The Warmth of the Weasleys
It was warm in the Gryffindor common room. It was always warm here. The warmth of the fire enveloped him like a blanket. Cocooning him and making him feel as welcome and cared for as his first night here when he was eleven. Although, he likes to think that it's not just the fire that gives him this warmth late at night in the Scottish Highlands in January. Rather, he likes to believe it's Hogwarts herself constantly letting him know that he is wanted, that he is cared for, that more than anything he does belong here.
That this is his home.
Even when the people within her walls turn on him, judge him, try to make him feel like something is wrong with him. Especially this year, his hardest year yet. Not only the people inside of the castle have scorned him, but nearly the entire magical population outside of her walls has questioned his sanity, has questioned his right to be here. Yet, Hogwarts has always welcomed him.
This room, this tower, this castle, it was his home. Here is where he made his first real friends. Where he started to knit a family, regardless of blood, together. Where he met people who loved and cared about him for him. Not for a name, his name, a famous name. In fact, in spite of his name, a name that comes with more trouble than he ever could've realized as a too skinny, unloved, little orphan boy, shoved into the cupboard under the stairs. Unseen and unloved by those in which he does share blood with. People who have stayed with him, stood by his side, fought by his side through the ever-changing public opinion of him. Even in the beginning of the year, where the opinion of him was even lower than now, before the mass breakout at Azkaban, they stood by him. Stubborn, determined, and unmovable.
Loyal.
He couldn't help but love every single one of them. Gits, the lot of them. But he loves them, he does.
A little sister. Who would most definitely kick his ass if he called her little. The youngest of them all, but an absolute spitfire. Terrifying but absolutely amazing when her ire wasn't focused on you that is. Someone who he feels protective of but who can protect herself better than he could ever protect her. Then again, he would likely need protection if she ever even got a whiff of the idea that she was thought of as some damsel in distress. She grew up a lot, becoming stronger than any of them after her first year here. He cringes at the thought of what nearly happened to her. But in usual Ginny fashion, she came out of it stronger. Traumatized after her ordeal, the diary, nearly dying, she refused to continue being a victim. No, she was a survivor. He couldn't help but admire her strength.
An older brother. One half of the Weasley twins, the Demonic Duo, the school’s pranksters. Everyone looks at them, looks at him, as though they are, as he is, just some jokester, not bothering to take his life and future seriously. Most don't even see him. Not as though he isn't popular because he is. He is well liked, a charmer, with fans and friends who enjoy and laugh at his pranks. Yet, when they look at him, they don’t see him, they see Fred and George Weasley. George, one half of the Weasley twins. Not even a separate person in his own right. Almost no one can tell the difference. They fail to see that he is the calmer, more level-headed of the two. The one who plans the pranks. The one who tries to level out his twin when he becomes more ruthless and vicious in his actions, especially when someone disrespects their family. Although then, it's extremely difficult to rein Fred in as he would love nothing more than to help his brother scheme and serve some just desserts. Yet for those that he cares about, those that are his, his friends, his family, he's always there. Someone who will listen to you with no judgement, just a sense of love and protection that only an older brother can ever provide. A brother who will always offer a joke after an emotional discussion, so at the end, even with tears in your eyes from whatever frustration you may feel, you can smile in the knowledge that you have a brother who looks out for you and loves you, no matter what.
The two best friends, really brother and sister, that anyone could ever dream of. The three of them share a bond that is strong and made up of more life-and-death situations than any 15-year-old ought to have to face. And of course, chocolate frogs. He huffs a laugh and smiles at the memory of his first train ride buying more candy than they should have, and of a troll in the girl's bathroom. One hand of friendship was more traditional than the other. Still, he wouldn't change it for the world. It's why their bond is so strong. It’s how he knows that even through the rough times, the Firebolt incident with Hermione in third year, the names of the champions being called out in fourth year with Ron, he knows that these two incredible, amazing, bull-headed people will always end up by his side. Even if he wished differently for their own safety.
