Harry and Hermione apparated in a snowy lane under a dark blue sky, in which the night's first stars were already glimmering feebly. Cottages stood on either side of the road; cottages filled with Christmas decorations. The narrow road led to the centre of the village.

"We should have taken Polyjuice potion." whispered Hermione from under the Invisibility Cloak.

"No." said Harry quietly. "This is where I lived with my parents. I'm not returning as someone else..."

Harry and Hermione slowly walked toward the village centre. The door of a nearby pub opened, releasing a snatch of laughter and pop music. When the door closed back, the young couple could hear a carol start up inside the little church.

"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!" said Hermione.

"Is it?" Both of them had lost track of the date. The last time they had seen a calendar was when they had brought Ron to Dan and Emma in Harry's Grandparents' house. Ron had caught a very bad flu and his two friends had sent him to recover in their hideout. That had been on the 10th of December...

"I'm sure it is." said Hermione, her eyes fixed on the local church.

"Do you think..." started Harry before the words caught in his throat. Hermione looked at him and realised he was looking at the graveyard.

"Yes." said Hermione. "I think they are."

Taking each other's hand, the couple slowly walked toward the graveyard. There was a kissing gate at the entrance which Hermione slowly pushed open. Behind the church lay row upon row of snowy tombstones. Harry and Hermione slowly walked through the graveyard, trying to find the grave of James and Lily Potter...

The couple walked past the grave of Aliana Abbott, which they guessed was a long lost relative of their Hufflepuff friend Hannah, past the grave of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore, their late Headmaster's mother and sister. The couple also found the grave of one Ignotus Peverell but neither really focused on it, only stopping to take note of the significance of the weird symbol they had found in the book Dumbledore had left Hermione.

"Let's keep looking for my parents." said Harry to his girlfriend, almost on a pleading tone. Hermione nodded, knowing he was anxious, that it was very hard to be here for him. A few minutes later, Hermione found them...

"Harry... they're here... right here..." she said, looking at a marble white headstone. Harry froze, feeling as if something heavy were pressing on his chest, the same sensation he had after both Sirius and Dumbledore had died, after believing for a short period of time that Hermione had been killed in the Department of Mysteries...

Neither Harry nor Hermione needed to approach the headstone to be able to read the words engraved upon it.

JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960

LILY JULIA POTTER

BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Harry stepped toward the grave and fell on his knees trembling. Hermione sat down on her knees beside him and took his hand. Harry read the words aloud.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death... Isn't that a Death Eater idea?" he questioned with a bit of panic. "Why is it there?"

"That's not what it means Harry..." whispered Hermione emotionally. "Death can't be destroyed. It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death..."

But they were gone, they were not living. The words might mean something philosophically but it couldn't hide the fact that his parents' remains lay beneath the snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. Before he could stop them, big hot tears came and slowly slipped down his cheeks. He was half tempted to wipe them but, what was the point? Underneath him, six-foot deep, laid the remains of parents' bodies, being nothing but dust and bones, not knowing or caring that their living son and the love of his life stood so near, his heart still beating for her, alive because of their sacrifice. Had it not been for the young woman visiting their grave, their son would be wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them...

Hermione withdrew her wand and conjured a bouquet of roses and lilies, which Harry caught in his hands and laid it on his parents' grave. That had been the last straw for Harry. A sob escaped his throat and before Hermione could react, Harry let out a loud, painful cry. The young man had suffered too much ever since his parents' death. He had managed to keep it all inside but, today, as he looked over the grave of James and Lily Potter with Hermione, he wasn't able to fight his emotions any longer and collapsed in his girlfriend's arms, crying his emotions out.

Hermione grabbed her crying boyfriend in her arms and held him with all the love she could. Seeing the man, she loved under so much pain made her heart hurt painfully, making her wish that she could absorb some of it for him. She couldn't do much however and let him cry on her shoulder, knowing it would help Harry, knowing it would start the healing process for many of his emotional wounds...

The young couple stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes before Harry slowly made to stand up. He had planned on visiting his parents' cottage but he did not think he would be able to stand it, not today. Keeping one arm around each other's waist, the couple slowly walked away from James and Lily, neither knowing whether the next time they would see them would be here in the graveyard or in the afterlife. Harry and Hermione silently walked past Ignotus Peverell's grave, past Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore's, past Aliana Abbott's, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate...

Hermione slowly led Harry toward a point where they could apparate, knowing that neither of them were of any state to visit Bathilda Bagshot. As they walked past an old Second World War memorial, Hermione stopped dead, gasping.

