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Harry woke early the next morning, his enhanced senses immediately registering the familiar scents of the Burrow. Next to him, Ron snored loudly, sprawled across his bed with one leg dangling off the edge.
Harry sat up, stretching muscles that had finally adjusted to his new strength. He'd slept better than expected. The emotional whirlwind of seeing Hermione again had eventually settled into a pleasant warmth in his chest.
Ron's room looked exactly as Harry remembered it—Chudley Cannons posters plastered across every available surface, magical moving images of orange-robed players zooming around on broomsticks.
Harry slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Ron. His bare feet barely made a sound on the wooden floor—another benefit of his partial lycanthropy. He moved to the window, gazing out at the misty fields surrounding the Burrow. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
After pulling on a T-shirt and jeans that now fit his more muscular frame properly, Harry quietly made his way downstairs, following the scent of fresh coffee and baking bread. He found Mrs. Weasley already bustling around the kitchen, humming softly to herself.
"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, his voice still rough with sleep.
She turned, startled. "Goodness, Harry! I didn't hear you come down. Early riser now, are you?"
"Part of the condition," Harry admitted, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "I don't need as much sleep anymore."
"Well, you're just in time to help with breakfast," she said, smiling warmly. "Would you mind setting the table? I expect we'll have a full house hungry in an hour or so."
Harry nodded, gathering plates and silverware. As he arranged them around the large kitchen table, Mrs. Weasley continued her breakfast preparations, occasionally glancing at him with a thoughtful expression.
"Harry, dear," she said finally, her voice gentle, "Arthur told me about your... condition. How are you really coping with it all?"
Harry paused, silverware in hand. The honest concern in her voice touched him deeply. "Better than I expected," he answered truthfully. "At first it was overwhelming—all the new sensations, the strength, the instincts. But I've been practicing control techniques Professor Lupin told me, and it's getting easier."
Mrs. Weasley nodded, her expression softening. "You've always been remarkably resilient, Harry. But you know you don't have to manage everything alone. Not anymore."
"I know," Harry said, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. "Being here helps. Everything feels... less intense when I'm surrounded by people who understand."
"Well, you're always welcome here," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, turning back to flip pancakes with a flick of her wand. "And don't you forget it."
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the kitchen filling with delicious aromas that made Harry's enhanced senses hum with appreciation. He was just finishing setting the table when he caught a new scent—vanilla and old books—moments before Hermione appeared in the doorway.
"Good morning," she said, looking surprised to find Harry already up and helping. Her hair was still slightly tousled from sleep, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, but Harry found himself momentarily speechless.
"Morning," he managed, acutely aware of Mrs. Weasley's knowing glance between them.
"You're both up early!" Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully. "Hermione, would you mind helping Harry finish setting the table while I check on the bacon?"
"Of course," Hermione agreed, moving to stand beside Harry.
"Sleep well?" Harry asked, keeping his voice casual.
"Surprisingly, yes," Hermione replied, not quite meeting his eyes. "Though Ginny talks in her sleep. Something about Quidditch scores and chocolate frogs."
Harry chuckled. "Better than Ron. He had a full conversation with his pillow about spider tap-dancing."
Hermione laughed, the sound making Harry's chest tighten pleasantly. "I've missed this," she said softly. "Being here. With everyone. With you."
Before Harry could respond, the kitchen door banged open as Fred and George tumbled in, identical grins on their faces.
"Well, well," Fred said, eyebrows waggling suggestively, "the lovebirds are already up and nesting."
"Must be that animal magnetism," George added with a wink.
"Oh, stop it, you two," Mrs. Weasley scolded, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Either help with breakfast or go de-gnome the garden."
"Breakfast!" they said in unison, immediately grabbing plates and utensils.
The kitchen gradually filled as the rest of the Weasleys trickled downstairs, drawn by the irresistible smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Ron appeared last, hair sticking up at odd angles and eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Blimey, Harry," he mumbled, dropping into a chair. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"Thought you needed your beauty sleep," Harry replied, grinning. "Apparently, I was right."
