Author’s note: See chapter one for ratings, warnings, disclaimers, etc.

Before Harry knew it, a week had gone by and he found himself enjoying his last day at the Burrow. Tomorrow they’d be leaving for Diagon Alley, and from there, to Hogwarts. He had no idea where the time had gone, and quite frankly, he’d have been entirely content to just stay at the Burrow.

Thankfully, Ron hadn’t seemed to notice his reaction to the interruption in the bathroom. They carried on and joked around just like they had always done, and Harry started to put the whole incident out of his mind. It was really nothing to get upset over, after all. It was just an innocent misunderstanding.

Though Harry’s thoughts were all but innocent at the time.

Because Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry would be leaving for Diagon Alley early the following morning, Mrs. Weasley had firmly requested that Charlie, Bill, and Percy attend a last-minute family dinner. There wasn’t enough room in the kitchen for all of them, so she had opted for eating out in the garden. The weather was warm and there was very little wind, but the sky was a pale gray, a sign of slowly approaching summer rainstorm.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny had been out in the yard, busily assembling the tables and chairs. Fred and George were supposed to be helping, too, but instead, they were doing nothing but hindering them.

“C’mon, Harry, help us out,” pleaded Fred, trying to look angelic but failing miserably.

“I don’t think so, Fred. I know what you and George are up to,” Harry declined, trying to be firm but still sound polite.

“Ron, how about you?” asked George. “We’ll pay you and everything.”

“No way,” said Ron, not even bothering to be polite. “There’s not enough money in the world for me to end up with chicken feathers coming out of my arse.”

Harry laughed, but Ron looked serious.

“You’d be surprised at some of the stuff they’ve come up with, Harry,” he said.

“Hey, Ginny, our favorite sister, you’ll help a brother out, won’t you?” asked George in a very fake, flattering voice.

Ginny didn’t speak. She just glowered at him with a look of sheer refusal.

“Ok then, I guess she’s out,” surrendered Fred.

Ginny may have been the youngest, but the rest of the boys knew not to mess with her when she meant business.

A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, with Charlie, Bill, and Percy, tagging along at the end, entered the garden. Their arms were laden down with dishes, platters, bowls, and trays, all hosting an assortment of delicious food. Mrs. Weasley looked doubtfully up at the sky, but as the clouds didn’t seem to be thickening, she released her furrowed brow.

The table groaned under the weight of its load. Mrs. Weasley had spent almost the entire afternoon preparing almost anything she could think of. Harry pulled up a chair next to Ron and sat down, before picking up his plate and spooning everything on it that was within arm’s reach. When he sadly realized that his plate was already so full of roasted chicken, steak and kidney pie, steamed carrots, sprouts, and peas that it wouldn’t hold anything else, he made a mental note to go back to the broiled potatoes

Mr. Weasley, Charlie, and Percy sat at the far end of the table, discussing Wizarding politics and the latest goings-on at the Ministry of Magic.

“Was that luncheon on the zoning and restriction of Magical buildings as boring as it sounded?” Charlie asked his father.

Percy interjected. “I don’t see how something as fundamental as building measurements can be boring.”

Mr. Weasley threw Percy an exasperated glance, but turned to Charlie and said, “Yes, it was exactly as boring as it sounded. I don’t know why I had to be there. I think by saying the Minister of Magic was attending, they were trying to make it sound a lot more important than it actually was.”

Percy looked at Mr. Weasley disapprovingly, but didn’t say anything.

Right down from them, Mrs. Weasley was chiding Bill once again for his supposedly slovenly appearance.

“Honestly, dear, what will people think when they see the Minister’s son looking so sloppy?” she asked.

“I really don’t care, Mum.”

“And those earrings,” she continued, ignoring Bill’s comment, “I don’t see why you need three of them. One was bad enough.”

“But I like them.”

Harry liked them, too. In fact, he liked a lot of things about Bill, but he wouldn’t dare say it out loud.

“A nice shirt and tie would be very fitting,” she said desperately. “It wouldn’t hurt you to take lessons from Percy.”

