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Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 1566

I (Don't) Wanna Be Alone

Kingsley watched, concerned, as Harry stared at the wall, unmoving, unfocused, barely even blinking. It wasn't new, he'd been like that for close to a week, arriving at work on autopilot and spending much of the day doing nothing, like he wasn't actually there in his mind even though he was in person.

Almost like clockwork, as the big hand ticked over to twelve, marking seven in the evening, Harry stood up and walked towards the door.

Kingsley shook his head. He didn't know what was going on with his Auror, but it couldn't be allowed to continue.

"Harry?"

Harry startled and then turned to look at Kingsley.

"Hi."

Now that he was closer, Kingsley could see that dark smudged beneath Harry's eyes, and the almost dead look in the usually lively green eyes.

He was so clearly exhausted, it hurt Kingsley's heart to see him in such a state.

"You're coming home with me," he murmured, playing deaf when Harry let out a halfhearted protest. He gently gripped Harry's arm and tugged him towards the elevator.

"You need food and sleep," Kingsley said, when they were standing side by side in the small golden box that would take them down to the atrium.

"I just need to be left alone!" Harry protested, shaking his head. "Why does everyone keep telling me what I need?"

Before Kingsley could stop him, Harry stomped out of the opening doors, and into the crowd milling around the atrium.

Kingsley sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he stepped out of the elevator himself, following Harry at a more sedate pace. He'd messed that right up; though… Now that he thought about it, that was the most animated he'd seen Harry in a week.

Perhaps it hadn't been a complete failure.

…

The knock was almost too low to be heard over the torrential rain, and Kingsley frowned, wondering if he'd been hearing things, or if perhaps it was a tree branch knocking on the side of the house from the wind.

When it sounded again, a little stronger, he gave his scotch a mournful look and forced himself to his feet.

He knew it could only be one of a handful of people, since his wards hadn't alerted him to his visitor, but he was still surprised when he opened the door to find Harry standing in front of it, looking like a drowned rat. He hadn't even conjured an umbrella to protect him from the worst of the downpour.

Shaking his head, Kingsley ushered him inside, closing the door on the terrible weather.

Kingsley fussed over him, helping him from his cloak and summoning a few towels from the airing cupboard.

Harry kept his gaze down, avoiding Kingsley's eyes, and the Minister for Magic sighed.

"Wait here for a minute while I get you something to change into, okay?" he said, briefly running his fingers through Harry's hair.

Harry nodded, mute for the moment, and Kingsley made his way upstairs to find something warm that he could shrink for his guest.

Honestly, he didn't know what he was going to do with him. Little pest. Smiling to himself, Kingsley grabbed a pair of soft lounge pants, a plain salmon coloured t-shirt that had never seen the light of day, and a hoodie that wouldn't be shrunk. It was one Harry often stole when he came over for dinner, it was practically his anyway by now.

When he returned to the hallway, it was to find Harry hadn't moved an inch, and with gentle hands, Kingsley pushed him towards the downstairs bathroom.

"Leave your clothes in there, I'll sort them later," he instructed calmly.

Harry nodded and closed the door behind him, and Kingsley padded through to the kitchen, flicking the muggle kettle he favoured on. He prepared hot chocolate, just the way Harry liked it, and had just set the mug down on the table when Harry shuffled into the living room.

Kingsley seated himself back on the sofa where he'd been before Harry knocked, and left Harry to decide for himself. He wasn't completely surprised when Harry flopped down beside him.

Even in a funk as he was, he still seemed to gravitate to Kingsley's side, as he'd done for years now.

Kingsley grabbed a tan blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over Harry, tugging him into his side.

"It's no use," Harry mumbled, even as he clung to Kingsley with weak hands. "I can't sleep."

"Does that mean you shouldn't be comfortable?" Kingsley asked, grabbing his book from the side table. He opened it in his lap, and, with one hand running through his hair, he began reading aloud.

Harry was asleep before he'd finished the first page.

…

It didn't matter how comfortable the sofa was, sleeping on it was always a terrible idea. Unfortunately, it was a terrible idea that he seemed to repeat often, because he was loath to ever disturb Harry when he fell asleep pressed into his side.

