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Ron had been right. Once told that Harry wanted Hermione there, Mrs. Weasley was more than willing to have the girl visit, and Hermione, after receiving Ron's letter, couldn't have been prevented from coming by anything short of death itself. Arrangements were made, and she would arrive early the next week.

Harry, though he felt much better by his standards, was confined to bed for three days, during which he was fed roughly every three hours. Gradually, he was able to eat more, and his diet was expanded to include more interesting foods than broth and gruel. Ron was a frequent companion, but his friend's normally ebullient nature was frequently overcome by periods of anxious pacing and angsty brooding that, while not exactly uncalled for, were rather draining on Harry. He felt guiltily relieved on the occasions when Molly had come in during one of Ron's brooding spells and shooed him out of the room.

Fred and George also visited him, and did their very best to cheer him up. This was a bit handicapped by their mother's threats to turn them into newts and keep them in the well if they used a single one of their 'pranks' on him. This severely limited their repertoire, but they still managed to make him laugh with outrageous stories and jokes, and their excitement over the plans they'd made for their joke shop... funded by Harry's Tournament winnings... was infectious.

Ginny never came near his room.

On the fourth morning, Molly looked him over critically and pronounced him well enough to join the family for breakfast, but warned him not to strain himself, and to lay down if he felt the least bit tired.

Breakfast at the Burrow was, as always, a hectic affair. Harry was finally allowed to eat whatever he felt like, and there was plenty to choose from, though he had to be quick to get to the platters before Fred and George. Ron beamed at him proudly, as if Harry's recovery were his own hard-won accomplishment, and Molly fussed over him until her husband, with patient amusement, told her to let the boy alone before she gave him digestive troubles. Ginny never so much as glanced at him. She ate quietly and quickly, and asked to be excused as soon as she was done, saying she needed to catch up on her summer reading for school.

A few minutes later, she passed through the kitchen on her way out the back door, a mesh bag of books over her shoulder.

Harry watched her go. He had to talk to her, and he had to do it without arousing suspicion. A plan began to take shape in his head. He'd need to get her mother's help, but he had an idea for that. He wouldn't even have to lie, not exactly.

And maybe he could help her in more than one way, too.

He waited for the others to leave, and as Molly began to clean up, he asked, "Could I talk to you for a little bit?"

Molly started to smile warmly at him, but then she looked at him closely and frowned. "What's wrong, dear?"

Harry hesitated. "You probably don't want anyone to overhear. Could you put up a silencing charm?"

Her frown deepened, and the put a hand on his back and walked him out of the room, through a small, oddly twisted little hallway, and into a little room filled with fabric and thread and other sewing paraphernalia. Molly closed the door, then murmured a quick spell. Motioning him to a rather worn but comfortably over-stuffed chair, she sat down on a little padded stool and looked at him expectantly. "Now, what's wrong, Harry?"

"Ginny's upset," he said. "Did she ever really talk about what happened her first year?"

Molly's face tightened. "A bit. She said she'd rather forget it than talk about it. We were worried for a while... she had some horrible nightmares... but all of that passed and she's fine now," she said, firmly.

"I think they're coming back," Harry said. "She thought that Voldemort was gone, and couldn't hurt her anymore. Now he's back."

Molly winced at the name, and looked away. "That worries everyone, dear. Of course it does. Hers is more personal, but... there's no real reason for him to single her out again, thank goodness. She knows that, but of course she's going to be frightened right now. We just need to be understanding, and make sure she knows she's safe."

Harry sighed. "That's why I'm worried. I don't know if she is or not. Does he know who she is? I mean, it was a memory of him, so does he know what it did? What happened? He seems to be obsessed with me, because of what happened when I was a baby. What if he has the same reaction to her?" He looked at Molly tiredly. "And I'm positive she's thought about these things too. She's scared. I think maybe that's why she won't even look at me."

"I'm sure she's scared," Molly said, gently. "We all are. But Dumbledore assured me, and her as well, that there would be no further connection to her, that he wouldn't know what the... the 'memory' knew. And, Harry, dear... I doubt Ginny's afraid of you, luv. She's just having a bit of a shy streak, that's all."

