I need to get back to the place I belong

I'm coming home
I'm coming home
tell the world I'm coming home
Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday
I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes
I'm coming home, I'm coming home
tell the world that I'm coming

Back where I belong, yeah I never felt so strong

"The court's decision is final," the Minister of Magic declared. "I officially declare this case closed."

The cacophony of chairs scraping back as their owners stood up to depart the room echoed around, bouncing off the cool dark walls, but Harry hardly noticed them. He had many memories of this place. Back in his fifth year this was where Albus Dumbledore – Harry blinked back tears at the memory- had fought for his innocence. And then there was that time –so many years back but it still seemed like yesterday- when he had burst in here and wrestled a locket from Umbridge.

And now there was this.

Harry remained in his seat, watching the man in the middle of the room. He was still, overwhelmed, slumped forward with his hands in his pale blond hair. His dressing, as usual, was perfectly immaculate, but Harry could sense a certain tiredness emanating from him. How can a man be so broken?

When the Jury had cleared and the Minister had ordered all the reporters to leave the room, he crossed the room and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have done much, Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, in a low voice. "How are you holding up?"

Harry looked him in the eye. It was incredible how after all they had been through together, they were now talking so calmly. "I'm fine," he replied evenly. "I'm hoping to ask Ginny to marry me."

"That's great, Harry, really," Kingsley smiled. "Invite me for the celebrations! Now, I really must apologise, but Bill has Owled me about some opportunities overseas… the goblins are interested in what we have to say about magical cooperation. I'll see you around, Harry." With one last clap on the back, Kingsley left.

Harry waited till the purple edge of Kingsley's cloak had vanished round the corner to stand up and make his way to the centre of the room.

Draco hadn't moved.

"Hey," Harry said quietly.

"Hey," Draco replied. His voice was strangled, but his head was still down, and Harry couldn't be sure what the other man was thinking. "I heard your news." A pause. "Congratulations."

"When am I to wish you joy as well?" Harry asked, a slight grin crossing his face.

Draco lifted his head a fraction. "What do you mean?"

Harry examined his fingernails. "Just that, you know, you two've been together for ages already… and she talks about you all the time… and when you come for our family dinners it's almost as if the rest of us aren't there because the two of you look at each other all the time. It's not very nice, you know," Harry continued lightly, "to ignore your hosts."

"You're a right idiot, you know that," Draco said, still not looking at him.

"But I know destiny when I see it," Harry countered. "I wasn't called the Chosen One for nothing. You and her…" he sighed. It had taken him some time to get adjusted to their relationship, but there was no denying it. "You were meant to be together."

"You think?" Draco stood up and cracked his knuckles, looking up and around the room which had imprisoned him for too long. He turned and rapped Harry on the shoulder, just like Kingsley had a few moments ago. "Nice try, Potter." He straightened the lapels of his jacket and was gone in a crack.


Hermione screamed.

She quietened immediately when she felt familiar lips upon her neck. "Relax." The drawl that she now couldn't go a day without made her skin tingle. "Almost five years together and you still jump when I come home."

"If you wouldn't do it right in the kitchen!" she said, but it was all she could do to keep her voice from cracking. She hastened to gather up the plates which she had been washing before Draco made her drop them, to cover the blush which was now rapidly spreading past her face.

"I can do it any place I want to, love," Draco replied lazily, leaning against the counter and gathering the plates together with a smooth flick of his wand. "Let me remind you, this is my house, after all."

"Our house," Hermione replied smartly. She levitated the plates and guided them over to the rack, where they arranged themselves neatly by colour and size. And material. A porcelain plate immediately zoomed over and switched plates with a clear celadon one. "Half of the money came from my savings, if you recall."

"Does it matter?" he said. She could feel the smirk on his face even if she wasn't looking at him. Draco Malfoy hadn't changed, even after all these years. "Don't you want to ask me how it went?"

"Fine. How did it go?" she said slowly, turning around and placing her hands on her hips.

He was in front of her in one step, so close they were almost nose to nose. Almost without moving he unfurled her fists and laid her hands by her side; almost without moving his hands encircled her waist and his face, if possible, moved even closer to hers. "It went exceptionally well," he whispered. "Cleared of all charges."

Hermione let out a little shriek, but it was quickly muffled. Draco groaned against her lips. "Shush, will you?"

She giggled. "I'm so proud of you."

"You sound like my mother." Draco rolled his eyes, and she laughed even harder. He tightened his grip on her waist and kissed her again. "Tell me you love me?"

"Now who's sounding like a little boy?" She obliged anyway. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He sensed it. He had, at last, come home- to this bushy-haired, utterly exasperating, bossy know-it-all of a woman, to whom he had given his heart and with whom he belonged totally.