When Harry awoke, it wasn't quickly. He didn't startle into awareness to scan the room as the shadows of a nightmare blanketed his sight. Rather, he woke slowly, easing into consciousness in small increments. He shifted in the warmth as brightness filtered into his eyes. Once awake, Harry rarely was capable of (or interested in, if he was being honest) returning to his dreams. But he was certainly not opposed to staying in bed for a few minutes longer to soak in this rare moment of peace. He shuffled his face further into the pillow, pulled the covers over his shoulders, and then promptly bolted upright when he heard someone chuckle next to him.

Harry whipped his head to the right to find the source of the sound, squinting in confusion as he was unable to place his surroundings without his glasses. What he was certain of, however, was that the room he had been staying in with Ron had never gotten this much light. Quickly, the events of the evening before flooded his mind.

"Sirius?"

"Lay back down, it's early yet."

Harry didn't need his glasses to confirm that it was Sirius as no one else ever used that tone of voice with him. Heart rate slowing, Harry eased back down on to the pillows.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Really, relax, go back to sleep," Sirius urged. "It's only about 7 or so." "Can't," Harry whined, twisting his hands into the duvet. "I can't fall back asleep once I'm up."

Sirius sighed next to him. "Like your mother then. I didn't mean to wake you, you just looked so adorable burrowing into the bed like that."

Harry pulled the duvet over his head hoping to hide his blush. "That's not embarrassing at all."

The man did nothing but chuckle lightly, patting Harry's arm with a whispered "I only speak the truth, Haz."

And then it was silent again. Under the covers, Harry tried to paint a picture of the scene around

him. If it was only 7 as Sirius said, it really was quite early; earlier than Ron or the other kids ever woke during a holiday break.

That Harry was awake this early wasn't all that surprising. He'd been early riser for years thanks to Aunt Petunia, and it had only gotten worse the more trauma he gained to fuel his nightmares. But, oddly, the longer he spent at Hogwarts the less his forced early risings bothered him. Mornings were peaceful in a sense. No one to stare, or gawk, or spew vile opinions at him. Harry could take a walk down to the lake or just sit with Hedwig in the dorm and be just Harry, not the Boy-Who- Lived-And-Lied.

Harry knew he wasn't the only early riser in Grimmuald Place, could often hear people shuffling around the building for the countless hours he laid awake in his borrowed bed every morning. Unlike at Hogwarts, Harry didn't get up and wander, too uncertain in an unfamiliar place with strangers who, apparently, had spent months stalking him 'for his protection.' Harry knew he wasn't all that great at social interactions at the best of times, relying on the various extroverted Weasley siblings to ease conversations with people outside his small friend group. So, even when he was furious at him, Harry would wait most mornings for Ron to wake before leaving their shared room. Ron was safe and Harry relied on that certainty more and more every day it seemed.

And Ron, for all Hermione teased, was not unobservant. Which means he will have definitely noticed that Harry had not returned to their room. Which meant he and Hermione were definitely going to want some sort of conversation. Harry turned on to his side with a huff – just what he wanted, another emotional conversation to add to his to-do list.

Harry peered through the edge of the covers at the pale curtains as the sun continued to rise. He could hear soft snores from Remus, who was clearly still fast asleep on the other end of the bed. From the flick of pages and mindless humming, it seemed that Sirius was reading in the low morning light. And, really, if this is how big emotional breakdowns ended, maybe they weren't so bad after all. So, against his better instincts, Harry found himself lulled into a light doze, drifting in and out of awareness as calmly as the dust mites dancing in the sunbeams.

From this position, Harry drowsily witnessed Sirius' attempt to extricate himself from the bed. He watched through hooded eyes as the man all but crawled to the edge of the bed, stubbing a toe and swearing in silence until his eyes connected with Harry's. He shot him a sheepish grin to answer Harry's raised eyebrow before hopping to the bathroom. The room stayed in that frozen moment of morning peace for another half hour or so until Sirius returned, dressed and looking prepared for another festive day of cleaning and decorating the house. The man kneeled beside the bed with a groan, tilting his head to meet Harry's gaze peeking out from the duvet.

"Hey there green eyes," Sirius whispered, "think you are ready to get up and moving?"

Words seemed to be too much effort but Sirius seemed to understand just fine as Harry shrugged, pushing the covers further up his frame.

With a smile tugging the corner of his mouth, Sirius gave the duvet a little tug. "Well, out of the den, little one. I left some clothes by the sink for you, go ahead and get changed while I start the arduous process of waking up our favorite ex-professor over there."

Harry let a little whine of protest which only caused Sirius to smile more fully, grey eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Oh, it's going to be like that, huh?" he teased. "Teenagers, I swear. Rise and shine, kiddo." And with that, Sirius tugged the covers down further, giving Harry's side a gentle nudge to roll him out of the bed.

With a few more pushes, Harry eventually made his way to the loo, washing and dressing for the day in what must have been an old pair of Sirius' sweatpants and a gloriously soft and over washed band t-shirt.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Remus was slowly sitting up in the bed and Sirius was lounging nearby looking as though he'd been hit around the head by a pillow. Harry's eyes drifted to the pillow on the ground next to them with a smirk.

"Hey kiddo," Sirius called out, a matching grin on his lips as he tousled his hair further into disarray. "Remus is still clawing into consciousness, so why don't you head on down to breakfast. We can regather for our chat back in the parlor after we've eaten."

