Godric's Hollow

There was light frost in the air. Castiel watched from afar in an attempt to blend into the grey around him as Harry knelt down to place a stem of lilacs on his mother's grave. The cemetery was empty but for them. Quiet.

Harry hadn't realized that he wasn't alone until he got up and turned while brushing snow from his hands. He paused at the sight of Castiel standing a few rows behind, still as always. He hesitated for a beat before approaching the angel.

Castiel gestured at the Potter gravestones. "It's her birthday," he realized.

"Yeah." Harry fidgeted with his scarf instead of following Castiel's gaze. "I just thought… I don't know." He trailed off.

"That she would have appreciated the gesture?"

He shrugged. "It's silly. It's been so long and I don't remember her…" He needed time to pull himself together. He slid his cold hands into his pockets and stared at his wet shoes. At times like this, he really wished he could remember something about Lily other than her scream. Times like this hurt. It's why he never brought anyone with him, not since the very first visit with Hermione. "They say the cemetery is haunted," he mumbled. "But I've never seen any ghosts here."

Castiel looked around him. "Ghosts prefer the living."

"Yeah." Harry had figured as much. "When you told me about heaven, I… felt happy too, like Teddy. I can't wait to meet Mum and Dad. Sometimes it scares me how similar we are, him and me."

Castiel wasn't very surprised by that confession. "Do you wish I had let you die?" he murmured. "Maybe I shouldn't have interfered?"

"Maybe…" Harry exhaled slowly. He had been ready to die in that hospital. "But that's morbid." There was so much to live for. "Don't regret saving me, okay?" He meant that sincerely. "I'm making the most of it."

"I don't regret it," Castiel said without pause. "I was just wondering whether you regretted it, that's all."

"I'm okay," Harry assured him. He kicked snow off of his shoes. "Want some coffee?"

Before long, the two of them were walking down to the village square. Godric's Hollow was a sleepy place this early in the morning. An old village with Muggles and magic folk alike, nothing drastic happened in the neighborhood anymore. There was a time when families mourned strange deaths and disappearances. That was in the past now. A few cars puttered past, but it was an enormous contrast to the hustle and bustle of London. "I don't think I could ever live here," Harry told Castiel. "Too much family history."

"Do you prefer your home now?"

"Hmm… I don't know. I haven't really lived anywhere else after I graduated. I do like the city. Everyone I know lives sort of nearby. That's nice."

"Sam and Dean don't have homes, you know?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly. "You said they move around a lot." That must be tough, but their lives seemed drastically different even though Castiel kept saying that they were the same. "They don't have family, do they?"

"They have each other," Castiel said. "But they are afraid of commitment. People close to them get hurt."

"Yeah." That sounded very familiar to Harry, but he didn't comment further. "What are they like?" he asked instead.

Castiel thought about it. What were the Winchesters like? That wasn't an easy question to answer. "Stubborn… Brave. Foolish. Human." He wasn't doing them justice with just those words. "When I first met them, Lucifer wanted Sam to be his vessel and Michael wanted Dean."

"I'm not even going to pretend to understand what that means."

"Lucifer. The archangel? And his brother, Michael?"

"Um… Okay?"

Castiel decided not to pursue that conversation. "What I mean to say is that they are not like everyone else," he explained. "So it is difficult to describe them to you."

"I see."

"They want to meet you."

Harry looked up at him in shock. "Pardon me?"

"I said they want to meet you."

"You talk to them about me?"

"… Yes."

"Oh."

"Should I not?"

"No. It's fine. I was just… surprised. That's all."

Castiel didn't know what was so surprising about that. "I talk to you about them and I talk to them about you," he said. "I think that is fair."

"Fair?" Harry scoffed. "I don't get to talk about you with anyone."

"Ah…"

"Besides, everyone would think I've gone insane."

"Is that my fault?" Castiel wanted to know.

"Most definitely," Harry answered.

When they passed the Potter memorial in the middle of the village square, Harry kept walking while Castiel lingered for just a moment to read the plaque. The coffee shop they entered was attached to a cramped bookstore. There was no queue, so they were able to purchase their coffees and warm their hands against the mugs in record time. "Do you want to look around?" Harry suggested. The two of them ended up by the bookshelves, scanning covers for something eye-catching. "I don't read often. Do you?"

"No," Castiel mumbled. "Not these books." These stories seemed so trivial as he thumbed through a paperback mystery novel. "You have many books in your study."

"Comes with the house." Harry sipped on his bitter beverage. "The house belonged to my godfather. Before that, it was his family home. It's an old heirloom, that house. So there's bound to be oddities like books and paintings."

"Do you like reading?"

"When I get the time, yes. Just fiction though." He wandered to a table scattered with sale items. "Hermione, on the other hand, reads anything she can get her hands on." He wondered if he should get her something. Probably not. She doesn't like it when her friends spent money on books for her. Frivolous spending, she called it.

"What about Ginny?"

Harry shot an unimpressed glare Castiel's way. The angel turned away nonchalantly.

Suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, a stick of a man appeared before them, startling Harry and distracting Castiel from the book in his hand. The man wore thick spectacles, a beige cardigan and a wrinkled scowl. "Can I help you?" he snapped at them.

"Um…" Harry was put off by his abrupt demeanor. "We're just browsing, so-"

"Well, you won't find it here," the man blustered. His wiry arms shot out to either side of him and, before his customers could get a word in edgewise, he was physically herding them deeper into the store. "Honestly," he muttered under his breath, "could read the signs once in a while." Castiel looked around in puzzlement while Harry hurried to meet the irritated man's quick pace so that he wouldn't spill his coffee everywhere.

They were practically shoved into a dusty corner where piles of books were stacked on the floor as well as on the shelves in a chaotic manner. "Here you are." The man snapped his arms to his sides. "This isn't a library. If you find a book you might want to read, buy it." With that, he spun around on his thin heels and strode away, muttering some more under his breath.

Harry gawked after him as Castiel picked a book off the stack by his feet and opened it up. "This one has pictures," he remarked. "Look."

"What was that all about?" Harry grumbled before looking over to the book Castiel was holding. His brows went up at the photos of a bright yellow bedroom and all its amenities.

"Maybe he thought you said housing."

He sputtered.

Castiel marveled Harry's sudden transformation from preoccupation to stifled amusement. He looked younger as he hid his smile behind the coffee while looking behind him. "We should probably leave before he scolds us again." He took the book from Castiel's hand and set it down before tugging him out of the cramped aisle. They managed to avoid the storekeeper on their way back to the adjacent coffee shop. Upon finding a quiet table by the window, they plopped down on the low, plush chairs. "That was strange, wasn't it?"

Castiel nodded even though he didn't really know what was strange. "Can I see your wand?"

Harry frowned at the abrupt change in topic. "Huh? Why?"

"I have never examined one."

"So?"

"So this is a convenient time to examine yours."

Harry shook his head in defeat. "Straight to the point with you." He set his cup down on the table and shifted in his seat to slide his wand out of his pocket. "Be careful," he added as he handed it over. He had no idea how the wand would behave in the hands of an angel.

Castiel ran his fingers along the smooth length of it. "Why have you kept this?" he asked. "You could use the Elder Wand now."

"I like this one."

Sensing some unease in that answer, Castiel didn't press Harry. "Voldemort had the same kind?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "I mean, it had the same core. Phoenix. It's rare for a phoenix to drop two feathers."

"I see. A rare wand."

"Hermione broke it once." He thought back to that short period of time when he was without his own wand. "It felt strange, not having it with me. I'm so used it and the wand gets used to you. Using another person's wand just doesn't feel right." And that's how he felt when he used the Elder Wand, as though he was using someone else's wand. It felt more powerful than himself. So he had to give it back to Albus Dumbledore. It was the right thing to do. "When I bought that, it all became real, the fact that I'm a wizard and that my life would never be the same again. It's a good memory."

Castiel liked the thought of that. He gave the wand back and asked, "Do you have a lot of good memories?"

Harry laughed. "Of course." He remembered the good ones more than the bad. "When I first got to Hogwarts. When I caught my first Snitch. Well… anytime I catch a Snitch, actually. Meeting Teddy after the war. Living on my own. Lots of good memories." He twirled the wand between his fingers. "What about you? Do you have many good memories?"

"Yes," Castiel said.

Harry waited for an elaboration. There was none. He was used to that by now, so he wasn't even fazed anymore. With the angel, everything would remain a mystery. He stowed away his wand and glanced out the frosty window at the deserted streets. Strange people, strange town, strange history.

"I like this memory."

He glanced up in surprise. "What?"

"I like this memory," Castiel repeated. "I think this is a good memory."

"Oh…"

"I like spending time with you."

"… We're just hanging out."

"I like that." Castiel enjoyed it immensely. He liked being near Harry, to chat and listen and worry and laugh. "There aren't many humans who can tolerate me," he admitted. "I know I can be… strange. But you aren't put off by strange. You just seem to accept it. So I like spending time with you."

Harry was thrown by this confession. "You're talking a lot again..."

"Should I stop?"

"Yeah… Probably."

Castiel forced himself to look away, a smile flickering across his lips. Right. He should stop. He should stop letting his thoughts get out of hand. He should stop making Harry uncomfortable. He should stop talking. "Do you know that I'm in love with you?" He stared at the statue in the distance, waiting for a response. But he was met with silence. That was surprising. He had been expecting… well… not silence. So he hazarded a glance across the table.

Harry was watching him, an elbow propped on the arm of the chair, cheek resting against his palm, obscuring his barely hidden smirk that reached his crinkled eyes.

"You do know…" Castiel realized.

"Hmm."

"And?"

"And what?"

He was staggered by Harry's nonchalance. "Don't you believe me?" he hesitated.

"I believe you. You asked me whether I knew."

"Yes, but I…"

"But… you thought I'd say something more?"

Castiel had thought that. "Won't you say something more?" he asked.