And then there's him. The person that looks at him and makes him believe he can get through anything the world throws at him, as long as he is by your side. Who holds him up and keeps him strong even when everyone is trying to tear him down. He, who knows more about you, even the parts you hate, the parts of you that scares you, and treats you like even those most painful parts are the most beautiful thing in the world. That everything you wish you can change about yourself are what makes you perfect to him. Someone who he knows better than he knows himself. Who he loves. Who loves him. Others see him as one half of the Weasley twins. Who, when they look at him, they see Fred and George Weasley, not just Fred. He thinks that where they first connected. People looking at them and seeing not the individual, but instead the twins, or in his case, a scar. If people knew the difference between Fred and George, they would know that George may be the planner, but Fred was the executioner. The one who was willing to go to more extreme lengths to get what he wanted done. Whether it be a good-natured prank on the Hogwarts population, or revenge for hurting one of the people he cares for, one of the people he loves. He may be considered as the more ruthless and vicious twin, but he feels the pain of the ones he loves who has been hurt more acutely, and Merlin dammit he will not let their pain and hurt go unpunished. When he loves, he loves hard, completely, and so very deeply. Even though he's one half of the Weasley twins to everyone else, a jokester and prankster, to Harry he's so much more. He's peace, comfort, warmth, love, and the light in a world which is often so dark. When Fred looks at him with that crooked smile, the dimple on his left cheek more pronounce, love and mischief dancing in his azure eyes, making them all the more brighter, all the more enchanting, hair a mess either from flying or ironing out the detail of a new product or prank, although due to the current Quidditch ban its always the latter of the two, Harry falls deeper in love and believes he can conjure the world's largest Patronus. He still finds it hard to believe that he can call someone so incredible his.
Once again, he can't help but huff out a laugh. Even with everything currently wrong with the world, he can't help but think that with these people, these people who he loves, who love him, that he is the luckiest person in the world.
He hears footsteps but he doesn't bother moving to look at who it is. He doesn't need to. He knows the sound of that gait better than he knows the sound of his own heartbeat. Or the way it speeds up each time he hears those footfalls.
Sure enough, Fred falls backwards onto the couch right next to him. His head lands next to Harry’s thighs and his legs hang over the back of the couch right next to Harry’s head. In spite of himself, he stops staring at the flames in the fireplace and instead focuses on the very eyes on his face whose shade, due to the way the light from the fire plays on them, makes them look darker but no less radiant. They are still filled with so much love that it always knocks him flat. He can't help himself; he takes one finger and starts tracing the contours of Fred's face. Starting from the top center of Fred's forehead, with a touch so gentle it feels like a whisper that’s barely there across his skin, he starts to move his hand. Down his finger ghost, to right in-between Fred’s eyebrows that always gain a small furrow when he thinks something is wrong with him. Moving further down to his nose, straight until you get to the tip and it curves slightly upwards. As his finger dances around the outline of his lips, moving up to the top lip and continuing down, he can't help but outline them. Dragging his finger down across Fred's bottom lip, slightly separating those lips he's kissed hundreds of times. It's nearly impossible for Harry not to notice the sharp intake of breath that Fred takes, but he doesn't stop. He continues down to his chin and circles it. Following up the line of his jaw, sharp and covered with slight stubble, he glides his finger across his cheek and over the peak of his cheekbone. Fred's eyes fluttered shut and he takes a deep breath. Harry continues his path, ever so gently over the eyelids that cover the eyes that always look at him as though he is the only person in the world. The eyes that made him learn every shade of blue so he could have the words to describe how they look in different lights. Over the arch of red eyebrows, a few shades darker than the hair he loves to run his fingers through. Across his brow, he follows the same path downward. There's not one spot on Fred face he does not lovingly caress. He can't help it, he doesn't need to do anything to memorize this face, he already has. Harry knows this face better than he knows his own. Has memorized every line, every dip, every curve, every freckle, every smile, every look. He knows it but he still can't help but do this. It calms him down better than anything else ever could. Once done, he rests his hand on Fred's cheek and meets the eyes that look to be drinking him in just as he has done to its owner.
"If there was one thing I had to say that was absolute fact and could not ever be questioned or denied is that you love me, and Merlin, do I love you." Fred's voice is a deep timber, huskier than normal due to waking up from sleeping.
If there's one thing Harry never wants Fred to doubt is his love for him. He knows what it feels like to be unloved and unwanted. For him, Fred is both so very loved, and so very wanted.
