It was a cold night and Harry Potter wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten outside. Light flakes of snow were falling from the sky, creating an icy blanket that sparkled across the entirety of the grassy field ahead of him. He wasn't wearing shoes, although he didn't feel the sharp sting of the snow against his bare feet. Which, he noted, was strange. However, he was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a too-big coat that hung low. Despite his strange attire, he felt exceptionally cozy, so he was grateful. The sky above him was full of stars smiling lazily down at him, illuminating only the largest of details in the world.

The trees behind him swayed happily, the leaves whispered soft secrets to each other as they danced together in the shadows. The moon was hanging low in the sky, only a sliver of a smile against the inky indigo surrounding it. Harry looked around, turning to take in the entire scene, when the glow of lights from a distant village made him pause. He took a step towards it, dead leaves and twigs crunching under his weight. The lack of sensation against his feet made him uncomfortable. An eerie silence surrounded him. The kind that happened when something blocked the airflow from your ears. The world continued happening around him, but he couldn't hear it happening the way he should have. It was disconcerting. It was surreal.

There was a tugging in his gut, and it pulled him towards something in that village. He took another step forward, deciding that weirder things had definitely happened to him and that whatever was in those houses… no, that specific house, was going to make everything right itself. It took considerably less time than he'd anticipated to get to the village. There were Christmas lights that sparkled on every house, illuminating small porches with rocking chairs and beautiful gardens that were somehow completely bloomed despite the absence of the sun and the presence of snow. It wasn't a large village, but every bit of it was beautiful. Warm.

Harry felt the tug in his chest from the opposite direction, pulling him back towards the center of town. He obliged, letting his feet take him wherever they wanted. This feeling was warm too, but it was also more than that. It felt like home to him. He allowed himself to speed up, curiosity and pure longing having gotten the better of him. Harry had only felt this sensation from one other place - Hogwarts. He stopped at the gate of a cozy cottage nestled between a shop and another home.

The gate was painted white, and it stopped on either side of a walkway up to the front door. The walk to the house felt like it took a century, and then he was there. Harry reached his hand towards the doorknob, and then he stopped. His heart was pounding. He couldn't explain this sensation, this screaming in his ears, the desire to just throw the door open and let himself in. He couldn't explain this urgency, because he didn't understand exactly why this place felt like home. Instead of opening the door as he wanted to, he settled for knocking.

His hands were shaking violently, and despite his best efforts he'd ended up slamming his fist into the door with more force than he'd intended. He saw a shadow shift through the sheer ivory curtain in the window, and then it made it's way towards him slowly. He sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of his mistake. Did he even know these people? What if he didn't, how could he explain pounding on the front door at some ungodly hour of the night. They'd think he was mad.

As the door opened to reveal a familiar woman in her late twenties, all of the air left Harry's lungs. She had orange hair that hung loosely around her shoulders, with beautiful green eyes staring back at Harry in shock. Tears started streaming down her face, though the cause remained unconfirmed. Behind her a man, who looked to be around the same age, took a step closer. He didn't say anything, but his eyes widened in disbelief.

Harry stood there, awestruck, as he drank in the sight of his parents, living and breathing and living and breathing. Alive. They were alive, and well! James Potter ran a shaky hand through his hair, the fingers getting caught in knots formed from previous run-throughs. Lily stared at Harry, and then reached out to him, her hands catching on his face. Her touch was so tender, and motherly, and oh, Harry felt tears welling up in his own eyes. This was his mother, she was here. He could feel her. She pulled him into a hug, squeezing him with every ounce of her strength. Harry didn't need to look up to know when James joined in the hug.

His arms wrapped around them both, creating a barrier of sorts around them. They were here, together. Together after so long. They weren't going to let anything ruin this. Harry felt his own arms go around his mother. She was a small woman, so he had no problem wrapping his arms around her completely. The hug was, well, the hug was the kind of hug that you need when you've had a bad day. The kind that gives you an opportunity to forget that it happened. It's the kind of hug you get from someone who loves you unconditionally.

It's the kind of hug that wakes you up at night after a particularly bad dream.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, focusing slightly on the fabrics hanging above his bed. They were red, inlaid with gold threads. He felt the sensation of his mothers arms around his own, and his fathers chin resting on their heads. He let out a sob.

A/N
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Short Story (983 words)
Prompt: Reunion
Thank you alixxblack, rejooc and TheCrownprincessBride for beta-ing for me