This is my least favorite of all of the chapters, but I DO have much more (and much better) ready to go and coming very soon. Keep reviewing, I love it- and do not be too shy to send me something directly- I am always here at

Chapter 3: Out of the Hole and Into the Burrow

"How's work?" Hermione asked as they walked through the park. It had now been four months since he had started working under Kingsley in the reshuffled Auror department, and six since he had spoken to the Weasleys.

"Lots of paperwork, I guess." In truth, the paperwork was his favorite part, when he did not have to talk to anyone, conduct painful interviews, and attend difficult trials or dual during arrests.

"Thurmar? Is that working out okay?" He shrugged.

"He… he reckons maybe I should look for a flat. And a roommate."

"That sounds lovely." It had been Hermione who had pointed him in Thurmar's direction.

"I won't sell it," he said suddenly, and she knew he was talking about Sirius' house, in which he was still living.

"Are you considering renting it out?" He shook his head. "Well, I figured as much." They stopped for a to-go cup of tea. "So… about this roommate- any ideas as to who?"

"Not really… unless you're looking to live off-campus?" She was attending a muggle university, her major undeclared. She shook her head.

"You know I'd love to, but-"

"It's fine." Damn, he thought. He had been counting on her.

"What about Neville or Seamus?" Dean had been killed at Hogwarts, but he had already roomed with the other two. He shook his head.

"Seamus is sloppy."

"And Neville?"

"Neville snores."

"I see."

She was thinking. Did she dare…?

"What about… I mean, have you spoken to Ron?"

He was concentrating on his steaming Styrofoam cup. "Harry? Have you spoken to Ron?"

"No."

"Why are you mad at him?"

He paused, and then "I'm not."

"You haven't spoken to any of them in months, and don't say that you've been too busy to even say 'hi', you and Mr. Weasley work in the same department. This was true- he had been having a hell of a job ducking out of sight whenever Mr. Weasley made his way 'round the corner.

"They won't want to see me." He kept his eyes forward, but hers were trained on his unreadable expression.

"They miss you."

"How do you know?"

"I eat dinner at the Burrow when I'm not with my parents. Last night, your name came up, and they asked me to pass along the message: 'we miss you'. Ginny especially, if you want to know the truth," she added thoughtfully.

"I've been gone too long. It's too late."

"It's never too late for family," she reassured him, her voice lowered. His brows furrowed.

"They're going to be mad."

"They'll understand."

"How do you know?"

"How do you?"

The tea was gone, but the chill remained in the crisp, late autumn air of the early evening. The sky was darkening fast, a similar shade to the bags beneath Harry's eyes.

"Are you getting hungry?" As he was putting on weight, Thurmar was helping him learn to listen to what his body needed.

"A bit- do you want to get supper?"

"Pizza sounds good."

"What about-"

"Tonight?" He had not expected her to try to bring him back so soon. With the exception of work, Thurmar and Teddy, he tried to stay in the muggle world.

"There's no time like the present." She waited for what felt like an eternity while she knew a battle was being waged in his head. Finally, he gave a small nod. She led him into an alley, grasped his hand reassuringly, and turned sharply, leading him into suffocating nothingness.

…

The air was different, as though from a forgotten world. It was cleaner and… friendlier? He opened his eyes, and there stood the Burrow.

"Hold on-" she said. Her telltale silver otter erupted against the setting sun and scampered off ahead of them. "So they know to expect us," she clarified.

It seemed to take an eternity to reach the front door. Everything looked the same, right down to the scuffmarks on the back porch. Hermione knocked sharply, and there seemed to be a minor stampede for the door. It flew open, and at the front was Mrs. Weasley with a relieved smile. She pulled Hermione into a big hug, and nodded as though agreeing to something being whispered in her ear.

As she moved on to Harry, he saw Mr. Weasley, his forehead creased, Percy with an unknown girl, and Charlie with a curious amount of soot on his face and in his hair. The kitchen fire erupted into green flames, and George stumbled through, followed by Ron. They were searching frantically with their eyes, and froze as Harry followed Hermione inside.

The silence was nothing short of awkward, until Ron said, "So, Mum… what's for dinner?"

"Oh, yes!" She jumped over to the stove, and Harry could tell that she was not expecting to feed this many people. He sniffed- Mrs. Weasley's onion soup, one of his favorites.