"That's two things" Harry said.
Fred continues to look at him. More like looking through him. Harry didn't have to say what he was thinking. He didn't need to. Fred already knew. Fred always does.
Fred helped break Harry out of the Dursleys' house the summer before Harry’s second year. He and his brother George were the ones to go downstairs to unlock the cupboard under the stairs to retrieve his school trunk. The cupboard that used to be his room for the first ten years of his life in that house. The very same cupboard that was still home to the thin mattress he used to sleep on. In addition, a paper that proudly, at the time, claimed to be Harry’s room. The look in their eyes when they got back up to Dudley's second bedroom, the bedroom Harry currently occupied while at the Dursley's. The door held seven locks that locked from the hallway, and a cat flap. Well, it was a look that did not belong on the face of two soon to be fourth years.
When they confronted Harry about it later at the Burrow, shame twisted his stomach and embarrassment burned his face. Two people he cared for knew one of his darkest secrets. They saw the evidence that he was an unwanted, unlovable freak. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs. They started to burn. The lead in his stomach was getting heavier. His head was spinning. His thoughts were whirling. He was spiraling.
It was too much, and not enough.
Too many thoughts, not enough air.
Too much shame, not enough air.
Too much, too much, too much.
Oh my god they know, they know.
Not enough air. Not enough air. He can't breathe.
God, they know. He can't breathe.
They see now what the Dursleys have always seen.
He. Can't. Breathe.
Gentle hands, gentle yet strong. Calloused but soft. Hands slowly cradled his face. He couldn't see straight to tell which twin it was yet. His vision still blurred from not being able to breathe properly. He slowly feels one hand lift off his face, and slowly but surely encircles his back. The other hand drifts to the back of his head. He's slowly pulled close to the body in front of him. The hand on his back is softly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, the hand in his hair is lighting scratching at his scalp. He's cocooned. There is a voice. He can hear it, but he can't quite make out the words. He knows that voice. He can feel the breath from those words ghosting on his forehead and through the top of his bird nest of hair. Slowly he calmed down. Slowly he can make out more and more of the words.
".... lright, it's ok, yo...."
"...afe, I promise Harry you're sa...."
"...eathe for me Harry, just breathe, you're o..."
"...breathe in, now out. Good, now again. In and..."
"We're here Harry. I'm here. I'm not leaving you. Breathe in and..."
"In and out. Again, in and out. Good Harry. So good. I'm so proud. Again, for me Harry. Breathe in, now breathe out. Come on, keep doing it, breathe in, and back out again."
Fred.
Harry knew that voice. He knew it was Fred by the slightly deeper baritone compared to his twin. It was one of the few voices that remained kind to him after everyone expressed their displeasure and scorn over Norbert's points loss last year.
Ever so slowly, Fred kept repeating those soft whispered words until Harry's breathing was normal once again.
As if Fred knew what Harry was going to do, his hold on Harry tightened, making it impossible for Harry to bolt away. Not painful, Fred has never touched, nor done anything to cause him pain. None of the people that he has allowed himself to grow to care for so much have ever hurt him the way the Dursleys have. Creating a slight distance between the two, Fred slowly tilts Harry's head up.
Harry couldn't help but look into his eyes. Eyes he was petrified that would hold the same disgust, scorn, disdain, and malice that so often filled the eyes of his relatives. When he learned that his tears were just another reason for them to hate him, the look of loathing on their faces would be that much more obvious. Tears that he learned not to let loose, even when the blows from Uncle Vernon were more vicious than usual. Even when the words from his Aunt Petunia were crueler, cutting deeper than the knife wounds he gave himself. This was when he was forced to start cooking for his family at the age of three. This was before he knew how to properly hold a knife. Even when his cousin Dudley would play Harry Hunting and Dudley would force his arm too much where he could feel it give away and snap.
Harry's eyes were so beautiful, green and vivid. Greener than the leaves on the tree, rustling in the summer breeze. Greener than the fresh grass that surrounds the home of the boy in front of him, of his family. A family that has shown him nothing but acceptance and care. Eyes, that for the first time are so very long, glassy from the tears that had filled them and spilled down his cheeks.
When Harry met Fred's eyes what he saw stopped him short. It wasn't the look he would have expected from any of the Dursleys.
