"I'm terrified," Harry whispered.

"Don't be," Charlie whispered back, his lips brushing the corner of Harry's mouth.

xXx

The process of moving their lives from Romania to London involved many boxes and many, many Weasleys. Some Granger- Weasleys, Delacour- Weasleys and Thomas- Weasleys were also involved. As were all of their offspring.

In the days leading up to The Big Move, Harry had been put in charge of deciding what items of furniture and their personal belongings would be transferred to the flat and what would stay in the house for when they came back to visit. For the sake of making things easier for the moving crew he'd covered the house (and most of the things in it) with sparkly stickers to denote what was to be Porkeyed over.

Charlie was forced to spend most of his days and long evenings preparing his notes and files ready to hand over to the dragon expert who would be taking over his territory. At the same time, he was doing as much research into the Welsh dragons as he possibly could to prepare himself for the new job. It meant that their time together was seriously pressed. They fell into bed at night, found the comfort of each other's arms and slept deeply until the alarm rang the next morning. Then the routine was repeated.

On the morning of The Big Move people started appearing through the Floo early... too early. Harry was still in his pyjamas. With Charlie's help he set himself up in the kitchen, sat cross- legged on the kitchen table. With a shield charm in place across the doorway to the kitchen to stop any wild children running in, Harry began the process of packing up all the kitchen equipment.

It was a task that took a lot of his attention and a challenge he relished; a combination of a Seeker's reflexes and an Auror's skill at casting multiple spells at once meant pots and pans and cutlery and crockery flew around the room as they were Summoned, Banished or tightly packed in cardboard boxes.

When he caught sight of Ron leaning on the door frame (unable to enter because of the shield charm), watching him with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face, Harry froze everything in place.

"Alright?" he said, taking down the shield. "Sorry about that."

"No, I appreciate it, mate," Ron said. "Too many bloody kids running around."

"I'll second that."

"Got anything to make tea with?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah. I left the pot and some mugs out , just in case."

"You're a lifesaver."

As Ron started preparing the things for tea, Harry stretched.

"How are you doing?" Ron said, measuring tea leaves into the pot.

"Yeah, not bad," Harry said. "I think I'm looking forward to going back to London."

Ron nodded and a slight pink blush stained the back of his neck. He rubbed at it awkwardly. "It's weird, you not being there every day."

And that, Harry thought, was about as close to a 'I've missed you' he was ever going to get out of Auror Ronald Weasley.

"Yeah," he said absently, accepting his mug of tea. "For me, too."

They sipped in silence for a moment, absorbing the sounds of many people moving about the house.

"Have you seen Fred and George yet today?" Harry asked after a moment.

Ron shook his head. "They're not here yet."

"Lazy bastards."

Ron laughed.

xXx

Fred and George turned up in time to help transport the last boxes - via Portkey - to London. Harry couldn't bring himself to mind, especially when George showed him a bundle of sticks with a sly wink.

It took a while to thank all their moving crew and send them on their way again, until only the twins, Charlie and Harry (and Puff, of course, who was busy licking butter off his paws) remained in the flat. Harry had insisted that he didn't need any help unpacking and really, he didn't. He wasn't even sure where everything was going to go yet.

"These are lighter than the other splints," Fred said as George unwrapped the long, thin pieces of wood from their protective leather covering. "Hopefully you should be able to wear them under your jeans when you're more comfortable walking in them."

"If you need any help getting them on give us a shout," George said. "We'll both be in the shop tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Seriously, guys. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back for this."

"Oh, just let the Prophet photographer get a couple of good snaps of you walking into 'Wheezes, that'll do the trick," Fred said.

"Any time," George added and slapped him on the shoulder. "Brothers and all that, you know?"

They left through the Floo and Harry looked over to where Charlie was sat on the sofa, raising his eyebrow in question.

"Brothers? Did you tell them?"

"I promise I didn't," Charlie said, raising both his hands and laughing. "They're either extremely observant or they really do just think of you as a brother." He shrugged and made space on his lap for a fluffy, sated cat.

"I suppose I think of them as brothers," Harry said slowly. "All of them."

Charlie smiled. "There you go, then."

xXx

Harry would forever refer to the process of relearning how to walk as 'long and hard, and not the good kind'. The splints allowed his body to support itself but after more than six months of being unable to use his legs, adjusting to walking again took time.

After several days and many bruises, Charlie's frustrations reached breaking point. Not with Harry, he was making extraordinary progress, walking up to a few steps unaided before his muscles gave out and Charlie was forced to catch him. His frustrations laid with those constant setbacks his boyfriend was facing and the way Harry's resolve was starting to slowly crumble.

"Just... sit down, for fuck's sake," Charlie instructed, running his hands through his hair. "Give me an hour. Please don't try it without me. I don't want you to get hurt."

Harry nodded and stretched out on the sofa, exhausted.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Not sure yet. Trust me."

"I do," Harry said sleepily and threw his arm across his face.

It was slightly less than an hour later when Charlie Apparated back into the flat. Harry hadn't moved.

"Where have you been?"

"Muggle London."

"Really? What for?"

"Open your eyes and you'll see."

Harry opened his eyes.

"I never thought I'd hear myself saying this... but I'm starting to get sick of the sight of wood."

Laughing, Charlie set the crutches down on the coffee table. They were the long kind of crutches, ones that supported under the arm with a space for his hands to grip further down.

"I explained to the lady in the shop the problem you were having," Charlie said, sitting on the floor next to Harry's head and brushing his hair back. "And she said this was the best thing. I figured the splints will support your legs and these will help you support your upper body as well."

Harry was quiet as he considered it. "That's a really good idea," he said eventually.

"It has been known to happen."

"Shut up."

"I know it's not a cure," Charlie said slowly. "But if you can get mobile then you can do things for yourself more. Maybe think about going out."

"Thank you," Harry said, turning his hand into Charlie's caress and pressing his lips to the palm of his hand. "I couldn't have done this without you. Any of it."

"That's part of being with someone, Harry. You don't have to do anything by yourself ever again."

A/N: I rarely do this, because it seems terribly narcissistic, but to respond to the general consensus from the last chapter, Poor Harry? Really? !
After everything he's put Charlie through? Doesn't Charlie deserve his own little bit of happiness?

Okay, now I'm done playing devil's advocate, I think this story needs more Ron and Hermione. I will aim to fix this. Thank you all for reading. You're all lovely.