Hello! I've been tossing this idea around for a while now and, faced with a bit of writing block for one of my other stories earlier today, I decided to take a break and write this instead. I hope you like it!

For as long as Arthur Weasley could remember, the kitchen of his and Molly's home had been a noisy, bustling place. Centrally located in the Burrow as it was, its entrance existed just to the right of the staircase, and the house's back door opened right into it. Even without the healthy appetites that came with raising seven children—six of them boys, the kitchen had always been a place of much activity. It had died down some in more recent years as child after child grew up and moved away, though Molly had always been adamant about having everyone together as often as possible. She'd hosted family dinners every Sunday since shortly after the war's end and expected as many Weasleys—as well as significant others and children if applicable—as possible to attend as often as they were able. And all except Charlie, who lived in Romania and was rarely home for anything short of major holidays, complied with enthusiasm to her wishes. She was, after all, a wonderful cook and the children, though they'd all but hated one another at times as youngsters, had grown to be quite close with each other.

Such was the case this Sunday night in early June. All of Arthur's children, save Charlie and including Harry, Hermione, Fleur, tiny Victoire, and Audrey, Percy's girlfriend of a few months now, had come for dinner. Many sat, as he did, around the well-used and magically lengthened table, though George, Ron, and Bill had wandered into the living room, where the sounds of a Quidditch match sounded from the wireless. The women, save Audrey who sat with Percy and glanced anxiously in Molly's direction every few minutes since her offer of help had been politely declined, were enthralled with little Victoire, born just a month earlier and currently residing in her Auntie Hermione's arms. Young Teddy Lupin, whose presence at Sunday dinners had become more frequent as he'd grown older, kipped currently in Ginny's lap. The toddler's godfather stood at the stove with Molly, helping with preparing the meal.

The Weasley matriarch, while she was the most caring person Arthur had ever known, was often rather zealous in her role. The kitchen was chiefly her domain and she rarely accepted help from other people. Harry, however, had become something of an exception since the war's end, when Molly had, for a short time, been nearly crippled by the loss of Fred. The young wizard had willingly and ably taken up the torch in her absence and, while he wasn't nearly as skilled a chef as his soon-to-be mother-in-law, he'd held his own enough that she'd gotten a much-needed break and no one had gone hungry. It had been a short stint before Molly had taken up the role again, but in the time since, Harry was occasionally granted more freedom in the kitchen than the rest of them, though only when he asked for it.

Arthur watched his soon-to-be son's back for a moment. There was no shortage of things to say about the young man. Harry and Ginny had become engaged three months earlier and were set to be married early the next year. Harry had come to Arthur for permission before he'd asked her, and the older wizard had easily given it to him. No man would ever be good enough for his little girl, but if anyone came close, it was Harry Potter. He'd definitely earned that.

Arthur had grown exceptionally fond of the Potter boy over the years and he knew he'd never be able to repay him for all he'd done for his family alone. He was a hero, but even more than that, he was a good person. Kind, loving, brave, almost overly protective, though given all he'd been through, this was understandable. Harry had been part of Arthur's family long before he'd ever gotten involved with his daughter, but he was more than happy to make it official in a few months' time.

Arthur also had another reason for studying Harry right this moment. He'd been holding on to something of his for a while now and was finally ready to give it to him. Sirius Black's motorbike, after crash-landing behind the Tonks' house, not to mention the hits it had taken during the airborne fight with Voldemort and his lackeys, had needed a great deal of work. Arthur had recovered what remained of the bike and brought it back to the Burrow. It had sat in his shed and had seen little improvement during that first year, between the war and the grief and many funerals after the fact. Eventually though, Arthur had been able to go to work on the machine, tracking down parts and rebuilding the bike. He hadn't told anyone at first, though Molly had learned of his plan fairly quickly. She'd disapproved of his tinkering their entire marriage, but hadn't been able to protest all that much to this project, as it had been for Harry since the start and she'd never been able to deny him anything. It had taken quite a while, but the repairs were finally finished. All that was left to do now was show Harry.

Dinner seemed to be a while off still and Arthur figured now was as good a time as any to give him the bike that had been rightfully his since his godfather's death. He stood up from his seat at the table now, drawing the attention of those seated around him—he often gave an air of aloofness, but no one but Molly knew he frequently paid more attention to things than he let on. He crossed the small kitchen to where his wife and adopted son stood. "Molly, dear," he said, stopping beside her and placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, "Is it all right if I borrow Harry for a short bit?" Harry, who'd been busy chopping carrots by hand—he preferred Muggle methods of food preparation, stopped and looked over at that.

Molly's wand stilled over the pot she'd been tending and met Arthur's eyes. She understood instantly his intention. Her lips hinted at the tiniest of smiles. "Certainly, Arthur." She looked at Harry, "Go on, dear. I'll handle the rest of that."

"Er, okay," Harry said, setting the knife down and turning toward his future father-in-law, "What do you need, Mr. Weasley?" he asked, and then corrected himself before the latter could, "Arthur, sorry." Even after all this time, the young man still had trouble addressing him by his first name.

Arthur smiled and clapped him genially on the shoulder. "Come with me, lad. I want to show you something."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but he said, "Okay."

Arthur led him out the back door and across the yard to the shed. The sun was sinking on the horizon, but it had not set yet and the Burrow's backyard was still more than adequately lit for Arthur to see the expression of mixed curiosity and confusion on Harry's face as he kept pace with him. He thought he looked a bit nervous as well and nearly smiled at the thought that his daughter's fiancé was apparently concerned he was about to receive a talking to from him. He'd handled asking for Ginny's hand fairly bravely, though if that had played out anything like Arthur's own conversation with Molly's father all those years ago, it had been rehearsed many a time beforehand. "Relax, Harry," he said blithely, "I assure you you're not in trouble."

