Never in his life had Harry felt as grateful as when Molly found him and took him in. He had been 8 at the time and had been kicked out by the Dursleys around a month prior. She found him sitting on a bench in Camden, hoping to catch some shut-eye before he was inevitably forced to move. Hot, tired and hungry, he had startled when she’d walked up to him; he’d fully expected her to send him on his way as had happened many times before. What he hadn’t expected was for her to offer food and a warm bed to sleep in, he’d been so shocked he’d almost turned her down. It had been too good to believe and he’d been prepared to bolt, when she lowered herself to him and looked him right in the eyes. Her warm gaze had pierced his soul as she promised him she meant him no harm, and he had been residing with the Weasleys since.
He’d now been there for eight years and he was grateful. He was grateful for the life he was gifted, for the family that had embraced him and for his stroke of luck in having found someone to care for him before perishing to the harsh street life. He was grateful for everything, he just wished he had a better way to repay this debt of gratitude.
Harry picked up the pace, working hard on the task at hand. He was weeding the begonias, but hoped to finish repotting the tulips and fixing the irrigation by the end of the day. There wasn’t much he could do, but he felt working as hard as he could to support the Weasley’s Flower Emporium was the bare minimum given the circumstances. Besides, Ron and Ginny were away for the weekend, Fred and George were working the shop with Blaise, and Bill and Charlie were working a long-haul delivery. If he didn’t do it, it left the work for Molly and Arthur, and he just couldn’t stand by and let them work even more than they already did when they were already so sad about Percy leaving.
“My fault”, he reminded himself, “as usual”.
If he had known his coming out would tear the family apart, he would have stayed in the closet. Now he was just left with unwavering guilt and a burning desire to vanish into thin air. His hands ached and he yawned as he tirelessly worked through his to-do list. He was so engrossed in his efforts that he barely realised the sun setting, nor did he hear Blaise creep into the greenhouse.
---
Blaise sighed as he watched Harry yawn. He was sporting dark purple shadows under his eyes and it was clear from his sluggish movements that he was once more overworking himself.
The two boys were similar in a sense and Blaise could understand where Harry was coming from, but he also knew Harry’s experiences were vastly different from his own. Harry had never had anyone and it had been beaten into him that he had to earn his keep and right to stay. Blaise on the other hand was born into wealth and though it may not have been the place he belonged, he had at least been treated decently. He’d felt suffocated and locked into a lifestyle destined to make him miserable, but he’d craved affection and freedom, not basic necessities; until at thirteen he had participated in a protest against his family company’s blatant disregard for worker rights, a protest during which he got drunk and somehow managed to incite the act of burning down one of their warehouses. He’d been instantly disowned and kicked out.
Blaise, free spirit that he was, had taken his homelessness in stride. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, as he used his remaining cash to smoke and drink himself into oblivion. Bill had found him unconscious in the park and brought him home for the night. When he woke up on the Weasley’s couch the next day, Arthur had offered him a ride home. And when he inevitably broke down at the offer and explained his situation, a nod from Molly had been all Arthur needed to offer to take him in.
He was grateful, obviously, but not in the same way Harry was. He was grateful for the help and the generosity, for food and a place to stay. What he didn’t feel the need to be grateful for was being treated with human decency and, unlike Harry, he knew he was a kid. Maybe he was selfish, but he didn’t feel the need to work himself to death over his gratefulness, he accepted his place in the family and knew that it wasn’t his debt that tied him to these wonderful people. He understood love, and knew that his love was more than enough to repay the kindness from his now parents and siblings.
Alongside the Weasleys, Blaise also loved Harry. Blaise didn’t consider Harry to be an outsider, when he had joined the family two years prior he had instantly regarded him as nothing less than another sibling. He’d come to learn that Harry unfortunately didn’t realise that, hence the endless work hours, hence the young boy almost falling asleep at the workstation.
It made him sad to see Harry so needlessly exhausted, even more so when Blaise realised he was doing the work Molly and Arthur planned to do the next morning and had reassured them didn’t need done. They had gone to a friend’s wedding though and would be back late at night; with Charlie and Bill also gone, no adults were currently available to stop Harry as they usually did. Which is why when Harry almost face planted into the tulip he was currently re-potting, Blaise went to the twins.
---
Fred and George were just finishing up and getting ready to close when Blaise walked in frowning.
“Hey guys, you think we have any chance convincing Harry to take a nap? I reckon he’s about to collapse.”
Fred sighed.
“Of course he is”.
George just rolled his eyes.
“I doubt it. When does Harry ever listen to anyone?”
