apples and scented candles • h.potter ✓

• three •

Harry continued to run, watching as the snake coiled around the people he loved, as they vanished into flames and the firelight flickered innocently in the air. He quickened his pace, but he couldn't reach them.

Something caught his feet, and he stumbled forward, falling face first into the ground. But just before the impact could occur, he found himself sprawled on his bed, his limbs tangled impossibly on the bedsheets, and his whole body soaked in sweat.

He breathed heavily, trying to normalise his racing heartbeat. With shaky hands, he untangled himself from the sheets and stumbled to his feet, which somehow managed to carry him to the bathroom. He stripped naked and turned on the shower, allowing the cool water to run over him and wash away any remnants of his nightmare.

Thankfully, it was the weekend, which meant he didn't have to go to the Ministry. After dressing up, he went to the kitchen to make tea, and while the water boiled in its kettle, he leaned back against the kitchen counter and began to slowly unhinge his mind.

During weekends, if he had nothing much to do, he would usually visit Ron or ask him to come over. Now, it certainly wasn't possible to do so, and Harry wondered how he would spend the rest of the day.

When he had finished his tea, he threw a cloak over himself and left his apartment, no particular destination in mind. Upon reaching a deserted alley, Harry paused, thought for a moment, then disapparated. The place he appeared to, took him by surprise, for he was standing in front of the Burrow. He didn't know what made him come here, and he didn't even remember thinking about coming to this place. But as he craned his neck to look at the house that stood in front of him, a warm feeling spread through his heart, and a smile tugged up the corners of his lips.

The house was still the same as it had been when he had first arrived here ten years ago – the same rickety structure, with chimneys and rooms magically perched on top of each other that made it look like it might topple if a slight gust of wind blew, the same yard in front of it and chickens running around and pecking pebbles and grass, and a few gnomes peeking up at him from behind the bushes – everything was exactly the same.

Except, it wasn't.

He could almost feel the lifelessness emanating from the walls of the house, like heat radiating out through the droughts. There were no longer any gingers running about or playing Exploding Snap, there was no lively aura that was almost synonymous to the Weasley family, nor there was the delicious aroma of food puffing out from the kitchen windows, distinctive of Mrs Weasley's remarkable cooking. None of the Weasley children lived there anymore – Ron and Hermione have moved into a flat together, and though Ginny hasn't got a flat of her own yet, she lived with her teammates in a hostel, visiting the Burrow once or twice a week. George lived above his shop, and the rest of the three brothers were long gone.

And yet, despite the desolation the house has fallen into, especially after Fred's death, Harry still associated it with the word home, even more so than the flat he lived in. Despite the sounds of mourning practically slipping out through the cracks in the walls, the Burrow still welcomed him with open arms, like it would to any of the Weasleys, for home it really was to him, having spent seven years of his life here, sleeping, eating and having fun just as though he was raised here. He never felt like an outsider at the place, but rather he could come and go whenever he wanted to with no one questioning him.

Harry stepped forward and knocked on the door, which opened only a few moments later, revealing Mrs Weasley on the other side. Every time he saw her, his heart broke just a little, for she wasn't the short, plump woman he knew, having lost considerable weight after the war. Deep wrinkles lined her forehead and the look of despondency seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in her face.

Nevertheless, the hug she engulfed him in was just as loving and motherly as it always had it been, and Harry hugged her back just as tightly, his eyes falling shut as tears prickled behind his eyelids.

"Oh Harry dear, I haven't seen you in ages," she said as she stepped away from the door and allowed him in. "Ron said you've been working too hard; you should take a break once in a while."

He smiled. "I'm fine, Molly, thank you. Auror work just takes up too much energy. I hope I haven't woken you up?"

"No no, I've been up an hour ago," she shook her had and hurried towards the kitchen. He followed suit. "Have you had breakfast?"

"No," he answered, and only then realised that he had completely forgotten to eat. His stomach rumbled just at the thought, and he inhaled deeply as the scent of pancakes reached his nostrils. Taking a plate and pancakes from the counter, he sat down to eat, and precisely at that moment, Arthur Weasley entered the kitchen.

They exchanged hugs, and the two sat for breakfast while Molly bustled around busily. She came in a few minutes later wearing an official looking apron, grabbed a toast and gave Harry a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry I have to leave you like this," she said apologetically. "But I have morning shift today and I'm already five minutes late. Help yourself to anything." And she scurried out of the kitchen.

All of this happened of quickly that Harry didn't get the chance to question anything. It was only after she was gone that he looked at Arthur and inquired, "Did she get a job?"

Arthur frowned. "Ron didn't tell you?"

He shook his head mutely.

"Yes, she took a job at St Mungo's as nurse," he answered, his voice heavy. "I suggested it, seeing how broken she was. And it helps, I can see it. she keeps busy, and can at least sleep peacefully at night."

"When did she start?"

"Just last week. She didn't have to go through any training." He laughed softly. "She just took a test and passed. Apparently, raising seven children is enough qualification to look after patients."

They talked as they ate, and Harry felt good. He was happy for Molly – he had seen what had become of her after the war. He was glad that she was able to move on.

The door to the kitchen opened and Harry jumped in his seat as Ginny walked in, clad in her pyjamas and her hair a horrible mess on her head. It was clear she had just woken up, and he began to regret coming here at all.

Ginny's eyes widened upon seeing him. "Oh," she stuttered. "I'll be right back." And she disappeared out through the door.

Harry looked nervously at Arthur, wondering what he thought of it. It wasn't news that Harry and Ginny weren't getting along well nowadays, and if it should come to it, they would take Ginny's side. But thankfully, neither Molly nor Arthur intervened much in their business, knowing fully well that Ginny was capable of handling anything herself.

When Arthur left for the Ministry and Ginny kissed him goodbye, she came into the kitchen where Harry still sat, fiddling with a slice of his pancake. She had changed into tidier clothes and her hair was neatly brushed, and as he looked up at her, she offered him a smile and heaved a deep breath.

"Well." She piled up a plate with food and poured herself a glass of milk, before coming to sit down across from him. "I guess it's time we talk about it. We've been hiding from each other long enough."

Harry blushed slightly, for it was true. Not wanting to talk, both of them have been keeping themselves busy with work and just avoiding any sort of confrontation. But it was high time they came to a decision.

"Let's finish eating first," he muttered.

Ginny laughed. "Okay."