Day of the Dead
"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione finally asked Harry. She'd been wanting to ask that all evening, but with the guests demanding so much of their time, hadn't gotten the chance yet this evening. Now, though, they had a moment alone. It was their first Halloween since they had defeated Voldemort, and Ron was throwing a party at a flat the three of them shared. Hermione knew that Harry was never one for big parties like this, but he looked even more gloomy than usual. Not that he hadn't tried to hide it. Typical Harry, being who he was, had tried to put a grin on his face so that he wouldn't put a damper on everyone else's fun. Hermione, being who she was, had immediately seen through the act.
"Nothing. I'm fine," Harry insisted, though he gave up after Hermione gave him a glare.
"It's just that it feels wrong somehow to celebrate tonight, knowing what it's the anniversary of," Harry mumbled. Hermione's breath hitched as realization hit her. Why hadn't she remembered before? "Your parents," she breathed, mentally kicking herself for her stupidity.
Harry nodded. "When I was younger and thought that they had died in a car crash, it was one thing. Not that Uncle Vernon ever let me celebrate," Harry darkly added," but it was still fine. Even at Hogwarts it was fine, because how magical and spectacular it was distracted me. But now, now that I know they were betrayed by a friend and murdered, I can't do it." Harry was working hard at avoiding Hermione's gaze. Even now, all these years later, admitting certain feelings made him feel weak.
"Do you know what Day of the Dead is?" Hermione asked him as inspiration hit. He looked confused, but nodded. "A little."
"They celebrate the dead's life. Although we are a few hours early, we could have a celebration of our own," Hermione suggested.
"Now?" Harry looked around, "But what about the party? We can't just leave."
She shrugged, then called out, "Harry and I are going out for a walk!" Few people heard her over the loudness of the party, but those that did nodded. "Meet me at your parents' grave in ten minutes. I have an errand to run real quick," she told him.
Ten minutes later he was standing at his parents' grave, somewhat reading all the messages people had left over the years, but mostly staring off into space. It became hard to swallow and his eyes stung with unshed tears.
Harry looked up, startled, as a hand touched his shoulder. It was Hermione, carrying a large bouquet of lilies and an unlit candle.
She handed both to him and said, "If you want to say something to them, I can step way for a bit," she offered.
"I'd like to say something, but I don't want you to go," Harry said. Hermione nodded, and bent down to light the candle. When she got up, Harry grabbed her hand for support and comfort as he started to speak.
"I don't know whether or not I believe in heaven, but I'd like to think that you've been watching over me, and that you know all the things that I wish I could have said to you. Even so, there are too many words to say them all, so I'll just say this. Thank you."
They stayed there, hand in hand, for a while, not even noticing the time go by.