Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

chapter twenty-eight: hidden treasures

He pulled a shirt out of the bag and ran his fingers over the well worn fabric, humming to himself with the music on the radio in the background – a grin breaking out when Robyn joined in when it hit the chorus, only singing half the words and making up the rest (but doing so with great confidence).

Just as Robyn was basically adopted into the Evans' family (and just the sound of that name made him smile, he loved that he could claim it now – that it was his. His and Tune's), Harry was pretty much doubled as a Baker to the rest of her family.

(It was inconsequential to anyone that mattered that they looked nothing alike, didn't even have the same skin color. Really, he didn't physically look much like Tune either - their hair and eyes were completely different - but they were definitely family.)

This included the age old practice of hand-me-downs. It was oddly fun, her cousins would out-grow clothes and aunts or uncles would come by with bags of things for them to pick through. Robyn and him would sit on the floor and shift through all the different colors and patterns of fabric, throwing boy or girl things at the right person, finding hidden treasures and showing off things to the other person (little holes could be patched, arm lengths and hems adjusted) - and laughing together at some of the sillier looking items.

It worked in a cycle because Harry had helped Tune bag up his old toys and the clothes he had out grown – and he knew they went to Nelly (or Neil but that was a rather serious name for a baby so the nickname was sticking much to the parents' consternation). It felt good to know he was a part of this, that his old trucks and things kept getting more use, that they would make the little boy, who giggled and tried to catch his fingers when he made shadow puppets, happy.

He liked that. Liked the familiar feel of Tune's plain cotton summer dress (adjusted by Nana as well because: "It hangs on you dear, there's no need for that. Now, come here and stand still") when his arms wrapped around her middle – hugging her tight, as he always did, as soon as she walked in the door, home from work.

It all (the people, the music, the hand-me-downs, the place, the food, the smells) just felt like family to him.