A lot could change in five years.

Harry stood stock still on the pavement, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, and noted the small changes that had occurred since the first time he had been here; the stone bird bath the cottage next door had added to their front garden, the rough stubble around his jaw that made him look rugged according to Ginny and homeless according to Ron. There were bigger changes of course. He was no longer on the run from the law but a representative of it. He thoughts and feelings were always his own and the scar on his forehead was just that – a scar.

He heard footsteps approaching but he didn't have to look to see who it was; he knew it would be her. They had done this every year since the war had ended, always meeting here. It was like a Christmas Eve tradition for them. Harry had no idea how they always seemed to arrive within about ten minutes of each other as their meetings were never discussed.

As Hermione stopped next to him, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was wearing a deep purple coat that she would never have had the confidence to wear in her teenage years as she had always preferred more neutral colours. Harry supposed her more self-assured nature could have been spurred on by anything from her sky rocketing career to Ron or possibly because she had simply grown up. Tearing his eyes away from the cottage in front of him to give Hermione a smile of greeting, he noticed that she was wearing a hat knitted by her own wand that was unrecognisable compared to the lumps of wool she used to produce at school.

At the same time, they both took a step forward and gripped the iron fence in front of them. Harry's eyes rested for a moment on his companion's right hand and, in particular, on the rings on her fourth finger before looking straight forward once more.

Yes, a lot could change in five years but the house never did.

Even now, the top-right hand side was destroyed, bits of the thatched roof hanging off the edge. The ivy in the garden covered the front of the cottage like a blanket and Harry doubted that you would be able to mow the grass without magic. Harry remembered standing here five years ago, unsure of what he would see and wasn't surprised that every year he had expected something to be different but nothing ever was.

Harry dropped his gaze from the remains of his first ever bedroom to the sign that was currently shooting up from the ground. The original messages of hope and condolence were long ago hidden by the etchings of support but even those were being covered by yet more messages of congratulations and gratitude. His heart warmed by the sentiments of strangers, Harry turned to see a small smile on Hermione's face as she too read the graffiti that so long ago she had disapproved of.

The first Christmas Eve after the war, Harry had turned up here alone, not expecting anyone to join him. When Hermione had found him he thought he should've been angry; after all, he had wanted to be alone. Instead he felt the whole occasion made more sense with her there, like she was just another part of Godric's Hollow to him. Without a word, she had stood next to him, waiting for him to say the first words. None had come but they were far past the point of needing them.

Ginny had told him later that everyone at the Burrow had been far from calm when they had realised he wasn't there. Before the place descended into complete panic, Hermione had arrived from her parents' to drop off various presents and instantly knew where he was. According to Ginny she had assured everyone that he was safe and that she would go and bring him back. Despite her word being good enough for everyone else, Ginny and Ron had demanded to know where Hermione thought he was. Ginny told him of the argument she had had about where Hermione was going and why she couldn't go with her. Ron apparently accepted Hermione's reassurances but Ginny refused point blank to be left behind.

With a sad smile playing on her lips, Ginny explained how, just before apparating, Hermione had said that one day he, Harry, would take her there, but right now he didn't want her there but she shouldn't think this is any kind of rejection.

Looking at the Potter house but no longer seeing it, Harry jerked his head in the direction of village square and the two of them started slowly walking away from the place that had altered the course of Harry's life forever. After a few steps, Hermione snaked her arm around Harry's, linking them. They never did this any time other than this annual trip and Harry had often wondered why Hermione always initiated it but it was never discussed.

As they walked, Harry kept glancing at Hermione's blank expression. Normally her face was alive with emotion, the perfect indication of what was going on in her brilliant mind, but today, like every other Christmas Eve, it gave nothing of what she was feeling away. Harry used to think that this was because she didn't want to appear upset as she wanted to stay strong for him but now he thought that this place held nearly as much significance for her as it did for him.

They had originally come here when she was a middle-aged Muggle and his only hope and returned the following year when she was once again a school girl and an unexpected visitor. This year she was a rising star at the ministry, his best friend and future sister-in-law. He almost chuckled aloud at the thought that the two of them had entered the wizarding world alone, their parents either long dead or as baffled as they were, rendering them both orphans in this new world, would no longer be alone. Next spring they would have both been adopted by the family that had taken them under their wing as though they were their own.