Fred's eyes were blue. He had no name for the shade of blue, but he promised himself he would learn every shade of blue just so he could describe it, at least to himself. Richer and more vibrant than the sky on a cloudless summer day. Brighter and holding more luster than the sapphires that fill Ravenclaw Point's glass. Warmer and more inviting than the fire inside the Gryffindor common room in the middle of winter. Eyes that were usually filled with mischievous fun, laughter, and friendship.
Fred's eyes were soft. His eyes were still the most incredible shade of blue he had ever seen. The look they held took Harry's breath away. They were intense. Focused. Harry was the only subject in their view. It was as if Fred was trying to talk, to convey everything he wanted Harry to know. There was no judgment in Fred's eyes. They held concern and safety. Support and protectiveness. There was also a look in his eyes that Harry could not describe. He felt as if there were a million golden Snitches in his stomach, and his heart started to beat faster.
Not taking his eyes off Harry, nor letting him out of his hold for fear that Harry would flee. Softly wiping the tears away, Fred lowers his hand, cradling the younger boy's cheek and jaw.
"Harry,"
Fred says his name like it's something precious. Like he's someone precious. Not 'Harry Potter,' the famous name, the name people revere for a night, a deed, a moment he can't recall. A name others hate for the same reason.
Just....Harry. All he ever wanted to be. All he ever wanted to be. All Fred expects him to be.
If Harry's attention wasn't already fully focused on the older boy in front of him, it certainly would be now.
After a few moments Fred continues to speak in the softest voice he ever heard him use before.
"I don't know what happened to you in that house. I know what I saw. What you wish I didn't see. Don't try to deny it, that cupboard said it all. What you need to know, what I need you to know is that you didn't deserve that. You don't deserve any of it. Whatever you did could never justify their actions. If you did anything at all. I know you Harry, maybe not as well as Ron, but I know you. You're smart, kind, caring, and so very selfless that nothing you could have done could ever warrant mistreatment of any type".
Fred's words are soft. Sure.
They hold a fierceness that Harry can't help but to listen to him even if the words are the opposite of what he heard his entire life growing up with the Dursley's. They create so much turmoil within him. But also, and most importantly, warmth.
"What they did, what it seems they still do.... Harry. Harry, you deserve so much more, so much better. "
These words tear at something within Harry. They're said with so much sincerity, so much conviction that he can't help but want to believe it, even if he can't just yet.
"It's not your fault, Harry. None of it is."
It was always his fault. They got stuck with him.
Fred's eyes plead with Harry to believe him, to listen to him.
Harry doesn't think he could ever ignore those eyes.
"Everything they did to you, all the hurt they put you through, Harry, it says nothing about you. It says everything about them. About the type of people they are."
It was always his fault.
'Freak' they would call him.
Yet Fred's words are so sure.
"The bars on your window. The locks on your door. What George and I saw in that Merlin forsaken cupboard. I don't know everything they've put you through. I won't force you to tell me. What you choose to share with me will be your choice, in your own time. If you ever tell me anything at all. That choice is yours, but I want you to know you have it."
It's Harry's choice. Fred isn't going to make him talk about it if he doesn't want to.
"Harry, I need you to understand that what they did was abuse."
That one word knocked the air out of Harry. Makes him want to run away and hide. Fred's hold on him remains strong. Remains warm, and so very tender and protective.
Fred's hold on him doesn't hurt him at all.
It's the most painful feeling in the world.
He doesn't remember a time he's ever been held like this. Fred's hold on him feels like it's shattering him, like he's made of glass. It's like Fred will happily and willingly bleed to hold him together.
Harry can't help it. For the first time in longer than he can remember he breaks down crying.
He cried for the loss of his mother and father. For the life he could have had. The love he should have always been given. For it being snatched away from him before he could have ever created memories of having it. For ten miserable and lonely years with the Dursleys. The only people he shared the same blood with. The people who didn't want him at all. Who never failed to remind him that he was unwanted and unloved. For every summer he knew he would have to return to their scorn and derision, after being with people who he knew loved and cared for him.