Harry was still sleeping, but given they'd been there for hours, Kingsley didn't have any choice but to extricate himself from Harry. He really needed the bathroom.

Besides, it was breakfast time, and he hadn't been lying about Harry needing food as well as sleep.

Carefully, and so, so slowly, Kingsley moved from beneath Harry's sleeping head, lying him gently down so that he lay spread across the sofa.

Harry murmured, his brow furrowing, and Kingsley couldn't help the wave of fondness that filled him.

God, but he loved him.

It wasn't a new thought, and as he left the living room to prepare himself for the day, Kingsley thought for the umpteenth time that he was fine if nothing ever came of the love he had for Harry.

They were already closer than any normal friends could ever be, after all, and what was sex compared to the companionship they shared?

By the time he'd showered and dressed and got breakfast started, he could hear the stirring movement of Harry waking in the living room.

Sure enough, after a few bangs and clatters in the bathroom, a Potter-zombie joined him in the kitchen, slumping down at the breakfast bar.

"Good morning to you too," Kingsley greeted cheerfully, laughing quietly when Harry flipped him off.

He set a mug of coffee in front of the younger man, watched him practically inhale the contents and then stole it back to refill it. It was as much a morning routine as Kingsley had ever had and he never tired of it.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" Kingsley asked, after he'd served up two plates filled with Harry's favourite breakfast treat—chocolate chip waffles.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Petunia died," he said eventually.

Kingsley blinked. He hadn't been expecting that, and he frowned slightly because Harry had been in a state for close to a week, and why hadn't he come to Kingsley about it before now?

He was undeniably hurt, though of course he didn't say as much.

"I'm sorry," he said instead.

Harry nodded, chewing on his lip. "Sorry I didn't come tell you. I just…" he shook his head.

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "You just what? Harry, what is it?"

Harry sighed. "It's been pointed out to me that I lean on you too much. That I should be, uh, more independent I guess. And that you… and that you have better things to do than be my…" he waved his hand, apparently as unable to define them as Kingsley was.

"By who?" Kingsley was furious.

Harry just shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You know normally I ignore stupid shit like that but it came right on the back of getting the letter and I just… spiralled I guess. You know I can get lost in my head sometimes."

Kingsley stood from his seat and moved around the breakfast bar to pull Harry into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sweetheart," he murmured, because Petunia Dursley was not worth the air she breathed in his opinion but she'd been Harry's aunt and despite her horrid treatment of him, part of Harry loved her.

Small as that part may be, it was still a loss.

Harry pressed closer and let his head rest on Kingsley's shoulder, his hands sliding up to grip at Kingsley's back.

"You know I love you, right?" Harry asked, his voice small and almost timid in a way it almost never was.

Kingsley chuckled. "Of course I know that. You know I love you too, right?"

Harry nodded, the movement making his chin dig into Kingsley's shoulder.

"Bony little pest," Kingsley murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Harry's temple. He released Harry slowly. "Eat your breakfast."

Harry picked up his fork with a small smile tilting his lips, and Kingsley couldn't help but match it with one of his own; Harry's smile was often infectious.

Or perhaps he just liked to see him happy.

Either way, it was Saturday, and barring any big incidents, they could both enjoy a lazy day off. Usually they'd go for a walk, or even plan an outing, but the weather was still awful out, so Kingsley silently planned a day in for them instead.

And he'd work on getting the name of whoever had told Harry that he shouldn't be bothering Kingsley.

For reasons.

Written for:

Days of the Year: 53. May 10th - Stay Up All Night Night: Write about someone who can't sleep

Aquarium Month: 2. Stand: Write about someone exhausted

Crayon Day: 39. Tan

Children's Book Day: 3. The Cheshire Cat - (action) Smiling

Autism Day: 1. Write about someone avoiding eye contact.

Zoo Lover's Day: 5. Koala: Write about clinging to someone.

Colours: 9. Salmon

365: 13. Lively

Fantastic Beasts: 142. Occamy: "I just need to be alone!"