Harry frowned. "In a way, that might be worse," he said. "If he doesn't know I was involved, then he probably thinks she did it all by herself. Being beaten by an eleven-year-old girl would enrage him. I'm not worried about, um, some kind of magical connection, I'm worried about Voldemort thinking that she made him look bad."

Molly's eyes and the lines around her mouth betrayed her worry. "She's a good girl, and she knows now to stay well out of trouble. She won't be going off by herself at school this year."

Harry laughed. "No offence, Mrs. Weasley, but... she holds her own against her brothers, and she's at least as mischievous as the twins. I wouldn't assume that. That wasn't really my point, though. If she's thought of these things, then it won't help to just reassure her that she's safe. She won't believe it, and she'll think you don't understand. And she won't tell you, because she loves you and doesn't want to worry you."

"In that case, there's nothing to be done about it, dear," Molly said, with a sigh. "Other than be there, of course, and reassure her as best we can. And she will stay out of trouble, Harry. She's a smart girl, and it's not like it is with you boys. Ginny knows better now."

"She does," Harry said. "But she also wants to do what's right, even if it's dangerous. All the dangerous stuff I've done... it wasn't because I just wanted to, it's because I thought it was the right thing to do. And it was. If I hadn't, Voldemort would have gotten the Philosopher's Stone my first year, and Ginny would have died my second, and... well, you get the point," Harry said. "She is a good girl. That's my point. She won't let danger stop her from doing the right thing. She'll do what's right, even if it isn't easy." He sighed. "That wasn't really my point, though. I just... I wanted you to understand. I don't think she'd be in danger from anything she did, she'd be in danger because Voldemort came after her." He smiled a little. "If you hadn't raised her so well, I don't think she'd have had the strength to hold him off as long as she did."

"Harry... you children shouldn't worry about... that," Molly said, uncomfortably. "He was beaten before, he'll be beaten again. I know things are... bad, right now, but that's not your responsibility. Not Ginny's and not yours, either, no matter what anyone says. It's our responsibility to protect you from it, and I'm going to see that it's taken seriously from now on. So you don't need to worry about Ginny, dear. It's ever so sweet of you, but she'll have people watching after her, I promise."

Harry stared at her, going pale. "I— I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you knew. I wouldn't have come if I'd realised you didn't know! I'll leave, if you want me to."

She reached out and took his hands, her brow furrowed with worry. "Know what, sweetheart? Harry, there's nothing that would make you unwelcome here, pet. Nothing! Don't you worry about that."

"I made him look bad," Harry said. "When I was a baby, and then with the Philosopher's Stone, and the diary, and when I got away this time... he's going to keep coming after me. He has to, because otherwise he looks weak to the Death Eaters. I thought you knew... I'm sorry."

"Oh sweetheart!" Molly pulled him forward, wrapping her arms protectively around him. "Of course I know, luv. Everyone knows how that... that creature feels about our darling Harry. But that's not your fault, dear. Not in the least. And it's still not your responsibility. You're only fifteen, pet. You should have been better protected all along, and you will be from now on, or I'll know why! I don't intend to keep quiet and wait to see what happens any longer." She stroked his back and lay her cheek against his hair. "And I'm dreadfully, dreadfully sorry I trusted that things were taken care of and didn't speak up sooner. I should have known better."

"It's still dangerous," Harry said. "And it's dangerous to be around me. Which...." He blushed. "Um."

She hugged him tightly. "Hush," she scolded gently. "None of that now. It's dangerous to be alive in these times. Dangerous doesn't matter. Doing what's right does."

"I... wanted to ask you," Harry said, forcing the words out. "About, um, Ginny. I... um...." He stopped, unable to get the words out.

She gave him one last squeeze and then drew back to look at him. "What about Ginny, dear?"

"I... she used to have a crush on me," Harry managed, wondering if his face was literally going to catch on fire.

Molly looked amused. "Yes, dear, I know."

