By the time everyone at the Burrow sat down to lunch, Harry was starting to become just a little bit overwhelmed. There was just so very much to take in.  5 kids, two adults, random animals, moving kitchen implements, a ghoul in the attic…just thinking about it all made him lose his breath. 

And the food!  Over the months at Hogwarts and with the professor he had certainly grown stronger and always had his fill, but this was like nothing Harry had ever seen.  It was like the opening feast had appeared in full on the Weasley’s dining table.  However it was clear as he watched Mrs. Weasley piled lunch onto his plate that she believed he had not grown big enough yet.

Nerves overtook him.  There was no way he was going to be able to eat all this, but to leave any on his plate would be impolite.  But if he ate it all he would surely be sick, and then the twins would make fun of him, and Mr or Mrs Weasley would have to clean up the mess, and they’d probably make him go home and then Ron would be mad at him and…

Just then Mr. Weasley leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry lad.  Molly just assumes that all children eat like our lot.  If you can’t finish, I promise it won’t to waste,” he gave a pointed look around the table at his children.  “Just do your best.”

Harry gave the older man a grateful smile and dug into his meal.  Only Molly noticed him tuck some crackers into his napkin.

**********

A pickup game of quidditch was suggested shortly after lunch, to Harry’s surprise and confusion. 

“Quidditch?”

“Yeah, mate, you know.  That game you play where you’re the youngest seeker in a century?”

“You’re a riot you know that?”

“Actually, I do.”

“I just mean, how are we supposed to play Quidditch when there’s only six of us and you need seven on each team?”

“Easy, in fact with you here it’s a perfect set up for three on three.  One Keeper each, me and Percy, one Beater/Chaser combo each – the twins of course – and one seeker each, you and Gin.” 

“Really?  A Beater/Chaser combo?  Isn’t that sort of weird?  Not to mention hard to play.”

“Oh Harry!”

“You have such little faith in us.”

As it turned out, the twins were quite adept at the strangeness of the Beater/Chaser combo.  Perhaps too adept, Harry thought as he ducked another potential blow.  The bludger missed him by mere inches, and he scowled as the twins laughed at him.

“One of you is supposed to be on my team you know!”

“Oy, Harry, you should know by now--”

“We’re a team unto ourselves.”

Harry scowled. That wasn’t fair.  They were supposed to be playing against each other, not him.  “You didn’t actually hit me you know!” He yelled across the yard.

“Not yet, Harry, not *yet*.” FredorGeorge yelled back.

Now that was a challenge, if ever he’d heard one.  Determined to beat whichever one of them wasn’t on his own team, Harry redoubled his efforts in going after the snitch.  Well, he would if he ever spotted it.

As if ordained by Merlin himself, it was in the very next moment he spotted that tiny flash of gold and was on it like Dudley on pudding.  As he snatched it from the air, Harry couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction, and then break into laughter at the hoots and hollers of his friends as they celebrated the win.

Caught up in the excitement, he missed Fred pull up beside Ron and say, “See, I told you we’d distract him, that he’d have fun.”

“Right.  Thanks.  Now we just have to keep it up.”

“Leave it to us, little brother.”

*********

As Severus paced back in forth in his sitting room, he could feel his anger rising.  Not that it had far to go; he’d been irritable all morning, even to his own admission.  He should be brewing.  He should be writing his syllabi for next year’s classes. He should, at the minimum, be writing a list of things he needed to buy for the boy.  And yet, he was not.  He was at the end of his tether, and the reason why only annoyed him further.

Of all things, he was bored.  And more than a little at wits end as to what to do about it.

He had refused to accept that the boy’s presence had made that much of an impact on his life, but when he found himself eating an old, familiar, lunch of bread, cheese and wine as opposed to the fully cooked, balanced meal (sans alcohol) he usually made for the two of them, he couldn’t deny it any longer.

He was accustomed to Harry’s presence, and he didn’t know what to do with himself without it.  He was a solitary man.  He liked it that way!  Or at least he had.

But reality was staring him right in the face, disguised as the remains of his pathetic lunch.  In mere hours of being alone in the house he had reverted back to behaving as if he was a refugee from a Hugo novel.  Les Misérables, indeed.

I am being ridiculous! And with that thought, he vowed to spend the rest of the afternoon being productive.  He was not going to preoccupy himself with Potter and the mischief he was likely getting into at the Weasley’s.

