Eleven year old Harry awoke with a jolt. The dark shadows of the room always seemed to close in on him when he was most scared. Sweat soaked his skin and his clothes clung to the moisture. He frowned at the clammy feeling of his skin but that was nothing compared to the contents of the dream that had just awoken him.

Ron was sleeping on the other side of the room, dead to the world. In fact, Ron was snoring so loud it was a wonder he hadn't sucked the curtains off of the window already. He actually found himself envying Ron a bit. There he was, having a dreamless sleep, while Harry struggled to close his eyes. Because every time he did, chopped images of October 31st at Godric's Hallow assaulted him full force. Every time.

"This is ridiculous," Harry said pushing Ron's window open, allowing the cool autumn breeze to flow again his damp skin. The sensation of the sweat drying on his skin made the clammy feeling go away but did little to calm his nerves.

He closed his eyes once more and was instantly thrown into another dream. This time instead of him being at Godric's Hallow, he was at the Burrow. He heard footsteps outside of Ron's door. As they grew closer, he grew more frightful.

"Harry," a voice called. He squirmed in the person's grasp. He was almost certain, whoever it was, they were trying to kill him. But what was new about that? "Harry!" they began to shake him. "For heaven's sake, wake up sweetheart!"

Sweetheart? What psycho killer would call him sweetheart? No one had ever called him sweetheart execept...

Harry grabbed his wand off of the nightstand when he saw a figure standing over him. He pointed it aimlessly at her, his hand wavering. "Mrs. Weasley," he mumbled sleepily. "What are you doing in here?"

Molly slowly pushed the wand away from her face and set it back down on the nightstand. "I was going to check on Ginny and Hermione, then I heard a scream. What's going on dear?"

Harry lowered his head in shame. "It's nothing. It was just a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Molly offered sitting down on the edge of the bed. She noted the doubtful look on his face. "You won't think I'm weird?" Harry asked shyly.

Molly only chuckled. "Of course I won't. Merlin knows how many times Ron's dreamt about a spider proposing to him. Always gives the boy a right scare. I'm sure it's not that bad." Harry felt slightly better that Ron had bad dreams too. But the feeling was short lived.

He scooted closer to Molly on the bed and buried his face in her shoulder. She could feel his tears soaking through her night robe. If ever the was a time to be worried, it was now. Harry usually wasn't too keen on showing emotions and when he did, it was in the privacy of a bathroom or some other hiding place.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked rubbing his hand soothingly. "What did you dream about?"

"Idreamtaboutmyparents."

It all sounded like one word to Molly. She didn't hear a thing he'd just said and would hate to ask him to repeat himself. But she needed to know if she was going to help him. "Could you say that again?"

He sniffled and regained composure long enough to repeat himself. "I said I dreamt about my parents." And with that he began to sob quietly onto Mrs. Weasley's shoulder again.

A mother of seven, it didn't take long for her to react. She slowly wrapped her arms around his tiny frame just in case he wanted to back away. When he didn't protest, she took him into a full motherly embrace.

"That's not weird, Harry, that's normal." Molly said as she rested her head on top of his messy black hair. He trembled in her embrace and it pained Molly to see him like this. No one his age should have to shoulder a burden this large by himself; God only knows how he's kept it together for so long without a mother.

"I can't do what my mum told me to do."

Molly's eyebrows raised questioningly. "What did she tell you to do?" she asked softly.

"She...she told me to...she told me to be safe...and to be strong..." Harry sobbed even louder. Another heart-wrenching sob escaped his lips. This time it broke Molly's heart causing tears of her own to fall down her cheeks. "My dad...he wouldn't want me to cr-cry..."

She tilted his chin upward so he had no choice but to look at her. "You are strong, Harry. You've been strong all this time. And I'll tell you like I tell Ron," she said pausing to kiss the top of his head. "There's no shame in crying. Your parents are proud."

Harry, not quite ready to move, further hid his face in Molly's shoulder. She didn't remember the last time one of her children except for Ginny and Ron, who seemed to dream about spiders regularly, sought comfort from her like this. It was certainly a change of pace. After a few minutes, Molly leaned against the headboard with Harry curled into her side. His breathing finally evened out and the tears had stopped.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry mumbled into her robe.

"Hmm?" she answered sleepily.

Harry took a deep breath before beginning. "Can you yell at me like you yell at Fred and George?"

She looked at him curiously. "Pardon?"

"I want you to yell at me you like you yell at Fred and George," Harry explained. "I want to be one of your kids."

Molly felt a sob get stuck in her throat. She already considered Harry to be one of her children but to hear him, a boy of not too many words, voice that desire was extraordinary. "You know Harry, I think you'll find that I'm a great mum," she said proudly. "I've got seven references. They'll vouch for me."

And he didn't doubt that they all would. After all, everyone needs a Molly Weasley. Right?