"Does... does she still?" he asked, knowing the answer, but hoping the question would get him out of having to say what he meant.

"Well... I honestly don't know for sure, pet. Maybe, but she's... a more practical girl than she used to be, and more discreet as well," Molly said. "You're not worried about her pestering you, are you? She has better manners than that."

Harry shook her head. "No, I was... um... kind of hoping...." He ducked his head, unable to look at her.

Molly blinked, then stared at him in silence for a long moment. "I see," she said finally, her voice a bit weak. "Well. I think you'd have to ask her, now, wouldn't you, sweet?" she asked gently. "She may, but if not... well, it's been quite a while, now hasn't it? You can't expect a girl to wait around forever to be noticed."

"That's what I wanted to ask," Harry said. "Do you want me to not ask? It's dangerous to be close to me. I wouldn't blame you if you told me to stay away."

She sighed deeply. "Sweetheart, she's already a target. All of us are. That's part of taking sides. It wouldn't really make much difference what part of the family you are, as long as you are part, not to him and his followers. Not that I want my daughter thinking of boys, mind you, but I know there's no way to stop her, so I'd be foolish to try and warn them away... and the ones who would be worst for her aren't likely to listen."

Harry stared at her, his chin trembling. "Do-- do you mean it?" he asked. "Can I-- can I really be part of your family?"

She stared at him, puzzled, then her face softened. "But you already are, dear," she said gently. "Didn't you realise? I'd make it formal, if I could, but they won't allow it while your aunt and uncle are still alive. But as far as any of us are concerned, this is your home, and they'll take you from it over our dead bodies."

It was too much, on top of everything he'd been through in the past few days, and he burst into tears. Molly pulled him onto her lap as if he were a baby, rocking and soothing him, and kissing his tangled hair. "There, little love, there now, I've got you," she murmured. "You just go ahead and cry. If anyone needs it, it's you. I've got you, you're safe now."

Harry wrapped his arms around her and cried. He cried for the parents he had lost, for Cedric's death, for the burdens he carried alone. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the tears dried up, and he was startled to realise he felt better, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he hadn't known was there.

She pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed at his eyes and then handed it to him. "Better now, sweet?"

He nodded, wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry," he said, looking down. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you."

She hugged him tightly. "Don't you dare be sorry, Harry! You wouldn't have cried if it hadn't been important to you. Or if you hadn't trusted. Don't you think I know a compliment when I see one?" She pushed a damp lock of black hair back from his face and smiled tenderly down at him. "And everyone needs to cry sometimes, dear. If you don't, it just stays inside and hurts more and more."

Harry smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm just used to... well...."

"What you're used to is criminal!" she said fiercely. "And you don't have to settle for that anymore. We're here for you. I promise."

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "Um." He flushed. "There was one other thing. Well, two, if I'm really part of the family.'

"You really are," she said firmly. "So don't you ever doubt it."

"I... I'm hoping that I'll be spending a lot of time talking to Ginny," he said. "Please don't take this wrong way, but I think I'm probably the only other person who can really understand what she went through. If this really is making her think about that again, I think it'll help to talk to someone who understands. I just didn't want you to think... um...." He blushed again.

"Harry, dear..." Molly smiled at him, and her expression held a kind of loving pride he'd never had from an adult in his life... except for the stolen moments he'd spent staring into the Mirror of Erised. This was better. It was real. His throat closed up again, as she reached out and lovingly stroked his hair. "I cannot imagine any young man I'd trust more with my daughter. If it came to that, I couldn't wish for a better son-in-law, either. Even if it would mean I can't formally adopt you as my very own sweet, beautiful boy."

Harry gave her a tremulous smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I promise you, I'd never, um, pressure Ginny for anything." He couldn't look at her, and he couldn't believe that he was talking about this, but he desperately needed her to know. He couldn't bear the thought of her worrying.

Molly laughed. "Oh Harry... if you pressured Ginny, you'd regret it well before I ever found out about it, dear. Ginny can take care of herself, that way. Her father and brothers made sure of that. However..." Her face sobered. "You're the elder, and you're a good, sensible boy. I expect you to behave responsibly, even if she gets carried away. I know you won't let my baby girl do anything she'll regret."

