Hey there, guys! I'm so nervous...this is the first time I've ever attempted Harry Potter fiction, but I've been dying to for ages it seems. This is a one shot that sprang out of my muse unexpectedly while I was writing the first chapter of a rather lighthearted Ginny fic. I plan to continue that, but this is a one shot piece that I hope you at least slightly enjoy. Please review and tell me if I should crawl into a writing hole and rot or possibly continue with other stories. ;) I hope you like it!

Adrial

June 29, 2004

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"Home"

The Burrow had welcomed the last two Weasleys that remained at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy with long days of smoldering sunshine and many impromtu jumps into the lake not far down the road. Mrs. Weasely, weary of the excitement of their previous year at Hogwarts and the fact that they had been within a one-foot radius of 10 deatheaters, had watched Ron and Ginny with an eagel's eye. Mr. Weasley had been absent nearly every other day, owing it to matters with the Order and of which neither Ron nor Ginny need be informed of. They welcomed the excuse to live peacefully for a little while, and neither spoke much of the time they had spent fighting alongside Harry or his long-time silence since they'd waved goodbye on Platform Nine and 3/4 nearly a month before. But this false sense of peace ended abruptly all in the course of an hour.

Ron stomped all the way down the four flights of stairs to the kitchen on a cloudly afternoon and threw a stack of unanswered letters onto the table. Mrs. Weasley frowned sorrowfullly and shrugged helplessly at the look of frustration on her son's face. She prodded the pile with her hands and sighed.

"Look at this!" He gestured roughly at the pile, "I'll be damned if he's going to spend all summer long holed up in that Dursley hell hole ignoring my and Hermione's letters as if we didn't bloody exist." The force of this declaration had startled Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who had entered at the sound of shouting, and they watched with wide eyes as Ron ran to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder and flung himself into the fireplace.

"Ronald Weasley, don't you-" Mrs. Weasley managed to get out just that much before Ron clearly bellowed "Number Four Pivet Drive!" and was englufed in emerald flames.

"-dare..." She finished weakly. She shook an angry finger at the dusty fireplace and narrowed her eyes, but settled onto the battered sofa facing the mantle and furiously knitted until Ron appeared a half hour later, dragging a disgruntled and quite pissed off looking Harry Potter behind him.

Ginny gasped from her perch on an arm chair when Herminoe stumbled out right behind them, carrying a small bag and looking equally miffed. She dusted the ash from her jeans and shirt and gave Ron a hard shove in the arm.

"Ronald Weasley, please explain yourself this instant!" She demanded. Her curly waves of chestnut hair framed her glaring face delicately from years of gradual taming. She narrowed brown eyes at Ron and stepped out of the hearth.

Ron threw down the trunk he had dragged from the flames and pointed directly at Harry, "You." He was breathing deep and unevenly, the red of his face nearly matching his hair.

Harry's once wide, sparkling green eyes were more of a dull forest green now, haunted by thoughts only he could know, and Ginny gasped inwardly at the dark circles beneath them and the gaunt, ghost-like pallor of his face. He stared at the floor determinedly, fidgeting with the wand he had clasped loosely in his hand.

"Ron..." He croaked. It sounded as if it had been the first time he'd spoken all summer, his voice rasping like a completely different person had possessed him.

"Don't you 'Ron' me, Potter. Look at me!" Ron stood to his full height, four inches taller than Harry and nearly a foot over Hermione, who was staring at him as if he'd turned into a Blast-ended Skrewt and was preparing to strike.

Harry gritted his teeth and stared at Ron directly between his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to achieve eye-to-eye contact with the person he'd been avoiding for an entire month.

Hermione piped up softly, "Ron...please, calm down. This isn't going to help any-"

"Hermione," Ron said warningly, and she immediately closed her lips. Ron had never looked so intimidating before, and she was beginning to wonder what the last month had done to her two best friends.

"Now that I've gotten your attention, Potter, I want you to listen and listen well," Ron clenched and unclenched his fists, ignoring his mother who was looking torn between shielding Harry from her fuming son or fainting. He continued, "Hermione, come here." He held out his hand to his left and Hermione cautiously stepped over and took it in her own, not really knowing what else to do.

