Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.

Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones

Chapter 4: A Matter of Trust

Molly woke slowly that morning, the dawn's light bright against her unadjusted eyes. Her mind felt foggy, a product of a night filled with strange dreams that she could no longer recall, and it took her a while for her sleepy brain to remember why she had gone to bed in such an odd frame of mind. Once she had, however, she lay in bed, finding it necessary to take a moment to allow last night's events to sink in before she faced the new day.

When the twins had come up to her that afternoon in the Leaky Cauldron, with identically guilty expressions on their faces, she had known instinctively that they had done something she would be angry with.

Exasperated, she had confronted them, half-expecting to hear about some ill-advised prank on an unsuspecting customer but, to her growing horror, instead they had told her what Ron had done, and how long he had been missing.

She too had noticed his disappearance from lunch of course, but she had merely thought that he had been exploring Diagon Alley or meeting a friend, as all her children sometimes did.

Once she had realised that he was no longer in Diagonal Alley at all and had instead left for Muggle London, worry and concern had overcome her and she'd quickly become frantic.

It was her worst nightmare come true, and even now, as her son slept soundly on their couch, safe and well, her heart fluttered slightly in rememberance of the fear that had overcome her in that moment.

Panic had grappled with fear, and it had taken a frantic trip to the underage magic department in the Ministry, and favour called in by Arthur, for them to track Ron's wand, thus giving them his location.

When she had finally rounded the corner and had seen her son all beaten up and bloodied, she had run over to him, completely disregarding any danger he could still be in.

Once Ron had told his story, though, she had finally taken notice of the poor boy in her son's arms. Her heart had broken as she took in the terrible condition of the black haired boy, and when Ron had looked at her, with those wide desperate eyes, she had already made her decision.

'He's got nowhere to go, Mum'.

They had rushed home then, mysterious black haired boy in tow, worry marring everyone's faces. Even the twins had been uncharacteristically serious on the journey back and the unconscious state of Ron's saviour had made them all concerned. In truth though, it was quite fortunate that the boy had been unconscious, because they had had to use the floo to get back, a fact that would no doubt have frightened him had he been awake to experience it.

Once they had arrived home, Arthur had carried the poor boy over to the couch, placing him down tenderly before taking all the kids out of the room. Molly had then set to work, trying to heal him as best she could. When he had begun to stir, she had been forced to use a sleeping charm, which had sent him into a more peaceful state. She had been reluctant to do so, but she had known that if he had woken up then he would have only hurt himself more. He needed sleep to help him heal.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot else she could do to help him, since she was no medical expert. After she had fixed his shoulder, Arthur had carried the sleeping boy up to Ron's room, since Ron had agreed to sleep on the couch for the night. She had considered giving the boy a bath first, but she didn't want to invade his privacy. Molly had vowed, though, to at least make sure he had clean clothes to change into when he woke up.

She and Arthur had gone to bed then, but there had been no discussions about the boy staying in their house, a boy neither of them even knew the name of. She knew, without asking, that Arthur would want to help the poor child as much as she did, and that they would talk about it when more facts became clear.

Now, as she dressed and made her way down to make a start on breakfast, Molly thoughts were focused once more on the poor boy, and how they could possibly help him, or at the very least thank him.

Her ponderings, however, were quickly interrupted by the sound of laughing that was coming from downstairs, and she paused on the stairs to listen. It was a child's laughter, and immediately her susicious nature came into play, honed by the years spent raising two pranksters.

Walking more quickly, Molly made her way to the living room door. Pressing her ear to the door, she tried to work out whether or not the twins were up to mischief again. Hearing an unfamiliar voice though, she realised with a jolt that it was probably the young boy they had rescued last night and her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Deciding quickly to see what was going on, curiosity and concern overcoming her, Molly took hold of the handle and opened the door quietly, walking through the door until both the mysterious boy and her son noticed her presence.

The effect of her arrival was instantaneous.

The young boy jumped out of the seat he had been perched on and retreated backwards until his back slammed against the wall, fear not only clouding his eyes but also seeming to escape from every pore in his body.

It was as if the laughter had been sucked from the room, and the smile quickly fell from Ron's face as he looked over to the boy in concern.

He was like a trapped animal, his striking green eyes widened in terror, darting across the room as he clearly looked for an escape. She stopped in the doorway, raising her hands in a placating manner and fixing what she hoped was a friendly expression of her face.

Now that he was awake, Molly could get a better look at his condition, and she didn't like what she saw.

The gauntness of the boy's cheeks, like those of a dying man, told tales of starvation and hunger, the likes of which no child should ever experience. From what she could see of his skin, he was pale, but it was difficult to tell because of the layers of mud and grime that caked his face and hair.

