Reposted
I wish these characters were mine but they belong to JK Rowling.

Hermione's POV. Ron has been away for what feels like the longest time on a mission with the Aurors department and Hermione keeps the family home running until he is home again.

I walk through the house, making sure everything is in its place before heading up to bed. Cups are levitated to the sink. Children's toys are put away. Cushions are straightened on the settees. Locks are secured. I check them again to just make sure. I look around the ground floor. All is quiet and tidy and in its place. I wander upstairs and peek in on the children. My little boy's room is chaotic, as always, even when I have encouraged him to tidy up there are pieces of Lego scattered on the floor. There are half built models everywhere. Arthur loves coming to help his grandson to build his latest purchase. Part of me wonders if Arthur enjoys playing with Hugo because Lego is a muggle toy and not just because he gets quality time with his grandson. I step gingerly through the bricks-I have learnt that they can be very painful to stand on and even worse to kneel on! Hugo is fast asleep lying on his side. His breathing is slow and deep.

I then move onto Roses room. Books are stacked in neat piles all over any spare space my daughter can find. She is beginning to read through my old books from Hogwarts. It won't be long before Rose will be receiving her letter and taking that train journey. A part of me is jealous of her as she will get to go to one of my favourite places. But then I remind myself I am stood in one of my favourite places right now. I know she will do well. Everyone says I am clever, but she outstrips me by miles. She lays on her back, fast asleep, with a book still in her hand. I know what her father would say if he could see her right now. "Just like you."

I make my way to our room. I lift off the piles of scatter cushions I love having on our bed. It's a bone of contention between Ron and I. They are purely decorative and comments are passed on why "the bloody Hell do we need so many when we are the only ones to see this room!" I love our room; it's very simple with just a few feminine touches. I know he really couldn't handle lots of flowers and to be honest he has a point. The bedroom is our room, not just mine. It should have things about both of us in it. I have my mountains of cushions and fancy candles and he has his area dedicated to the Chudley Cannons-the orange clashing badly with the crisp white and blue of the room. I throw my clothes out to the laundry basket, pop on my pyjamas and then slip into bed. I lay on my side. I know Ginny stretches out when Harry's not there. But I can't bring myself to do it. I never have been able to. When I wake each morning all I do is straighten out the covers on my side and pop the mountain of cushions back into their allocated places. The room doesn't need much more than that. I love this room but right now it feels empty.

I read my book for a while, but I begin to feel myself drifting off to sleep. But before I do, I reach across to the calendar on my bedside table and cross another day off. One more day done, one day closer until he is home. Every night has been the same for nearly five months.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

I busy myself around the house and around the garden, it's important to keep busy. If you don't keep busy then your eye keeps finding the clock, which stubbornly remains still. I swear someone has placed a hex on the clock! Evil clock! I pick it up and make sure that it is still ticking. It is. Oh God! I am going ever so slightly stir crazy! Calm down Hermione, calm down!

Hugo is playing in his room and Rose busies herself with her books and helping me where she can. We have polished and cleaned the house and then tidied the garden. Everything is straight. Not, I am sure, that he will notice or care. Well, straighter than it normally is! But his priorities are more important than a tidy house and tidy garden. My stomach is beginning to do summersaults. It is hard to explain the emotions I am feeling. We have been apart for so long. What if he doesn't feel about me the same way he used to? What if some young Auror has caught his eye? I know I am being silly, but I can't help myself. He's been gone nearly 5 months. I go to the kitchen and begin to prepare our evening meal.

As I walk from the kitchen back into the living room I catch a glimpse of that oh so familiar figure making his way down the path towards the house. My heart is beating fast but I try to get control of myself. I call up the stairs as naturally as I can. "Kids! Dads home!" The children fall over each other coming down the stairs. Hugo comes to a grinding halt in front of the living room window, watching our favourite man making his way down the path and putting his hand on the door. Hugo dives for the handle on our side and yanks the door open, flinging his arms round his Dad.

"Hey mate! Give us a sec! I'm going to fall over!" He stands there with his huge bags on his shoulders. He drops his bags and wraps his arms around his son. Rose is there next holding onto him and I see a tear fall from her eye. "It's OK, I'm here" he says and holds her tight. She eventually breaks free, gives him another quick hug, before allowing me to step forward. We have the briefest of hugs and kisses as we always do and he whispers "Hi" into my ear, sending shivers down my back. I inhale his smell. His particular smell that makes my stomach flip.

"Hi" I say and step away. He leans forward and gives me another kiss with that beautiful smile on his face. His eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes are looking straight at me. My heart swells.

"Cup of tea?" I ask, almost nervously.

"That'd be great" he says and follows me into the kitchen. There he spins me round and pulls me to him, kissing me for the longest time. I feel his heart and my heart beating hard against each other's chests. All doubts have been pushed from my mind. I open my eyes and look into his again. "But I would rather have this first"

"What?" I ask.

"Just this, holding you, kissing you."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that night we are lying in bed. The house I have kept so tidy for so long is in heavenly chaos. His favourite mug sits on his favourite mat by his favourite seat in the living room. Our beautifully tidy bedroom is now mayhem. The scatter cushions have been thrown in every direction. His bags are in a pile in the corner of the room, clothes are strewn into different corners ready to be sorted and to be put out for washing. The bed covers are thrown to one side. I am now lying across the bed onto his side, my head resting on his bare chest listening to his heartbeat.

He's home.