The rich scent of brewing coffee teased Harry's nose. He had woken up earlier and had lain there since the sun had first peaked through the window in Ron's room. The quiet sound of someone tiptoeing past the door had told Harry that Mrs. Weasley was already up and the smell of coffee told him that she had begun to fix breakfast. Harry's stomach gave a loud grumble at that thought.

Lying there, not wanting to get up, Harry wished that the last three days had been a dream. Or more likely a nightmare. The argument, waking up in Oliver Wood's flat, and overhearing Ginny talking aobut her troubles with Neville had left him feeling oddly disoriented. It was a feeling that he hadn't had in years, and the only word that he could use to describe it was alone. Harry knew he wasn't truly alone, as in stuck-in-the-cupboard-with-the- door-locked alone. But alone as in the odd man out, not quite fitting in with the people he'd known and been friends with for years. Knowing that they still loved him meant a lot, but the feeling of being different remained.

Mentally pushing it to the back of his mind, Harry sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet curling at the feel of the cold floor. He grabbed his socks from yesterday and quickly pulled them on. Jeans, jumper, and trainers quickly followed. There was something to be said for sleeping in one's boxers and tee.

Harry let his nose lead him out of Ron's room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Hopefully this time he wouldn't overhear anything he probably shouldn't.

The rickety steps never sounded noisier as Harry bounded down them. It never hurt to be a little cautious – something he had learned the hard way, but sometimes was hard for him to do. At least they'd hear him coming.

"Morning, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully, her smile as bright as the sun coming through the kitchen windows.

This was a marked contrast to last night's mood, and for a brief moment, Harry wondered if she'd been put under Imperio.

"Morning," Harry replied, plopping down into one of the worn chairs at the table.

"I'm about to fix breakfast. Would you prefer porridge or cereal?" she asked.

"Erm, porridge, I guess. But don't go to any bother for me," Harry said, watching the stout little woman bustling about the kitchen.

"No bother, dear."

With a flick of her wand, the pot of water began to boil and the tin on the shelf above the cooker popped open and oats flew into the rapidly bubbling water.

"Nothing like a hot nourishing breakfast, I say."

Looking satisfied that everything was set, Mrs. Weasley swished and flicked her wand again. This time the coffee pot rose and floated over to the table, hovering over the mug at Harry's place setting.

"Coffee?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yeah, please." And from somewhere came the unbidden memory of Fred and George being scolded for using magic for magic's sake. His mouth curved into a small grin. "When did you start drinking coffee?"

The coffee pot filled Harry's cup and then floated over and topped off its owner's.

"Since Arthur brought some home as an experiment," Mrs. Weasley laughed.

Smiling, Harry blew on the steaming liquid and took a sip. He set the cup down and studied it for a minute. There was always something new to learn about the Weasleys.

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley slide into the chair across from Harry and he could feel her eyes upon him. She coughed and he knew she was waiting for him to look up.

He was met with a gaze from serious dark brown eyes. And the little grin that was on his lips faded.

"I want to talk to you about things, Harry," Mrs. Weasley began and then stopped. Harry could tell that whatever it was she wanted to talk about bothered her.

Harry nodded, and reached for his coffee, stalling the conversation by blowing on the still steaming liquid.

"Ginny isn't herself lately, and I'm worried," Mrs. Weasley said a bit sadly. She reached over and grasped his hand before continuing. "And Harry, you haven't spent the night in years, and I know that something has got your knickers in a twist to come running back here. She patted his hand and smiled a motherly smile. "Not that I mind in the least. So, now two of my children are upset and I need to know what I can do to help," she finished, her face full of concern.

"I had a fight with Draco," Harry said, surprised that the words tumbled from his mouth so easily. On his way to the Burrow, he'd rehearsed how he would say what had happened and then he had just gone ahead and blurted it out. But, it probably wouldn't have worked on Molly Weasley anyway. She had the ability to cut to the chase during conversations.

"Draco? Lucius Malfoy's son? My hairdresser?" Mrs. Weasley said her wrinkling her brow in confusion. "Why would having a fight with my hairdresser have you so upset?"

"I live with him," Harry said.

"Oh, he's your flatmate. I didn't know you were good friends now," Mrs. Weasley said. "So what was the fight about then?" she asked.

"Well, he's always working late, he comes home tired, exhausted actually, and he doesn't want to have…erm, he's snappish with me.

"Well, dear, just ignore him. He'll get over it, what ever it is." She smiled and took a sip of her coffee. "So, what has gotten you so upset?"

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. He had just told her what the problem was! What else did she need to know?

"Well, ah…he's acting like he's not interested in me anymore," Harry said vaguely. Where was what he'd rehearsed? Gah!

"Why should he be interested in you? He's just your flatmate," Molly said. "I mean, isn't he involved with that little Asian-looking fellow down at his shop? Ramen, Romen, Oh… Ramone? She gave a little wave of her hand. "Something like that."

There was nothing for it. Harry felt this cheeks heat up. It was like he was thirteen again and confessing that he had a crush on Cho to Ron. But this was much worse than that.

"Harry, Harry... are you alright?" Molly asked anxiously. "You look feverish."

Harry met her concerned eyes. "He's not involved with Ramone. He's involved with me."

Molly didn't flinch or look shocked. And Harry had to give her credit. She didn't scream or gasp either. She just looked surprised…and a little sad.

Harry waited. He couldn't look her in the eye. The moment stretched on, and on, and Harry had the urge to get up and leave. Somehow, in some way, he felt like he had disappointed her. He couldn't shake the feeling that her sad look was really one of disappointment in him. He pushed his chair back.

"So, it's true then. What Ginny told me. She said you were," Mrs. Weasley said softly, almost as if she were speaking to herself.