*******

“Just how many sweets did you buy at Honeyduke’s before you left Hogwarts?”

The twins chose to ignore the disapproval in Percy’s voice, which, Harry noted, could still be heard over the smushy sound of the two chunks of fudge currently stuffed into his mouth.  He wondered idly if he could fit the third without choking.  Probably better not to risk it.

“Shut your gob, Percy.” One twin replied around his mouthful of Bertie Botts every flavour beans. 

“Or better yet, stuff it,” came the other, and helpfully supplied a chocolate frog.

Both Harry and Ron exchanged a glance as the Percy unwrapped the treat and, after letting it have a hop of course, popped it into his mouth.

“You’d think he’d know better by now,” Ron whispered.  Harry – his teeth and mouth too full of the sticky, gooey concoction – could only grin and shrug as he sat back and waited for the show to begin.  It didn’t take long.

About 10 seconds after he’d ingested the chocolate, Percy’s eyebrows simply disappeared.  As everyone in the room cracked up in laughter, the realization must have hit the older boy, and he began hollering his demands to know what the twins had done.  With everyone else too out of breath with laughter to respond, Ginny managed to gasp out, “Eyebrows...gone...” between giggles.

Percy’s hands immediately flew to his forehead to feel the bald spots where his eyebrows used to be.

“Three...Two....One...” Ron muttered, and on cue Percy Weasley shrieked,

“You bloody prats!  You’ll pay for this!”

With that declaration Fred and George sprinted from the room, their older brother hot on their heels, and Ron, Harry and Ginny not far behind.

Somewhere about the third time around the Burrow and up and down various sets of stairs, Harry’s stomach began to roll unpleasantly.  He instinctively slowed, hoping that would settle things down, but instead everything he had eaten in last ten hours went anywhere but down.

Clamping his teeth together, Harry swallowed roughly and tried to breathe deeply through his nose.  For a moment he thought he might be okay, but it didn’t take long for his stomach to dissuade him of that idea.

“Ron!  RON!” he hissed through his teeth, praying his friend would hear him.

“What is it, Harry?”

“Loo please....” he tried to say.

“What?”

There was nothing he could do but risk it.

“Loo, pl—”  And suddenly Harry realized what people meant when they said it was like watching yourself from outside your own body.

The moment he’d opened his mouth he sicked up everywhere.  With a split second response time, Harry clamped his hands over his mouth, in an ill-fated attempt to lessen the damage.

Chaos seemed to flare as the Weasley children realized what was wrong, and then die as their mother descended on the group.  Harry, in his mortification, didn’t even realize she was there – didn’t really notice anyone’s presence – until a damp cloth was placed on the back of his neck and a cool hand on his forehead.

“Oh Harry!  Are you not feeling well?  You poor dear.”  She made an attempt to move his hands away, and he could only stiffen further and curl in on himself.

Why is she touching me?!  I’m disgusting.  Oh, god...

But Molly Weasley proved impressively strong, and soon enough she had grasped his wrists and gently, but firmly moved his hands off his mouth.

No. Noooooooooo. This can’t be happening.

“Come now, Harry.  None of that.  Just let it all go and you’ll feel right as rain in a moment.”

He couldn’t look at any of them; the sheer embarrassment, not to mention his suddenly watery eyes, made it impossible.  Mrs Weasley would not let go of his wrists, so there was nothing he could do to stop himself from throwing up all over the carpet while every one stood there staring.

He wanted to disappear.  What he wouldn’t give in the universe for his invisibility cloak right now, but he hadn’t been allowed to bring it with him.  For a brief moment he resented the arrangement he had with Snape.  He wouldn’t have had to ask permission of anyone to bring his cloak if he had been back at the Dursley’s.

Of course, if you were still living with them, his conscience whispered, you wouldn’t be here at the Burrow at all.  You’d be in your cupboard.

Despite the fact that that didn’t seem so bad right at the moment, Harry was ashamed at his own angry tornado of thoughts.  One shameful thought led to the next, which then made him ashamed of himself, which made him angry again…no wonder the Professor found him so exasperating.

A voice broke into his self recrimination -- “All better then?”

Oh.  He’d stopped throwing up and hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I can’t believe --- I’m so sorry Mrs. Weasley, I can clean it up I promise.  It’ll be better than new, swear it…”

Mrs. Weasley laughed abruptly and sincerely, causing Harry to stare at her in shock.  What on earth was so funny?