This earned a snort from Ginny and a glare from Ron that quickly dissolved into a yawn.
Breakfast was a chaotic affair, with multiple conversations happening simultaneously and food passed around. Harry found himself seated between Ron and Hermione.
"So, Harry," Mr. Weasley said during a brief lull in the conversation, "I understand you've been experimenting with wandless magic this summer? Most impressive for a wizard your age."
Harry nodded, swallowing a mouthful of eggs. "Just small stuff so far. Lumos, simple levitation. Sirius sent me some books about it."
"Black sent you books on wandless magic?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking surprised and slightly concerned.
"Advanced magic for the partially lycanthropic," Harry clarified. "Apparently, the condition enhances magical focus."
"Well, that explains Lupin's knack for defensive spells," Mr. Weasley mused. "Though I'd advise caution, Harry. Wandless magic can be unpredictable, especially when combined with—"
"—with heightened emotional states," Hermione finished, glancing at Harry. "I've been researching it too."
"Of course you have," Ron muttered around a mouthful of toast.
"Actually," Harry said, "I was hoping to practice more while I'm here. Somewhere away from Muggle eyes."
"The orchard would be perfect," Mr. Weasley suggested. "Far enough from the village that no one would notice anything unusual."
"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly more awake. "We can practice Quidditch there too. See if your new reflexes give you an edge."
"As if Harry needed any more advantages on a broomstick," Ginny commented, rolling her eyes.
"You should practice with us, Gin," Fred suggested. "Show Harry your new moves."
Ginny blushed furiously, fixing her brothers with a death glare that made Harry bite back a smile. He'd forgotten how much the Weasleys enjoyed teasing each other—and him by extension.
After breakfast, Harry found himself being pulled in different directions. Ron wanted to show him his new Quidditch magazines, Fred and George were eager to demonstrate their latest inventions, and Hermione clearly wanted to continue their conversation from yesterday. In the end, it was Mrs. Weasley who made the decision for them.
"Ron, Fred, George—the garden needs de-gnoming before it gets too hot. Harry, dear, you should rest after your journey. Hermione, perhaps you could show Harry that book you were telling me about?"
The twins exchanged knowing looks but didn't protest, dragging a complaining Ron outside. Hermione shot Mrs. Weasley a grateful glance before turning to Harry.
"The orchard?" she suggested, and Harry nodded, following her outside and around the back of the Burrow.
The Weasleys' orchard was a small grove of apple and pear trees, providing welcome shade from the summer sun. Hermione led him to a secluded spot beneath a particularly large apple tree, sitting down on the grass and patting the space beside her.
"I didn't actually have a book to show you," she admitted as Harry sat down. "Though I do have several if you're interested."
Harry laughed. "Of course. But I'm glad Mrs. Weasley gave us an excuse to talk privately."
Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "About yesterday," she began, looking suddenly nervous. "I hope I wasn't too forward."
"Forward?" Harry repeated, confused. "You were just being...Hermione."
"That's not what I meant," she said, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I meant about...us. Feelings. You know."
"Oh," Harry said, understanding dawning. "No, you weren't too forward. Actually, I was hoping we could continue that conversation."
Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes serious. "Before we do, I need to know something, Harry. That Muggle girl Ron mentioned—did something happen with her this summer?"
Harry felt his face grow hot. He hadn't expected this question so directly, but he wouldn't lie to Hermione. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "Her name is Emily. She's Piers Polkiss's older sister."
Hermione nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "And you two were...involved?"
"Yes," Harry said. "But we both knew it was temporary." Harry added, trying not to think about it. He hoped she had moved on, and he hoped she would find someone better than him.
"I see," Hermione said, her voice carefully neutral.
"It helped," Harry continued, feeling the need to explain. "With the symptoms, I mean. The restlessness, the heightened energy. Professor Lupin warned me that isolation during the full moon periods would be difficult."
