A/N: Who the hell was I kidding? I haven't been able to sleep since I "completed" this story. That should have told me something. And then I read the wonderful works of a woman with the penname of pinkdigi, and she inspired me to continue. It's to her that I owe thanks and gratitude. And to Macca for always being there for me. So, I hope you guys don't hate me too much for that scare. I swear it was not a bid for reviews! If you're gracious and forgiving enough, please read on.

Moist leaves on soft summer grass make no sound. This was an odd thought to have, Harry Potter decided as he walked through a graveyard. Funny how this moment should be filled with thoughts of his parents. Ginny should not be firmly holding his hand and, though he had always pictured this scene with Ron and Hermione there, they were not supposed to be visibly upset.

Harry stopped in the middle of two beautifully carved pieces of marble. How could things that symbolize so much pain be made so beautifully? And why was it that all Harry could think of was the fact that it was drizzling and sunny? There should not be a rainbow in sight as he visited his parents' graves for the first time.

This morning, he had been fine. Hermione had hugged her parents goodbye. They had no idea that it may well be the last time they saw their daughter. Hermione managed to stay cheerful until she had broken down attempting to find the thestral's back to climb on. Frustrated and upset, she had begun to sob. Ron had taken her in his arms and asked Harry if thestrals were large enough to hold two riders on their backs. Harry had nodded and Ginny helped the two onto one thestral. They decided to take the other with them. Who knew what use it could be put to? Hermione's sobs had died down as the descended into the small village of Godric's Hollow. The thestrals had brought them right to the gates of the cemetery where Harry's parents were buried. Harry had then been able to think of nothing else but what wasn't important: the weather, the feel of the soft ground under his trainers, Ginny's warm hand in his, Hermione clutching Ron as though frightened behind him, the lilies that he had thought so appropriate in his hand. And now here he was. Standing at his parents' graves.

L-I-L-Y. Harry traced the letters of his mother's name on her grave marker. This piece of stone was all that stood in memory of the woman who had given her life for her son. She could have run, Harry knew that, and as he heard his mother's screams reverberating in his ears, he remembered another voice. One that had said to run, save herself and Harry, that he would hold off Voldemort. J-A-M-E-S. He fingered the grooves in the stone. His father had been a hero as well. He had saved his mother, without a second thought. He could have run with them to certain failure, but instead, he did the only thing that would, perhaps, slow Voldemort. He stood in his way.

Harry felt his eyes sting and burn. He would not cry. He would not. Had he ever cried about the loss of his parents? He had missed them when he was young, but he had never cried. Even when he grew to an age where he found links to his parents in Dumbledore and Sirius and Lupin, he had not cried.

"I cried when Sirius died," Harry thought to himself.

Why had he never cried for his parents? This knowledge brought about a boiling self-loathing in the pit of Harry's stomach. And he had never before even attempted to visit his parents' graves. Why? Why had he never cared enough? That didn't ring true in his head, and he felt his mind trying to force him into a rational state, but his heart and the pit in his stomach wouldn't hear of it. They had been heroes! Wonderful people who had loved Harry enough to die for him! They had been best friends to Sirius, much as Ron and Hermione were to him. Why hadn't he been a good son? Surely Sirius had come here! Sirius had probably thought of them everyday, but their own son had never taken the time. And then something snapped. Harry moved to a nearby tree, and all the anger he felt poured out in waves.

He yelled. In a way that no one, not even Harry himself, had ever witnessed him doing. He bellowed as he beat the tree with legs, feet, arms, hands, anything that could strike a blow. He was a terrible son! He stayed with the Weasleys every summer, regarded Mrs. Weasley as a mother. He had thought of Sirius as a father. How could he have betrayed his parents like that? Why were they never the first thing on his mind every day? Why? Why his family? Of course, he knew why, but he was not thinking straight. Why that night when he had been so young? He knew that his cries of rage were the reason that Ginny was watching him with tears glistening in her eyes. He knew that his actions were what caused Hermione to let out an audible sob of grief at Harry's pain. He knew that his outburst was why Ron was paling and clutching Hermione tighter than ever. And he didn't care. He began to shout out loud. Who cares if they know? They didn't ever try to help me!

"I NEVER CRIED! THEY WERE MY PARENTS, AND I NEVER CRIED! NOT ONCE! IF THERE WAS A WORSE SON OUT THERE, I'D LIKE TO KNOW WHO IT IS!"

Suddenly Ginny was pulling him away from the tree with a strong hold on his shoulder and arm. Harry registered faintly how strong she was, but he was still angry. He attempted to shake her off.