At this, Bill snorted into his Yorkshire pudding. “I love Percy, but honestly, Mum, I wouldn’t be caught dead in his stuff.”

Percy must’ve overheard them, because he turned instantly from his conversation with Charlie and glared at Bill.

“As a high-ranking employee of the Ministry, I owe it to myself and my fellow Ministry members to always look my best,” he snapped.

“Don’t take it personally, Perce,” said Bill, rolling his eyes.

Percy didn’t seem totally satisfied, but he let it go and turned back to Charlie, picking up right where he had left off on the importance of building codes in the Wizarding World.

Across from them, sat Fred and George, barely finding time to eat between all their talking of developments and experiments.

“If we added some more Cascara Sagrada to those Liberating Laxatives, I think they’d be more effective,” suggested Fred.

“Fine, but you’re testing them next. I don’t think I recovered from the first batch,” answered George, rubbing his stomach delicately.

“Have you thought anymore about the Hairy Hand Cream?”

“I think some powered root of Chapparal and a pinch of Hyssop ought to do the trick.”

“If you two spent as much time studying as you do coming up with these batty ideas, you might have gotten more O.W.L.s,” said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

“If we’d have gotten as many O.W.L.s as Percy, we would’ve ruined our reputations!” said George indignantly.

“I heard that!” shouted Percy from the far end of the table. “I don’t know why I’m always the target of everyone’s snide remarks.”

“Oh, take that wand out of your orifice,” grumbled Fred. “You know we’re only joking.”

“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley reprimanded, “Do watch your language.”

Harry was laughing so hard, that he had to put his hand over his mouth so that he wouldn’t spit his peas across the table. No visit to the Burrow was complete without friendly bickering between the siblings. Fortunately, he and Ron had been left out of it. He had been on the wrong end of Fred and George’s retorts before, and it wasn’t a very comfortable place to be.

“Bill talks a lot worse than that, and you never say anything to him,” said Fred

“Boys,” interjected Mr. Weasley, in a serious voice that Harry usually didn’t hear from him, “I think that is quite enough.”

That seemed to remedy the situation. The table went quiet for a moment, but after a few minutes, they were all talking and laughing again.

“My family’s a bunch of nutters,” Ron mumbled to Harry under his breath.

“I think they’re pretty cool,” said Harry.

“That was great, Mum,” Bill said at last, pushing himself away from the table, “but I’d better go. I’ve got, um, plans for later.”

Mrs. Weasley gave him a disapproving look. “I don’t want you staying out too late, and I don’t want any strange people sleeping over,” she said sharply.

“Sure, Mum,” Bill said with a smirk, looking like that was exactly what his plans for the night entailed.

“Bill’s right,” said Mr. Weasley, rising from the table. “If those clouds are any indication, that rain looks like it’ll be coming in soon.”

They grabbed as many dishes and plates as they could carry, and followed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley back into the house. Harry and Ron placed their own cargo in the sink along with the other dirty utensils, and went back outside to put away the tables and the chairs.

“I’ll be glad when we don’t have to worry about doing underage magic outside of school,” said Ron. “It’d be so much easier.”

“I don’t mind,” said Harry. “I have to clean up after the Dursleys all the time. I’d much rather clean up after you lot.”

They unscrewed the legs from each table and carried them, along with the numerous chairs, out to the shed. Then, with Harry taking one end, and Ron taking the other, they moved each of the heavy tables into the shed, depositing them along one wall next to the other pieces of furniture.

****

Once the garden was cleared, the kitchen and dishes were cleaned, and Harry and Ron had said their good byes to Percy, Bill, and Charlie, they strolled out onto the porch to enjoy their last night at the Burrow. The rain had come at last, though it was like most summer showers. It fell lightly but steadily, dripping off the eaves overhead, and making a soft tapping noise as it splattered on the leaves and the grass. The wind had picked up slightly, and combined with the continuing drizzle, the night had become cooler.

Ron was lying on his back, with his knees in the air and his head propped up against the wall of the house. Harry was in a similar position, though his head was flat against the floor of the porch, and his hands were resting on his stomach.

“Got a lot of stuff to get tomorrow?” asked Ron.