He was small, so small, and the clothes he was wearing, those that she had left him to sleep in last night, were ragged and old. Clearly they did not fit him. His T-shirt, which she had not been able to resist fixing slightly when she had put him to bed last night, was still filthy and had numerous holes in. It hung off his very thin frame, only serving to extenuate the skinniness of the young boy.

His trousers, on the other hand, were clearly too small for him. They stopped well short of the boy's ankles, revealing a pair of dirty socks, and the trousers were worn within an inch of their life, holey, ripped and covered in everything from mud to an odd brown substance that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

When they had found him, he hadn't even been wearing shoes.

Ron's words came back to her once again.

He's got nowhere to go.

"Harry, mate," Ron said carefully, trying not to frighten his new friend any more. "This is my mum. She won't hurt you, I promise."

The boy, Harry, looked over to Ron, staring at her son's face for a long moment, but he must have found what he was looking for because when he turned back to her, the fear had left, although his body was still tense, and wariness filled his expression instead.

"Hello," he whispered uncomfortably, his voice so quiet that she had to strain her ears to hear him.

He looked like a fish out of water, but at least he seemed less inclined to flee now.

"Hello, Harry dear," she said kindly, careful to keep her tone soft. "I'm Molly Weasley. How are you feeling this morning? You took a nasty bump on the head yesterday."

"I'm okay," Harry mumbled, clearly reluctant to elaborate.

An awkward silence filled the air then, and Harry began to fidget, clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled with something. After a few moments though, he spoke, his voice slightly louder than before.

"Erm...thanks," Harry began unsurely, his voice still hoarse. "You know, for letting me stay here. But I need to go now. I need to go back."

Molly furrowed her brow in confusion, her eyes rising to meet those of her son's saviour. It was as she was staring into those striking green depths, so wide and vulnerable, that realisation hit her.

He was scared.

It was so clear to Molly now, that she almost cursed herself with her own wand. He was terrified of her, of them, of being in a place he didn't recognise, taken from a place he knew against his will.

He was scared, and she really couldn't blame him for it.

"I won't hurt you," Molly said gently, her heart breaking as she realised why she was saying these words. The boy had saved her son, and to repay him, they had terrified him.

"I know," Harry said, although his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "I mean, Ron told me...but...I don't belong here. I'm...not one of you."

"Don't be silly," Molly said gently as she tried to ignore the concerned look her youngest son was shooting her. "You're very welcome to stay here as long as you want."

"But...you don't even know me," Harry said desperately, and from his expression, Molly could see that he was genuinely confused. Steeling herself, she tried to suppress the anger she felt towards whoever had treated the boy so badly that he didn't even know how to react when someone was trying to be nice to him.

"No, I don't know you," Molly said sadly, moving slowly towards Harry. He tensed palpably, but he didn't try and flee, and for that she was grateful. "But I would like to get to know you. I don't know why you did it, but you saved my son. He was a stranger to you, and you saved him. We don't have a lot of money, but let us help you."

Harry's eyes widened, but this time not in fear but in shock. Tears glistened at the edges of his eyes, and he seemed to be holding his hands tightly by his side as he tried in vain to contain his emotions.

"I...I don't have anything to give you," Harry said desperately. "I can't pay you back."

"Oh, dear, we don't care about that. Please, let us help you," she begged.

For some reason, she felt inexplicably linked to the young black haired boy with the green eyes. Something about him pulled her in, and it wasn't simply that fact that he had saved her son.

It was something in his eyes, she decided. Something so tortured, as if his very soul was screaming out for help. He needed someone to care, and it was abundantly clear that he didn't have anyone else.

He's got nowhere to go. She suspected he didn't have anyone either.

"Please mate," Ron pleaded, and Harry turned his attention to her youngest son. His whole demeanor was uncertain and confused, and it was clear that he was completely overwhelmed.

"Ron," Molly interceded. "Why don't you go and set up for breakfast."

She gave him a meaningful look and thankfully he seemed to understand. Giving one last pleading look towards his new friend, Ron moved to the kitchen and Molly was left alone with Harry. The young boy tensed even more and moved away slightly, and she had to force away the anger at the people in his life that had made him scared to be alone with adults, even those who meant him no harm.

"Now, Harry dear," Molly began cautiously, concerned slightly by the fear that had returned to the young boy's eyes. "You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to, but there is one thing I need to know."

Harry looked apprehensive, but he nodded almost imperceptivity, and she felt relief run through her when it became clear that he hadn't shut down completely.

"You live on your own, don't you?" Molly asked, and after a long moment Harry nodded. "Where are your parents, Harry?"

The look of sadness and loneliness on his face broke her heart, and she had to make a special effort to prevent the tears that wanted to escape from falling down her face.

"They're dead," Harry whispered. "They...they died in a car crash when I was a baby."

