The sounds and smells of Christmas invaded Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Celestina Warbeck warbled through the Wizarding Wireless, Molly Weasley could be heard banging about in the kitchen, and the scent of bayberry and pine filled the Library, where he knew he'd find her.

Harry Potter smiled as he spotted his best friend perched on the overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace.

He just watched her for a moment as he thought about this last year, he'd spent it traveling, just being "Harry." Not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Savior of the Wizarding World, just plain Harry. He admitted to himself, maybe he should have cleaned up a bit before he came home. His hair was a little shaggy, his clothes were rumpled, and he had 2-day old stubble.

He could see where she'd lined up the collection of snowglobes he'd sent her from his travels, one for each major city-and there had been many of them-that he'd visited. Beside her was a steaming cup of hot chocolate, a cinnamon stick poking from the edge. She was curled around a massive volume, her personal copy of Hogwarts: A History, her favorite.

He felt a sudden thrill go through him at the sight of her, and fought hard to tamp it down. He'd fought long and hard with himself about Hermione Granger. He couldn't love her, could he? Not beyond the brother/sister type bond that they'd forged so long ago. But he knew in his heart that the love he felt for her went far beyond that of a brother. He'd known it for ages. And it had only gotten worse when she and Ron had begun dating after the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd felt he'd lost his chance to be with her, to declare himself to her. That, as well as needing to just be, was the reason he'd been gone a year.

Until her letter, over three months ago. She and Ron had broken up, amicably. They'd found that while they were great friends, they weren't great boyfriend/girlfriend material. It had taken him a while to make himself believe that it was possible. That he could have a chance. The better part of the last three months had been Harry talking himself into returning and taking that chance that he'd been presented with. He looked down at the girl he loved and smiled, leaning against the door frame.

"I should have known I'd find you here," he said softly.

Hermione's head bounded up and a smile lit her face. "Harry! You're home!" She cried, tossing the book aside and launching herself into his arms. He smiled and closed his eyes as he hugged her, his face buried into the strawberry-scented honey-colored curls. He realized then that this was what felt like home. Not coming back to England, or the wizarding world. Not arriving on the doorstep of Number 12. Holding Hermione was home.

He sighed happily against her hair and she giggled at the feel of his warm breath as it rushed past her ear. "I'm so glad you're home!" she whispered to him, her joy evident in every word.

"How are you, 'Mione?" he asked.

"Much better now that you're here. Molly's been wonderful, she really has, but if she 'reminds' me one more time that she has other single sons besides Ronald, I'm going to hex her!" Hermione grumbled, making Harry laugh.

He laughed, but inside, he felt a hint of jealousy and fear. Would Hermione actually choose a different Weasley? Heaven knew that Hermione was always discussing books and politics with Percy, and that Charlie Weasley seemed to draw the eyes of most of the young women in a room with his stocky, muscular build, burn scars and his tales of being a dragon tamer.

"But honestly," Hermione continued, "I was so hoping you'd be home for Christmas. I've wished and prayed for it." As if they suddenly both realized it, they looked down and saw that they were still embracing. They nervously shifted a step back from one another, even though Harry instantly missed the warmth of having her in his arms. Together, they moved to the couch, each settling on one end, Hermione's feet in Harry's lap, as they'd often sat on one of the couches at Hogwarts. Without thinking about it, Harry began to massage Hermione's feet as he spoke, telling her stories about his travels, more in-depth than the letters he'd sent her.

"Truthfully," he finally said, "I knew it was time to come home. I missed England. I missed the Wizarding World and most of all, I missed..." he cut himself off before he could continue, his cheeks reddening.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "You missed what most, Harry?" she asked.

He hung his head, his hair flopping into his eyes. "You." he mumbled.

"What was that? Harry, you know I can't understand you when you mumble!" she said.

"You! Ok? I missed you most of all. I...I love you, Hermione!" he blurted out.

All was quiet for a few moments. Harry finally worked up the courage to look up and was shocked to see tears in Hermione's eyes. He immediately felt heart-sick. He should have known that she couldn't feel the same way for him that he felt for her. He shouldn't have said anything.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I know-" He was cut off suddenly by Hermione throwing herself into his lap and silencing him with a finger to his lips.

"You love me, Harry?" she asked.

He nodded, his hair flopping over his eyes again. Her eyes brightened in her face and she grinned before planting her lips against his. Her lips tasted of cinnamon and hot chocolate. She pulled back from his shocked face. "I love you too, Harry. I think I have for a long time and just didn't realize it until you were gone. My heart ached for you every day. Ron and I tried to make it work, but when I woke up in the morning and when I went to bed at night, it wasn't his face I thought of, it was yours."

"I felt the same way, Hermione. I just didn't know how to tell you how I felt," he admitted.

"We both made the mistake, Harry. I think it's time we rectified it," Hermione said, with a smile.

"Will you be mine, Hermione Granger?" he asked softly.

"Only if you'll be mine, Harry," she answered.

"Yes!" they both said in unison, then giggled.

Molly's sudden shout of "Dinner's ready!" caused them to jump. They clambered to their feet, and unconsciously took each other's hand as they walked downstairs to the Christmas feast Molly'd prepared. Harry glanced down at their entwined fingers.

Yes, he thought, Home was where his Hermione was.