Home Is a Dangerous Thing
Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at Peter like he had spoken in riddles.
Because home?
That wasn't a word Harry used lightly.
Home had been Hogwarts once, until it wasn't.
Home had been the Burrow, until it was gone.
Home had been the people he trusted—until they betrayed him.
So no, Harry did not associate himself with home.
Because home meant safety.
Home meant trust.
Home meant something he was sure he'd never have again.
And yet—
Peter stood there, patient, calm, watching him with knowing eyes.
"You're overthinking it," Peter murmured, voice quiet but certain.
Harry huffed. "You think?"
Peter smirked, but there was something else behind it this time—something warmer. "You can fight it all you want, sweetheart, but it doesn't change the truth."
Harry crossed his arms, defensive. "And what is the truth, exactly?"
Peter's smirk faded, and for the first time, his expression was serious. "That you're not alone anymore. That no matter how hard you push, we're not going anywhere."
Harry swallowed, throat tight. "Why?"
Peter tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle he had already solved. "Because you are home. And pack doesn't leave home behind."
Harry took a sharp breath, his heart thudding in his chest.
It was terrifying.
It was infuriating.
It was—
Something he wanted.