AN: This is my first ever time writing fanfiction, so I'd love to hear what people think of my work. Please don't worry about hurting my feelings with criticism; I want to improve and I can take it! This chapter mainly serves to set up the story, so the action won't really start until chapter two (sorry!). Note that this takes place after Deathly Hallows (but ignores the epilogue). Please rate and review! Oh yes, and enjoy!

Chapter One: Back to the Hollow

The sleepy little town of Godric's Hollow was pleasantly bathed in the vibrant colors of the setting sun. It was around nine o'clock in the evening and Harry Potter had been sitting upon an over-turned bucket for the last five minutes as he watched the sky change color. It had been a long day of hard work and the young man was quite tired. Tired, but unquestionably happy.

Nearly twelve weeks had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, the downfall of Lord Voldemort, and the close of each new day brought Harry a sense of ease and contentment. The facts were still slowly sinking into Harry's brain; he had triumphed, he had won! Some days he simply could not wrap his head around it. His whole life had been leading up to the confrontation with Voldemort, and now it was finally over he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

It wasn't that he felt lost or purposeless. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Until recently, Harry had felt as though he was sprinting toward the end of his life, as though he had no time. Now however, he had all the time in the world. He could do anything and everything his heart desired, and he could take all the time he wanted with which to enjoy it all. The possibilities made his head spin, but his heart felt lighter than he could ever remember it being. The first thing Harry planned to do was get some peace and quiet and to relax. He figured he deserved a good rest.

For a few weeks following their victory Harry had stayed at the Burrow, mourning the losses of Fred, Remus and Tonks while taking comfort in the fact that the rest of his adopted family was safe and sound (and enjoying Molly's superb cooking). But all too soon he had grown restless and decided it was time to leave the Weasleys and establish his own place to live. His first thought had been of Grimmauld Place, but that idea was quashed almost as soon as it came; Sirius' old house was gloomy and Harry found it downright depressing. In the end, it took him only a few days to come up with the perfect location to settle down: Godric's Hollow. It had been his first home after all, the place where he would have spent his childhood had it not been for Voldemort. Once this idea came to him, Harry knew it was the only place he could possibly live and quite frankly he could not believe he had not thought of it straight away.

So Harry had left the Burrow and taken up the none-too-small task of rebuilding his parent's home. Not knowing the first thing about construction, he and Ron had spent about half a day scratching their heads and obtaining minor injuries (Ron) before enlisting the help of professionals. Ron had been wary of hiring a contractor at first, but warmed up to the idea after the third time he dropped a hammer on to his own foot.

As he sat and watched the sky shift from bright pink and orange to a muted blue and black, Harry thought of the progress they had made on the house. Since the foundations were still intact, he had chosen to retain the original design, and all of the frame work was now complete. The house's exterior and grounds were totally finished as well. Much to Ron's amusement, Harry had electricians, plumbers and many other muggle experts buzzing around the clock to get the job done as quickly as possible. He wanted it finished before he left for Hogwarts so he wouldn't have to worry while he was away at school, which gave him a mere five weeks at this point. He knew it would be difficult, but had faith that it could be done. He had hired the best and the brightest after all.

Harry could not wait to return to Hogwarts. He was extremely excited to be going back for another year, even though it would be his last. He missed the beautiful castle with all his heart. It was where he felt the most safe, comfortable and happy. Professor McGonagall was now Headmistress and she had been keeping Harry up-to-date on the school's renovations. The battle had done a tremendous amount of damage to the ancient building, but as with Harry's new house, things were moving very quickly with the rebuild. Harry was eager to see how everything was going and how much had changed.

The sun had fully set by now and Harry looked up to see the night's first stars shine above his new home. He loved gazing at the stars, noticing the many constellations and letting his imagination wander. As he looked, a star suddenly shot across the sky, a beam of light that was gone just as fast as it had come. Harry quickly closed his eyes and thought of a wish.

But what should he wish for? He already had everything he could want, didn't he? Voldemort was dead and gone and the Wizarding World was carefully being rebuilt from the bottom up. The trials of the remaining Death Eaters were currently underway. He had his wonderful friends surrounding him, and now his home as well. What did he want or need?

Well for one thing, I need the bloody Daily Prophet off my arse, he thought spitefully.

This was certainly true; the paper had been mercilessly hounding Harry and tracking his every move for weeks on end, and it was getting old fast. One morning in June he had woken up to find a squat, round-faced photographer peering in through the window of his bedroom, and the next day the Prophet's front-page story was all about his worn bedclothes and choice of underwear. He had been appalled and rather embarrassed when he read the article, especially since he had been in George's company at the time.

"My Harry, these briefs don't leave much to the imagination, do they?" George said with a wicked grin on his face. "No, not much at all. Funny, I always figured you for the boxer type."

Harry's mortification had been absolute, as Ginny had chosen that moment to enter the kitchen. She stopped dead at George's words, a startled look on her pale face. Harry's face and neck immediately went as red as the siblings' hair, and he snatched the paper out of George's hands and dashed up to Ron's room. Ever since then, every time Harry had seen George or Charlie he had been teased relentlessly. Mrs. Weasley shot them reproachful looks whenever she heard them, but they paid her no mind. Ginny didn't speak a word about it to Harry. Then again, she didn't speak to him much at all anymore.

The day they had arrived back at the Burrow Ginny had taken Harry aside and explained that although she still cared for him a great deal and always would, she had realised while he was off hunting for Horcruxes that she needed to be with someone a bit less "special" (her word) than Harry. She had ambitions to become a Quidditch player, and wanted to be known for her own talents, rather than for Harry's fame. Harry had understood, but that had not made the breakup any easier on him. He was still very much taken with Ginny, while she had moved on to a handsome muggle boy who lived nearby, and things had been ridiculously awkward between the two ever since.

So maybe that's what he should wish for, some activity in his love life. Truth be told, he got dozens of letters daily asking for dates (one batty woman had even been so bold as to ask for his hand) with the Chosen One. It made his insides churn just thinking about it. Why couldn't he find someone who wanted to be with the real him? Not the great bloody hero, just Harry. He had thought for a while that Ginny was that person, but obviously he had been wrong. Yes, he thought. That was really the only thing missing in his life at present, someone to share it with.

With that thought in mind, Harry made his wish and opened his eyes once more. He sighed wistfully, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He stared at the moon for a few long seconds before smiling and shaking his head. He should know better than to rely on shooting stars. He was just overtired and was being silly. Thinking that tomorrow he would pay a visit to Ron for a game or two of pick-up Quidditch, he put love out of his mind and went inside to get some well deserved rest.