Harry had always been a light sleeper. He knew at an early age, that if he wasn't particularly awake by a certain time in the morning, he'd have problems with his Aunt and Uncle that could result in a particularly bad day for himself. Generally, he liked to have a nice day.
Throughout his teenage years, he became a deeper sleeper. But once James was born, he was once again a light sleeper. It didn't bother him that he rarely got to sleep in any more.
He knew he had a roommate, he had nearly woken him when his luggage pushed him towards his bed late last night. It was hot and sticky in the house, and humid. His pajama bottoms were sticking to him under the thin sheet of his bed, but he was surprised when he shook his shoulder and called him James. James was his four year old, and James wasn't here. And then the man started cooing at him?
Harry cracked his green eyes and turned his head to look up at the man who stood above him, calling him ridiculous names. "Wha-" Then he began to get a good look at the man. In shock, he sat up, and the sheet draped across his hips, revealing a very adult chest, full of masculine hair, and a slight stomach from having a desk job for the last year.
The other man looked like someone he once knew, only twenty years younger. Like someone he had photos of in his album. Someone who had died over a decade ago. "What the fuck."