"I--" Harry's voice cracked, and he swallowed, trying again. "I'll try, Mrs. Weasley. But...." His face was so red it was painful. "She's really, um, stubborn."

"She's stubborn, but if she trusts you, she'll listen to you, Harry," she said, firmly. "I do understand how determined she can be, but... just don't let her do anything rash, luv." Her cheeks were red, and she avoided his eyes. "Make her think things through, at the very least, before agreeing to anything. Weasleys have a bad tendency to act first, and then rejoice or regret later, and sometimes both are equally likely. And it's not just for her, dear. I don't think you could be happy if you hurt our Ginny. I love both of you, and I want you to be happy with us, Harry. I want this to be your home. Please remember that, and don't do anything that means the two of you can't still be friends afterward. Family feuds are horrible, hurtful things."

Harry closed his eyes. "I won't," he said. "But, um... god." He swallowed. "Idon'tknowwhatnottoletherdo."

"Anything," Molly said, promptly, then her cheeks went even redder and she looked away, fiddling with her apron. "Well. Sorry, pet. That's the mother in me speaking, the part that will always see her as two years old, with little red pigtails, running around the house in just her nappy and stealing Arthur's wand to make her dolls dance. But really... what I said before is a good plan. Don't let her do anything in the... ah... heat of the moment. If she spends a day thinking about it, then you can be pretty certain it's actually something she wants, rather than just her getting carried away and doing something she might regret later." She smoothed her hair, and finally looked back at him, her back straightening. "I'd best tell you what I've told my other boys as they got old enough to notice girls, I suppose," she said, her cheeks still red but her expression resolute.

Harry swallowed, his eyes screwed shut.

"No matter who the young lady is, there are rules to these things," she said, firmly. "And as I won't have any son of mine behaving like a unprincipled rogue, I expect you to remember them. First and foremost, a gentleman doesn't push. Not even when he really, really wants to. Not even if he's certain he can get what he wants with just a teensy bit of pushing. But you already know that, dear, you just need to remember it. Open your eyes, dear, this is important, and if I can deal with the embarrassment, so can you. It'll help you remember it better, anyway."

"Oh god," Harry whispered. He swallowed, managing to force his eyes open.

"Good boy," she said, with a little uncomfortable smile. "Now. Second, the lady is the one who sets the limits." She blushed. "Well, you can set limits, too, of course, and you should never allow anyone to pressure you into more than you're ready for. But as a rule, she will have the more restrictive limits, and you are to honour those at all times, even if she gets carried away at some point. If she really wants to change the limits, she'll still want to the next day, and if she really didn't, then she'll very much appreciate your care. Third, just because a girl fancies you and allows certain liberties, that does not give you leave to treat her as anything other than a lady. That means no gossipping, no bragging, and no assuming you have some right to her affection."

It all sounded like a well-rehearsed speech, and Harry realised that she'd probably already had this talk with all six of her sons, which made it a bit easier to bear. "Finally," she said, "it's important that you be responsible. If you get a young lady in trouble, then I hope you like her, because you will most definitely be marrying her. I won't have the mothers of my grandchildren abandoned to poverty and scorn, and I will not allow my grandchildren to be treated with the cruelty that people show to bastards. So you must never assume the girl has cast the charm, even if she tells you she's had a potion. Cast it yourself. Contrary to popular juvenile belief, it does no harm to your libido, nor can it 'go wrong' and leave you permanently sterile. It is not 'easier' for the girl to take the contraceptive potions, and in fact those potions can have nasty side effects. The male charm, on the other hand, is perfectly safe, so unless you're wed and ready to be a father, you will use it without fail. If you don't know the charm, your father will show it to you. It's not complicated."

"I-- uh-- charm?" Harry squeaked.