They reached the kissing gate by the church just as the winter sun found a crack in the grey clouds that seemed to have encased the Earth these past few weeks. Being engaged to Ginny was like some kind of bonus prize in a game show Harry couldn't seem to lose. Since he was fourteen he had accepted that he may never be able to have a normal life, a fact that had been confirmed a year later with his discovery of the prophecy. When the prophecy had been fulfilled, the golden doors that hid the path to the future Harry had never let himself imagine, had been blown open.

In a life where each breath seemed like the greatest gift he'd ever been given, the chance to spend the rest of his life with the girl who made the world whole was a joy best described by the spark in his eyes or the way his heart beat with more purpose than before.

Avoiding the large puddle that covered the ground just by the entrance to the graveyard, Harry felt the atmosphere change. No longer were he and Hermione sharing a companionable silence, but had entered a state of alert, as though they were bracing themselves for something they knew could hurt them. The apprehension was almost visibly clinging to their coats, dragging them away from the inevitable destination and the bombardment of emotion that always occurred there.

To prevent the moment, the two of them, as always, made a slight detour on their way so that they could pass the graves of Ignotus Peverell and the Dumbledore matriarch and her only daughter. They paused for a moment in front of the latter two graves, in honour of the man who could no longer visit them, before continuing onto their own goal. This again was something that had happened the first year they had returned and every year since without either of them suggesting it.

As they passed a Yew tree, Harry was reminded of the only time he had ever come here without Hermione. A couple of weeks before his birthday this year, on Lupin and Tonks' wedding anniversary, he had gone with Andromeda and Teddy to visit the four year old's parents. After Andromeda had placed a bouquet of lilies that she had transfigured to be bubblegum pink on the graves and Teddy had clumsily dropped a drawing he had scribbled of his parents next to it, he had asked the two adults why only his parents were in the ground. Andromeda, who already had a veil of tears over her eyes, turned away and Harry knew that they had started to fall.

The question was asked with the innocence only a child his age could muster and Harry knew it must hurt her to know that the answer would forever take away some of that innocence.

Trying to distract his Godson from his grandmother's grief, Harry had knelt down beside Teddy, ruffled his shoulder length hair that he kept changing from yellow to scarlet and told him that his parents were in the ground too. The next day Harry had brought Teddy to Godric's Hollow and had introduced him to his own parents. They had sat by the graves as Harry explained that both of their parents had died to keep them safe. He told the young boy all about how the man they sat by had been one his dad's best friends and how the woman had been a great friend of his also.

Soon the stories about Lupin and Tonks being told to Teddy had become stories about his own life now directed at James and Lily. Unfazed by his Godfather talking to the dead, Teddy had joined in, telling them how he drew pictures of his parents and his granddad because his grandma had littered his house with photos of them. How she always smiled when she looked at the photos waving back at her. How he thought if he added more pictures then his grandma would smile more.

It was dark by the time Harry returned a sleepy Teddy to his grandma.

The next day Harry had felt inexplicably guilty for sharing his parents with someone else. After all, visits to Godric's Hollow were his and Hermione's tradition. He knew it was stupid and how she wouldn't mind but he still felt compelled to tell her the next day at work. Hermione had looked a bit teary when she told him that she didn't mind him taking other people to Godric's Hollow and that she would never be angry with him for such a beautiful and kind act. They were interrupted by an inter-departmental memo and after Hermione had sent back a quick reply, they had shared an awkward silence, unsure of what to say because Godric's Hollow was never discussed.

As they approached their final destination, Harry felt the familiar tension that always gripped his chest when his parents' graves were in sight. He could see the marble that he knew to be theirs amongst the other headstones; it seemed to shine through miserable weather as though it was illuminated when in reality it was just as ordinary as the headstones either side of it.

Finally they came to a stop. Harry felt Hermione twist her arm out of his and take half a step back like she always did at this point in the journey. He had never thanked her but he appreciated the gesture of privacy greatly.

Harry looked down and read the epitaph that he discovered a few years ago had been in fact chosen by Remus Lupin. Andromeda had told him that after Ted had been killed she had no idea what to write on his gravestone. How could she sum up the man who had been her rock, her escape from a life she hated, who had been a better, more caring father than she had ever been a mother, who had cried with joy when he discovered he would be a grandfather? Her son-in-law had told her he had once had to do the same for not one, but two amazing people who he probably owed his life to.