Harry didn't know how long he cried. Silently and desperately his tears fell. The only sound he made was sharp inhales of his breath. Like he was too scared, even now, so far away, that his relatives would hear him cry. He didn't know how heartbreaking and devastating it was for those who cared so deeply for him to witness his breakdown. He didn’t need to know. It wasn't about them and their pain of seeing this boy that all three Weasley boys have grown to care about so much cry. The only thing he remained aware of was that the entire time Fred never let him go. He remained holding Harry together, while letting him fall apart in his arms.
Eventually the cries turned to whimpers, the whimpers to sniffles. Getting his breathing under control he looked back up into Fred's face and couldn't help but to notice the tear tracks running down his cheeks. He couldn't help himself, mirroring Fred's early actions, slowly and tenderly he wipes the tears off his face. He sees Fred's lip twitch up into a barely there smile.
If he could muster the energy he would be embarrassed about this whole ordeal. Something about him must've shown what he was thinking because an exasperated fondness came over Fred's face.
"Don't even think of being embarrassed Harry, you, unlike those...relatives of yours have nothing to be embarrassed about." Fred's voice is reassuring yet pinched when he mentions Harry's relatives.
A voice a few feet away says, "Now how do we get him away from them?"
Harry can't help it. He jumps. He completely forgot that George and Ron were also in the room.
Harry looks in the direction of his best friend. Ron's eyes and cheeks are red, evidence that he too has been crying. The look in his best friend's eyes is one he's seen before. Determination and protectiveness. Like when nearly the whole school hated him after the massive point loss. Ron stuck by his side. Stubbornly. Loyally. Watching his and Hermione's back when others would try to trip or jinx him without his notice. Defending him even when others wouldn't listen or acknowledge anything he said on Harry's behalf. Just like the ending of their first year at Hogwarts where Ron followed him to protect the Philosopher's Stone. Not even hesitating for a moment. Even after concluding that it was Voldemort that was behind the would-be theft. All because Ron knew that Voldemort’s first target would most likely be Harry himself.
Next to him was George. George who also were one of only a handful of people that stayed by him when so many others turned their backs. Who was identical to his twin, but also so very different, that it was unfathomable to Harry that more people couldn't tell the difference between the two. George, who treated him exactly as he treated Ron. Like a younger brother. A brother who he would good naturally tease, who he would protect and look after.
George whose eyes and cheeks were also red from crying, but had a peculiar and knowing look on his face while looking at his twin. He suddenly turned his attention to Harry and his face softened and mirrored both of his brothers'. Protectiveness.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked the three Weasley boys.
Fred let out a breath and move them both to one bed to face George and Ron who were sitting on the second bed.
"Harry, you don't think that we're willing to let you stay there now that we know how they treat you, do you?" Fred asked.
"There's nothing that we, nothing that you can do." Harry responded. Oh, how he wished this had been different. How he wished he could remain here, where he was wanted and cared for.
"You don't have to tell us everything that happened but if you told an adult or someth..." Harry cut Ron off.
"I told Dumbledore." His voice was void of emotion. Like he was used to this. Despite telling someone, nothing changes. "He said that I needed to go back for a few weeks every summer."
"What do you mean he told you, you need to go back?" Fred's voice was quiet but filled with incandescent rage.
Harry looks at Fred and sees his cheeks turning red with anger. He can tell that Fred is livid. Not at Harry. Harry knows this anger is on his behalf. While he would rather Fred be his usual joyful self, the fact that he would get so furious on his behalf makes his stomach flip a bit.
"If we tell Mom..." all three Weasley boys say at the same time, only to look at each other.
Harry couldn't help but smile a bit. Of course, they would immediately think of informing their mother. She can be extremely terrifying when she needs to be, and she is incredibly protective of her children.
"Your mom is great. Wonderful. Both your parents are. But they can't go against Dumbledore." Harry doesn't think many people can go against Dumbledore. Even Voldemort feared him.
“Why would Dumbledore make you stay in a house with people who abuse you?” Fred’s question is filled with despair. As if Dumbledore’s decision was causing him severe physical pain and emotional turmoil. Harry feels like he is watching the admiration the Weasleys had for Dumbledore wither away.
“There’s no other choice. It’s for the greater good. It’s for my protection.” Harry repeats the words that Dumbledore spoke to him when he begged the Headmaster to stay at Hogwarts for the summer.