Molly blushed again. "Oh. Sorry, dear. Over the years... well, 'The Talk' has become rather a ritual. I don't think it's changed significantly since I gave it to Bill. I forgot that you didn't grow up here," she said, fidgeting nervously again. "Well. I don't know how things are done in the Muggle world, but here... if two people are, ah, intimate, and they don't wish to produce a baby, the witch can take a potion, or the wizard can work a charm to prevent it. Or, for safety's sake, both. I'm sure... I hope that it will be a long time before you need that, dear. It's a very serious thing, not something you should ever approach lightly. But it's best to learn it as soon as you're old enough, just in case. Accidents do happen, and when they do... well, it's just dreadful for the young lady, and the poor children are treated horribly by most people."

Harry swallowed, strangled.

"But you're a good boy," she said. "I know you wouldn't want to ruin some young witch's life. Just remember the charm... Arthur can show you, or one of the boys... and you'll be just fine."

Harry was horrified at the idea of asking Mr. Weasley for the charm, given that he hoped to be dating his daughter. He'd kill him, he just knew it.

She laughed. "You don't have to tell him who you're considering dating, dear," she said. "There are lots of lovely girls at school, you know. In fact, Hermione will be here in just a couple of days."

Harry swallowed again. "I... I don't... how could I...."

"Sweetheart, you're a normal, healthy young man. It'd be more worrying if you hadn't been thinking of girls," she said, then hurriedly added, "Not that that wouldn't be fine, of course. We're not so old-fashioned that we'd be upset by the alternative. We'd just worry because of the way people would treat you, not because we think there's anything wrong with it."

Harry's jaw dropped. He hadn't thought he could be any more embarrassed, but he'd been wrong.

Utterly wrong.

Molly frowned as she looked at him. "We don't hold people's choice of partners against them in this house, Harry. You'll discover that some of our friends are... like that. And they know this is a safe place for them to relax and not need to hide. I know it might bother you, at first, but you'll soon find they're just like everyone else. Please have some compassion, dear, be polite, and remember to keep anything you see in the family."

"It... I...." Harry took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I just didn't realise... I thought it was a joke! I didn't know than anyone actually, um, uh...."

"Of course they do, dear," she said. "And they're treated horribly by some people, even though they hurt no one by their preferences. Things have changed a bit... a hundred years ago, someone who was found out could have been killed, and more often than not no one would ever be punished for it. Now, they usually don't have to fear for their lives, but..." She sighed. "People still don't trust them. They don't want to hire them, to socialise with them, to have them living next door, and if one of them wanted to be a teacher they would have reason to fear for their lives. It's ridiculous."

"Like werewolves," Harry said.

"Very much like werewolves, Harry," she agreed, looking at him proudly. "And with even less reason. A werewolf caught without his potion at full moon is dangerous. A man who loves other men is no more dangerous than anyone else. People act towards them like someone who's not quite but almost a Death Eater acts towards Muggles."

Harry didn't say anything for a little bit, as he tried to figure out what he felt. "It doesn't bother me," he said, slowly. "Not really. If I think about, um... well, that makes me... uncomfortable, I guess. I was just surprised that it really happened."

"Well, it does," she said. "But I'm glad it doesn't bother you. You're a good boy, Harry. I didn't expect you'd have any ridiculous prejudices. I just wanted to make sure you thought about things, rather than just going along with what other people said." She smiled, and reached out and smoothed his hair back again. "It just won't stay out of your face, will it dear? Shall we give it a trim?"

"It hides my scar," he said simply.

"You don't have to hide, sweetheart. That scar..." She hesitated, looking down at him, then went on, "That scar is nothing to be ashamed of. It's only there because your dear mother loved you so very much..." She looked away, her eyes glassy with tears. "Nothing to be ashamed of at all."

"People stare at me," Harry said. "I don't want to be famous. I'm just... just me. I'm nothing special."

"You are very special!" she said, grabbing his shoulders and staring into his eyes. "Not because of what happened, or who your parents were, or anything else, but because of who you are. Because of what you've accomplished. The choices you've made. You are very, very special, and I am very, very proud of you."

Harry stared at her, and then broke into tears again. "Nobody's ever said that before," he said.

