Author's Note: Quick chapter update, I know! But you're all happy, I bet. I only got one review for the last chapter, but eleven favourite author/story alerts. Please review, and let me know what you think! Your opinion really matters to me. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter Two
The Burrow

That Saturday morning, at eight o'clock, Harry began packing his bags for a week stay with the Weasley family he had known since he was eleven, and who had nurtured him as if he were their seventh son. He brought only two suitcases with him, which he generously filled for the week stay – three pairs of jeans, two pairs of corduroys, two pairs of dress pants, four pyjama sets (he rarely wore pyjamas to bed, but thought it would be appropriate this time), a random selection of different shirts, a comb, shampoo, soap, a toothbrush, his wand, and his broomstick under his arm. Ginny had explained that she and George would pick her up at eight-thirty in their newly enchanted car, a 1970 Chevy truck that George had bought because of its "ragged good looks."

Waiting for this time, Harry made sure his house was locked and brought Tonks out on her leash to wait with him, and also to wait for Bryson to come pick her up for the week. Harry rested his hand on his chin. Thinking back six years ago, he really couldn't recall what had begun the fight between him and Ron, and hopefully things would be back to normal. He imagined what they must have looked like now, how Hermione must have grown, and if they had any children. For years, Harry had wanted at least one child, but that would be a pipe dream for a while longer.

Tonks whimpered and nudged her head under Harry's chin to lick at his cheek, causing Harry to laugh. Sometimes, he sensed that Tonks herself was the real Nymphadora. He eagerly scratched behind her ears as a shiny, black car pulled into the driveway – Bryson's car.

"Harry!" he greeted him, stepping out of the car. Bryson was the same height as Harry, with thick brown hair that was wavy down his scalp, and dark eyes. He was very thin, yet toned up enough so he didn't appear to be a stick. His hands were squashed into his leather jacket as Tonks bounded down from the steps to run towards him, barking happily. "Good girl! Get in the car, Tonks." He opened the passenger door and allowed the massive black and white Husky to perch herself in the seat, panting happily as she looked out of the window at Harry.

"Thanks for this, Bry," Harry said, hooking the suitcases up onto the spot where Tonks had sat and lifting himself off the step. "If you need anything, just send an owl to this address." Harry handed him a written note with the Burrow's address on it.

"No problems. Have a good time. Don't forget who your best bud is," Bryson said, holding up a thumb's up and smiling broadly.

"Now that you mention that, thanks for standing me up completely last night," Harry said with a smirk, crossing his arms. "Although I can't fully complain, considering where I'm going today."

Bryson laughed and clapped his hand onto Harry's back. "Sorry, but the wife needed me last minute. When you get back, I'll make it up to you." He laughed again and tilted his head towards the sky. "Speaking of getting back, here's your ride!"

Sure enough, as Harry followed where Bryson was looking, a faded red truck was skimming through the sky towards his house, and began to do a nose dive down into the ground. Quickly, Harry and Bryson jumped out of the way as the truck landed just beside Bryson's car, an inch away from scratching the shiny exterior that he had spent hundreds of dollars to keep shining.

"Harry!" Ginny leaped out of the passenger seat and ran up towards Harry, wearing dark jeans and a brown plaid jacket with a fur hood. Her arms found the circle of his neck, and Harry responded by taking a hold of her hips and swinging her in a full circle. Those three days without her had been agony enough – how bad was that?

"Harry, mate!" George climbed out of the driver seat and walked over behind Ginny, giving Harry a friendly hug. It was strange to know that there was only one twin left, with Fred passed on for more than six years now. An eerie feeling hung on George as he hugged Harry. Not only that, but he had changed. His once shaggy hair was cut shorter, and he had lost the majority of his freckles mysteriously. He had also grown an inch, at least, and was just slightly taller than Harry.

"It's great to see you, George. How have you been? How are things?" Harry pulled away from the hug and smiled to his old friend. All of the Weasleys were his friends.

"Fantastic – business is going well, you know. But less talk! We need to get home quickly; Mum's so excited to see you." George reached over to grab both of Harry's suitcases, tossing them into the back seat of the truck compartment. "We can catch up in the car. Don't worry; at least it's not Ron driving."

