"Yes," Tom agreed, hardly even sounding begrudging. His eyes met Harry’s, crinkling in the corners, handsome face glowing with warmth. The sight made Harry’s chest feel tight and warm and overfull, as it always would. The soft buzz of Beatrice and Henry’s conversation floated in the air, subsumed by the gentle strain of Christmas carols. The room smelled like mulled wine and crackling fire, the scents as warm and welcoming as the sight of the fairy lights and twinkling Yule tree decorating the lounge. Tomorrow they’d attend the Ministry Yule ball, and a few days later Henry and Beatrice’s children and their families would all come together at the manor to celebrate the holiday. They were home. "Yes, Harry. I’m happy."