"So she was what, exactly? Therapy?" Hermione asked, a slight edge to her voice.
Harry winced. "That sounds terrible when you put it that way. No, she was—we were—" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I liked her. She was kind and funny and didn't know anything about my life as 'Harry Potter.' But what I felt for her wasn't anything like..."
"Like what?" Hermione prompted when he trailed off.
"Like what I feel when I'm with you," Harry finished quietly. "Emily was an escape. You're...home."
Hermione's eyes widened, her expression softening. "Oh," she breathed.
"I should have mentioned her yesterday," Harry admitted. "But I was so caught up in seeing you again, in finally talking about these feelings that I've had for longer than I realized, that I just...didn't think about it."
"I appreciate your honesty," Hermione said after a moment. "And I understand the circumstances were...unique."
"They were," Harry agreed. "But that doesn't change how I feel about you. If anything, being with Emily made me realize that physical attraction without emotional connection is ultimately just...empty."
"And you feel that emotional connection with me?" Hermione asked softly.
"I always have," Harry said simply. "I just didn't have the courage to acknowledge it until now."
A smile slowly spread across Hermione's face. "Well, considering your Gryffindor tendencies to rush headlong into danger, I find it particularly ironic that this is what took courage."
Harry laughed, relieved by her response. "Facing a basilisk was less terrifying than facing the possibility of ruining our friendship."
"Our friendship is stronger than that," Hermione assured him, reaching out to touch his hand. "It's the foundation of...whatever this is becoming."
Harry turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with hers. The simple contact sent waves of warmth through his body, his enhanced senses making every point of connection vibrant and alive.
"So what exactly is this becoming?" he asked, his voice husky.
Hermione's pulse quickened—he could hear it, a rapid flutter beneath her skin. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "But I'd like to find out."
Before Harry could respond, a loud crash from the direction of the Burrow broke the moment. They turned to see smoke rising from what appeared to be Fred and George's bedroom window.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, reluctantly releasing Hermione's hand as they both stood up.
"We should go see if anyone's hurt," Hermione said, though she looked as disappointed as Harry felt at the interruption.
They hurried back toward the house, finding the entire Weasley family gathered in the yard, staring up at the twins' window. Fred and George themselves were covered in soot, their eyebrows singed but grins firmly in place.
"What happened?" Harry asked Ron, who was watching the scene with resigned amusement.
"Experimental product," Ron explained. "Something about Canary Creams evolving into Phoenix Fancies. Apparently, the 'burst into flames' part worked too well."
"Are they okay?" Hermione asked, concerned despite herself.
"Oh, they're fine," Ron assured her. "Mum's fury will be far worse than any explosion."
Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was currently delivering what appeared to be an impressive lecture, her hands on her hips and her face almost as red as her hair. The twins, to their credit, looked appropriately contrite, though Harry caught the gleam of mischief still lurking in their eyes.
"I think we've just witnessed the genesis of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Harry whispered to Hermione, who tried and failed to suppress a smile.
"You two!" Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly shifted in their direction. "Were you out in the orchard this whole time?"
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione answered promptly. "Harry was showing me some of the wandless magic he's been practicing."
Mrs. Weasley's expression softened slightly. "Well, at least someone was being productive. Unlike these two menaces!" She turned back to the twins.
"Quick thinking," Harry murmured to Hermione, impressed.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. After helping clean up the twins' explosion (which turned out to be relatively minor despite the impressive smoke), Harry found himself drawn into an impromptu Quidditch practice with Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny. Even Hermione joined them in the orchard, though she preferred to watch from beneath an apple tree, a thick book open on her lap.
Harry discovered that his enhanced reflexes made him an even better Seeker than before. He could spot the enchanted apple they were using as a Snitch from impressive distances, and his coordination had improved to the point where he could perform maneuvers that would have been impossible before.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron exclaimed after Harry caught the apple for the fifth time in a row, executing a perfect barrel roll in the process. "If you play like this at school, Malfoy won't know what hit him."