“For your pro…for the... How is living with those bloody muggles, the people who hurt you for your protection? How is it for the greater good? That makes no bloody sense at all. You can’t expect me to sit on my bum and do nothing while my best mate, my little brother is being hurt by the very people who are supposed to love and protect you.” Ron is past the point of rage. Harry had seen him shout and yell at the likes of Draco Malfoy, but this was different. His voice was barely above a whisper but so strong in its intensity that Harry swore he would be able to hear his words if he was at Hogwarts. His body was tightly coiled and shaken in his fury at Harry’s injustice. Ron holds himself like he’s ready to lash out to protect Harry from the slightest perceived threat. Fred and George are in similar states.
Harry couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread out from the center of his chest to the very tips of his toes and fingers.
Harry was five years old when he was cooking breakfast for the Dursleys one Saturday morning. His Aunt Petunia was sitting at the table reading some glossy magazine about home décor while keeping an eye on him. His Uncle Vernon’s entire focus was on the financial section of the daily newspaper. Harry was standing on a small wooden stool to help him see the stove top. He was frying the eggs when his cousin Dudley came running in and purposely pushed him over. The pan with the eggs was sent flying as Harry lost his grip. He felt himself about to take a nasty tumble when on pure instinct he grabbed the first thing he could to try to stop his fall. Unfortunately for him, well, what he managed to grab was the still hot and lit burner he had just been using to fry the eggs.
Even as she watched all this happen, that once again Harry was a victim of his cousin’s cruelty, his aunt was incandescent with rage. Rage solely directed at Harry. She was furious at him for ruining what was meant to be a pleasant family breakfast. Dursleys only. She grabbed Harry by his hair and dragged him to his cupboard to shove and lock him in. As Harry stared at his blistered and burned hand, the skin of it already so painfully tight he couldn’t even make a fist, he listened to his aunt apologize to his cousin about the freak ruining what was supposed to be a pleasant family breakfast. As an apology to him they were going to go out to a nice diner for breakfast.
Harry listened to them gather their things and leave. In the quiet and emptiness of #4 private drive, Harry once again was left alone and in pain with only his thoughts. This was the day that he realized that no one would come to his defense. That no one cared about his pain. The pain that the Dursleys regularly caused him.
Until now.
Looking at the three Weasley boys, and thinking of Hermione, Harry knew he finally had what he had always dreamed of having. A family. Family that would love and defend him no matter what. Who he would love and defend in kind.
The warmth that enveloped his body intensified.
He knew they weren't going to like his response. Merlin, if his place was switched with one of them and they had to be sent back to their Dursleys every summer… no he couldn’t even think of one of them being subjected to that.
“It’s not like Dumbledore wants to send me back to them. He has too. Plus, it’s a lot better there now than before I got my Hogwarts letter.” Well, that was true Harry thought, at least it was before he received the letter from the ministry about underage Wizards not being allowed to use magic outside of school.
“Plus, the Dursleys didn’t want me in the first place. I was forced onto them. If that wasn’t bad enough it turned out I was a freak with magic.” Before Harry could continue speaking George cut him off in a furious whisper.
"Stop. Just....stop." Harry snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. George took a moment to take a deep breath to control the fury that seemed to be building in his chest. This was at hearing his little brother call himself a freak like it was the most natural thing in the world. Who called himself a freak because of his relatives? All because he possesses the precious Gift of Magick. Taking another deep breath, George continues to speak.
"You may be a lot of things Harry. The top of the list being a specky, scrawny, reckless, self-sacrificing, trouble magnet." George held a slight smile on his face. Harry and the other boys couldn't help but huff a laugh at that.
"But what you are not is a freak. They're the freaks Harry. Not you. Only freaks could treat a child the way they treated you. I may have not known your parents, was too young to remember them before they died. However, what I know, because I know you, is that if it were your aunt and uncle that died, your parents would have treated your cousin like a son. They would have raised him alongside you, not making him feel less because he didn't have magic. He would've grown up in a house where there was no question that he was loved and wanted." George stopped speaking only for Fred to continue.