“Not too much,” answered Harry. “I’ve got enough Potion ingredients, and my robes and cauldron are still in pretty good shape.”

“Good, you can help me then. I’ve got loads to get.”

With Mr. Weasley’s promotion also came a sizable increase in income. For the first time, Ron would be able to buy new stuff instead of simply inheriting things that his older brothers had outgrown. Harry was very happy for him, because he knew Ron had always been bothered by his tattered books and threadbare robes.

Ron spoke again. “It’s too bad we can’t just stay here. I bet sixth year is going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, “I’d be perfectly happy staying at the Burrow.”

Ron gave a soft murmur of agreement.

The tinkling of the rain increased slightly, lulling Harry into a relaxed state. His body wouldn’t ignore the fact that he was laying very close to Ron. There were only a few inches separating Harry’s elbows from Ron’s long, freckled arms. Rolling thunder was heard in the distance, and a breeze blew in off the rain, making Harry shiver.

“You cold?” asked Ron, evidently noticing Harry’s tremor.

“No.”

Harry wondered if he had said yes, would Ron have put his arms around him and pulled him close? He could hear Ron breathing softly, and watched as his stomach rose and fell with each one. He wanted to touch him so bad, to be as near to him as he could possibly be. His skin tingled at the thought, and his mind was spinning so fast that he became lightheaded. Without stopping to think about the possible consequences, he leaned his head over and placed it lightly against Ron’s shoulder.

Ron stopped breathing at almost the same time that Harry made contact. Harry closed his eyes and waited for Ron to move away or to object. But Ron didn’t speak or move, and a few seconds later, Harry could hear him breathing again.

If Harry had been dreading leaving the Burrow before, it was nothing like what he was feeling now. He was thoroughly content laying here next to Ron, listening to the rhythmic showers falling down around them. Harry closed his eyes again, fully appreciating the warm shoulder he was leaning on, and marking this one moment forever in his mind.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Harry wasn’t sure what exactly it was that Ron was calling nice, but it didn’t matter and he didn’t question it. Maybe it was the night, maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was just Harry. Whatever it was, he somehow felt that in this instant, Ron was feeling almost the same way he was.

“Boys?” came an intruding voice.

Harry jerked away and looked towards the source of it. Mrs. Weasley was sticking her head out of the back door.

“Yeah, Mum?” answered Ron, sitting up quickly and looking a little pink in the face.

“You ought to go to bed soon. I’ll have to get you both up early to get to Diagon Alley before your father and I have to leave.”

“Right,” said Ron, scrambling to his feet. “We’re coming.”

He dusted himself off and followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen, not daring to look back at Harry.

Whatever it was that had happened, Harry thought, it was over with. He was crazy for thinking Ron would ever feel the same way about him.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and went inside.

****

Once back upstairs, Harry changed into his pajamas quickly. Thankfully, Ron wasn’t around for the moment, and if he hurried, he wouldn’t have to face anymore embarrassing moments tonight. He could have kicked himself for doing something so insanely stupid. After the incident in the bathroom, Harry had made sure not to sit closer to Ron than was necessary, not to look at him for longer than was proper, and not to touch him more than was reasonable. Tonight, in a matter of minutes, he had broken every one of those rules.

He lay down hastily, hoping he could hide himself under the covers and look convincingly asleep before Ron came back. He couldn’t face him tonight. Tomorrow would be bad enough. Ugh, tomorrow. They would be spending the whole day together in Diagon Alley.

Running a million possible excuses and explanations over in his head, Harry at last gave into sleep.

****

Ron crept quietly into his room, feeling around in the darkness for his bed. Thank God Harry was already asleep, he thought. He didn’t feel like facing him tonight. Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? He didn’t know what had made Harry want to lie so close to him, but it really was nice, and at the time, Ron felt like saying it out loud. He was a bloody idiot, that was for sure. He might as well just announce it to the whole Burrow. It couldn’t have been much more obvious. Stupid, stupid git, he told himself. He threw himself down on the bed and pulled the covers up, hiding his entire body from view like a child who thinks that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them. If he wished hard enough, maybe he would just disappear.