She gathered him up in her arms again. "Well they should have!" she whispered fiercely. "And I know your mum would have, if she'd lived. She'd be so proud of you..."

He totally lost it, letting go completely. Deep, anguished sobs wracked his body, and she slid into the floor, pulling him into her lap and rocking him, stroking his back and hair, tears streaming silently down her own cheeks.

It was a long time before he could stop crying. The unaccustomed comfort was just too much. With such comfort, such safety, he was helpless. He could be strong when he had to, stronger than anyone really ever realised, but the realisation that he didn't have to, here and now, was overwhelming. All the years of grief and pain, fear, the shame that had been heaped on him by his aunt and uncle— everything he'd been so careful to keep locked away, buried deep in his soul where it couldn't hurt him— tore through him, feeling fresh and new. It was awful, horrible, agonising... but as each old hurt was relived in the safe, warm comfort of loving arms, it faded just a bit. As each horror was brought into the light, its hold on him eased. Old wounds, deep and festering, were cleansed of their poison. And when the sobs finally eased, he was exhausted, drained, and aching but he felt better. Lighter. Cleansed.

He lay there in her arms, feeling better than he could remember in a very long time. "Thank you," he whispered.

"That's what I'm here for," she said, hugging him tightly. Then she sniffed, wiping her eyes on the shoulder of her robe. "Now. I think you should probably rest now, pet. Unless... was there something else you wanted to ask?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's really important, too. But I'm not sure how to say it."

"Just say what you mean, dear. That's part of what 'home' means-- not having to worry about how to say things. You can just be yourself, instead."

He took a deep breath. "Okay. I want to give you some money."

She stared at him for a moment, her face perfectly blank, then she blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Finally, she said, "Harry... no, dear. You don't have to buy your place here. We have enough. You're a... a gift, luv, not a burden."

"See, this is what I was afraid of," Harry said. "All my life, my relatives told me what a burden I was, eating their food, and on and on and on, and that was bullshit." He flushed at her reproving look. "Sorry. But it was. They had plenty of money. But I know you don't. I know you'd take care of me even if I was penniless, but I'm not. I've got lots of money. What am I going to do with it? I've got everything I need, really. I can't think of anything I really need to buy. But you could really use it. It would help, and I know it. It... it's not right for my family to do without if I can help."

She sighed and gave him a sad smile. "You're such a very dear boy," she said softly. "But it's yours, Harry. It was left for you. No parent would take a gift that was given to her child. It would be completely unethical, even if they did need it, and we do not. We have everything we need. It's good for the soul to have to work hard for the things you merely want."

Harry's expression firmed. "You've worked hard, harder than you should have. And...." He paused. "If I show you something, can I get you to swear you won't tell anyone else, no matter what?"

"Sweetheart, if you want to tell me a secret, I promise I won't give it away. But.." She sighed. "It would probably be best if you don't tell me about anything dangerous, dear. I'm not going to promise not to stop you from risking yourself."

"It's not dangerous, not the way you're thinking. But I need to make sure no one else finds out, not even Dumbledore, and definitely not the Ministry. Not yet."

"Alright, luv. I won't tell anyone. But I don't promise I won't try to change your mind on that."

Harry held up his hand. "Let me see if I can make this work." Screwing his face into a mask of concentration, he slowly cancelled the spell on the Black signet ring.

He held his hand up so she could see the ring, and she went pale. "Oh no... Sirius," she whispered, her face filling with honest grief. "Why didn't Albus say anything?"

"He's not dead," Harry said. "But he's picked me as his Heir, and given me access. I'm just not supposed to tell anyone. He doesn't want it to get out. I had permission to tell you, and a couple of other people, but that's it. And if he-- if he does die, I'll know, and I'll see how. That's why he went ahead and gave it to me."

"Oh!" She ran a hand through her curly red hair, looking relieved. "Oh thank goodness! You frightened me, dear. But there's no reason to hide that from Albus, dear. He knows how much Sirius cares for you. We all expected this, really, since he has no children of his own, the poor thing."

