And you are not alone in this
You are not alone in this.
As brothers we will stand we'll hold your hand -
hold your hand.
- Mumford & Sons, 'Timshel'

They left the day after Christmas, Harry overwhelmed, Charlie stressed. Their presence wouldn't be missed amongst all the Weasley children and grandchildren who demanded far much more time and attention than the quiet couple in the corner.

Charlie used the excuse of mother dragons and infant hatchlings and his work, and Harry made no excuse at all but was loaded up with jumpers and mince pies and cake and a look of such sorrow and concern from Molly that he enfolded her in a hug.

"It's okay," he whispered to her, breaking his silent promise to himself that he wouldn't get involved. "We're good together, Molly."

"I know," she said and patted his head. "I know."

The vast solitude of Charlie's home was a welcome change and Harry felt the relief as a tangible relaxation in his shoulders. The cat seemed to be punishing them and refused to join in the cuddles on the sofa.

That night they teased each other to climax with exploring fingers and lips and tongues, their voices purposefully loud and echoing through the vastness of Charlie's wide, spacious home. Then they slept, deliciously naked, long limbs tangled together.

"Don't forget the twins are coming over today."

Charlie's voice was low , his lips close to Harry's neck in an attempt to coax the man from sleep.

"Mm," Harry hummed. "'Kay."

"That means you need to get up at some point."

"I'm up," Harry said, stretching. He grabbed Charlie's hand and pressed it against his groin. "Look. Up."

Charlie laughed and kissed him wetly on the cheek with a loud smack. "No time. Dragons to see to."

Harry flipped him a middle finger but smiled as he did it and rolled around on Charlie's side of the bed for another half an hour before grabbing his Firebolt to take him to the shower.

As he dressed Harry wondered, not for the first time, just how much more difficult his life would be if he was disabled and a Muggle. It wasn't just his dependence on the Firebolt... even things like getting dressed would be virtually impossible.

Despite his magical assistance, his daily routine was still much harder than it was before. And everything depended on his routine: shower, clothes, breakfast, washing up. Then studying. Then lunch... then more studying.

Except the twins coming over was an excuse not to even open Hermione's books when he was done with lunch and instead he stretched out on the sofa with the cat who'd forgiven him and contemplated a nap, until the Floo sounded.

The twins were not ones to stand on ceremony and let themselves through without invitation. George was carrying what looked like a pile of sticks in his hands and Harry looked at him with a fair amount of confusion.

"They're splints," Fred explained. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. Not bad, thanks. Splints for what?"

"We think," George said, "That they might help you walk."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Oh fuck."

"We don't know yet," Fred hurried to add. "We've been testing them out ourselves and it hasn't really been that easy."

"How... what..." Harry tried to ask.

George shrugged. "We invent stuff, mate. That's what we do. And this sounded like a good challenge."

"How do I get them on?"

Dumping the splints on the sofa, George grimaced and rolled his shoulders. "It's not particularly easy," he said. "It helps if you take your jeans off..."

Since the accident, the only one who had seen Harry truly vulnerable was Charlie, and to a lesser extent, Ron and Hermione. He was forced to ignore the pooling sickness in his belly at being totally at the mercy of the Weasley twins, not that they seemed to think anything of seeing him in his boxers and a t- shirt. They'd shared the showers after Quidditch practice enough not to be self conscious in that regard, but still...

It took nearly half an hour of rearranging the sweet smelling wood (Harry guessed that the magic applied to it was making it smell that way) and leather straps so that they were comfortable. Harry was required to lay back on the floor so he was flat, although after a while he propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch Fred and George work.

"When we've got them sorted, you should be able to put them on yourself," Fred explained. He pushed his hair back from his forehead with his arm. "Nearly there, mate. We had to guess a bit at how tall you are so there's some adjusting to do."

There could be little doubt that this invention went way above exploding toilet seats and Skiving Snackboxes in terms of its practical usage, and as he laid on the floor, Harry realised how very much he'd underestimated Charlie's brothers. For a long time he'd considered himself a part of the Weasley family; on the fringe of it, maybe, but still a part of it. But this went above and beyond anything he could have asked of them.

Over his legs, the twins exchanged a nod. "Ready?" George asked.

Harry was unceremoniously hauled to his feet. He was very aware that all his weight was currently resting on Fred and George's shoulders, they had an arm each wrapped around his waist to steady him.

The splints held his legs straight from hip to knee and knee to ankle with a gap in the middle for him to be able to bend his knees. They responded to his movements in a way that seemed to be a cross between the intuitiveness of his broomstick and the relationship he had with his wand. Still, it took both twins bracing him either side for Harry to try to lift one leg and replace his weight on it.

"Brace your stomach muscles," Fred advised. "Try and keep yourself upright."

It was easy enough advice to suggest - not so easy to follow. After months of being resigned to spending most of his time sitting down, the mere act of standing was daunting. All the muscles in his legs seemed to be screaming in protest at their sudden usage after so much time spent idle.

Bit by bit, the twins moved so they were supporting his upper arms, then his forearms, then holding his hands.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, causing Fred to snort with amusement.

"You're doing great," George said encouragingly. "Try taking a step."

Just then, the front door banged.

"Harry!" Charlie yelled.

He took a sharp intake of breath, wondering just what his partner's reaction to this situation would be, if he even knew of what Fred and George had done. He didn't have to wait long. The sound of heavy, dragon hide boots echoed on the hardwood floor as Charlie walked through the house.

Charlie stopped short.

"Hi," Harry said with a smile.

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates! I've been going a little bit mental on NaNo for the past four weeks. I think I'm going to finish, by the way. I've written over 46,000 words so far. Hurrah!
This story is far from being over. Hopefully I'll get the chapters coming out a bit more regularly when this month is over. Thank you all for your support (and for not giving up on me).