“Harry, love, this is one of those moments where magic is very useful.”  And with a wave of her wand the entire mess was gone and it was if it had never happened.

As Mrs. Weasley laid the back of her hand against Harry’s forehead once more, he automatically pulled back out of her reach. 

“Sorry.  Sorry.  Wasn’t expectin’ that,” was all he managed to mumble.

Reaching out to touch him once again, albeit more slowly Harry noted, she regarded him with measuring eyes.  “Well, you don’t have a fever, but you are rather flushed. Perhaps we should call Severus, hmmm?”

“What, no!”

That would be Ron then, Harry realised.  And sure enough, his friend came bounding forward, gripping his mother's arm and shaking his head.

"Mum, we can't!  We don't need to call professor Snape!"

"Ronald, your friend has just been quite sick, and could be ill.  I certainly think informing his guardian is rather important."

"Sure, of course, if he was actually sick.  But he's not!  Even you said he wasn't feverish, please Mum...I don't want Harry to go already, and he hasn't even spent the night yet."

"He may not be feverish, but people don't generally vomit for no reason, my boy."

"Well, nooooo.  Not for no reason precisely..."

Harry watched this exchange silently.  It was a bit like participating in a Quidditch match where he was the quaffle, an idea that didn't make his queasiness lessen.  At the same time, watching Ron wheedle what he wanted out of his mother -- well, pointers were pointers, wherever he could find them. 

Not that his friend was necessarily having all that much success.  In fact, Harry could have timed the moment Mrs. Weasley realized that something else was going on down to the second.  It was right about. . .now.

"What did you children do to him!?  And what, exactly, happened to Percy?" she asked, standing, and looking disturbingly tall in that movement.  His Gryffindor tendencies chose that moment to re-emerge.

"Well, Mrs. Weasley, they didn't really do anything to me, it was more of a, well, um, more of a ...."

"It was a bit of a group effort Mum," one of the twins piped up.

"Cooperation and all that." the other added.

"A group effort?" Molly replied with indignation.  "And what did this 'group effort' entail?"

"Weeeeell, you see, there was some left over sweets from Honeyduke’s and we thought we'd have a bit of a celebration of Harry's first sleep over."

"Sweets!  You mean to tell me this was all caused by sweets?  Of all things..."  She turned to Harry, and he was relieved to note that she seemed more exasperated than angry.  There was still hope she might let Ron invite him back again, he noted to himself.

"Harry, dear, I expect such nonsense out of this lot, but it was really rather unwise of you to go along with it."  He couldn't help but agree, seeing how things had turned out.

"Yes Ma'am.  I'm sorry."

"No harm done, my dear, no harm done.  Now, despite what my Ronald thinks, would you like to call Professor Snape?  I have no doubt he would be here in a jiffy to collect you if need be."

Harry found himself at a loss.  On one side, he felt rather -- not ill to be precise but . . . icky.  The comfort and familiarity of Snape's home would not be an unwelcome end to a rather long day. But on the other side of things, he felt a little silly at even entertaining the prospect.  He was nearly twelve, after all.  And yes, this was his first night away from -- his first sleep away -- the fact remained that nearly twelve year old Gryffindors didn't go home scared and anxious in the middle of visiting a friend.

They just didn't.

And all this of course, didn't even take into account Ron's clear position on the subject.  His friend was looking at him with a mixture of fear, shock, and hope.  Harry just couldn't disappoint the boy who had been his first real friend.

"No, no thank you Mrs. Weasley.  I'm feeling loads better, really.  I'd like to stay.  If that's all right with you?" he remembered to add.

She looked at him rather sceptically, and for a moment Harry was worried that she would make him go home anyway.  However, after appearing to deliberate, she simply sighed, and pulled him towards the nearest door.

"Well, seeing as you're not truly ill, I suppose it won't do any harm to allow you to finish your visit with Ron.  Although I really should reward such foolishness!" she directed rather loudly to her children.   "I imagine you'd like a bath, hmmm?"

"Oh, um, yes please.  But couldn't you just clean me up the same way you did the floor?"

"Oh, yes, I certainly could," she agreed.  Leaning down to whisper in his ear, she whispered "But that wouldn't feel nearly as nice, now would it?"

And with that she entered the loo to fill the tub.

