A/N: Hallo!

It's storming outside. Like there's a group of teenage dementors having a water fight whilst playing with drums the size of a mammoth's stomach. It isn't pretty.

But more importantly, I'm in the warm, I have a Vanilla and Lavender candle burning next to me, and I love you. Yes, you.

I love you because you're reading this, which means you're still here after five chapters of waiting.

I love you because we have almost four hundred and fifty reviews.

I love you because we have almost four hundred and forty people that have added this fic to their favourites.

I love you because we have seven hundred and ten subscribers.

And I love you because you make me happy.

On with the legalities!

DISCLAIMER: We've talked about this. I'm not her. Sorry.

WARNINGS: Course language, mature themes.

Chapter Six: Sunshine and Instincts

"Harrykins! Wake up little kitty!" A loud, annoying voice sang next to his ear. No! His bed was warm and soft and he didn't want to wake up! He voiced his protest with a muffled growl, his face buried in his pillow.

"Pussy cat, you need to get up." Another, slightly smoother voice stated by the opposite ear. Harry growled at him too. Stupid twins had no respect for sleep.

"Harry…" The first voice coaxed. Fred, he guessed. "Wakey wakey, rise and shine!" Harry's guess was proven correct as he turned his face to bare his teeth at his friend. His nose was filled with the scent of warm cotton, gunpowder, cinnamon and hot ginger. Feeling that Fred had taken his point when he heard him take a step back, Harry turned his head to the other side and snuggled back into his delightfully squishy pillow.

"Kitten, Mum will start shouting in about half an hour, so you need to get ready." George advised, his voice slightly deeper than his brother's. A quick sniff surrounded Harry with scent of warm cotton, gunpowder, cinnamon and baked apples. A gentle had petted his ear, smoothing the sleep-mussed fur and eliciting a pleasant purr from Harry's chest.

"Yeah, Harrykins! Get up! You need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!" Fred almost shouted, a wide grin stretched across his face as he reached forward to fluff up the said tail.

A flurry of movement and a few angry hisses later found Harry clutching the back of George's shirt as he bared his fangs at the offender. Fred had no right to touch his tail!

Shocked by the sudden sound and movement, it took a moment to warm up the gears in Fred's head. When realisation hit him up the side of the head he winced in apology. Faced with his brother's stony stare and Harry's fangs, he went by his trusty instincts, and dropped down to kneel on the floor, his pale neck bared vulnerably. The position made his uncomfortable, his shoulder muscles tight with tension as he fought himself to stay on the ground.

A few moments later he heard the whisper of soft footsteps over the orange carpet, and he was soon encircled by a pair of warm, thin arms. Soft breath warmed his neck as Harry rested his head on the redhead's broad shoulder, cute sounds of snuffling and quiet purrs filling the air.

George, from where he sat on the other side of his brother could see a war of emotions on Harry's face. Fear, happiness, caution, comfort, and stress flashed and rippled across a pale face whilst nostrils flared and ears twitched.

Moments passed like hours, the sands of time drizzling like half congealed treacle, until Harry's faced smoothed into pleasant calmness, and the rosebud lips parted.

"Freddie?" He asked, lifting his head from a tense shoulder. He waited for pale eyelids to reveal Ice-blue Irises, before speaking again, his voice heavy with sincerity. "You're not my Mate. Don't touch my tail."

The tension melted out of Fred's shoulders as his eyes widened. He nodded his head silently, smoothed a strong hand over Harry's tangled curls, and pressed apologetic lips to his famous scar.

"I'm sorry, Little Brother," He murmured, his eyes closed in shame. "I never meant you to think that I was trying to be your Mate."

Harry felt a delighted smile bloom across his face, and he glanced between the sincere agreement on George's face and the serious apology on Fred's face. After finding no clues to deception, he summoned a little Gryffindor courage and kneelt up to rub his cheek against Fred's stubble-roughened one. A relieved and happy chuckle left both of the Twins' throats and George soon joined the embrace to receive the same treatment. They understood the silent message. They were part of Harry's pride, his big brothers, and they felt a deep satisfaction in a recently awakened part of their souls.

