It never failed to amaze, a table lined with red red red hair like the one before him. Harry felt scorched, parched, as if he had been turning in the oven for too long. Weasleys, so many of them, before him, colourful and exhilarating. He wondered why he felt so distinctly like a student in front of an exam committee.
"So, Harry," George said – and yes, this was George, even though Harry wasn't sure why he knew, perhaps it was the slightly different tilt of his head when he wasn't trying to be like his twin, "I suppose you know why we're all here together."
Outside there was Hermione shouting at Ginny to catch the apples before they hit the ground, and Ginny laughing and yelling Hermione looked like an overgrown apple herself up there and Harry thought he might have an inkling why they were there.
"It has come to our attention," Charlie said, mouth twitching, "that you've been getting to know our little sister quite well lately."
Harry's mouth was dry and Hermione was ordering Ginny to put the ladder back, now, and he would've laughed if Fred hadn't looked so serious. Harry saw that when he looked serious he looked less like George.
"Now, we don't wish to know what goes on behind closed doors," and Charlie had never looked so strong and menacing before, "but we want you to know that nothing needs to be going on."
Bill just grimaced while Percy looked sour and clucked his tongue impatiently. "What they're trying to say is: if you hurt her, they'll hurt you."
Ron looked slightly sheepish, leaning over the table to clap Harry on his back in an awkward angle and Harry thought that when the Weasleys smiled, they all looked alike.
He felt warm, not like being in an oven, but more like being at home, being welcomed.