Everyone moved over to the table, Hermione next to Ron, Harry pinned between Charlie and his father. He was the only one not making forced conversation. "Okay, dinner's ready." Mrs. Weasley called out. She levitated toe large, steaming pot over to the table; Harry kept his eyes trained on her wand.

A bowl was placed before him, and his mouth began to water.

"So, how's London, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"It's fine- business is picking up."

"You're in London?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time. He had not known that he had been in the same city as his best friend. But of course he is, idiot, where else would he be?

"Yeah, I'm in with George, working in the store, you know…" So, he had taken Fred's place. At least he had not been alone… he had a good job, a nice flat, a supportive family, an amazing girlfriend… It was odd to think that not long ago, Ron had been jealous of Harry.

He nodded, and went back to slowly sipping his soup. Glancing up, everyone was watching him. Unable to meet anybody's eyes, he went back to his meal.

"So, Charlie," said Hermione, "have you talked to Ginny today?" This was an oddly leading question.

"Yeah, err, she had to work tonight."

Ginny, working? Since when? They had been very close, and had shared the most intimate details, and yet somehow he could not picture her in a professional setting.

"Oh, at the pub down in the village?" There was no doubting what she was doing now- she was trying to get him to talk about her, to her if she could manage it. "How does she like it?"

"Okay, I guess… after dinner, I'm going down there- do you guys want to come?"

'Sounds good', or various versions of said phrase, echoed around the table from everyone except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The conversation shifted to work, and remained shallow. Charlie would be leaving for El Salvador soon, to continue his work with dragons; Bill was apparently back at Gringotts. Of course, Harry knew that Mr. Weasley was back at the Ministry, but was surprised to hear that Mrs. Weasley was taking work as a seamstress.

"It keeps her busy," Mr. Weasley muttered to Harry. How could he have not realized how alone she must feel, with Fred gone, all of her living sons all moved out, and her husband and only daughter (who was also the only child of hers who still lived at home) were both working full time.

They stayed at the table for over an hour, talking lightly of jobs and families- the stranger was named Lucy, and she had come to Britain from San Francisco as a student. While interning in Percy's department, the two had become involved, and during the estrangement from the rest of his family, Percy had become a father to Emma Weasley. They lived in New Castle.

Conversation wore thin, and Charlie stood, announcing his departure and inviting the rest of the table to join him. Everyone rose, and good-bye's were coupled with hugs from the parents and a very sad expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.

They were outside. "Well, I should get going…" Harry started, but they would not have it. George clapped him on the shoulder and steered him down the road, around the trees, and toward the lights in the valley below.

Percy and Lucy were holding hands, as were Ron and Hermione. George and Charlie flanked Harry, as though being guarded from his obvious loneliness.

They made their way into a town Harry had seen a million times but had never entered. It was nice, being with his dearest friends and not being stared at b y passers-by.

The pub was very full- it was a Friday night- and Harry couldn't stop himself searching the crowd for his favorite person, perhaps (his chest went cold just thinking about it) far too close to some tall, handsome, un-scarred, normal-weighted guy with nice teeth and good hair, and- there she is, he thought as the world ran out of air.

She was behind the bar, her thick red hair longer than he remembered. Her eye make-up made her look as though she had aged several years- or had she simply matured past him? He could not see her lower half, but her black long-sleeved shirt was far lower cut than anything she would have worn in public when they had been together (though admittedly, he had seen her in far less).

"Harry?" Hermione turned around when she realized he was not with them. She saw him through the front window, walking very fast with his arms crossed in a defensive manner. "Harry!" she called. Several heads turned, including the barmaid's.

Throwing her coat back over her shoulders, she called behind her "Stay here!" and flew out after him. The bottom of his long coat whipped out of sight around the corner of the pub. He's disapparated, she thought, panicking, but was proven wrong when she followed him.

He was in an alley between the pub and the local grocery, leaning against the cold red bricks. His eyes were closed, his breathing was heavy, and his head was tilted back so that his pale face was pointed toward the frozen, cloudy night sky.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice extremely gentle. "Are you okay?" He dropped his head, the muscles around his mouth suddenly tight and quivering. He shook his head 'no'.

"I-I shouldn't have c-c-come b-back," he gasped between labored breaths, his voice thick.

