A/N: Earlier this year, I bought a book titled "Q&A a day for writers", which basically has one prompt per day. The prompt that inspired this particular drabble was the following:

"Spring has sprung. Listen to Antonio Vivaldi's Spring from The Four Seasons and write what comes to mind as you do it."

Home

The house was magical in its entirety. It looked like it had been built on a series of whims, arranged in such a way that no Muggle architect or engineer could ever replicate.

Arriving in a flying car made the experience all the more surreal, and Harry couldn't stop his awe-filled gaze from resting upon every single piece of the structure that was his best friend's home.

Ron had complained about it during their First Year, but the black-haired boy hadn't even been inside yet and he already knew he loved it more than any other house he'd ever visited in his life.