"Oh," he replied, "Well, good."

Arthur glanced at him. "Unless there's something for which you should be?"

"No," Harry laughed.

He smiled. "In here." Arthur nodded toward the shed, stopping at the closed door and unlocking it. He stepped inside and left the younger wizard to follow, lighting first his wand and then the lantern that hung from the roof. He looked over at Harry then, who had stopped just a few steps inside and was looking around. Arthur had taken him out here a few times before to show him one Muggle contraption or another, but he did admit, he normally informed Harry of this much before leading him outside.

The magically expanded space was lined with workbenches on three sides, the tops of which were littered with Arthur's treasures. Muggle items were scattered about, many of them gutted with their innards on the tabletop nearby. There were all manner of things, many of which he still had no name for, though he was slowly learning, with Harry and Hermione's help. Just last week, the latter had helped him to identify a microwave oven, which he thought was a particularly amazing invention on their part. He couldn't wait to figure out how it worked.

The motorbike sat in the middle of the space, covered currently with an old tarpaulin. Arthur was certain Harry had no idea he had it and he was feeling rather excited now at the prospect of showing it to him. "Come over here," he told him, waving him over, "I've got something for you."

"Another Muggle item?" Harry asked, coming closer.

"No," Arthur told him, "Well, sort of, yes, but I don't need you to tell me about this one." He took hold of the tarpaulin now and pulled it back, revealing the gleaming, newly repaired motorbike beneath. "I've been holding this for a while now. I managed to repair the damage from the last time it was used and I thought you might like it."

Harry stared at the dark bike and appeared suddenly thunderstruck. It took a few seconds before he managed to tear his gaze from it to meet Arthur's eyes. "You've had this since I left Privet Drive?" he asked.

"Well, just about. It was a short while before I was able to get it back here from the swamp where you and Hagrid crashed. And repairs took a good deal of time."

"Wow," the dark-haired man murmured, "Does it fly?"

"Oh, yes. I test-drove it myself just the other day. Don't tell Molly."

"What are you going to do with it?" Harry asked, taking in the bike with a sort of faraway expression.

"Why, I'm giving it to you."

He didn't appear to have expected this. He tore his eyes away once more and looked again at his soon-to-be father-in-law. "What?"

"I said I'm giving it to you," Arthur repeated; though he knew the other wizard had heard him perfectly well, "If you want it."

Harry seemed taken aback. "Why?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Well, I may have done a good deal of the work on the motorbike over the years and Hagrid's used it rather a lot, but it belonged to Sirius. He was your godfather. I know you don't have a whole lot left from him and I think he'd want you to have it. Don't you?"

"I—"

"Not to mention, I'm not as young as I once was and even though it would be great fun to keep it for myself, Molly would never have it."

"Does she know?"

"In a manner of speaking." Harry looked at him. Arthur continued, "I would appreciate it, though, if you don't go letting on to her that it still flies. Merlin knows I love the woman, but you know how she can be." He'd only actually told her he was repairing the motorbike's Muggle mechanisms, and that was likely the only reason she was allowing it.

Harry managed a smile. "Yeah, I understand." He eyed the motorbike again and appeared distinctly touched. Arthur could read the emotion behind his eyes. Here was a wizard, barely more than a boy, who had endured more pain and loss in his short time than anyone should ever have to. He'd been close with Sirius, even with the short span he'd had with him, and losing his godfather had changed him. Arthur was happy to give him this last reminder of the man. His surprise had worked.

Harry finally looked back at the older wizard. "Thank you, Arthur," he told him.

"You're very welcome," Arthur replied, smiling, "I'll shrink it down for you before you go, if you'd like. You can take it home tonight."

"I don't know what I'll do with it," Harry admitted, smiling a little now himself, "I've never actually driven it."

"I'll teach you," Arthur said, "It isn't hard. It's more magic than Muggle—ah, what do you call it—emginyeering at this point anyway. It handles quite well, considering."

"Well, I think I'll always prefer a broom," Harry laughed, "But it'll be a nice thing of his to have. Holds more people."

"That it does. I hoped you'd think so."

Harry smiled just as Molly's voice sounded from the kitchen, "Arthur! Harry! Dinner's ready!"

Arthur smiled and gestured for the younger man to lead the way out of the shed. He doused the light and followed. "I'll get it ready for you after we eat," he told him.

"I appreciate it."

"Harry," Arthur called, stopping him outside the shed. Harry glanced at him. "I want you to know," he began and hesitated only slightly before continuing, "that I'm glad to have you as part of my family. I'm glad Ginny has you, that we all do. I know you've lost far too many people in your life, but I am happy you found Molly that day at King's Cross. You've been a greater gift than you know."

In the brightness of the oncoming sunset, Harry blinked, looking surprised. "I…" he started, "You've all been so good to me. I really don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met all of you. Yours was the first real family I ever remembered having." He shook his head. "I don't know where I'd be otherwise."

Arthur, touched, smiled. "It sounds like we all need each other then."

"Definitely," Harry laughed.

"I'm glad to hear it, son." He clapped his shoulder and glanced toward the house. "I suppose we'd better get inside."

Harry smiled and nodded his agreement. He kept pace beside him as they made their way back past the paddock and towards the Burrow's back door. "Arthur," he said just a few yards from the door. Arthur looked at him. "Thank you," he said, eyes self-consciously on the ground ahead of them, "For everything."

Arthur smiled at these words from his seventh son. "You're very welcome, Harry."

Thanks for reading!

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