Harry had to laugh at this, as he turned to Bryson to shake his hand and thank him again for taking Tonks for the week. Then, he turned his back and climbed into the back seat of the truck compartment, while Ginny stole the front seat.

"Shotgun!" she exclaimed, climbing into the front and smirking at Harry in the rear-view mirror. He grinned.

Within a few seconds, George had managed to bring the car from the ground and back into the sky, soaring high enough into the clouds to avoid any contact with a Muggle's field of view. With George driving, Harry felt slightly more at ease and rested his head back against the seat.

"You know," George said after a minute of silence. "Ron's been extremely different without you the past few years, Harry. He talks to himself a lot, and has begun to shut Hermione out of his life more, not to mention little Rose."

"Who's Rose?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh, right! Rose is Ron and Hermione's daughter. She's only two years old, but she's a fast learner. She read the entire first chapter of Hogwarts: A History last night!" George laughed as his foot vigorously pushed on the gas. "You'll love her, Harry. She loves anyone with dark hair the most, for some reason."

Ginny turned in her seat to face Harry, causing his heart to flutter mysteriously in his chest. "Until things are cleared with Ron and you, Mum said you can sleep in their bed. She and Dad will be camping out in that tent we stayed in during fourth year. The big one, remember?" she said, smiling at Harry.

"I don't want to be a fuss." Harry suddenly felt guilty about going to the Burrow. He was causing a lot of trouble towards Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and what if he and Ron didn't end up being okay? And was he really doing the right thing by trying to force Ginny's marriage to end with Ethan?

"No fuss at all! You know how much Mum and Dad love you. They're both so happy to see you again; they would sleep in the bathtub if that's what it took!"

Harry grinned and sunk back into his seat, awaiting his arrival to the Burrow, his second home as of now, but his first home for as long as he'd been in school.

When noon rolled around, Harry awoke from a peaceful sleep lying in the back compartment to see the top of trees outside. The car was slowing down, and Ginny was chattering away to George.

"Don't crash into the chicken pen again, please? That's the last thing we need." George grunted a response to this and slowly eased the car to a stop, letting it softly fall like a feather onto the ground.

"Harry, wake up. We're here," Ginny said without turning, climbing out of the truck and moving the seat forward to let him out.

Harry lifted his legs from the seat and swung them around, grabbing his suitcases off of the floor and climbing out of the truck. The sight in front of him would have brought tears to his eyes, if he was that emotional. The teetering home stood before him, not having aged one bit, with snow dusted on the rafters and around the surprisingly clean dirt road. There was a single light on in the kitchen, and Harry could see shadows moving back and forth hurriedly.

"Mum!" George called out, resting his hands on his hips. The shadows in the window darted to the front door, and there stood Molly Weasley. The familiar, slightly round face greeted Harry with an enormous smile, followed by an ear-splitting squeal of delight. Her hair was still vibrant red, yet dusted with grey at the roots, and she wore a warm red jumper and long green skirt under a cover-all white apron, which was covered in splatters of various foods. Her hands were covered in flour, but that didn't stop her from grabbing Harry on the cheeks and kissing his face.

"Harry! It's so good to see you again, dear. Quick, come in. It's colder than Antarctica our here, and lunch is almost ready!" she exclaimed, grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him into the house. George collected his luggage and broom, following them in with Ginny.

Inside the Burrow, a warm fire was lit and groups of people occupied the sofas surrounding it. A pale, blonde head caught his attention first, noticing Fleur Delacour's shimmering hair as she held a bright blonde-haired girl in her lap. He knew that was their eldest child, Victoire, seeing as she had been born during Harry's seventh year. Beside Fleur must have been her husband, Bill Weasley, who had his arm around his wife and on his lap, a boy with bright red hair curled into his shoulder.

Across from Bill and Fleur, Harry recognized the beautiful woman who had been one of his best friends for seven years. Her long, brown hair was tamed into thick, wavy locks as she rocked in a rocking chair, her big brown eyes gazing down lovingly at the girl that lie in her arms, a beautiful girl with already-long auburn hair trailing down her back.

Nobody seemed to notice Harry's entrance, until Mr. Weasley came from downstairs.

