Molly Weasley was sitting in a rocker knitting in the low light of a hurricaine lamp when Harry came down. It was the first night he'd ever spent in the Burrow, and she'd sat up late with Arthur discussing the topic of his life at Number 4, until Arthur, reminding her he'd have to work the next morning, rose and went to bed.

The squeak of the old rocker and the tap of Molly's foot on the floor were the only other sounds beyond the clack of her knitting needles until she heard the soft thump of his steps on the the bottom set of stairs.

"Yes, dear?" She asked, looking up at him as he came to stand in the doorway. "Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?"

He shook his head, shifting the dark hair that never lay flat into a new disarray. "I...just...I wanted to...I need to..." He sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat, unable to express what he so needed.

Molly felt her heart go out to him, this poor boy who had grown up in a world of muggles, and more so, muggles who hadn't loved him. She thought of each of her children in turn, and the love she felt for each of them. She could not imagine having a child in her home whom she did not love with all her heart. She set her knitting aside and reached up, beckoning him toward her. "Come here, Harry." She said.

He stepped toward her, dropping onto his knees beside her Rocker.

She took his hands in hers, and though he was a growing boy, his hands were still smaller than her own. She looked down at them, turning one hand over she traced the lines across his palms, the calluses from the work he'd been made to do as a boy in his aunt and uncles' home. She looked up, seeing where his uncle had grabbed him on his arm to drag him up the stairs at some point recently, the purple yellow bruising still visible even in the dark room. She tsked, and pulled him up, onto her lap.

At first, he seemed to feel awkward as Molly held him and rocked. He was twelve years old, and not a small child to be coddled, but soon she felt him melt into her, and she softly stroked his back as he lay against her, his head on her shoulder. She heard him crying, the soft hiccups and whimpers that accompanied his tears. "Oh Harry.." She soothed. "I wish that things could have been different. If I had had my say, and I tried, Harry, I talked to Dumbledore when he whisked you away the night your parents died. I begged him to let me take you.. you see, your mum and I were good friends, even though I'm so much older. When she was starting school, I was finishing it you see, and I helped her get her feet on the ground... she was nervous, being knew to everything magic, but she settled in quick, you know. Smart girl she was. We kept in touch. She used to send me owls once a week, and when she finished school, well, Fred and George were just little tots, and we were so immersed in things going on with the Ord...with You-know-who, she used to help me with the boys from time to time. When you came along, just a few months after Ronald, she was so thrilled, Harry, I wish that you could remember how happy she was, such a light and bubbly woman.. unless you tried to talk about her family...her muggle family you know.. your Aunt. She loved your Aunt, but she couldn't handle the rejection, the fear your aunt had for everything in her life, so when you came along, you were her all, Harry. Just like my babies are mine.. I live for them, and I'd die for them, like your mother... Lily was a precious soul.

His sobs had subsided as he listened, but still she rocked, and talked to him, to tell him things he desperately wanted to hear about his mom, the love of whom he had been robbed of at such a young age.

"When your parents were killed, I asked Albus to let me take you, I told him how much I had loved your mum, but he said you had to be with her family, her blood kin, for the enchantment that protected you to work, and that we had to move on, to in essence, forget about you, because if we interfered, it could mean more danger for you, if one of his supporters caught wind of where you were..."

She stroked his hair, lifting his face to look into his eyes. "You have your mothers eyes, Harry. She had such pretty eyes." She smiled softly as she let go and his head dropped back to her shoulder. "When you were first born, Lily and James were so nervous. Arthur and I often had them over here for supper, because you see, you had started showing magical skill almost immediately..and before you learned to crawl, you were chasing Ron around on a broom, his was slower...having been used by four rather rough boys before him... so you often caught him up pretty quick.." She smiled, remembering back. Your mother didn't know much about parenting,

"I often thought of you, wondered where you were. Harry, I want you to know that you are very special, very dear to us, not just because of your history, but because of how much we loved your parents, and you too, when you were just a babe..." she kissed the top of his head. He sighed, a last small hiccup leaving him. "You go on up to bed, now, Harry, we'll both need our rest before the morning." She smiled softly, patting his cheek in a tender motherly way as he lifted himself carefully fro her lap. "

"Good night, Mrs. Weasley.."

"Good night, Harry, dear. Sleep well darling."