He didn't break eye contact with Harry as she slid her soft fingers around his own, but he gave her a reassuring squeeze before speaking again.

"Do you see this, Potter?" He flung their interlocked fingers into his face, "This is what friendship means. It means sticking together. Through the good times and bad. No-matter-what." Hermione's eyes softened at his statement and Harry stared blankly at their joined hands.

"Ron, I don't want to-"

"FRIENDS are always here for you as long as you are willing to accept them," Ron interjected, "Hermione and I made our decision a long time ago to be your friend. We knew the dangers we'd face; hell, we even enjoyed a few. The point is that we haven't spent the last 5 years of our lives pretending to care about you. We do. And I'll be damned if you are going to turn your back on us now when I know you need us most. I'm not willing to repeat the mistakes I made last summer, and I'm not willing to let you cower away from us just because you're trying to protect us."

Harry seemed stunned. He wanted to run away, but his feet remained planted to the floor stubbornly, unwilling to heed his wish. His mind milled over what Ron had said, yet all he could see were the dreams that had been haunting him for the past month over and over. A black veil, swaying eerily over faceless voices. The roar of spells flying in all directions. The feeling of a cold, glass ball clutched firmly in his fist as he watched Sirius fall behind the curtain.

"Stop." He barely uttered the word aloud, but instantly the images ceased to cloud his vision and Ron's determined frown and Hermione's calculating eyes appeared before him.

"Please, Harry. Don't do this to yourself," Hermione whispered. She gently uncoiled her fingers from Ron's and stepped cautiously towards him. He flinched as her hand felt gently on his forearm, and at the warm, searching gaze she held in her eyes.

"Ron's right. You don't have to go through this alone."

But neither of them knew. They hadn't been in Dumbledore's office when he'd found out that his life was planned for him. That he must either kill or be killed. That the fate of the wizarding world had settled on his forehead in the shape of a lightening bolt shaped scar fifteen years before and would depend on his ability to kill the darkest wizard of all time--Lord Voldemort. They hadn't spent fifteen years living with horrible people who barely saw him above the dirt on their shoes. They hadn't been sniffed at and scorned for lies that weren't even true, only to be welcomed back when those who had been blind to the truth saw Lord Voldemort risen once again after Harry had stupidly followed a trap into the Department of Mysteries, luring friends into mortal danger and causing the death he had gone to prevent.

They had no idea. Harry had spent the past month trying to forget his name and the scar on his head. He'd attempted to push out memories of the wizarding world all together; he'd left Hedwig to fend for herself for food and water and lain on his bed in the attic of Number four Pivet Drive counting the splinters in the wood above his head and playing Sirius's death over and over in his mind until it became a dull blade, cutting into his heart with each repeated blow of remembrance. He'd left his Hogwarts trunk unopened and his firebolt collected dust beneath his bed. A gift from the man who had lost his life because of him.

Hermione gently squeezed his arm, alarmed at the darkness lurking behind his eyes; the sadness pouring from his very being caused her heart to twist itself into painful knots until she thought she might scream from the intenstiy of it all.

"Harry..." She looked to Ron for help, and he walked forward, losing the fury that boiled in his veins and softening at the lost boy who stood in front of him.

"What do you say, mate? Are you going to let us help you or are you going to go back to the Dursley's and hide behind that scar of yours forever?" His words were soft but laced with seriousness.

Harry's mind raced so fast he couldn't make out a single coherent thought. Ron placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and one on Harry's, shaking him out of his reverie. Dusk fell outside of The Burrow as Harry fell to his knees before his two best friends, clutching his hair in his fists; and they huddled around him, blocking him from view and wrapping their arms around him in a tight and protective embrace.

On the couch Mrs. Weasley clutched her knitting to her chest and silent tears rolled down her red cheeks. Ginny curled into a ball on the oversized chair and watched the scene with glassy eyes, not daring to intrude but thinking silent words of comfort.

The enchanted clock abover her auburn head clicked gently as the spoon labeled "Harry Potter" rotated slowly, landing on "Home."

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well there it is! first attempt. please tell me what you think! i really want to give this HP fic writing a try, and your reviews would be muchly appreciated. thanx so much 4 reading!

Adrial