"Harry," Ginny whispered, pulling him to her in a tight embrace. There was no passion or kindness in this embrace; it was simply a means to stop him from further bloodying himself beating the tree. When he stopped struggling, however, he found that her arms tightened around him in a hug. It was no longer a restraint, but a source of comfort. And Harry found that the fight he was looking for was not what he needed. His resolve broke and he fell to his knees. Ginny moved to the ground to hold him, and the highly crafted cage Harry kept these emotions in--the ones dealing with his parents—broke. He was crying loudly and with little restraint. He did not register that Hermione was turned to Ron, crying into his chest, but he did hear Ginny sniffling above him as she held him to her.

"G-Ginny, n-not once h-have I cried! I love y-your m-mum. I-I p-pretend s-sometimes that she's—that she's m-my mum too."

"Shhh," Ginny whispered into Harry's tousled hair, kissing his head. Her voice wavered with grief as she spoke, "Harry. You can't tell me that you haven't imagined having your parents back. Hermione told me about the Mirror of Erised. Harry, are you listening to me? What did you see in that mirror?"

Harry could not speak for crying for a moment, but he managed to gasp, "M-my parents."

"And, correct me if I'm wrong, but the point of that mirror is that it shows the deepest desires of your heart. Whether you have consciously grieved over your parents or not, Harry, you would want nothing more than to have them back. You're crying now, Harry. It's just know hit you. Don't be so hard on yourself. You know your parents are proud of you, and Sirius is with them."

Harry wished that he could stop these tears. They were of a suffocating nature that he had never experienced. Drawing breath was not an option. He couldn't breathe! He was going to die!

"Harry! Harry, look at me!" Ginny said, her tone no longer soft, but firm, "You have to take a deep breath. Come on now."

Slowly, Ginny returned Harry to a semi-normal state, and he slumped into Ginny in utter exhaustion.

"Now, you know all of that stuff about you not being a good son is rubbish, don't you?" Ginny said into his ear.

"I s'pose," Harry felt somewhat relieved, and not a little ridiculous for his outburst.

Ginny chuckled a little.

"What could possibly be funny?" Harry asked.

"Tell you in a minute. Some other people seem to be concerned about you," Ginny gestured to the side and Harry saw that Ron, holding Hermione upright with an arm around waist, was headed toward them.

"All right there, Hermione?" Ginny called.

Hermione could only manage a nod, and as Ginny pulled Harry up, they stood facing the other couple coming their way. As they approached, Hermione disentangled from Ron and threw herself on Harry in a hug that almost caused his still-weak knees to give.

"Harry, you can be so stupid sometimes!" Hermione gave a strangled whispered attempt at humour, and then gave up. Harry could feel the hot tears trickling from her eyes onto his shoulder, "My God, Harry, why did you never tell us you felt this way? I couldn't bear to see you in that much pain. You're a wonderful person, Harry, I-I couldn't t-take you being so angry with yourself."

Harry felt much better to have Hermione be so much more upset than he was at this point, and he hugged her tightly for a moment before pulling her at arm's length. She really was the best friend he could ask for, getting this weepy over him. She truly was the sister that he had never had. Swept by sudden affection, he placed a small, quick kiss on her forehead.

"Thanks for worrying, Hermione," he said, as she moved back into the circle of Ron's arms.

"You gave us all a scare, mate," Ron said, still pale.

"Sorry," Harry cringed, truly appalled that his friends had witnessed his breakdown.

"No problem," Ron said hurriedly, "It's just, usually you direct your anger at us instead of a tree." Ron chuckled a bit as Harry raised his hands to find his knuckles bleeding.

"Episki," Ginny said taking Harry's hands and healing them quickly and effectively.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, taking her hand in his newly healed one, "Umm…" he said uncertainly, looking around, "Did you—I mean, I don't remember if, when I—Umm, do you see the lilies that I brought?"

"I picked them up," Ron said, handing him a bunch of lilies that, although a bit wilted, looked no more the worse for wear, "It was the one coherent thing Hermione said as you dropped them and went at the tree."

"Well, they're quite pretty," Hermione said, her tears now dry on her cheeks, "And I only thought that Harry might want them later, so…"

Ron kissed her and pulled back with a smile, "I wasn't having a go at your ever-practical, control-freakish nature, Hermione."

Hermione scowled.

"I was simply commented on your thoughtfulness in having me pick them up," Ron finished quickly and with confidence.

Harry could almost smile, but a look at the twin marble headstones to his left caused his heart to jolt. He took the lilies from Ron, and hugging Ginny, he whispered in her ear, "I need to do this alone, ok?" She nodded and he moved slowly to the grave markers.