Harry looked unhappy. "Please, Mrs. Weasley. I know you trust him, but I-- I just can't. Not right now. Maybe if he doesn't do anything else, but... I'll explain why, if you promise not to tell anyone but Mr. Weasley."

"You don't have to explain your feelings, luv," she said. "He failed you, and you have every right... well. Anyway. It's something the two of you will have to work out with each other, and he definitely owes you an apology at the very least... and... and... won't you call me 'Mum', dear?" She looked at him a touch uncertainly. "If you want, I mean," she added quickly. "I don't think that Lily would mind..."

Harry swallowed, fighting back tears. "If... if it's okay," he said.

She smiled at him, her own eyes suspiciously glassy. "I would be ever so proud if you did."

"Then... I'd love to," he said. "Anyway, about the money, if you won't take it from me, take it from Sirius. You know he'd want you to have it, just because you deserve it."

"No, dear. You deserve it just as much," she said. "And I never want you to be able to even be afraid for the tiniest instant that that's the reason we want you."

"If I thought that," Harry said, "I'd never have come here. What good is money? Can I eat it? Can I hug it? Can it hold me when I'm crying?"

She smiled and stroked his hair. "No. It's not much good to a boy at all. Too much of it just makes them spoiled. But later, when you're older, you can do a very large amount of good with it, if you choose to. So leave it there, safe and waiting for you, until you've learned how to use it."

Harry smiled triumphantly. "Exactly! I can do good with it, and I can't think of a better way than to make sure that some of the best people I've ever known don't have to worry about money."

"If we're ever really worrying, we'll see," she said. "But we're not. And Arthur and I aren't so old yet as to need to live off of our children." She smiled at him her eyes teasing. "When we are, I'll remember that you're the one it would be the least burden to, dear, I promise. I'll expect a nice corner room in the castle, with yellow draperies, too. But for right now, we will take care of you. That's the way things are supposed to work."

Harry set his jaw stubbornly and decided to fight dirty. "You know, people like Malfoy make fun of Ron and Ginny. You don't want me to get detention for hexing them, do you? And, I mean, if Ginny's my girlfriend, it wouldn't really be proper for me to buy her clothes, would it?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Harry James Potter, don't you try to blackmail me. If you get in trouble for tossing hexes because you haven't learned to keep your temper, it's no fault of mine. I teach my children to ignore the irrelevant taunts of foolish children who haven't had the benefit of a proper upbringing."

Harry grinned. "You're harder to get around than Ron."

"I've had far more practice," she said, smiling again. "Now, young man, back to bed with you. For a nap, at least. Then a snack when you wake up, and we'll see how you feel after that."

"After I make you one last offer," Harry said, grinning. "You don't have to take the money, but if you don't, I'll find something thoroughly useless, pointless, and inappropriate to do with it. I'll ask the twins for ideas." He sobered. "I'm serious, Mum. I want to help. You can't tell me you and Dad haven't suffered because you did the right thing, both now and in the last war. It's important to me to make that right. I tell you what-- I promise not to give you more than one percent of what I've got, okay?"

She sighed. "Sweetheart, look at me." She looked seriously into his green eyes. "Listen. I understand. I really do. And if we really needed it, I'd let you. But we don't. And I won't have anyone saying that Harry Potter had to buy himself a family. I'd sell charms on the street before I'd give any fuel to that kind of viciousness."

"Then I'll make sure nobody knows it came from me," he said. "I know you don't really, truly need it, but it hurts knowing you have to worry about money, when I have enough that I'll never have to work again. It makes me feel like a Malfoy."

"It takes more than money to make a Malfoy, luv. Thank goodness," she said. "And you are wanted, and loved. Their poor children never are." She sighed again. "Alright, pet. We'll see. I'll talk to Arthur about maybe letting you set up a little fund for the other children's school needs. That's the only thing I ever missed having money to spend on."

Harry had a sudden idea. "You don't want me giving you money. Okay, what if I don't? What if I give Ron and Ginny and the twins the chance to earn the money? Would that be okay?"