"It's true," Harry said, finally looking up from the knot in the kitchen table that had kept his attention for the better part of the last few moments. Mrs. Weasley was sitting there with her eyes closed, a pained look on her face.

"And he's your lover then," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," was all Harry could say. He wasn't going to lie to her. And in that one word he realized that Draco was more than his lover. He was someone he loved. Fully. Completely. Devotedly.

Mrs. Weasley opened her eyes. Harry could see unshed tears in her eyes waiting to fall.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I thought you knew," Harry said, not daring to say that he thought she had seen them at Ron and Hermione's wedding. Not even wanting to get into that little event at all. The silence between them grew, and Harry lowered his eyes, wondering if her next words would be ordering him to leave or would be a verbal bashing.

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into? That sort of lifestyle isn't all that acceptable in the Wizarding world. I'm not sure how well it fares in the Muggle world either. With what I've read from those magazines that Arthur brings home, diseases and one-night stands and drugs and orgies, and, and, and Harry… Draco Malfoy of all people!"

"He's not the same Draco Malfoy that he was in school, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, fiddling with his mug. The coffee had long since gone cold, and he'd lost his taste for it any way.

"It's just not him, its whole family! His father tried to kill you!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "He's not someone you should be with… like that," she said, fiddling with her mug nervously.

"Draco is not like his father," Harry said quietly. "He never wanted to be." And he remembered how horrible it had been to be almost Kavada'd by Lucius Malfoy… and how perilously close Draco had come to being forced into becoming a Death Eater like him.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I don't know Harry, I just don't know. It's just…" her voice trailed off, and she wiped her eye.

"What?"

"It's like you always choose the hardest path, Harry." She reached for his hand, before continuing, "Or it's chosen for you." This time a tear slipped down her cheek, the wetness disappearing into her wrinkled skin. "I just need to know one thing."

Harry nodded. "Anything,"

"Does he care for you?" she asked in a choking voice.

It hurt Harry to hear her sound like that, so sad, and so distant from him; the woman who had become his adopted mother.

"I think so," Harry said, then more firmly. "yes… yes he does."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and gave Harry's hand a quick squeeze and released it. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

"Harry, I can't say I condone you and he being –" and now it was Mrs. Weasley's turn to have her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink - "erm, a couple. I've been brought up to believe that wizards and witches, men and women belonged together, not two wizards or two men, or even two women. I just, I mean, oh bother," Mrs. Weasley said, dabbing at her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief before tucking it away again.

"You're not angry with me then?" Harry asked.

"Oh Harry, I'm not angry with you," Mrs. Weasley said with a watery little smile. "Just because you love someone that I wouldn't choose for you… well, that doesn't mean you've done anything wrong. It's just who you are."

A prickling started behind Harry's eyes. Years of being called a freak of nature had made him fear rejection almost more than anything or anyone. For someone who had been spurned by his schoolmates and family for less than being attracted to men, to have Mrs. Weasley still regard him as worthy meant more than all the gold in Gringotts.

"And Harry, I'm going to give you the same advice I've given all my children." She looked into Harry's eyes and laid her hand upon his cheek. "Don't walk away from an argument. You can't leave differences to fester and rot. You just have to settle it once and for all or it'll eat you up alive."

Harry nodded and held her hand to his cheek. It felt good to have a mum.

Silently, Molly removed her hand and Harry knew that she knew what he was thinking.

"What's burning?" Harry jumped as Ginny strode into the kitchen, her cloak in hand.

"Ahhh, the porridge!" Mrs. Weasley cried jumping up from her chair. From his seat, Harry could see that the cereal had turned a horrible brown color and looked to be permanently attached to the bottom and sides of the pot.

Laughing, Ginny patted Harry on the shoulder and sat down next to him. She still smelled of flowers and spice. Harry remembered how he used to love that smell and his heart lurched a little. But Ginny had long been lost to him, now married to his old friend, Neville.

Even after he'd broken up with her, he still cherished the memories of their days together. But he didn't regret their parting. Staying together would have been wrong, and to deny who he really was; even worse.

"Harry, why don't you go to London with me instead of hanging around here all day?" Ginny asked, helping herself to Harry's coffee. She pulled a face at the taste of the cold and bitter coffee. She brushed her hair from her face. "Or do you have plans for later?"

Harry shook his head no. He had no plans, no where to go, and no one to see.

"So, is that "no" you don't want to go to London or "no" you don't have plans?" Ginny asked, an amused smile on her face.

"It's yes, I'd like to go to London with you, but why?"

"I just thought it would be nice to catch up and I'd like to talk to you alone." Ginny glanced at Molly, busily scrubbing out the burnt pot. She laughed, "Mum, why don't you just spell that clean?"

"Oh… I should, shouldn't I?" Mrs. Weasley replied absently. She pulled her wand and flicked it. Both Harry and Ginny flinched as the wave of magic rebounded on them.

"Harry, if you stay here, she'll eventually Scourgify you accidentally," Ginny said, rubbing her arm.

"Too late," Harry replied, straightening his glasses.

Laughing, Ginny stood up and draped her cloak around her shoulders. "Come on then. We can walk to Stoat Head Hill and take my portkey to the Leaky…one of the small perks of being a star Chaser."

"Why not Floo?" Harry asked, standing up as well and pushing his chair in.

Ginny leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I like the windblown look." Seeing Harry's amused reaction, she continued, "Plus, the walk will give us time to chat about old times."

"You two should sit down and have breakfast, I can whip up another pot of porridge in a jiff," Mrs. Weasley said turning around from filling the pot with water again.

"Mum, come on now, we'll just pick something up, maybe have an early lunch," Ginny said, stepping around her chair and heading toward her mother. She gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Harry headed upstairs to get his jacket and knapsack. Maybe it was time to go back to London. And Draco.