Home
Auror training had been especially brutal that day and he had never been so relieved to see The Burrow as he was when it popped into existence as he Apparated into the garden. Gnomes grumbled at him at the pop of his arrival but he ignored them. Just the sight of the back door with it's cluster of Wellington boots and old brooms about it made him smile. And the warm breeze rustling the plants around him had him standing there, just a moment, to appreciate it.
Harry had tried to live at the home his Uncle Sirius had left him, but found that he was even more lonely there than anywhere else. Yes, Kreacher was there for company, the elf's attitude still improving by leaps and bounds and others dropped by often. He and the house elf had worked hard at making it habitable. The mounted house elf heads were long gone. Even Kreacher didn't seem sad to see them go. Mrs. Black's portrait was finally removed thanks to the elf. Apparently no one had ever thought to ask him how to remove the permanent sticking charm. Harry hadn't the heart to make him throw it out though and allowed Kreacher to keep it in the small bedroom the elf used for himself. Floors were cleaned and polished. Furniture had been cleaned, repaired when needed, and some items gotten rd of entirely. Overall the place wasn't even recognizable as the same house he had first laid eyes on.
Still... maybe it would never be home to him, he didn't know. Harry never truly felt comfortable there, like he was waiting for the real owners to show up at any moment. Mrs. Weasley had been more than happy to have him when he asked if he could stay there while doing his Auror training with Ron. And, well, Ginny was still here as well. Once his Auror training was done there would be time to worry about a home of his own.
An option had been given to Kreacher. He could stay at Grimmauld Place, taking care of the Black family home with Harry popping in and out, or he could come to The Burrow and help the Weasleys. Still loathe to completely abandon his pride or prejudice, he had balked, albeit half heartedly. However, in the end, Kreacher liked feeling needed. He was also treated with a kindness and respect that even the Black family had not given him. Molly had been right ecstatic when Kreacher had agreed they could use some help. The small, somewhat grumpy house elf now split his time between the two places. No one would recognize him now. He had truly blossomed in ways no one expected from him.
When Harry pushed his way through the door the scent of dinner hit him quickly. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was going to be delicious judging from his nose. Not that he'd ever had a bad meal here, mind you. But the scent of dinner made him smile anyway. Made him feel like he was home. It wasn't a surprise he considered this place his true home. When he was younger Hogwarts was home to him. But after the battle, the losses, he knew he would never be able to return to it. But The Burrow had always welcomed him and he accepted gratefully. Maybe this was why Grimmauld Place was just a house. He already had a home.
"Hello?" he called out as he crossed the kitchen. Parchment and a quill sitting on the table showing a half written letter. Things were bubbling on the stove so he reasoned Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be far. He knew he would beat Ron home and Ginny was still away, visiting the Holyhead Harpies and considering their offer. But Hermione came to dinner more often than not and Percy showed up several times a week as well. Recent years had not slowed the activity of The Burrow one bit.
One might think that kind of activity would wear on him, but it rarely did. He was grateful for the company of those who loved him.
"Mum!" he called again, "I'm home!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth when Molly cleared the doorway and he suddenly felt self conscious. The words had slipped out of his mouth before he even thought about them. Had seemed completely natural. In fact, he had nearly said them a hundred times before. Now she was looking at him oddly and he wished to take them back.
Actually, no, he didn't. The sudden realization that Molly Weasley was his mom in all the ways that counted hit him like multiple stunning spells together. It didn't mean he loved Lily any less. Not at all. And at no point would he ever want Mrs. Weasley to be hurt, reminded of the losses she had also endured. One son gone and a strange boy calling her mum. Could that ever possibly happen though? No, she had protected him and loved him like her own blood for years.
Suddenly he felt like his heart just might burst from his chest. Harry gained a family he might never have had otherwise. He stopped, mouth hanging open for a moment. The battered pocket watch in his pocket felt heavy, a reminder of all they had done for him. How much they loved him and how much he loved them.
Recovering after a beat, hands turning the new ink bottle over in them, Molly gave him a wide smile. His words had struck her, ringing in her core. "Harry, you're home early!"
"I think they just got tired of beating up on me," confessed Harry with a rueful grin. "Ron said he'll be along in a minute. I think he's waiting for Hermione." Rolling his eyes as if to say what are you going to do, he shrugged his shoulders.
"Well all right then," she answered "You can help me set the table then."
Before she could pass him he reached out, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close. Startled for a brief second, she hugged him tightly They stayed like that a moment before he finally spoke.
"I mean that. Mum." A hesitation. "If that's ok."
Eyes welling with tears, she pinched his cheeks then patted them. "I'm honored," Molly answered. Her voice wavered and Harry suddenly knew she was touched beyond words. Knew how much that little word meant to her. She had once shouted at everyone that he was as good as her son. Now, well, now he was her son. With another pat to the cheek, Molly said, "Now go wash up. We'll need an extra setting. Charlie should be dropping by."
With a grin, Harry kissed her cheek then set off to wash.
Watching him go, Molly took a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. Returning to the table she had left just prior to him getting home, she sat down at the letter she had been working on to Muriel. Picking up her quill she dipped it in the new ink, then started writing... "Our son Harry..."
Tinkling bells rang softly, bringing her head up. Turning, she looked at her unique clock. A flash of bluish light and the click of a clock hand as the newly formed piece found its way to the appropriate spot.
The hand said HARRY and it pointed to HOME.