"George's right Harry. There's no question that if your roles were reversed that your cousin would've been raised with love. Do you know how I know that, how we know that? Because of you, Harry. Your parents may be gone but they live on in you. Even after all you've been through your heart is the biggest and kindest, so full of love. Even after all the pain you've endured at your relative hands, you're so fiercely protective you don't wish to see others hurt." Fred stops to take a breath and control the shaking in his voice. A voice that has been sounding thicker with the tears he was trying to keep at bay. "You didn't get those qualities from the people that raised you. The qualities that make you who you are. You got them from them, Harry. From your parents. Parents who loved you so much. Who would've loved your cousin had he been placed with them. No, Harry. Your relatives, they're the freaks who think it's okay hurting a boy who tragically loss his parents at such a young age. Not you, never you.
Fred's words held so much emotion. So much conviction and sincerity Harry almost had his breath knocked out of him. He couldn't help but stare at Fred. At the person who earlier held him together when he broke down. To hear that he was like his parents, had to be, more than just the way he looks, it broke another part of him.
It mended together stronger than before.
"Thank you." Harry's words were so delicate but held so much in them. More than he could even begin to articulate.
Fred's smile was small and crooked.
With great difficulty he moves his eyes away from Fred's and looks at the other two boys in the room. "Thank you." His voice is a bit louder. The smiles they give him are soft and small.
They all take a moment to compose themselves. It's still early afternoon and their emotions are all over the place. Harry knows that the Weasley boys still want to get him away from the Dursleys, but he also knows that that will never happen.
"I know you want to help me. I know all three of you do. I can never thank you enough for getting me out of there this summer. But I need to go back there after school lets out next year." He can already see them opening their mouths to protest and continues before they can get a word in. "Please, just let me finish. Dumbledore says I need to return, it's the only way to keep me safe".
"How is you being locked in a room with barely anything to eat for your safety?" Ron asked in an angry confused voice.
"Voldemort." All three boys paled and flinched at Harry's name.
Fred is the first one to recover, "And how is staying with your muggles relatives supposed to keep you safe from the Darkest Wizard in history. What are they going to do? Throw a plate at his head. They're more likely to throw you to him." His voice is filled with doubt at the logic behind the Headmaster's decision.
"Dumbledore told me that the night my mother died, a protection was cast. A protection that is carried through my blood. Blood that I share with my aunt and cousin. That as long as I call the Dursley's residence home, Voldemort can't touch me. It's why I got out of the end of last year alive. The protection in my blood made it so Quirrell, so Voldemort could not touch me without inflicting pain upon themselves. We know Voldemort’s not dead. That he's trying to gain enough power to come back. That it's not a matter of if he will come back, but when. When he does, who will be one of the people he goes after first? My bet, the person that everyone claims to have beaten him in the first place." Harry explains what the Headmaster had told him. What the Headmaster had not told him.
It's quiet at the end of Harry's explanation. He doesn’t know if the Weasleys lost anyone to Voldemort and his followers during the war that took Harry's parents from him. He knows that even the thought of Voldemort returning is terrifying. The thought of someone who he cares about being high up on the list of a man so feared, that even today the majority of the population flinch at the sound of his name, would have him sick with fear.
He can tell that his words hit them harder than a physical blow.
"It's not right. It's not fair." Ron's words are filled with so much despair that it hurts Harry more than the topic at hand. If anyone in the room other than Harry knew the implications of such, it would be Ron. Ron who knowingly and willingly followed him through the trapdoor. He's more aware of the danger than his brothers. Still, Harry can see the fight in his eyes. A fight for him, on his behalf.
“So, you’re telling us that for your safety you have to go back to your relatives every summer?” Fred asked brokenly. The sound hurts Harry’s heart.
“Just for a few weeks. Not for the whole summer.” Harry doesn’t know if he could last the whole summer with his relatives. Not after being around people who care for him and like being around him.
Harry looks at the three boys. He can tell that they still want to fight him over this. He can tell that they knew they would lose. He couldn’t believe his luck at befriending people as stubborn and loyal as the Weasleys.
George closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, “We’ll want daily updates from you. Every day you’re there.”
“The moment you can, you’ll come here for the rest of the summer.” Fred continues.
“We’ll break you out if we have to.” Ron finishes.