*********

Five potions.  Three bruise balm, two calming draughts.  Not nearly enough, Severus thought, as he began warming up the fires under a batch of five new, empty cauldrons.  One could never have enough healing potions at Hogwarts, after all.  And certainly not with Potter around for the indeterminate future.  No, he definitely needed to brew several more.  And then perhaps a night cap.  It was only half midnight, after all. 

***************

He had no idea what time it was, but Ron had dropped off to sleep what seemed like ages ago, and even the random bumps and whispers from Fred and George's room had stopped.  Harry, however, was very much awake.

Which wasn't to say that he wasn't tired.  He most certainly was.  He even wanted to go to sleep.  But he just couldn't seem to turn off his brain and actually do so.

And so he lay there, trying very hard not to think of the Professor and what he might be doing at that very moment.  Logic told him the man was likely fast asleep.  Probably enjoying the first real full night of sleep he's had, now that I'm not there, he thought mournfully.  He really ought to keep his stupid problems to himself.  Or at least save them until daylight.  Is it possible for someone to quite literally tire of you?

Tossing the blankets aside, he stood, and tiptoed the short distance to the window.  It was nice to look out -- the Weasley's had more space than he could easily comprehend.  At least outside their house.  It made the dark that much darker, though, and his eyes searched impatiently for the light of the moon.

He was staring, vaguely wondering in which direction London lay, which direction was Scotland and Hogwarts?  Which direction was the Professor's house?  Caught deep in these thoughts, he didn't hear the door to Ron's room tick open.

"Harry?" came the whisper.  He couldn't help himself, he jumped a bit, startled, and then embarrassed.  For the first time he was grateful for the darkness of the Burrow at night.

"What are you doing still awake, lad?" Arthur Weasley asked quietly from the door frame.  Whispering, Harry was quickly coming to realize, made it very difficult to suss out the tone of someone's voice.   And tone of voice was rather important when you were caught awake in the middle of the night by your friend's father.

"Couldn't sleep," he whispered back, hoping the man would simply order him back to his makeshift bed and then leave.

"Ah.  Well, come on then, I know just the thing." 

"Pardon?"

"Come on!  Before Ron awakes and wants to join us," Arthur replied with a conspiratorial wink.  Curiosity irrevocably aroused, Harry could only mentally shrug to himself and follow the man down the stairs. 

He watched, confused, as Mr. Weasley pointed him to a chair in the kitchen.  Was he going to get a lecture?

So he waited for the inevitable.  And waited some more.  Harry waited while Arthur turned on the stovetop, and while he pulled out a pot, and while he reached into the cupboard for something Harry couldn’t quite see.

“Molly will kill me for this after what happened earlier, but really, what better cure for insomnia than hot cocoa, hmm?”

Hot cocoa?  He was awake at some indeterminable time of night and the man was making him cocoa?  Harry thought that the Weasleys just might be the coolest family he’d ever meet.

And when Mr. Weasley brought out mini marshmallows, he was thoroughly convinced.  So, it was a bit of a surprise when, after the mug of cocoa was set in front of him, he made a move for the marshmallows only to have them moved out of his reach.

“Uh-uh.  Not so fast.  There’s a deal here.  One thought shared, one marshmallow.”

“What if I don’t take marshmallows in my cocoa?” Harry asked.

“Ah, a cunning one, are you?  You can’t fool me.  Marshmallows make the cocoa, Harry, it cannot be denied.  So. Why do you think you’re having trouble sleeping?”

“New place.  It’s different.” With a plunk, Mr. Weasley dropped a marshmallow in his drink.

“That’s true.  You’ve had a lot of different places to get used to in the last year, I hear.  Did you have trouble at the other places?”

“A bit in the dorm.  And at Professor Snape’s house this summer.”  He got two marshmallows for that.

“And here.”

“Yes.”  No marshmallow yet.  Seemed the man was waiting for more.  “It’s very dark. And weirdly quiet.”

Another marshmallow.  “You may be the first person to describe our home as quiet, my boy.  I imagine your current home is dark and quiet at night too, if I know Professor Snape.”

“But that’s just it,” Harry admitted, talking into his cup. “it is, but Professor Snape is there.”

“You miss him a bit, hmmm?”

He could only nod, struck dumb by a sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, it sounds to me Harry that you’re a wee bit homesick, hmm?”

“I don’t know Mr. Weasley.  I’ve never had a chance to be homesick before.”

“It’s a very normal feeling Harry.  All children feel it the first times they’re away from home.”

