Bulgaria

Harry tossed his duffle bag onto the floor and sank onto a lumpy mattress as he took in the sparse amenities of the room he would be staying in for the next week or so. It was certainly colder in Bulgaria than the UK. Perhaps he should pop into Charlie's for a visit, if time permitted.

He had a busy schedule ahead of him unfortunately – paperwork, meetings, and all the arguments that would no doubt arise from the stress. The Bulgarian team had managed to capture a small band of Dark Art followers, British citizens. The criminals were violent with charges racked up against them for burglary, assault, trespassing, and illegal weapon possession. Their transfer needed to be meticulous and tidy because the Aurors were dealing with international law. Sticky business, these international laws. All eyes were on the Bulgarian and British Ministries. The British Aurors had been grilled about their mission statement for an entire week. 'Be courteous. Set an example. No mess.'

How hard could it be?

Harry started missing London the very first night. As he tried to make sense of the charge sheet in his hand, he thought about how much tidier paperwork at the British Ministry was compared to this. He could hardly read the arresting Auror's writing. He squinted at the numbers.

Even in Bulgaria he was treated differently. He pretended not to notice the quiet stares and whispers in the hallways and conference rooms. A one-of-a-kind celebrity, that's him. It often became tiring, the polite smiles and strained exchange of pleasantries. He was ready to work, not put on a public appearance. He wished people would just understand that he had separated his life carefully so nothing intermingled, especially not into his personal time. Sometimes he was supposed to be an ambassador for the voiceless. Other times he was an Auror with more than a few good cases under his belt. And a handful of times he was allowed to slink into obscurity behind a closed door in his home or office. Unfortunately he couldn't afford such luxuries while away on work visits.

So he was spending his third restless night in the Ministry hostel when he jolted out of the heavy nightmare with a strangled gasp. His frantic search under his pillow yielded his wand that he gripped tight in his sweaty hand and whipped out while struggling to sit up. However before he could utter a word, the wand was ripped out of his hand. Dread was washing over his disoriented mind when-

-his eyes grew accustomed to the dark and he saw Castiel kneeling at the bedside.

"You could hurt someone with this," the angel murmured as he set the wand aside.

Harry pressed a hand to his heart. He nearly couldn't hear those words because of the blood rushing to his head. He had been so scared. "You have some nerve…" He glanced away to catch his breath. He hadn't had a nightmare that bad in years. He forced his panic aside. There was nothing to panic about. Everyone was safe.

He looked up when he felt a soft touch against his hair. He found himself facing Castiel again.

"Aren't you glad I saved you?"

He couldn't help his shaky smile. Yes, he was glad. "My patience is wearing thin, Castiel," he mumbled. "What did I tell you about playing games?"

Castiel knew he was wearing Harry down. He wanted to wear Harry down. His patience was eternal when it came to Harry… He shook his head. "I don't remember."

Harry stared at him for a thoughtful beat before shaking his head as well. "You are very irritating." He couldn't stress that point enough. He lay back down gingerly against the sweaty sheets. "And you should stop spying on me."

"Alright."

He rolled his eyes at the blatant false promise.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He didn't want to say. "It's not important." He yawned behind his hand. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Castiel assured him. "You haven't been sleeping."

"Yes, well… It's always hard to adjust to a new bed."

"And you work so hard."

"Hmm."

"I have been meeting a lot of people like you since I took form," Castiel said. "Determined and stubborn. Sam and Dean hardly ever sleep. Just like you. And yet they have the strength to fight almost every day. I think… maybe it is because they have something to fight for, just like you. It is not simply a job for them. It is their life. But shouldn't you take a break from life as well?" He examined Harry's sleeping face. "I think you should." He pressed a soft kiss to the wizard's forehead, wiping away the darkness from his dreams before disappearing.

He stepped into a narrow room a moment later, keeping quiet so as to let the house rest in silence. He swept his eyes along the walls that were peppered with crayon drawings and finger paintings. He carefully tiptoed over the toys spread across the floor. He ducked under a low hanging beam past the white wardrobe adorned with stickers. And he ended up by Teddy's bed.

He crouched down, tilting his head to study the boy's carefully scrunched up face. "Are you sleeping?" he whispered.

Teddy cracked an eye open. "Not really," he whispered back.

"Okay." Castiel sat down properly on the rug while Teddy scrambled up, hastily pushing aside his flashlight and book under his blankets. Once they were both settled down, the angel said, "I just went to visit Harry."

"Oh yeah?" Teddy beamed. "What did he say?"

"Well… He told me to stop spying on him."

"Hee hee."

Castiel rested an arm against the bed and propped his cheek against his hand. "Does Harry get homesick sometimes?" he wondered aloud.

Teddy shrugged. "I don't know. Is he homesick now?"

"I think so."

"Oh man…"

"Maybe you should write him a letter."

"I don't like writing."

"Your grandmother can help you."

Teddy wrinkled his nose. He didn't want to write letters. "Why don't you write him a letter?" he retorted.

Castiel tsked. "I would if it would make him feel better."

"Hmph." Teddy scratched his head while contemplating the implications of agreeing to these terms. "I don't know what to write about though… What should I write about?"

Castiel wasn't sure. "Maybe about what you did today? Or a joke? I am not sure. I have never received a letter before."

"I don't know any jokes."

"Me neither."

When Harry got back to his room the next evening, he was surprised to find an envelope on the floor. He had nearly stepped on it as he walked in. He frowned in confusion and stooped down to pick it up. His brows arched up when he read the messy writing on the front. "Oh?" He pushed the door shut and tossed his satchel across the bed before plopping down and opening the letter up.

Dear Harry,

This is Teddy. How are you? Is it cold in Bulgaria? It was a nice day yesterday. I went to play with Rose and Vicky. They wanted to play pretend games. It was okay.

I asked Grammy to tell me a joke. Here it is.

Why did the elephants get kicked out of the pool?

Because they kept dropping their trunks.

Do you get it? Elephants have long trunks on their face and you have to wear trunks to go swimming. That is the joke. Is it funny? I think it is funny.

Love,

Teddy

Harry smiled to himself. Deciphering his godson's writing took quite a lot of work. But this was the first letter ever. And he had a feeling he knew what had inspired it. Castiel really couldn't butt out of his business, could he?