March 1998

Dear Ron, Dear Hermione,

if you are reading this it means that I couldn't make it. Hopefully Voldemort is dead and you are now free.

I should have told you that I had to die, I should have told you everything. I'm sorry.

Please, don't cry for me, I'm in a better place now and I'll keep watching over you, I promise.

Funny, I thought I had so much to say and yet I don't know what to write. Tell Ginny I'm sorry, tell her to go and find someone worth loving. Tell Neville I'm proud of him, he has never been weak, he's the brave one. Tell Molly and Arthur that the Weasleys have been my only and first real family, and tell them that my vault is now theirs. You deserve it.

Tell everyone that their life is precious and that that's the reason I'm willing to give up mine in order to free all of you.

Hermione, don't ever stop being the insufferable know-it-all I learnt to care for, the Black library is all yours, use it. Learn everything you wish to, aim for the stars.

Ron, I want to thank you for befriending me on that train. You have been my first and most beloved friend. Thank you for your support, for your kindness and for your laziness even though we fought a lot, you never left my heart. Everything else, apart from my vault and the Black library is now yours (yes, including my Firebolt!). Please be happy. And for Merlin's sake, propose to Hermione.

As for me, I only have one request. It may sound weird to you but please, please I need you to do as I say.

When the time comes, and I really think it will be soon enough, I want you to bury me in front of Voldemort's grave, so that -even in death- we can face each other.

That's all, I think. Now I really have to go, I think Hermione is calling me and I really don't want you to find this letter before it's time.

I love you

Harry James Potter

Hermione sighed, placing a white lily on the freshly digged grave. Ron placed sadly a hand on her shoulder, a golden wedding band shining on his ring finger, and cleared his throat.

—Why do you think he wanted us to bury him here?— asked the wizard, holding back the tears.

—I… I really don't know, Ron— answered the witch, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand —But I trust him, and I know that if he wanted to be placed here, there's a good reason—

—I only wish he told us—

Hermione hummed, closing her eyes, then together they walked away, leaving two tombstones -one pure white, one ebony black- behind.

—Touching—

Harry turned in the direction of the voice, smiling proudly —It is— he said, crossing his arms.

Lord Voldemort's ghost was hovering over his black grave, a smug look on his serpentine face, red eyes dulled in this foggy form. —And, pray tell, how did you know I would stay behind?—

Harry shrugged, casually, and leaned on his white stone —I guess I just know you all too well—.

Voldemort tapped his ghostly chin with a long white -if possible, more than ever- finger, thoughtfully. —Maybe, just maybe, I underestimated you, Harry Potter— Lord Voldemort floated gracefully towards the now dead Boy-who-Lived, grinning madly —But that means we are stuck here. Together. Forever.—.

Harry didn't budge, instead he smiled back and nodded —I really want to keep an eye on you, Voldemort. You came back to life once, you can try that again, just wanna make sure you don't—.

At that, Lord Voldemort positively laughed, a sound Harry had never heard before, and threw his head back. —Oh, blasted boy, how naïve of you. Of course I cannot be revived. You destroyed all of my Horcruxes, for Circe's sake, you killed me—

—You don't seem particularly bothered, though—

Voldemort sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose —Potter, I cannot undo what has been done. I'm resigned. This doesn't mean I'm not angry but, honestly, what can I do?—

—You can talk— answered the younger wizard —You can talk to me—

Voldemort smirked behind his hand —You are still Dumbledore's man, aren't you? Still seeing the good side of every situation and living -well, in this case I must say dead- being, are you—

This time it was Harry the one bursting into laughter —Oh, no no no, Voldemort you really don't see the point. I'm here because I don't trust you, I'm here because I don't believe you even knew love, or happiness, or regret. I'm here because I'm not Dumbledore and I can damn assure you I don't see any good in you— Harry looked defiantly at his ghostly companion —This doesn't mean I will assume there isn't any—.

Taken aback, Lord Voldemort didn't say anything and looked away. A gentle breeze began blowing from the East, caressing the leaves, the grass, and making flower petals whirl around, neither of them felt it.

—That's sad— said Harry, suddenly —I really liked to feel the wind on my face—

Voldemort finally shifted his gaze and intently looked at the boy, his young pearly face lost in thoughts, his once raven black hair unnaturally still and grey. This image filled him with something that closely resembled sadness. This was going to be a long, long after-life.