It may be mild slash, it may be not — even I am not sure XD Most definitely strong bromance. Possibly OOC? I don't know, I just wanted to give the two of them light and fluff. I hope you enjoy it :)

Written for QLFC, Daily Prophet competition: Wise Words - Keeper prompt: "Home is where the heart is."
word count: 1120

After all those times Ron had shared his house and family with Harry, Harry still couldn't get enough of being told, "Make yourself at home, mate." The sentence was always dropped casually by Ron, but it never became foreign or devoid of its substance of affection and warmth to Harry, who had never really known the meaning of the word home before meeting Ron — not that anyone could blame him. He had only grasped the concept for the first time when he had received Mrs Weasley's hand-made jumper, but it was Ron who kept making it real and new and whole ever since the first time they had laughed together about some stupid joke, and it never failed to fill Harry with the same feelings of awe he had first experienced when he was told, "You're a wizard, Harry."

So here he was again, knocking at the door of Ron's little apartment just because he could — the world was at peace and they were free from Auror duties today.

Ron opened the door, his confused expression immediately morphing into a happy one.

Harry grinned. "Hi, Ron."

"Harry, what a surprise! What are you doing here?" Even as he asked it, Ron was already stepping away from the threshold. "I wasn't expecting you? Did I forget something?"

"Oh, I was just passing by, but maybe you're busy —" Harry stopped, suddenly a bit unsure.

"No, no, of course not. Come in, come in." Ron took Harry's arm and dragged him inside. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm never too busy for my best mate? Make yourself at home as I prepare you a drink." He led Harry to the couch and retreated to the kitchen, humming.

Nodding even though he knew Ron couldn't see him, Harry grabbed the chessboard and sat down at the nearby table before pulling the pieces out of their velvet bag and starting arranging them on the black and white board. Playing chess always made it easier for Harry to focus his thoughts.

The soft clink of two glasses being put down on the table made Harry realize that Ron was back, a smile on his face as he took a seat in front of Harry.

By the time they were ten minutes into the game, it was obvious that Ron's mind was not on it, or else Harry wouldn't be so close to checkmate him already. So as Harry's rock took his friend's remaining bishop, he said, perhaps a bit too loudly, "Okay, something's wrong."

Ron's head snapped up.

"What is it? You'd better tell me. Or do I just have to assume that I'm particularly good at chess today?" Harry asked.

His lips twitching upwards, Ron stared down at the chessboard for a long minute and brought a hand to the back of his neck, sighing.

"Sorry." Ron's smile was sheepish as he raised his eyes to meet Harry's, his next words coming out slowly. "I've been thinking — you spend so much of your free time here."

When Ron didn't go on, Harry hazarded a soft "Yeah?" even though he wasn't sure he'd like where this conversation was going.

"It's just — you always wait for me to say to make yourself at home before actually doing so. We've been friends for years." He reached for his glass and focused on it, swirling the liquid in it as he continued, "Don't you know you're always welcome here?"

"Of course, Ron, but it's —" Harry made a vague gesture with his hand. "It's your apartment."

"Yes, but — ehm — I've always hoped that you — one day —" Ron's ears were slightly pink. "Maybe this could be — if you'd like — I wouldn't mind being taken literally about this being your home, too."

Harry's breath caught. "Home?" He looked around. "Here? That's — uh?"

Before Harry could fit his thoughts together into a coherent sentence, Ron gulped and spoke again. This time, his words came out in a rush. "It's not much and probably not a place where you would live permanently, but I just thought, for simplicity's sake —"

Still stunned, Harry repeated, "Home. Here." He took a deep breath. "You — you actually want that? Me? Here? All the time?"

"Only if you want that. Stay here, that is. With me." A nervous smile on his lips, Ron added, "All the time."

An excitement that was dangerously close to fear warred with the warm adoration that always accompanied his thoughts of Ron, and Harry found himself speechless for a while before realizing Ron was still waiting for his answer, so he said, "You're my first friend, Ron, you're my best mate. You're, you're —" He racked his brain in search of the right word. "You are family — that is to say…" He broke off, at a loss.

But Ron, as always, had already understood what he meant, and he was beaming.

…

In the next few days, they gathered up all of Harry's stuff — including a few plants and decor items, his favorite chair, and, of course, his broomstick — and brought all of them to Ron's apartment, where they tried to fit it all in. There were a few minor disagreements over the position of the bookshelves, most of which needed to be moved from the living room to the hallway or the bedroom, and they pleasantly bantered while trying to figure out where to display family photos. All in all, the week passed in a haze, and by the end of it, Ron's apartment — "Our apartment, Harry!" Ron's fond, exasperated voice corrected him again — was crammed with the belongings of the two of them.

"Well," Ron said as he finished putting Harry's clothes into the wardrobe. "If we ignore those three boxes still to unpack, I suppose now it's the right time to say Welcome home, Harry."

Harry laughed a little. "We really did it."

A few seconds later, the realization hit him with sudden and unexpected clarity that keeping his things here was more a formality than anything. He didn't need them to feel at home, he hadn't relied on things to feel at home for so long; for the first eleven years of his life he had had nothing, and during the war, he had had to give up everything and live on the run with Ron and Hermione as his only companions. Still, until a week ago, he wouldn't have traded the tent he had shared with his best friends for a castle equipped with all the comforts.

Wonder coloring his tone, Harry said, "Home's not a place for me. It's always been you."