"Earn it how?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Studying? Maybe getting their summer homework done early, and... um. The twins tutoring Ron, and Ron tutoring Ginny?"

"No, dear. I won't bribe them or allow them to be bribed for what they should do anyway," she said, firmly, but softened the rejection with a gentle smile. "That's enough, Harry. You've got all of the concession you're going to get out of me. Now, if Ginny will have you, you can buy her presents, if you want. As long as they're appropriate presents for a young wizard to give an unmarried young witch."

Harry hesitated, blushing. "I, um, I'm not sure what that would be."

Molly smiled. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, dear. The shopkeepers are used to helping young men with that, too."

"I meant I'm not sure what's not appropriate," Harry said.

"Well, that's fairly simple, luv. Nothing unsuitably fancy for her age, and nothing so expensive that people would assume you were buying her rather than courting her."

"How expensive would that be?" Harry asked. "I don't really know what's considered expensive."

"Well, I suppose... I don't really know what sorts of gifts young people are exchanging today," she admitted. "But I'd say that probably anything over 4 or 5 galleons would be overly extravagant. Little things are appropriate, not huge, flashy things."

"Okay," he said. "I just wanted to know." He gave her a wry grin. "Now I just have to get her to stand still long enough to talk to me. I don't suppose you'd help?"

She looked extremely amused. "Absolutely not. You lost your chance at help when you waited so long to pursue her," she said. "Now you just have to take your chances. If you can't find some way to make it up to her and win her by yourself, then it's best you don't win at all, since you'd never be able to keep up with her." She smiled again, and ruffled his hair. "Later, though. Now, you're taking a nap. Come on, then," she said, standing up and offering him a hand.

He stood up. "Oh, I know exactly how to get her to talk to me. I wait in her room, and you send her to her room for something and tell her not to come down until lunch." He grinned. "I already know that I'll need every advantage I can get with her. Having you on my side would be a big one, especially if she manages to get her brothers on her side. Especially the twins."

"No, dear," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him out the door. "I'm the mother. That means I don't take sides. That way everybody knows they can trust me. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Harry sighed. "Is it okay if I go in her room?" he asked. "I don't want it to look like I'm doing anything, you know, improper."

"If she invites you, it's fine," Molly said. "Just leave the door cracked and no one will think you're being improper."

Harry nodded. "Gotcha." He hesitated as they started up the stairs. "If the twins give us grief, how do you want us to react?" he asked. "I know what my dad would want."

She smiled down at him. "I'm willing to bet that you can hold your own, luv. And I know Ginny can. Just remember that it's family, and nothing is meant in harm."

Harry grinned. "So we can retaliate in kind? I mean, I'm the son of a Marauder, and the godson of another. I've kind of got a legacy to uphold."

"As long as things don't get dangerous, and you don't set the house on fire, and everything is in the spirit of fun, that's fine," she said. "I trust all of you to know the difference between harmless games and cruelty, and not cross that line. Don't tell them that, though." She grinned down at him, looking a lot like Fred and George right then. "If they thought I considered it acceptable at all, they'd never follow any rules at all. Scamps. Now, here we go..." She opened the door and waved Harry inside. "Bed. I don't want to hear a peep out of you for at least an hour."

Harry nodded. "I'm not going to argue," he said tiredly. "I'm exhausted, even though I just got up."

"Of course you are," she said, turning back the blankets and fluffing the pillow. "It will still take a while for you to build your strength back. Don't worry, dear. It's normal for you to be tired right now. You'll be better soon." She pulled the covers up over him and bent to kiss his forehead. "I promise."

"Thanks, Mum," he murmured, his eyes already closing.

She stared down at him for a long time, as his breathing grew slow and even, then brushed that persistent lock of hair away from his face again. She rested her fingertips against the scar on his forehead. "You would have been so proud, Lily," she whispered. "I'll take care of him now, I swear it." She turned waved her wand at the window, closing the curtains and leaving the room in shadow, then tiptoed out, careful to close the door silently so as not to wake the sleeping boy.