"Harry, m'boy!" Arthur Weasley's wide arms shot out on either side of him, an enormous smile creeping over his face as he slid down the stairs and embraced Harry with a clap on the back. "So good to see you again. I know we've all missed you greatly."

Hermione looked up wide-eyed from her sleeping child, slowly picking her up and handing her to Fleur, who let Victoire down to play with some toys. She then ran across the living room and tackled Harry with an enormous hug, sobbing into his chest.

"Harry! I can't believe it's actually you. All these years, it's been too long. I've missed you. I know Ron misses you. Harry, we need you here with us!" she broke away from him and looked up at him with her big brown eyes, mascara streaks down her face and her hands falling from his neck to his arms.

"Momma?" a timid voice called out, jumping off the top of the couch with ease and running to cling to Hermione's leg. Harry smiled down at the infant.

"Rose, this is Mr. Potter. He was me and your father's best friend during school." Hermione reached down to scoop the small girl into her arms. Harry noticed she had the long, wavy hair from a mixture of both her parents, as well as the colour – the red in her hair from Ron, the brown from Hermione. Her big brown eyes were bright as they stared up at Harry with a smile, and her lips curled into a smile aswell.

"Momma, he's got pretty hair," she said, reaching forward to gently stroke a lock of jet black hair. Harry laughed and asked to hold Rose, giving Hermione a friendly smile before the girl leaped into his arms. He twirled her in the air.

"Hermione?" a male voice called from the top of the stairs, causing both Harry and Hermione to turn towards them. There, at the top of the stairs, stood a familiar fair face, with freckles smothering his nose and light brown hairs staring down towards the scene; Harry holding his two-year-old daughter and his wife, her eyes glazed in tears from the sight. The man wore a thick, black jumper over a white collared shirt and blue jeans with dark brown runners. He slid down the steps and gazed at Harry, towering him by two inches.

"Harry." Ron said his voice dry and cracked.

"Hi, Ron," Harry gulped, slowly sliding Rose back into her mother's embrace.

The two old friends stood there, at the bottom of the steps, staring at one another. Nobody in the Burrow could speak as their eyes turned towards them. Ron's hair dusted the top of his eyes as he glanced from one emerald eye to the other, his bottom lip quivering slightly and his ends curling and uncurling into small fists. Harry's breathing shook with fear, unsure of what Ron's real reaction was to his arrival.

Ginny fluttered in from outside, unaware of the scene inside as she laughed and dusted the snowball from her hair that George had thrown, pausing near the two. She tilted her head and quieted George as he came in.

Time seem to stand still.

Then, out of nowhere, Ron bear-hugged Harry and began to sob. The tension that hovered in the room disappeared with a sigh of relief as Harry stood under Ron's embrace, glancing from Hermione to Ginny with fearful eyes, before he patted Ron's back and beckoned a "there-there".

"Harry, forget all of that bullshit from years ago – to be honest, I can't even recall why I was mad at you in the first place. But it no longer matters. All that matters is you are here, and you are going to be here for a week! It's the perfect opportunity to regain our friendship. I've missed you." Ron sniffled his nose and choked back another loud sob. "Oh god, have I missed you. At first, I thought I would be a shadow cast into the back of your mind with all your fame and your new career, but that just isn't you. I should have known that from the day we met at Platform 9 and ¾. I'm so sorry, Harry. Really, I am! And you have no idea what a mess I've been without your friendship. Six years of no Harry Potter – no wonder all of the girls cried when we left Hogwarts, they'd miss you!"

Ron's words came out in a muffled, choked-sob sentence, making it nearly impossible to understand what the hell he had just said, but Harry patted Ron's back and smiled. "It's good to have you back, Ron."

Ron beamed and ran back upstairs, coming back down with his arms full of letters. "I was going to send you so many apology notes, but I had no idea how to say it, or what to say. Anyway, here." He handed the notes to Harry, who had to duck under them to catch them all. "My apology is now yours, within fifty letters."

Harry laughed and glanced towards the living room, where another familiar face caught his eye – this time, he wasn't too happy to see it. The evil smirk of Ethan Thatcher glared back at him, his hands rested on the arms of Mr. Weasley's armchair, and his nails dug into the fabric. From that look, he knew there would be nothing good to come from Mr. Ethan Thatcher.