"Hermione?" croaked Harry.

"Harry, look!" she whispered to him with a nod toward the memorial. Harry looked at it and realised that it had transformed. It wasn't about the Second World War anymore. It was about his family...

Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with messy black hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. Snow lay upon their heads, like fluffy white caps.

Harry drew closer, unknowingly dragging Hermione, who was still holding him. He wanted to look at his parents' faces. He had never imagined seeing himself represented as a happy baby without a scar on his forehead. His parents looked happy, so happy. And Harry realised why. While they had died very young and lived through one of the worst magical wars on British soil in History, they had achieved their dream of having a family for themselves. Even with everything happening in the world, they hadn't let that come to them and they had decided to marry, to have a child, a home for themselves. They had managed to be happy together, even when their friends were slowly killed by madmen, even when their son was mentioned in a prophecy, even when their only child was targeted by Lord Voldemort himself, even when they were locked up in their own house, afraid of leaving its safety and die at the hands of the Dark Lord. Even with all of that, they had been happy, because they had each other, because they had him.

That realisation struck hard with Harry. Harry had been the opposite. Harry had let the war and Voldemort come to him. He was sure that had he not already been dating Hermione when Voldemort was resurrected, he would never have asked her out for fear of putting her in more danger than she already was. So often he had sacrificed his happiness, their happiness because of the war. Harry didn't want to do that anymore. He knew he couldn't withdraw from the fight but he didn't want the war to dictate his life anymore. In a split second, he took a decision.

"Marry me." he whispered.

"What?" whispered Hermione back, not believing what Harry had just said.

"Marry me. I'm tired of letting the war dictate our lives. My parents didn't let it get to them and neither do I want to. They sacrificed themselves so that I could live, not survive. I want to marry you, Hermione Jean Granger, the love of my life. I fear for what could happen to us but I don't want to let Voldemort dictate our lives. It might be our only chance... Marry me, please..."

"Yes." she said, tears running down her cheeks. "Yes, I'll marry you..."

"Tomorrow... Maybe we could go to the church and ask if we can be married tomorrow, on Christmas."

"You want us to elope?"

"Yes. We can invite Ron and your parents but that's it. We should still keep it a secret. I just... I just don't want to be Hermione Granger's boyfriend anymore. I want to be Hermione Potter's husband..."

"And I want to be Harry Potter's wife..." said Hermione, kissing his cheek. "Let's see if we can get married tomorrow..."

The new fiancés walked back toward where they came from but instead of entering the graveyard, they entered the church.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had ever entered a church. The Grangers had never been religious while the Dursleys had never brought their 'freak wizard of a nephew' to the church. The young couple noticed that the church was empty but preparing for that night's Christmas Eve Mass. The pastor of the church, an old, blad and small man with a kind face was overseeing a last repetition of the carol. The pastor noticed them and with a kind smile, approached the young couple who was still holding each other's arms.

"Hello, sir." said Harry to the pastor. "My fiancé and I were visiting my parents. Hermione and I are going through a very tough part of our life and we want to bring some happiness to ourselves. We were wondering if it was possible to get married tomorrow...?"

The pastor smiled sadly at the couple. "You are James and Lily's son, are you?" he asked.

"Yes..." whispered Harry emotionally with a small nod.

"I saw you through the window." he said. "I know it is many, many years later but I am sorry for your loss. James and Lily were good people, always helping our villagers in their everyday life."

"I'm happy to hear." smiled Harry.

"I am Father Stephen." said the pastor, introducing himself to the couple.

"Harry." said Harry.

"And I am Hermione, his fiancé." said Hermione. She would have been beaming had she and Harry not just come back from a very emotional visit.

"It is a bit late but it would be possible to marry you tomorrow. The villagers of Godric's Hollow spend their Christmas at home with their family so you would not disturb anyone. Will it be a small or large wedding?" asked Father Stephen.

"Small." answered Hermione. "Only my parents and our best friend are invited."

Father Stephen nodded. "Then, shall we say, at 7PM, tomorrow night?" he asked.

"That would be perfect." said Harry.

"Then it shall be."

"Thank you, Father." said Hermione. Harry nodded to him.

"It is nothing, my children. Go to your family, celebrate Christmas Eve and be happy." the old pastor said with a smile.

With a last nod, Harry and Hermione left the church. Back in the village centre, Harry said "Let's go pack the tent. Father Stephen is right. I want to spend Christmas Eve with Ron and your parents. I want to go home."

Hermione gave him a kiss on the lips. "Let's go home." Together, the young couple dissaparated from Godric's Hollow.