Notes:
- Because this is a drabble series this won't be in chronological order.
- The Harry Potter time-line is moved up so the ages match up.
1. To you
It was rare that Harry has nightmares at this day and age, but they still appear, suddenly, spontaneously like fireworks. He wakes up panting, a loud gasp escaping his lips as he jolts upright. His hair is wet with sweat and his ratty grey t-shirt is matted to him like a second skin. His chest is rising and falling, unfocused eyes darting back and forth almost as if he's ready for an attack.
As his mind is shuffling from the warmth of his room and blurring to the coldness of Malfoy Manor, he doesn't even notice the weight beside him on the bed, nor does he realize it when that weight is calling out to him. That ringing in his ears is replaced with Hermione's scream, with Ron's shout, and then with—
"Harry!" That presence finally slaps a hand on his shoulder, and Harry snaps back into reality like a rubber band. Green eyes jump to the darkened figure of the man beside him, gripping his shoulder with a bruising strength to prevent him from falling back into the pillows. "Calm down," the voice finally says, and it's low, soothing; and Harry takes a deep breath.
"Sorry…." the Boy-Who-Conquered finally whispers out into the silence of their room. He turns to those black eyes staring up at him. "Did I wake you?"
Aizawa Shouta scoffs and turns in bed, fully facing Harry. "It's hard to sleep when you're moving around so much."
Harry watches with fond eyes as a messy lock of hair falls over Shouta's face. His hand twitches to brush it away, but it only helps to unclench the covers in his hands that he didn't know he was gripping.
"Sorry…" he repeats. "Bad dream."
The Japanese man hums underneath the covers. There is a pause.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
It's Harry turn to hum this time. He pulls his legs to his chest and breathes deeply. He turns his eyes down to the golden snitch-printed blanket that he got from Mrs. Weasley as a housewarming gift.
"No," Harry finally decides. But Aizawa doesn't go back to sleep; even though those droopy, dark eyes are growing heavier by the second, Shouta knows how his husband is.
They both wait.
"It's just that…" he exhales. Harry reaches out and runs his hand against one of the snitches on the fleece, and the magical print scatters with the beat of their wings.
He can handle as many flashbacks as Fate tortures him with. The Dursleys can come back to life and throw him in a cupboard, throw him against cabinets, or chase him across the playground. The Malfoys can throw him in a dungeon and use the Cruciatus Curse all they want, but—
"As long as they don't touch you," Harry finishes, turning his head to the sleepy brunet beside him.
"...So that's what this is about," Shouta mutters, and Harry at least looks sheepish by his statement. Yet that image of the small muggle, even if it was a dream, with the long black hair rotting away in Malfoy Manor's dungeon wasn't one he could easily overlook.
"I can take care of myself," the Pro-Hero states. "I wouldn't be a Hero if I couldn't."
"I know," Harry says, just as easily, but Shouta can see that he's more at ease now. His shoulders are relieved of that tenseness that kept him restless. But Shouta isn't blind to Harry's sincerity either; that kind of tenderness and love that kept them together, and promised to each other for the rest of their lives.
"Go back to sleep," Aizawa says, but he throws a warm arm over Harry's waist and pulls him under the covers. They lean against each other, but Harry's eyes are still wide open. "You're going to wake Teddy with your obnoxiously loud breathing again," Shouta prods.
"...Right," Harry says after a pause. Rolling over, he curls up against Aizawa and closes his eyes. They are peaceful for a couple of minutes, but then Harry throws his eyes open again and releases one good punch on Shouta's shoulder.
The man doesn't cry out in pain, but he grunts in annoyance, and that's the best thing Harry can get at this point.
"What is it now?" the Hero asks, irritation laced in his voice.
"I just remembered that Teddy's at Hogwarts now," Harry says, smug with a smile on his face like he was proud of himself for remembering that fact. Empty nest aside, Harry feels like a cat that caught the canary. Shouta always manages to trick him like this, but it feels good to catch on for once.
"Congratulations," but his voice is anything but sincere. It's as flat as a field. "Can I sleep now? I have to deal with my brats in the morning."
"Your brats," Harry echoes immediately after, not missing a beat. Those green eyes of his glow like a cat's when they turn to him.
"What about them?" Shouta turns in bed and smashes his face against the pillow with his voice coming out muffled.
"You said your brats—you were calling them the brats a couple months ago," and Harry smiles like he had just caught the golden snitch once more.
He full out breaks into laughter when Shouta grabs the spare pillow and threatens to smother him with it.
A/N:
I just felt like they would be such a cute couple?
That aside, happy late birthday, Aizawa!