Snow
It was late. The two wizards were stood in front of the old, granite gravestone, and snow fell around them as the Boy Who Lived fell to his knees, his face in his hands.
"I don't think I can take it anymore, Hermione."
The brunette witch sighed as she wrapped an arm around her friend. "It's going to be okay, Harry. You can't give up now, not when we're so close." She hugged the boy tightly, feeling the hot tears seep into her jacket. "Think about what they would have wanted you to do, Harry. They wouldn't want you to join them so soon.
Harry shook his head as he rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. He knew that Hermione was right, that it wasn't time to give up, but he didn't care at that moment. He didn't care that there was still much to be done before Voldemort could be taken down. He thought that he could handle seeing his parents' graves, but the sight of the stone and the stress of everything going on just built up and now… He just wanted nothing more than to join them underneath the snow. He knew it was stupid, that they were getting close to the end anyway – but he just didn't think he could take it anymore.
A.N: I know this is short and I know it is shit, I am going through a lot at the moment and figured it would be easier to just type out how I have been feeling recently.