HARRY
Around her, the streets were filled with laughter. Broken bottles and decorative feathers littered the ground, mixing with the dirt and leaves of autumn. As she approached the iron gates, she pulled her coat tighter around her. For a moment she had considered going out in her robes, it's not as if it would seem odd given that most of Godric's Hollow's Muggle population was in costume. Yet, her robes didn't feel appropriate tonight. Dressed in Muggle clothes and wearing a faux dragon-hide coat, she tiptoed into the cemetery, closing the gate behind her.
He looked up when he heard the crunching of leaves coming from behind him. She inhaled sharply and stared into his emerald green eyes. He matted down his floppy dark hair and broke into a smile. Hermione smiled back.
"Hey," she breathed.
He nodded in reply and Hermione pulled her best friend into a tight hug. When she let go, he dusted the fallen leaves off the tomb stone and revealed his parents' names engraved in the cold stone. She noticed a single tear slide down his cheek and felt herself choking back her own feelings. She did the only thing she could think to do in the moment. She just held his hand and waited patiently.
Many things in Harry's life weren't fair. He had been dealt a series of hardships but the greatest misfortune was never knowing his parents. And today, of all the days, he faced the faded memories of that fateful night. As if it wasn't enough that his only communication with his parents was through a stone proxy, both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds considered the night of his parents' death a feast of sorts. There was no inkling of reverence, just joyous shouting and drunken debauchery. But Hermione had come to learn that Harry liked it that way. He had spent enough time suffering. He had conquered death. Now 31 October just served as a reminder that he would join his parents again one day, a long time from now.