"BOYS! GET DOWN HERE!"

The magically projected voice of Mrs Weasley almost shook the walls of Ron's bedroom, causing the posters to complain, the embracing three to clutch at each other, and Ron to fall out of bed, the silencing charm around him breaking as he fell.

Disgruntled and disorientated, he sent a glare at the door before using the side of his bed to pull himself up. He stood still for a moment before stretching his lanky form and scratching his freckled behind.

A snort from behind he caused him to jump and spin around, his wandless hand raised as if to throw a hex. At the sight of Harry sandwiched between his older, more successful, and better looking brothers he gave a moody grunt and a jealous glare. He then turned his back, muttering about 'attention seeking benders' and other less than complimentary thoughts. His actions were answered with two insulted glares, and one hurt look.

The talented red-heads pressed re-assuring and apologetic kisses to Harry's cheeks and, after sending one last promising glare in their biological brother's direction, left the orange monstrosity of the room with a simultaneous call of 'coming, Mum'.

Harry gave a wistful sigh before turning around to gather clothes and toiletries. He only had a few minutes to get ready before the guests arrived.

..~*~..

Harry was startled from his task of dodging the Weasley chickens by the arrival of guests by port-key. Or at least that was what he labelled to sound on bodies hitting the ground and a round of muffled curses and groans.

He turned around with a smile on his lips, and a pale hand rose unconsciously to flatten down the untameable mess of the hair of his 'human' form. What he saw had him biting his lip to hold in a chuckle and a light bulb illuminated above his head.

Seamus and Dean were twisted around each other in an undignified heap, clothing caught on bag clasps and slightly dazed expressions on their faces. A second passed and the dazed looks faded, soon replaced by vibrant blushes (Seamus) or sheepish smiles (Dean). Looking up at Dean from his twisted position on his back, Seamus could marvel at the fact the Dean's eyes had a ring of deepest brown on the rim of the iris, but lightened to a creamy chocolate colour before darkening close to the pure black pupil. The pupils themselves were slightly blown, and the look in his best friend's eyes left him confused and a little hot under the collar. Surely Dean was as straight as one of his beloved pencils?

A clearing of a through caused an even deeper pink to tint the pale cheeks, so much so that the hue reached the golden sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of the Irishman's nose. Freckles, Dean mused, that looked to have been placed by the dancing feet of a solar pixie. The artist's best friend, and secret admirer, awkwardly maneuvered both Dean and himself to a standing position before skipping forward to happily greet Harry, his rather delectable arse, gloved by acid-washed denim, swinging along the way.

The darkly tanned teen bit back a sigh, and tried to ignore the sympathetic gaze from his former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It was bloody typical of his luck to fall for his best, very straight and catholic, friend.

..~*~..

Luna had a feeling that big events would soon occur, but the thoughts had a warm, pleasant feeling about them so she wasn't worried. She skipped into the Weasleys' front garden after walking down the hill, nodded politely to the glaring garden gnome, and greeted her best friend, and brother in everything but blood, just as he arrived by port-key.

Neville had grown six inches since the last time that she had seen him, and his broader shoulders and bolder muscles had brought out his down-trodden confidence and nurtured it with a good deal of Sunshine and instincts. She accepted a warm hug, and smiled when he cradled her in his strong arms like she was made of the finest china. She bit back a giggle as he snuffled her hair and confirmed her speculation of an inheritance. The Nargles had been right!

They walked into the patch-work house hand-in-hand, but as soon as they entered the kitchen Neville pushed Luna behind his broad back and the glamour that had been covering him fell, revealing arching eyebrows and pointed ears as a deep, warning rumble began in his chest. The rumble was answered by four others, two of which were noticeably higher and weaker, whilst the other two were almost identical. The weaker growled quietened and stopped as the deeper growls grew louder, and the whole of the kitchen inhabitants froze whilst the three Dominants warned each other, two growls working in unison against a rougher, louder growl.

It seemed that Neville wasn't the only Creature in The Burrow.

To be continued…

Post A/N: Yes, I know that it's short, but work is a bitch and the next chapter is very long.

So… Until next time! All questions and comments are welcome!