Blaise shook his head dejected and sat down next to the counter.
“Never. But I really wish he’d stop doing this to himself. If I could knock him out without hurting him, I would.”
Fred perked up at that, and a brief glance at George showed they had similar thoughts.
“Weeell...”
“If Harrikins won’t listen...”
“We might as well...”
They both grinned mischievously. Fred ran off to the kitchen and returned promptly with a tray of brownies.
“Know what these are?” He asked Blaise with a smirk.
Blaise snorted and raised his brow inquisitively.
“Going off the smell? Edibles. I’d love one but I don’t see how they can help, Harry doesn’t smoke.”
George and Fred nodded in unison.
“Yes.”
“But...”
They looked at each other, eyes twinkling.
Blaise caught on and smirked.
“But you reckon Harry won’t.”
They nodded once more, grinning like maniacs.
“Cmon’, let’s go get little Harrikins stoned.”
---
“Oi, Harry, have a brownie!”
Harry turned around just in time to catch the brownie sailing through the air towards his face. He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.
“And you thought it would be a good idea to throw it at me, because?”
Fred just laughed in response, prompting Harry to scowl. Nonetheless, it smelt good and he was hungry. He made quick work of eating it and gladly grabbed a second from the large tray George had placed on the counter. The twins were staring at him smugly for reasons unknown to him and it was starting to put him on edge.
“What’s up with you two?”
They both put on a suspiciously blank face.
“Us?”
Fred shook his head.
“Absolutely nothing.”
“We were just...”
They grinned at each other.
“Leaving!”
“Enjoy your work!”
Linking arms, they skipped out of the room, still laughing to themselves.
Harry was baffled, but none too concerned with the twins’ antics. He had come to expect it of them. He shrugged and went back to work. As an afterthought, he took a third brownie and quickly munched down on it. After all, he had skipped lunch and was feeling quite hungry.
He had gotten around another half an hour of work in and had just removed a particularly nasty weed from a pot of daisies, when he was struck by a thought and promptly started crying.
---
“I KILLED IT! IT DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO ME BUT I KILLED IT!”
Blaise was at a loss. Harry had just burst through the door, crying and screaming about murder of all things. He kept his composure, prepping himself for a little bit of fun. This was Harry’s first high and he wouldn’t trade being there for anything in the world.
“Please, do tell. What is it you believe you have killed?”
Harry abruptly stopped crying and stared at Blaise as if he had never seen another human. He gaped, mouth opening and closing as he furrowed his brows in concentration and thought quite hard about something. He nodded, satisfied, and determined.
“A weed.”
Blaise couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.
“Yes Harry, you’ve been gardening most of the day. I imagine you’ve killed a variety of weeds.”
Harry gasped in horror and starting blinking the forming tears away from his eyes when the twins came to the rescue and made a funny face at him while entering the room.
All thoughts of weeds and murder were forgotten as he promptly started laughing, and laughing... and laughing. He dropped to the ground wheezing and slamming his fist against the ground.
“Fuck, Harry, how many brownies did you eat?”
Harry nodded smugly managing to calm down his laughing fit just enough to manage an answer. He was very proud of himself.
“I had five! So good! More brownies?”
The twins laughed, setting him off again.
“Come on wittle Harrikins, let’s get you nice and comfy on a couch.”
Harry just grinned wildly as he traced an invisible form in the air, giggling to himself.
---
Harry was finally drifting asleep while they watched a movie. He twitched and mumbled something unintelligible to the others.
“Yes?” said Blaise, sprawled lazily on the other couch.
“I’m sorry”.
Blaise sat up, noting Fred and George were also looking at Harry inquisitively.
“What for?” asked Fred, puzzled.
“I broke it. Your family.”
George sighed heavily, sadness creeping in. He shook his head and gave Fred and Blaise a loaded look.
“It’s not my family Harry, it’s ours. And it isn’t broken.”
Harry smiled and hummed noncommittedly, once more tracing invisible patterns in the air.
“We love you, Harry.”
Harry stared into nothingness in silence, trying to puzzle something out and seemingly failing.
“Why?”
They didn’t get a chance to respond. In that moment Harry’s exhaustion caught up with him and he crashed, falling into a deep, much needed, slumber. Fred gently covered him with a blanket and stroked his fringe off his forehead.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it one day.”
When Molly and Arthur returned not long after, they chuckled at the sight. All four boys were fast asleep on the couch, a movie playing in the background. The smell of weed came wafting from the kitchen and Arthur smiled brightly as he caught on.
“C’mon Molly, let’s go see if the kids left leftovers.”