Until Death do us Apart - Part 9

He'd also been able to spot the twins standing near the perimeter with Tonks, her wolf patronus signaling their position. He wished he could see Remus, but that search would have to wait.

When Bill sent red sparks into the air, Harry shut his eyes and channeled every positive thought and memory he had about the Burrow into the front of his mind. He had many to choose from and started focusing on memories of the Burrow connected with all that lived there.

He remembered the wonder and awe he'd felt as a twelve-year-old coming to stay here for the first time. He'd learned so much that summer, not only about the wizarding world, but also about how it felt to really be a part of a family. He'd experienced how it felt to belong and not simply be cast aside as a nuisance.

He remembered the smell of freshly baked scones, roasted chicken, treacle tart, steak and kidney pie and all his other favorite foods that Mrs. Weasley had quickly discovered and always served in ample supply.

He remembered the feeling of pleasure he'd felt that first time she'd washed and darned his socks right along with Ron's and her other children's. She'd folded them and put them back in his trunk, and he'd sat there in slack-jawed amazement for a full minute until Ron had asked him what was wrong. Aunt Petunia had usually just given him the socks once Dudley poked holes in them; Mrs. Weasley had actually mended them for him.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and continued focusing on his memories.

He remembered Mr. Weasley's shed, full of more electrical sockets than anyone could ever need in a lifetime, and the elder man's open glee over sharing his discoveries. He remembered not only being asked his opinion for the first time, but also actually feeling as if his answer mattered.

Harry's legs shook as he stumbled but managed to remain upright.

He remembered Quidditch matches in the meadow, tossing gnomes in the garden, and the camaraderie of a slap on the back from a group of redheads that had treated him as another brother, rather than the freak in the cupboard. He had laughed here, really laughed and enjoyed the summers for the first time in his young life.

Harry's legs finally gave out, and he stumbled to the ground, panting heavily. He was tired, and his head ached, but he pushed the positive memories through and battled against those the dementors tried to force to the front.

He remembered the face of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen smiling at him warmly in greeting, her eyes alight with such warmth, compassion and downright orneriness he thought he could drown in their depth. He remembered kissing her barely an hour before, and the feeling that he could do anything as long as she remained in his arms.

Harry needed his arms to support his weight now, yet still he pushed the memories and emotions forward.

This was the home of his best friend, the friend who'd opened his arms wide and shared his family with a lonely boy who'd never had even a glimpse of such a life. It was the home of the girl he loved, the girl who loved him enough to let him go. It was the home of the family that had stood by him and believed in him when no one else had, and he would not allow it to be taken from them now.

Not if he could help it.

A loud surge of blinding light illuminated the meadow for a brief moment, and Harry had to shut his eyes against the glare.