Harry shuffled by the doorway. "I can wait for you..." he mumbled to the floor, just to be waved away.

"Go and join your friends. Eat. I promise we will be right down."

Not wanting to push the peace, Harry quickly stepped out the door, closing it silently behind him. Harry barely had a moment for his shoulders to tense and his mind to start running, for when he turned to the staircase his eyes caught on a shock of red hair leaning against the railing.

He must have let out a soft noise, as Ron turned to look up at Harry above him on the landing. "Morning, Harry." he said, crooked grin pulling at his freckled cheeks. "Ready for breakfast?"

It was still early – much earlier than Ron was ever willingly awake. And there was no telling how long he had been sitting here, especially as he knew Harry was just as likely to be awake and moving at 5am as he was at 9am. There wasn't a hint of annoyance or irritation on his face as he stood up brushing dust off of his trousers. Just warmth and the same grin that Harry faced most mornings for the past four years.

"You're a good friend, Ron." Harry spoke, startling both himself and Ron if the blush riding up his neck was any indication.

"Well, okay," Ron stumbled out, hand on the back of his neck. "Thanks? I kind of thought you'd be a bit mad after last night...?"

And Harry knew that if he changed the topic, Ron would let it go. He wouldn't push. Would always let Harry have control of the conversation, dictate how deep they went and how fast they'd go. The consistency was reassuring after the uncertainty of the previous day.

"I," Harry started, "I'm not really sure how I feel? But, I guess, I don't really know what you all said but I...I think...that you were just trying to look out for me. Right?"

Ron nodded, posture serious, studying Harry much like he did during a chess game – deciphering every minute shift of tone and expression.

Harry let out a sigh, stepping next to Ron on the stair forcing himself to look up at the taller boy. "Then I don't think mad is the right response then, no?"

Ron titled his head. "You can still feel mad though, Harry."

"I'm so tired of being mad, Ron."

Ron's gaze turned soft as he threw an arm over Harry's shoulders, projecting every move before he

made it. "Yeah, that's fair mate. We can figure out whatever it is you're feeling over breakfast. You know Hermione's probably got about four books ready for you."

Harry felt a laugh bubble in his chest, knocking his shoulder into Ron's side as they made their way downstairs. "Yeah, probably."

Ron and Harry entered into the kitchen to a table already full of warm platters of food and a room swelling with the noise of the building's inhabitants. Mrs. Weasley was humming in the kitchen. On one end of the table, the twins and Ginny were tossing balled up pieces of newspaper for Crookshanks to bat at. A few Order memories, Tonks and Bill included, sat at the other end in quiet conversation. And sat directly across from the doorway was Hermione, bushy hair poking up around the massive tome she was reading. She glanced up as they entered the room, a hesitant smile on her face.

Harry really was tired of being angry. And he was tired of the hesitation and irritation that seemed to color his every interaction with Hermione. For at least this moment, he wanted to be Harry-and- Hermione, two best friends that were as practically siblings. Harry ignored the looks from the others in the room as he made his way around the table to plop himself next Hermione, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, leaning an arm on the table to give her his whole attention as Ron slid into the open seat next to him.

"It's for my arithmancy essay," Hermione stated as she closed the book. "But it's not important." At Harry's raised eyebrow she continued. "You are always more important than some assignment, Harry."

Harry rested his forehead on her shoulder to hide his open expression. "I'm sorry I haven't been a great friend recently," he breathed into her neck, easing further into her shoulder as her hand brushed across his hair.

"You have been dealing with a lot," she murmured back. "But I do appreciate the apology. You've already been forgiven for whatever you are apologizing for though. And," she sighed, "I am sorry too. I've been so worried about you, but I could have handled it all much better."

They pulled apart at the clinking of glass, turning to see Ron placing full plates of food in front of them. He shrugged, pouring pumpkin juice into Harry's cup. "Nice talk, we all love each other. Now eat, both of you."

Unfortunately for Ron, the twins overheard his comment and turned their attention away from the cat to tease their brother for being a mother hen. Which quickly devolved into battered pieces of the Prophet getting thrown across the table. One accidentally hit Bill and he and Tonks joined in, using magic to deflect and propel the projectiles. Harry leaned back in his seat with a laugh on his lips as he watched Hermione use her book as a barrier and Ron throw balls while continuing to shove bacon in his mouth. His gaze shifted to the doorway where Remus was leaning with a soft grin. And if Remus was here, then...

"Ah!" Harry yelped as pieces of paper rained down on him, turning his head up to see his godfather's maniacal grin.

"You were looking way too comfortable, my dear godson!" he bellowed. With a war cry, the twins and Ginny turned their collective attention onto Sirius, tearing paper with renewed passion as Remus hollered suggestions from the doorway. Harry just leaned into Hermione's side, both of them breathless from laughter.

Harry wasn't naïve. He knew that the rest of the day was going to be filled with multiple necessary but uncomfortable conversations. Nothing had been solved in a single conversation, no lifelong insecurities erased. But, sitting here while surrounded by his chosen family, for the first time in a long time Harry didn't feel alone facing these challenges. It felt like the needle was pointing up for the first time since the maze. Harry turned his gaze to his laughing godfather who was now chasing Remus across the kitchen much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. Yes, he thought, he could make it through this as long as he remembered he had them by his side.