This is the last chapter, so I really hope you like it. Thanks for all of those people who have reviewed or even just read this story, it really helps.

Harry grinned, wrapping Ron's bedsheet around his shoulders. Ron was ranting in front of him, pacing around the small bedroom in what Harry guessed was complete panic.

"Dunk it in the lake, Harry!" His friend repeated, thinking that if he said the words again the problem will simply disappear into thin air. "He said he was going to sink it right to the bottom! Just because I borrowed his wand fur a few seconds!"

"Ron you know we stole the wand. You and I hid under the invisibility cloak. If that's not stealing, I don't know what is." Harry pointed out unhelpfully, tugging the sheets closer to his chest.

If had been just over a week since Harry had been allowed to leave St Mungo's, and though he felt much better that he had in days, he still had quite a chest cough and cold breezes still bothered him, making him shiver unpleasantly each time a door had been left open. He was also having to take three potions each day, once in the morning and once at night, to fully rid himself of the pneumonia that had almost killed him. Though he was recovering at What the healer said was "a great speed", Harry still was annoyed at the fact that he was unsteady in his feet and was a lot drowsier than he ever had been, tiring quickly after a walk up some steep stairs.

But what Harry found the most infuriating was the fact that Mrs Weasley would not let him take one foot outside.

All the other Weasley's were supporting her, which made matters worse, and took their roles so seriously that it was accepted to see a redhead walk across the room with a very miserable Harry sling over their shoulder, or getting dragged into the living room after receiving a full Body-Bind jinx. Mrs Weasley has the whole family on her side, and unless Harry could become a highly skilled escape artist in secret, there was no chance of him getting out.

Deep down (or maybe not so deep) he was touched by the Weasley's stubborn caring they had treated him with. It almost felt like Harry was one of them, and Harry almost hoped that the Weasley's saw him as that too.

If Ron hadn't been there to entertain him, Harry was sure he would've died of boredom. But with the chess games, competitions and duelling practice that the two had been doing, he never had a dull moment. Most evenings, they would spend the last hours joking and exchanging stories in the bedroom, laughing loudly way into the early hours of the morning.

"He doesn't need to know that!" Ron said, flopping onto the bed.

"I think he already does." Harry laughed, coughing slightly at the end. "George isn't stupid. He saw our feet as we made a run for it."

"He shouldn't have hidden my wand then." Ron pouted, sitting up. "Budge up." He said and Harry obeyed, shuffling to the end of the bed. They sat in a thoughtful silence for some while, both trying to think a way out of the situation.

"My poor broom…" Ron muttered mournfully, staring out of the window. "Lost in the lake forever…"

"It will become the stuff of legends." Harry added.

"Passed down from generation to generation…"

"…a quest to find the drowned broom, tragically sacrificed…"

"…lying at the bottom of a lakebed…"

"…only to be found by a muggle fisherman…" Harry snorted at the end of his sentence.

"And then he'll use it to sweep the flaws for the rest of its days…" Ron finished, giggling quietly. Both men imagined the mournful image, and burst out laughing. Harry laughed until his chest ached, clutching his side. Unfortunately for him, his lungs decided that laughing was too much effort, and broke into a coughing fit. Harry doubled over, now regretting letting himself be out of breath.

The coughs were nowhere near as bad as they were, but they still hurt and made his eyes water.

Eventually, he managed to stop, gasping and wrapping the sheet around himself tighter. Ron had moved next to him at some point, and now was patting his back in a very Ron-like way.

"Ouch." Harry muttered, massaging his ribs. Ron let go of his back.

"And you wonder why you can't go outside." Ron said, and Harry could practically hear the raised, critical eyebrow.

"Oh ha ha…" Harry smiled. "Y'know, you're really beginning to sound like your mum." Ron gasped in mock outrage, pushing Harry lightly on the shoulder.

"Ron!" Harry gasped dramatically, gripping his shoulder. "Now, What would your dear mother say?!"

Ron, with a sly grin, suddenly pounced on top of Harry, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Harry laughed, rolling Ron off his chest and pinning him on the carpet. He grabbed a dirty sock from under the bed and tried to shove it into his face. Ron yelled and grabbed Harry's arms, wrestling them away from his face. Harry heard the door open and automatically looked up to see Hermione standing in the doorway, looking down at them with a amused expression. Ron, seeing his chance, easily flipped Harry over and starched the sock from his hand, forcing it onto the raven-haired's face.

"No!" Harry yelled, his cry muffled by a mouthful of sock. He heard Hermione gasp disapprovingly above him.

"Ron!"

"He started it!"

Harry spat out the sock, trying to wiggle out from under Ron.

"Did not! He hit me!"

"A slight nudge is what I recall it as being."

"You guys…" Hermione sighed, but was smiling. "I honestly will never try and understand you."

Harry felt Ron's grip slacken, and pulled himself out, gasping.

"Anyway…" Hermione began to say, and held out a hand. Harry took it gratefully, grinning.

"Don't I get any help?!" Ron said, shaking his head mournfully. He looked at Hermione, eyes full of apparent betrayal. "And I thought you loved me…"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Unbelievable." She muttered, but all the same held out her hand. Ron took it, unable to hide his smile.

"As I was saying," Hermione sat on the bed followed by Ron. Harry budged over for them, grabbing his sheet again. The cold was making him shiver, and it was really annoying.

"I heard that George was going to drown your broom." She said, smiling.

"Yeah…" Ron said gloomily. "It's tragic."

"Is there any way we can save it?" Harry asked, drawing up his knees. Hermione looked at them both with the all-knowing face that Harry had seen many times over the years.

"What?" Both he and Ron asked together. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You could just summon it afterwards, you guys know that right?" She paused, looking at their shocked faces. "No, I don't think you did."

"'Mione, What would we do without you?" Ron said, relief spreading across his face.

"Be shoving more socks into faces, I expect." She replied, and Harry grinned.

"Probably." He said, leaning against the wall. His eyelids were becoming heavy, and as annoying as it was, he had suddenly become tired after the scuffle he and Ron had. It didn't help that the potions made him tired as it was.

Sighing, he wrapped the blanket around himself, breathing in the comforting scent of the Burrow, and listened as Hermione and Ron talked, letting their words wash over him.

"Why did George even steal your wand in the first place?"

"I kinda…ate his pudding, maybe?"

"Ron, you greedy oaf, you know that George –"

"I was hungry! And he wasn't coming back anytime soon so…"

"Ron!"

"Come on, you would've done that too!"

"No, no I wouldn't have."

"You're stupid, then."

Harry shut his eyes, smiling as he felt himself get pulled into sleep. Never, in any point in his life, had he felt like this – safe, calm, carefree…later, he would recall this day as the best he had in a long time.

As Ron and Hermione's voices dulled against his ears, he let himself relax, his grin turning into a soft smile.

All was well.

Ta da! Well, that's the end.

Bye.