a small kiss on Harry's knee.
"Come back to bed. It's cold in here," but Harry merely shook his head and grasped his hair tighter. "Which one is it this time?" Draco tried to keep his voice low and unemotional. The possible responses seemed unlimited. Was it a cold Lupin and Tonks on the floor of Hogwarts, never to see their son grow? Was it Cedric in the graveyard? Or Wormtail once again shedding Harry's blood? Was it Sirius falling through the veil or did tonight's torture go further back? Was it Harry's awful muggle Uncle punishing him for existing? Or perhaps the nightmare took the form of the countless, blurred faces that Harry felt responsible for? The deaths that he could not prevent and yet carried with him always.
"Crabbe and…and the fiendfyre" Harry managed to sputter. Of course, Draco thought in near disgust, of course he would torment himself over that great lump.
"I could have saved him. I could have taken both of you on my broom". Harry's fingers dug further into his mop, clawing at the scalp.
"Yes, you could have. Then the weight of the over-sized, wand-wielding buffoon could have brought us all into the fiery depths that was the Room of Requirement, burning us to a crisp and effectively losing the war for the Light." Draco calmly pulled Harry's fingers away from doing further damage and knelt lower to try and catch his eye. The attempt was successful and he felt relieved to see the shadow of a smirk playing at Harry's lips.
"I could have thrown you off and saved him"
"Yes and then you'd have Crabbe taking up half the bed at night" Draco scoffed in attempt to keep the mood light.
"You take up more than half the bed. Bedhog". Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle, but as soon as the banter ended, his face fell once more.
"You. Did. Enough. Harry. You would not have been able to save him, too." But like usual Harry turned away from the truth. Most men would have gone running at this point, would have left Harry to his lonesome night terrors and wallowing in the past, but Draco was not most men. He barely felt a man at all. They were merely twenty, but the world had not been kind to either of them. After the war, after the attempt at finishing their studies at Hogwarts, both he and Harry opted for an independent study course in London, where there interaction with the Wizarding World was limited, but their interaction with each other greatly increased. War has a funny way of bringing people together. It unfortunately had a funny way of tearing Harry apart.
Draco slipped his arms under Harry's and stood up, bring them both to their feet. He tried not to show the disturbance on his face. Harry weighed so little.. Every since they'd met, he had trouble remembering to eat. He literally would go throughout the day never once stopping to see check if he felt hungry. Draco was constantly having to owl reminders to the Aurors office with simple messages such as Stop what you're doing. Go have a Toastie. Even then Draco was sure that Harry ignored half of them. He lead the all too light brunette out of the bathroom, and past their bed.
"Where're we going?"
"Kitchen. You're going to have some dinner". Draco could feel Harry's feet begin to drag, so he pulled slightly harder
"Draco, it's 3 in the morning."
"And when's the last time you ate?" The silence said more than Draco needed to know. "Food. Now. No arguments".