Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognise.
He had many homes.
Hogwarts was, and always would be a home. It was the place that had changed his life, given him wonderful friends, and had been the scene of what had been the most terrible and wonderful day of his life, it was where he'd finally ended everything that had haunted his life since he was a baby, but it was still home. The familiar passages, the Gryffindor common room, the great hall with it's enchanted ceiling. It would always be a home.
The Burrow, of course, had become a true home to him throughout his years at Hogwarts. If he wasn't there, he'd be at The Burrow, and it had everything a proper home should have. A warm, loving family, familiarity, safety. Somewhere you enjoyed being.
After the war, Grimmauld Place became his home too. A place to raise his family, a secure base for his life, a place for him to work, and play with his kids, and meet up with his friends. A place to go at the end of the day and relax. A place to enjoy being in.
But Harry knew, that although he had lots of homes, none of them were really home. Home was a place where the heart was, and Harry knew that whenever he was out having a laugh with Ron, or discussing work with Hermione, or staring into Ginny's eyes, that that was when he was really home.
Home where his heart was.
A/N: Written for msllamalover from the drabble request thread on the HPFC forum. Prompt was 'Home is where the heart is', and the character was, of course, Harry. Rather soppy but I had an inspiration to write it!
Elle xx