"Language, Ron," Hermione called from below, not looking up from her book.
Harry grinned, tossing the apple to Ginny. "Your turn to release it," he said, noticing how she seemed to be holding back during their practice. "And don't go easy this time—I want to see what you can really do."
Ginny's eyes narrowed, a competitive spark igniting in them. "You asked for it, Potter," she said, and shot off on her broom.
What followed was the most challenging Seeking duel Harry had experienced. Ginny was fast, fearless, and unpredictable. She didn't have his enhanced senses, but she compensated with bold maneuvers and clever feints that almost fooled him several times.
When they finally landed, sweaty and laughing, even Hermione had set aside her book to watch their aerial battle.
"That was incredible," Harry told Ginny sincerely. "You should try out for the team this year."
Ginny flushed with pleasure. "Maybe I will," she said, her confidence apparent. "Though not as Seeker, obviously."
"Chaser," Fred said decisively. "You've got the speed and aim for it."
"And the ruthlessness," George added with brotherly pride.
They trudged back to the Burrow as the sun began to set, pleasantly exhausted. Harry found himself walking beside Hermione, their hands occasionally brushing in a way that seemed both accidental and deliberate.
"You were showing off," she accused quietly, her tone teasing.
"Maybe a little," Harry admitted. "Did it work?"
Hermione pretended to consider this. "I suppose it was marginally impressive," she said, her lips twitching. "Though I maintain that flying is an unnecessarily dangerous activity."
Two Days Later
Two days after Harry's arrival at the Burrow, the remaining Weasley brothers made their appearance. Harry was in the garden helping Ron and the twins de-gnome when the distinctive crack of Apparition caught his sensitive ears.
"Someone's here," Harry said, straightening up from where he'd been swinging a particularly stubborn gnome.
"How'd you—" Ron began, but was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley's excited shriek from inside the house.
"My boys!" her voice carried clearly across the yard. "Oh, look at you all!"
"The prodigal Weasleys return," Fred said dramatically.
"Prepare yourself, Harry," George added with mock gravity. "Percy's going to be insufferable about his new Ministry position."
"More insufferable than usual?" Harry asked, tossing his gnome over the garden wall.
"Infinitely," the twins replied in unison.
They made their way back to the house, Harry curious to finally meet the eldest Weasley brothers he'd heard so much about. As they entered the kitchen, he found Mrs. Weasley fussing over three red-headed men.
The tallest had his long hair tied back in a ponytail and sported what appeared to be a fang earring. The second was shorter but broader, with muscular arms covered in burns and calluses. Between them stood Percy, looking impossibly smug in crisp robes with his chest puffed out importantly.
"Harry!" Percy exclaimed, noticing him first. "Excellent to see you. I trust you're well? I've just been telling Mother about my new position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Most prestigious for someone just out of Hogwarts, as I was explaining—"
"Give it a rest, Perce," the long-haired brother interrupted, stepping forward with his hand extended. "You must be Harry. I'm Bill."
Harry shook his hand, immediately liking Bill's easy manner. "Nice to finally meet you."
"And I'm Charlie," the stockier brother said, gripping Harry's hand next. His palm was rough with calluses, his handshake firm. "Blimey, Ron wasn't exaggerating in his letters. You look like you've been wrestling dragons yourself."
"Speaking of which," Ron cut in, "how are the dragons in Romania?"
Charlie grinned, revealing a fresh burn mark on his forearm. "Temperamental as ever. Got this beauty from a particularly irritable Hungarian Horntail last week."
"Wicked," Ron breathed admiringly.
"So what do you do, Bill?" Harry asked.
"He's a curse-breaker for Gringotts," Ron answered proudly before Bill could speak.
"Currently stationed in Egypt," Bill added. "Breaking into ancient tombs, disarming centuries-old protective curses, that sort of thing."
"Sounds a bit more exciting than my summer," Harry said with a grin.