"So who's supposed to be looking after you?" Molly asked gently. She didn't add that they seemed to be doing a terrible job.

"I don't want to go back," Harry said quickly, his eyes wide in panic.

"Go where, Harry?" Molly asked. Harry though, shook his head almost violently.

"I won't go back," Harry said firmly, his stance one of fight or flight. His eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape route again, and Molly had to act quickly or she feared he would run.

"You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, Harry," Molly said firmly. "We'll work it out. Together."

"Together?" Harry whispered softly, as if the very thought was unfamilar to him.

"Yes, dear," Molly replied, a sad smile on her face. "Ron seems to have decided to take you under his protection. He's a stubborn one, Ron is. I'm afraid to say, you're one of us now."

"I'm...what?" Harry asked uncertainly as he looked up from the floor to meet her gaze.

"Listen," Molly said gently. "You don't have to decide anything right now. You can take some time to think about it. But, Harry, you're welcome here for as long as you want to stay."

"I can stay here?" Harry asked, his eyes glistening again. "But I'm nothing to you. You don't know me even know me."

"Then we'll have to get to know each other, won't we?" Molly said, trying to inject some cheerfulness into her tone. "And you are certainly not nothing. First though, I think perhaps you might like a shower."

Harry blushed, but when he looked into Molly's face, he saw no pity or disgust there. He didn't speak, but he nodded reluctantly and followed her out of the room and up the stairs.

"This is the bathroom," Molly told him, opening a door not far from the room he had slept in. "Now, here are some of Ron's old clothes for you to wear when you've cleaned yourself up a bit."

Harry opened his mouth almost at once, but Molly quickly interrupted any protests he had.

"Now don't be silly, Harry dear," Molly said. "I don't want any arguments. These don't fit Ron anymore and he doesn't have any younger brothers to pass them on to. They aren't in perfect condition, but they're better than what you have now."

"Okay," Harry murmured, taking the offered bundle of clothes cautiously.

"Take as long as you need, Harry," Molly said as she gestured him into the bathroom after noticing his reluctance. "There'll be some breakfast waiting for you when you're finished."

She said this last statement casually, but in truth she was deadly serious. The boy in front of her was in need of a decent meal, and she felt it was her duty as a mother to at least fatten him up whilst she could.

She left him then, hoping that he would be able to manage on his own. Of course, he had been on his own for a long time, it appeared, but she couldn't help but worry about him.

He had already had an impact on her, and it seemed irreversible. It didn't matter that he was a muggle boy and that they were wizards. It didn't matter that he had clearly suffered great trauma in his life, something she knew she could never understand in the way he would need someone to.

Molly didn't know where he came from, or even his last name, but Harry, the boy who had saved her son, was now a part of her life, and if she had any say in the matter, it would stay that way.

When Ron's mum finally closed the door behind her to give him some privacy, Harry released a deep breath and finally allowed the tension to leave his body.

He had never been comfortable being alone with other people. Spending time with Ron was one thing, but adults were a completely different problem. He didn't feel safe, and to be honest, he had a lot of experiences that would act as good evidence to back that fear up.

Now that he was alone he could start to relax a bit, but he still hated feeling so off-kilter.

In truth, he didn't know what to make of Ron and his family.

They seemed nice enough, but Harry couldn't work out why they cared about him. Yes, he had saved Ron, but honestly that had been nothing special. Ron had still been hurt, and the boys who had attacked him had both gotten away, and yet Ron and his mum were so desperate to help him, to thank him. Harry didn't understand.

No one had cared about him before, so why should they suddenly care now?

Harry growled in frustration as he pulled off his ratty clothing and fiddled with the unfamiliar shower. He hated not knowing what was going on.

Life was so much simpler when he was alone.

Stepping under the water, Harry pushed his painful thoughts away as he allowed the hot water to hit his battered body. It had been so long since he had had a shower that he couldn't prevent the sigh of relief from escaping his mouth.

It would feel good to be clean, at least.

He began to scrub almost viciously at his skin, trying to erase the grime that covered him, doing his best to ignore the pain that the action caused in his shoulder.

He couldn't erase his doubts and uncertainties though, and hot tears escaped from his eyes, travelling down the rivers of mud on his cheeks and dropping to the floor, becoming invisible in the pool of water and dirt as he washed away as much as he could of his previous life.

A/N- Well this was quite emotional, eh? It's not my best, but hopefully it wasn't boring at least!

So, Mrs Weasley has entered the picture now. I hope you like how I wrote her? Don't worry, the rest of the Weasley clan will be coming in soon! And poor Harry! Will they ever find out who he is? Will he ever find out about magic? Stay tuned to find out!

A little warning though, the next update might be a while since I'm about to go on holiday. Please be patient though. I will return! Thanks for all your reviews, and most of all, thanks for reading!