"Oh, Harry," She moved closer. He was shivering- he had left so fast, he hadn't even bothered to re-fasten his coat. She pulled the buttons together, fished his scarf out of his pocket, and fashioned it around his neck. She placed one hand on either side of his thin face and wiped away his tears with her thumbs. Enveloping him in a great hug, she asked, "Do you want me to take you home?"

He sniffed heartily. "I don't know where that is," he whispered miserably. She held on to him until the sobs subsided, and then pulled away to face him.

"What do you want to do?" He looked to the side and shrugged. "Do you want to go back inside?" It was starting to snow- the first snow.

"She won't want me in there."

"How can you know that? There are plenty of other people who do."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

"My face… I mean, does it look like I was-"

"Like you were out in the cold, yes."

He waited a moment. "Are you sure? Because I can't… they'll laugh at me, and…"

"No one's going to laugh." she said firmly, and it was true. She had gone to great lengths to explain to them all how serious Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder could be, especially when gone untreated as long as Harry had done. None of them disagreed that there was very little in this world less funny than his situation. When asked 'What should we do?' she had simply replied 'Love him and be patient. It's all we can do.'

He breathed out "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

…

He was next to Ron now, and the seat on his other side at the circular table was empty.

"Hey, I thought I told you lot to never come back in here." Ginny teased her brothers as she approached, a pen in one hand and a small notepad in the other. She was pulled halfway down as she was caught in what seemed to be millions of one-armed hugs. Now that he could see her properly, it was with a pang that he noticed how much she had grown up, and yet still looked like his Ginny.

"So, boys, what's your poison?" They ordered around the table, before she got 'round to Harry. It was the first time he had heard her say his name in so long, and it felt like something sharp was lodged in his throat when he tried to speak.

"Water's fine." Those two words seemed to cost him everything as he met her eyes. He couldn't read her face, but he had seen the expression before, when he had first kissed her, and at Dumbledore's funeral- being near her was almost harder than being away from her.

"Just water?"

"Please." Everyone was watching him, including Ginny, until she walked away. The silence was awkward, with Harry staring determinately down at the table.

Finally, Ron asked "So, England vs. Thailand coming up- anybody interested in getting tickets? It should be a good one…"

Quidditch, Harry thought as though he had forgotten of the sport's existence. The drinks came, then the seconds, and yet the water went untouched. Ginny's shift ended, and she came to them bearing shots and plopped down next to him.

As the alcohol started pouring, and as he was the only sober member of their group, the conversation kept shifting abruptly, sometimes completely excluding him.

"Why aren't you drinking?" Slurred Ginny, several shots beyond her limit.

"Ginny," Hermione reprimanded, her eyes bloodshot from the smoke around the table (everyone was smoking, Harry more so than anyone else) and her face flushed.

"What? I think I have a right to know… I mean, he left me, he ignored me, he fell out of love with me, and now he's too good to drink with me. I want to know why."

"I think you've had enough, Gin," said the girl called Lucy, and Harry was grateful.

"No, I'm not done yet." She turned back to him. "Well?"

"I just… I'm not a drinker-"

"Bullshit." She cut across him. "Admit it- you don't want to be anywhere near any of us, let alone me."

"No, I- I don't drink," he tried feebly, but her words rung in his ears, and it was as though his throat was being pulled on from the inside like a bell tower. He was mortified to find that his vision was blurring.

"Oh, go ahead and cry, coward," she spat.

"That's enough, Gin." Ron spoke this time. She stopped.

"It's late," said Percy. "Are you all okay on getting home?" Next to Harry, he was the most sober of the group. Ginny wound up staying the night at Lucy's flat in New Castle (she was too drunk to go home to her parents). Percy guided Charlie home by apparition, then returned to help Ron and George. It was just Harry and Hermione, now.

She hugged him, and he felt her lead him through the apparition process. When he opened his eyes, he was in a comfortably small flat, in which Ron was doing a poor job of making up a soft-looking couch for sleeping.

"All right?" he asked. Harry didn't trust himself to speak- if he opened his mouth, he would probably end up sobbing hysterically for the second time that night. He allowed a small nod of the head.

"Well, g'night," he muttered, pulling Harry into a brief brotherly hug, before heading through a door, Hermione in tow.

"Sweet dreams," she called back to him, before letting it swing almost all the way shut.

Percy had finished with George, and left after only a few short words with Harry. Climbing into his makeshift bed, he tried to block out George's snores, and consequentially cried himself to sleep while trying not to listen to Ron and Hermione's drunken lovemaking.