"Hi, Mum, Dad," Harry said softly, feeling a bit foolish for talking to stone, "I, umm…well, I'm really sorry it took so long for me to get here. I-I don't know how much you know about me. I'm guessing that Sirius, and, well, I guess Dumbledore now, have caught you up a bit." Harry felt his stomach twist at the thought of Sirius and Dumbledore, but he was finding it comforting to speak to his parents as if they could hear him, "I finished my sixth year at Hogwarts last year, well technically, I guess it was this year, but, umm, well a lot's going on right now, and I couldn't finish my seventh year. If you were here, you'd understand. Although, if you were here, I suppose I wouldn't have to go and do what I'm planning."

He paused, unsure of whether or not he should voice exactly what was going through his mind, but he decided that he could tell his parents, if they could hear him, what was on his mind.

"I miss you both. A lot," Harry felt the stinging start again, but this time, slow tears dripped down his cheeks, and he let them fall silently, "I wonder sometimes what life would be like if you were here. But if you had seen me off at the train station that first day of Hogwarts would I have met Ron? Would I have been with Ron when he insulted Hermione so that we would have to save her and gained her as a friend? Would I have met Ginny?"

Harry glanced over his should at the people he loved most in the world. They were standing, arms around each other, watching him, and watching out for him. Harry smiled.

"Yeah," he answered himself, "Yeah we would have met. We were supposed to, and we would have at any rate. And Ginny…well, she's the only one for me, so that would have to have happened. I wonder if you would have been ok with me staying at the Burrow as often as I do. Life would be so different. To be honest, now when I think of you up there with Sirius and Dumbledore, it doesn't hurt so much," Harry said.

Harry felt a pang as he realized that he would never be able to visit a grave for Sirius.

"Sirius just sort of disappeared through a veil in the Department of Mysteries. So if he's there with you, let him know how much I miss him too. I love you both. And," he began and he felt Ginny's arm around him, tentative, as though she was wondering whether she had given him enough time. He squeezed her to him and she took this as an invitation to stay. Ron and Hermione were right behind her.

"And," Harry continued, "Mum, Dad, I love you and I miss you, but, honestly, I get so sick of being told that I look 'just like James'-"

"Except for the eyes. You have Lily's eyes," the other three finished for him, all four laughing.

"You see?" Harry asked with a smile, "You had to pass on these looks to me, didn't you? Couldn't have any chance that I couldn't be immediately identified as your son, could you?"

"Ah, now, don't say that," Ginny said to Harry, and then directed her next statement at Lily and James, "I have to say you did a brilliant job. I love your son, and I wouldn't change a thing about him. Don't listen to him!"

Harry smiled down at her and kissed her before turning to Ron and Hermione.

"So, shall we go to Grimmauld Place? Try and dig up that Horcrux?" he asked.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all nodded their consent.

"You two go ahead, and we'll catch up," Harry said, "I want to say goodbye."

Since he had spoken only to Ron and Hermione and was still holding Ginny tightly to his side, it was made clear that Ginny was to stay with Harry.

They walked away with a nod, but Harry heard Ron grumble, "A lot of good it will do seeing as we can't see the thestrals!"

Harry turned back to the stones and putting his free hand first on his mother's and then his father's graves, he whispered,

"Goodbye. I miss you."

"You have a hell of a son, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter. He loves you very much."

Harry was touched beyond reason not only by the comment but by the gesture Ginny made next. She kissed her free hand and laid it on each tombstone in turn.

He drew her close as they walked away, but before they reached Ron and Hermione—who were looking in the opposite direction of the thestrals, though they called out to them as though they were right there in front of the couple—Harry stopped.

"Wait," he said, "Before, you were laughing, and you said you'd tell me in a minute. What were you laughing about?"

"Oh," Ginny giggled, "You were just going on and on about how horrible a son you were and I was saying how proud your parents would be of you. I know they would be, but then I thought of Sirius, and I thought that he's probably with your parents, and while they beam and cry a bit over how upset you were, Sirius was probably ready to give you a boot in the arse for believing those things you said. He would have a few choice words for you if he heard you saying all of those things."

Harry smiled because he knew she was right, and as he called to Ron and Hermione that they were looking in the wrong direction, he thought that if Sirius had had any physical way of being here today that Harry would, indeed, have a sore arse and ringing ears from the things Sirius would do and say. The thought was comforting.

A/N: Ok, so what did you think? I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Thanks so much to those who sent e-mails encouraging me to continue writing. I love you guys, and I'm so glad to be back! Review please!