“Aren’t I too old?” These days he felt too old for everything he felt.  Sometimes it made him angry.

“No, Harry, you’re not.  And I’ll tell you a secret.” Arthur leaned a little closer.  “All my boys wrote letters home about how homesick they were the first month or so they were at Hogwarts.”

“All of them?  Even Ron?”

“Even Ron. So like I said, totally normal.”

“Is it normal to feel, to wonder. . .”

Mr. Weasley playfully brandished the bag of mini marshmallows, but couldn’t draw a smile out of Harry.  “What is it Harry?”

“What if he doesn’t come back to get me in the morning?”

He couldn’t help it, he leaned into the touch a bit when Mr. Weasley shifted over and rubbed his back.  “Harry, does Professor Snape know you worry about such things?”  He nodded, and grabbed a small handful of marshmallows, which Mr. Weasley was now offering to him straight out of the bag.  “What did he say about it?”

“He said he’d never abandon me, never leave me, not if it was within his own power.”

“Exactly.  I promise you that Severus Snape is a fiercely loyal man.  If he made a promise to you, he will stick by it.  He does not lie.”

Harry fiddled with the spoon in his mug of cocoa.  He wanted to believe, he really did, but...

“And I’ll tell you one more thing, Harry.  A secret just between you and me.  I’ve know Severus a long time, and I’ve never seen him care about anyone like he cares about you.  He may not show it very well, but it’s true.”

“I don’t know,” Harry responded, sucking down the last of what had turned out to be a rather large pile of marshmallows.  “I think he’s pretty good at showing it, actually.”

“Well then why don’t you show him how you feel by trying to trust him, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“There’s a good boy.  Now try to get some sleep, okay?”

***********

Three a.m.  Three a.m. was the perfect time for a nice glass of scotch after a night of brewing.  Hard work deserved a reward after all.

********

Three minutes past ten in the morning. The boy must have finished breakfast by now, and he had told the Weasley’s he would pick Potter up after first meal.  He’d best be on his way.

The bright colours of the Burrow assaulted him as he stepped through the floo.  How anyone could live in such ghastly conditions was beyond him.

“Severus good morning!” Molly Weasley greeted him.

“Greetings Molly, Arthur.”

“How are you this morning?”

“Perfectly adequate, thank you.”

Arthur Weasley lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet and watched him approach with a grin.  “Looks like you had a late night, Severus.  Exactly how many potions did you brew to distract yourself?”

Severus bristled.  “Are you mocking me Weasley?”

“Best get used to it, I’d say.” Molly chimed in.  “If our boys are any indication, you’ll be seeing a lot of us, Professor.”

“Exactly right.  And what’s a number between friends, hmm?”

“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind him, Severus.  Sit, have a cup of tea.  The boys are just finishing a game of Quidditch outside.”

He could feel the eyes of Arthur Weasley on him as he accepted the cup and sat at the kitchen table.  With a sip and a sigh, he finally relented.

“Seventeen.  Seventeen potions.”

Both Weasleys smiled knowingly at him.

“Well, Harry missed you too, you should know.”

Ignoring the fact that he had said nothing of the sort about ‘missing’ anyone or anything he chose instead to ask, “And how did Harry do during his visit?”

“Well, there were a few small incidents.  He was a bit ill after over indulging in sweets, but we sorted that out. And he had some trouble sleeping.”

“I’m afraid I rather expected that.  I’m sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused you.”

“Oh have no worries, you did inform us of your concerns after all.   And in the end it wasn’t as bad as all that.  I think he was just a bit homesick.  And a bit insecure.” Arthur looked at him seriously. “He’s afraid that you’re going to leave him in the night.”

With another heavy sigh, Severus set down his cup.  “I’m aware this is an issue for him, and I have been attempting to – ”

Before he could finish his explanations, however, the door burst open and Harry burst through, broom in hand, breathing heavily.  At first he seemed like he was going to make a run at him, but changed his mind, hovering mid-step in the entry way.

“Hi.”

“Are you packed and ready to go?”

“Yes sir, my bag is by the floo.”

“I’ll go through first, you are to follow.” Turning to the Weasley’s with a very slight bow of acknowledgement he added, “Thank you for your hospitality to Harry.”

And with that, he left.  Mere moments later Harry followed him, stumbling out of the floo and almost landing on his knees.  Serevus reached out automatically to steady him.

And if they both held on to each other several moments longer than necessary, well, that was just coincidence.