Bill laughed. "I don't know about that. Ron's letters mentioned something about partial lycanthropy? That's got to beat curse-breaking for excitement."
Harry blinked, surprised at how casually Bill mentioned his condition. "I suppose that depends on your definition of exciting."
"If I may," Percy interjected pompously, "the Ministry classification for partial lycanthropy falls under the Beast Division's jurisdiction, though there is discussion about transferring oversight to the Being Division given the subjects retain full cognitive function during lunar cycles."
"Fascinating, Percy," Charlie said, not bothering to hide his eye-roll. "I'm sure Harry loves being discussed as a 'subject' of Ministry classification."
Percy flushed. "I merely thought to share relevant regulatory information—"
"Is Hermione around?" Harry interrupted, not particularly interested in hearing about his legal classification.
"Library," Ron said with a knowing smirk. "Said something about researching Romanian dragon reserves, actually. Probably trying to impress Charlie."
"Or someone else," Fred suggested innocently.
"Who's impressed by what now?" Hermione's voice came from the doorway as she entered the kitchen, several books tucked under her arm. She spotted the newcomers and smiled. "Oh! You must be Bill and Charlie. I'm Hermione Granger."
"The brilliant one," Bill said, shaking her hand. "Ron's mentioned you in practically every letter."
"All good things, I hope," Hermione said, moving to stand subtly closer to Harry.
"Mostly complaints about how you make him look bad in class," Charlie said with a wink.
"She makes everyone look bad in class," Harry said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice. Hermione bumped her shoulder against his, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Not everyone," she said quietly, just for him. "You've beaten me in Defense since first year."
Percy cleared his throat importantly. "As I was explaining, my position at the Ministry involves significant cooperation with foreign magical governments. In fact, I've been instrumental in organizing the—"
"Lunch!" Mrs. Weasley announced, saving them all from Percy's monologue. "Everyone outside—it's too nice a day to be cooped up indoors."
They moved to the garden table, which had been extended to accommodate the growing number of Weasleys. Harry found himself seated between Hermione and Bill, with Charlie across from them. As Mrs. Weasley began levitating dishes to the table, conversation flowed easily.
"So, Harry," Charlie said through a mouthful of sandwich, "how's the partial lycanthropy treating you? Any cool abilities besides the obvious physical changes?"
"Enhanced senses," Harry replied, helping himself to potato salad. "Hearing, smell, sight—it's all amplified. And I've been working on wandless magic too."
"No shit?" Bill looked impressed. "That's advanced stuff."
"William Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley scolded from the end of the table. "Language!"
"Sorry, Mum," Bill replied, not looking particularly repentant. He lowered his voice. "Seriously though, wandless magic is rare, especially in wizards your age."
"I think my condition helps me, makes it easier to use my magic without the need of a wand. I still need my wand for more complex spells, but spells likes Lumos are spells I can use without a wand."
After lunch, the group dispersed for various activities. Bill and Charlie went to unpack, Percy retreated to his room to work on what he called "crucial Ministry correspondence," and the twins disappeared suspiciously toward their workshop. Ron challenged Harry to a game of chess, which Hermione declined to watch, saying she wanted to finish her book in the orchard.
Later that afternoon, Harry found himself alone in the kitchen, getting a glass of water after Ron had soundly defeated him for the third time in chess. As he filled his glass at the sink, Ginny entered, her hair damp from what appeared to be a post-Quidditch shower.
"Hey," she said, reaching around him for a glass of her own. "Ron destroy you at chess again?"
"Brutally," Harry confirmed with a rueful smile. "Your brother's a tactical genius."
"Only at chess," Ginny said, leaning against the counter beside him. "You should see him try to plan anything else."
Harry laughed. "Fair point."
Ginny took a sip of her water, watching him over the rim of her glass. "You know," she said casually, "I'm really glad you're here, Harry."
"Me too," he replied honestly. "The Burrow feels more like home than anywhere else."
"Even with all the chaos?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to indicate her noisy family.