Harry doesn’t remember a time he felt this light, this happy. Yes, he would still need to go to the Dursley’s for a few weeks every summer. Now though, he had a place, a place where people wanted and cared for him. Who would like nothing more than to have him here all the time. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face even if he tried.
Harry looked at the faces of the boys around him and couldn't help but see their looks of determination and protective fondness.
His eyes caught Fred's. Fred's eyes held much of the same look in them that was in both his brothers' while looking at Harry. Protection, care, deep affection, but there was something else. Something that Harry didn't have a name for.
Something he wouldn't realize for a few years.
Looking into Fred's eyes now, eyes that were bursting with that once unknown emotion. Harry knew it was love.
Love for him.
It took his breath away each time he saw it.
"One thing I refuse is for the two to be separated. Feels too much like us being separated. And you know me Harry, I refuse to be separated from you." Harry knew that the words Fred spoke were true. Even though it would make Fred's life easier and safer, he refused to acknowledge that being with Harry was dangerous.
It made him fall a bit more in love with the older boy each time.
It scared him a bit more of losing him.
"I know. And I love you for it." It still took Harry's breath away that he could say those three words to Fred so easily. It was natural.
Fred reacted the same way he always did when Harry said he loves him. The way he reacted the very first time when Harry said those words to him. He launched himself at Harry and kissed him deeply, passionately, and reverently. Like he was sealing the words, the emotions with his kiss each and every time. Kissed him until his lungs burned and his head grew light. His sole purpose to let Harry know he was the most precious person in Fred's life.
That Fred was the most precious person in Harry's life.
Eventually, ever so slowly they pulled away. Not too far, they still breathed each other’s air. Just enough to look at the other. Fred still cradling Harry's face gently. Harry playing with the red hair at the nape of Fred's neck. The closeness soothed the both of them. If it weren't for the other, they didn't know how they could've made it this far this year.
Softly Fred kisses Harry's forehead and pulls further away so he can swing his legs over and sit properly next to Harry.
Fred doesn't ask Harry what's wrong. He waits until Harry is ready to speak to him. So many people demand so much of the younger boy. He refuses to be like the rest of them. Just letting him know that he's there whenever Harry is ready.
They sit in silence for a few moments. Fred had pulled Harry close where the younger boys head rest on his chest, in turn with Fred resting his head on Harry's head. Holding him like a child holds their favorite stuffed toy.
"Something is going to happen." Harry's words break the comfortable silence. "I don't know if it's bad. I don't know if it's good. If it's a mixture of both." Fred waits for Harry to continue, allowing him to gather his thoughts of what he's trying to explain.
"It's not like dreams I've been having." Fred understands what Harry is saying. Not like the dream in which Harry witnessed Voldemort’s snake attacking his father. A dream in which Harry was the snake.
"It doesn't have to do with Voldemort. Well, it could. What I mean is it's not Voldemort behind it. It's something…more. Something's going to happen. Something that will change everything. I don't know how I know it, but I can feel it." Harry's words run out of steam.
Fred can see the stress Harry is under. Can feel the tension in the body that leans against his. More than anything Fred wishes he can take the burdens off his boyfriend. Off the young man who he has fallen so deeply in love with.
Fred knew Harry would never allow him such a thing. That he would do all he could to protect Fred from the worse of things. Fred didn't like it, but he wasn't going to make Harry's life harder by fighting him on the issue. So, Fred does, and will continue to do what he's always done. Be there for Harry. Let him know that under no circumstances was he going to shoulder these burdens alone.
"Whatever it is we'll deal with it. Together. As we always have. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, George, and I, we're with you. Sirius, Remus, and my parents. Through whatever comes, we'll stand with you. We're your family. You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not." Fred said the words that he said so many times since the final of the Triwizard Tournament. Will continue to say as many times as Harry needs to hear.
He hears Harry release a deep breath. Can feel the rise and fall of the chest beneath his arm. Feels the stress in his body loosen a bit.
"I don't know what I would do without you." And it was true. Harry didn't know. He didn't even want to think about it. Fred was his peace and safety. The person who just let's him be. Being in Fred's presence calmed him in a way that nothing else could.
"And you will never have to. There's nothing that will keep me from your side Harry. Nothing in the world. Whatever may come I'll also be here with you." Fred meant every single word.