Warning: This story contains content that is not appropriate for children under fourteen years of age. It contains implied sex and situations of a sexual nature. Read at your own discretion.

Best and Last Home

It's cold and uncomfortable here. It's a blustery day in the first week of March, and the wind is pushing in on my bedroom window, the soft clicks of the wooden frame becoming unsettled somehow unsettles me too. The house is clean, cold, and empty. Dust lines every surface, but everything has been put away nicely. Though it has not been lived in in over a year, I come back here sometimes just to get away from everyone. It's nice to be by yourself sometimes.

My parents did not sell the house when they fled to Australia. I made sure they didn't; the Death Eaters would surely come and check out the place, and any person –especially a young, muggle family- would surely be murdered without a second thought. I had taken all the money they had saved for me to go to university out of the bank and given it to them. It would get them out of there, and I would never need it anyways.

After the final battle, it took me a long time to work up the courage to come back here. My boys had offered many times to accompany me, but it was something I had to do on my own. It was heartbreaking to come back here; everything was a mess and it took me ages to restore everything back to the way it was before I left. But I did it, and I didn't leave until I was finished. I kind of felt bad for the place; it was home to me first. It was my home before the castle was. It was my home before their arms were.

I love my boys. I love them equally, but in totally different ways. I love how Harry always worries about the both of us, I love how he's goofy and silly and sarcastic. I love how his arms are strong from Quidditch, and how his lips just touch the tip of my nose when he holds me. His skin, too. He's much softer than Ron, and he's much gentler. But I love Ron too, just as much. He's so brilliantly daft sometimes, and I love his family values and how his heart is big as anything. He's a bit rougher with me, but he's tall and lanky, and the warm weight of his chin resting on the top of my head makes me feel so safe. I couldn't choose between them, they're both just too perfect.

Sitting on the twin bed in my room, I looked at all my childhood things. From the books stacked on the shelf in my desk to the clothes in my closet. The window is making the clicking sound again and I think about the younger me, the one that lived in this bedroom. I'd never liked Disney Princesses, and I'd never aspired to be one like most little girls, but I'd always figured I'd get my prince eventually. I'd never imagined I'd get two who loved me so much; who loved each other so much.

I stayed in my old house all afternoon. I had the day off work because it was a Saturday, but my boys were Aurors, and they were both on call today. I read some books that I had forgotten I'd owned, and looked through old photo albums. I looked at my parents' wedding pictures and my baby book. They didn't love me anymore, they didn't even know I existed; but I felt sure that they still loved each other. That was all that mattered to me. As long as they had each other, they'd be happy.

My boys had been forbidden to come here. It was my space, and now that we lived in Grimmauld Place, I didn't have much of that anymore. They were respectful of this, and they never pried. But still, it was cold here and I missed them. It was about 6:30 when I stepped into the fireplace –the same one that used to yield Santa Clause when I was younger- and let the green flames engulf me.

I landed in Regulus' old room, the room we now shared. I heard the shower going in the attached bathroom, and soft grunts that sounded like Ron's. I rolled my eyes and flopped down on the bed. Already dressed in sweatpants and one of Harry's old hoodies, I had been tired from the minute I woke up this morning. I closed my eyes and fell into a half-sleep. After what could have either been 5 minutes or an hour, I heard the bathroom door open and two sets of footsteps make their way to the closet. I heard the sound of towels dropping and pajama bottoms being pulled on. I heard them make their way over to the bed.

They knew I wasn't fully asleep. We had slept together too many times for them not to. I felt the bed sink lower on either side of me, then a soft set of lips–obviously Harry's- on mine; kissing me softly, gently. He got slightly rougher as I woke up a bit, but not much. He was always so careful with me, as if he thought he might break me. I felt him bring his hand up to my face and softly stroke my cheek with his thumb. He slowly pulled away, and I opened my eyes. His thumb was still stroking my face and his lips were curled into a smile. Vibrant green eyes stared into my boring brown ones. He put his forehead to mine, noses touching, his thumb never stopped on my cheek.

"I think Ron would like to say hello too, love." He whispered, after God knows how long. He lowered himself down and kissed my lips once more, before slowly moving his face and hand away. I closed my eyes and whimpered at the loss of contact.

I felt a hand coming from behind me, resting on my hip. It pushed me so I was lying on my back, and I felt Ron's warm weight on top of me. His lips were kissing mine roughly, and I responded just as hard. He was all wet from the shower, and he wasn't wearing a shirt, so he was flush against me. I kind of wished I were flush against him too; I was aching for skin on skin. But I felt him grinding up against me and I put my hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him off. He understood, and pecked me softly before rolling off. He knew how emotionally tired visiting my old home made me.

I asked them how their day was, and they told me it was really slow. They were still trying to round up the last of the Death Eaters, who happened to be really good at hiding themselves. They already knew what I usually did at my parents' house, so they just asked if I enjoyed myself. I said yes.

Harry called Kreacher up and he brought along with him three bowls of hot beef and potato stew. We ate in bed while watching old movies on the television that I had set up when we moved in here. I slept on Harry's shoulder that night, with Ron's arm wrapped securely around me from behind.

And although my oldest memories came from my first home, my best memories come from this one, from between them, wrapped in their arms.

Hello again! I know this story is way different than what I usually write, (Harry/Hermione friendship) but I've been reading a lot of trio fics and I wanted to try writing one. I hope it turned out alright, it was my first attempt. . . Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!