"Especially with all the chaos," Harry confirmed. "Better than the alternative."
Ginny nodded understanding. "Those Muggles treat you okay this summer?"
"Better than usual," Harry said with a slight smile. "Amazing how respectful people become when you can bench-press a refrigerator."
Ginny laughed, the sound bright and genuine. She'd come a long way from the shy girl who used to put her elbow in butter dishes around him.
"Well," she said, straightening up, "if you ever need a Quidditch partner who won't bore you with endless Chudley Cannons statistics, you know where to find me."
She gave him a warm smile.
"I'll take you up on that," he promised as she headed back outside.
The rest of the day passed quickly, filled with Exploding Snap tournaments, more Quidditch in the orchard, and listening to Bill's fascinating stories about curse-breaking in Egyptian tombs.
That night, Harry found himself restless, the nearly-full moon visible through Ron's window making his skin prickle with energy. After tossing and turning for hours, he finally gave up on sleep and quietly made his way downstairs, careful not to wake the snoring Ron.
To his surprise, the main room wasn't empty. Hermione sat curled in an armchair by the dying fire, a book open in her lap, a candle nearby illuminating her face and the book.
"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked softly, making her jump slightly despite his quiet approach.
"Harry!" she whispered, hand to her chest. "You startled me."
"Sorry," he said, moving to sit in the chair opposite hers. "Enhanced stealth, apparently."
"Among other enhanced qualities," Hermione observed, her eyes trailing over him in a way that made his pulse quicken.
"The moon's nearly full," Harry explained, gesturing toward the window. "Makes me restless."
Hermione nodded understanding. "I couldn't sleep either, but for less lunar reasons. Too many thoughts."
"About?" Harry prompted when she didn't elaborate.
She closed her book, setting it aside. "Us, mostly. This... thing between us that keeps building."
Harry swallowed, suddenly very aware of their isolation. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No," Hermione said immediately, her eyes meeting his directly. "The opposite, actually. I'm having too many first thoughts. First kiss thoughts. First... everything thoughts."
Harry could hear her heartbeat accelerate, could smell the subtle change in her scent that indicated attraction.
"You know," he said, his voice lower than usual, "wandless magic requires intense focus on what you want."
"Does it?" Hermione murmured, leaning forward slightly.
Harry nodded, standing slowly and moving to her chair. "What do you want, Hermione?"
She rose to meet him, her face tilted up toward his. "I think you know."
"I want to hear you say it," Harry whispered, close enough now to feel her breath on his lips.
"I want you to kiss me, Harry," Hermione said, all academic pretense gone, replaced by simple desire. "Right now."
He didn't need further invitation. Harry closed the final distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened as years of unacknowledged attraction ignited between them. Hermione's hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around her waist.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Hermione's eyes had darkened with desire.
"That was..." she began.
"Just the beginning," Harry finished, his voice rough with need. He pulled her back to him, this time with less restraint, his enhanced strength allowing him to lift her easily as her legs wrapped around his waist.
Hermione gasped against his mouth, her body pressing against his with unmistakable intent. "Harry," she breathed between kisses. "We should probably..."
"Stop?" he asked, pulling back slightly to look at her.
"Merlin, no," Hermione said with surprising vehemence. "I was going to suggest we make sure no one walks in on us."
Harry grinned, a mix of relief and anticipation coursing through him. "I can hear everyone sleeping upstairs. We're alone."
"In that case," Hermione said, her hands sliding under his t-shirt with newfound boldness, "I believe we were in the middle of something important."
"Very important," Harry agreed, lowering her onto the couch and following her down. "Possibly the most important thing we've ever done."
"More important than fighting trolls?" Hermione teased, tugging his shirt upward.
"Much more important," Harry confirmed, helping her remove it entirely. "More important than exams, even."
Hermione's eyes widened in mock shock. "Now I know you're serious."
"Deadly," Harry murmured, lowering his lips to her neck. "And we're just getting started."
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