When Harry had first laid eyes on the words carved into the marble in front of him he had been so bitter, so angry and so helpless that he didn't understand Hermione's explanation as to what they had meant but now he thought he did. Even though his parents were gone, they were still a part of everything that he was and everything that he did. They lived on through him.

Right on schedule, Hermione conjured a reaf of Christmas roses and silently passed them to him so he could rest them against the headstone. Harry didn't know the significance of Christmas roses or why she chose them. Or why it was always Hermione who produced them or why they never just brought some with them because it was another one of those things that was never discussed.

Harry straightened up and felt Hermione rest her head on his shoulder, the wool from her hat tickling his jaw slightly.

"I was thinking of bringing Ginny here."

The words had left his mouth to join the melancholy and remembrance in the air before he had even decided he wanted to say them. Although he had been thinking them since his visit with Teddy, he had yet to speak them aloud because to do so would confirm that he was ready to follow through with them. He had no idea if he was ready for that or if Ginny would even want to come.

"What do you think?" Harry asked Hermione. She knew both of them, she understood what his visits here meant and was the smartest person he knew; her opinion would probably be what swung his decision.

"Honestly?" she responded quietly. "I don't know why you haven't already."

Harry sighed. He had been going over this for months now. It wasn't that Ginny wouldn't understand – he knew she would – it was for reasons Harry had never been able to fully articulate and he hoped Hermione would make sense of.

"Ginny… she is everything good about the world," Harry explained in a low voice. Examining his feelings had never been comfortable for him so he focussed on the first 'L' in Lily and tried to pretend Hermione was just a voice in his head. "She makes me happy. This place… reminds me of time when I wasn't."

After he had finished speaking there was a long pause in which Harry held his breath. He always knew he selfishly used Ginny as a form of escape, even when they were first together. Keeping her away from such damaging memories as his parents' deaths and his first visit to Godric's Hollow since that night meant his thoughts of her were never tainted with fear, misery and grief. It meant his beacon of light would keep shining; mixing her with all of this would be like half of the stars falling from the sky.

"Can I speak frankly, Harry?" Hermione asked as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him. He, however kept his eyes firmly on his mother's name.

"Could I stop you?" he replied, smirking slightly.

"You should introduce her," Hermione said, gently. "After all, she is taking your father's name; I'm sure he would want to know you're not just giving it to just any one and she's stealing your mother's little boy away from her. She'd want to know it was at least someone worthy of him."

Harry felt a familiar weight in his chest, lump in his throat and burning in his eyes and knew that this was going to be one of the years that he cried. For some reason it never bothered him. What happened in Godric's Hollow was never discussed.

He took a deep, shaky breath. "They wouldn't know, Hermione."

He hated the crack in his voice. Beside him, he could hear Hermione's breath coming in jagged bursts and knew that she was trying not to cry for his benefit but Harry strongly suspected this would soon become one of the years that left them both crying.

"You would," she whispered. "Ginny would."

Hermione sniffed as she gave up and succumbed to the tears no doubt flooding her cheeks as Harry tried to control his own emotions. The next thing he knew, Hermione had wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder again.

He had always wished his parents had known him, and then, when he had started school, he wished they had known Ron and Hermione but now, more than anything, he was desperate for them to have meet Ginny. He wanted her to talk endlessly about Quidditch with his dad and to watch her reduce a room to tears of laughter with his mum. Most of all he wanted to show them how he had managed to find someone so kind, strong and perfect, who loved him for the flawed human being he was and not the celebrated hero he was supposed to be.

Twelve months later, Hermione Weasley could be found standing outside of the Potter House in the snow. After two hours of waiting, she accepted that no one else was coming and, with an undecipherable smile, apparated back to her husband.

The next day, surrounded by the chaos that was a Weasley Christmas at the Burrow, Hermione somehow ended up alone with Harry in the kitchen. Through the uncomfortable silence he gave her a tentative smile and, after a split second of hesitation, she marched up to him and pulled him into a tight hug that he immediately returned. They both knew where the other had been the previous evening but Hermione never knew exactly why it was that Harry didn't show up that Christmas Eve, nor any of the ones that followed, because it was never discussed.