A/N: I don't know why I pick on Harry so much. I guess it's just because with his abusive life with the Dursleys (and even if it's not really a physical abuse it is still abuse) he seems like the natural choice to have a problem with bedwetting.

I was even thinking of doing the scene I mentioned in a previous chapter - when Ron says Neville woke him up because Harry was wetting himself. Any thoughts on that? Should I do it?

Anyway, obviously Harry Potter and all related characters do not and never will belong to me.

On with the story...

At the Burrow

It was his first night at the Burrow. Twelve year old Harry Potter still could believe that Ron, Fred and George had shown up at the Dursleys to get him in a flying car. The Weasleys were fantastic and Harry, lying in cot in Ron's room, couldn't help but be a little jealous of his best friend.

Ron snored in his bed and Harry found himself grinning. At least he got to spend the rest of his summer here. At the Dursleys he couldn't wait for summer to end so he could go back to Hogwarts but now he found himself perfectly content to let summer stretch out.

Still grinning Harry fell asleep, eager for the next day to start.

It was 3:30 in the morning, still fast asleep, when Harry started squirming in his cot. Squirming but not waking. If he had been awake he would have realized what the problem was and he would have headed to the bathroom without a second thought.

In his sleep though he squirmed and gripped at his crotch and slept on.

It was a little after 4 AM when his body decided to give him the relief he so desperately need and, lying on his stomach, still sound asleep, he began peeing into his cot, the warm wetness soaking through his pajama pants and into the mattress, even spreading up to his stomach and shirt some before he woke, panicked, and managed to stop it.

Ron didn't wake as Harry, heart hammering wildly, got to his feet and stared at the obvious wet spot on his cot, dancing in place as he quickly realized he still had to go. He didn't want to leave the wet cot though – what if Ron woke up while he was gone?

His bladder throbbed though and Harry realized he didn't have much of a choice unless he wanted to wet himself while he was wide awake too.

Quickly he turned and as quietly as he could he made his way out of his friend's bedroom, praying Ron wouldn't wake before he could fix the bed. Harry bit his lip then, wondering how he would do that without anyone knowing. It was summer so he couldn't use magic and he didn't know where fresh sheets were kept. Besides, Mrs. Weasley would surely notice wet sheets in her laundry.

Against his will he spurted into his already wet pajama pants and abruptly he pushed the thoughts of dealing with his wet bed out of his mind. He would worry about that after he had gotten to the bathroom.

Gripping his crotch tightly, he hurried through the dark halls, trying his best not to cry.

His first sleep over ever and he had wet the bed. It was even worse than when he wet his four poster at Hogwarts because he at least knew how to hide that.

Abruptly he came to a halt in front of the bathroom, panic bubbling up in him as he bounced up and down in a frantic potty dance.

There was someone in there. Why hadn't that occurred to him? And this was the only bathroom he knew of. With as many people as the Burrow held he was sure there were more but he hadn't thought to ask anyone during the day.

He doubled over in front of the bathroom as he started to leak into his already wet pajama pants, gripping his penis desperately with both hands and trying to be as quiet as possible so no one would wake up.

Maybe he should knock on the door?

The Dursleys would just laugh or yell at him, depending on which one of them was in the bathroom, and while Harry didn't think the Weasleys would respond that way he still couldn't make himself announce to whoever was in there that he was out here and needed the loo.

He could hear whoever it was moving around and then all at once he could hear them peeing and Harry, leaning against the wall now, sagged to the floor, gripping himself as tightly as he could in an effort not to totally wet himself at the sound of it.

He was spurting every couple seconds though and he suddenly became aware that he was crying now too, tears and snot streaming down his face.

He couldn't help it and when the toilet flushed he moaned.

The sink started running next and finally Harry couldn't take it anymore and sitting on the floor outside of the Weasleys' bathroom in the dark hallway, the twelve year old began completely wetting his pants.

That was the sight that greeted Mrs. Weasley when she opened the bathroom door to begin getting ready for the day, light spilling into the hall and illuminating her youngest son's best friend sitting in a puddle on her floor, holding himself and crying as he peed.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she gasped, hurrying over to him.

"S-sorry, Mrs. W-Weasley," the poor boy gasped even as urine continued to stream out from between his fingers and sobs hitched in his throat.

"Nonsense. It's no problem, dear," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly as Harry's body sagged and he seemed to finish peeing. "Why didn't you say something though? I would have let you in."

"I d-didn't want to b-bother you," Harry said, not meeting her eyes, his cheeks as red as Ron's hair and Mrs. Weasley felt her heart clench.

"Harry, you could never be a bother. Not even if you tried," she said softly, her voice firm. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, all right?

Still sniffling Harry nodded and got to his feet and with a flick of her wand the floor and his pajamas were completely clean and dry again.

"There now," Mrs. Weasley said, satisfied. "Much better. Would you like to go back to sleep for a while or would you like breakfast now? Ron probably won't wake up for another few hours at least."

"Um… sleep, but…" Harry trailed off, embarrassed and Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"What is it, dear?"

"I, er… I wet my bed too," Harry admitted, blushing again, his eyes downcast.

"Easily fixed," Mrs. Weasley assured him, turning and leading the young boy back up the stairs and in Ron's room she flicked her wand at Harry's cot, cleaning and drying it. Then she turned and pulled Ron's covers up over his sleeping form before turning back to Harry. "There now, dear. All better," she murmured, to Harry's surprise kissing him affectionately on the cheek before leaving the room.

Harry settled back into his now dry bed and closed his eyes. He still felt horribly embarrassed but on the whole he figured it all could have turned out so much worse.

Ron didn't know how lucky he was to have his family and Harry reflected that he was right to be jealous of his friend earlier. Harry sighed. If only Ron knew.