Footprints in the Snow (Part 2): HERMIONE

"Thank you," I said, giving the cashier five sickles and a knut. She handed me a receipt in exchange. Though I made quick work of shoving it and the other one I got from next door into my coat pocket, I still did not escape an impatient "Ahem". My muttered apology went unheard whilst she handed me two styrofoam cups that I graciously accepted. She was already looking over my shoulder at the next customer, and I was already shuffling over to give him space. She suspected nothing, it seemed, and that was good enough for me.

"Uh, let me have a, uh..." the man started. I listened distractedly as the stuttering wizard stumbled over the names on the menu before settling on a simple espresso. Did he know he just ordered pure black coffee? Was it honestly the drinks that confused him, or the cashier's complete lack of coloured irises? That alone hinted that she wasn't human, but perhaps the wings tipped him off first.

The café was warm and cozy with neat little booths in the front and fuzzy-looking armchairs in the back. There was no artificial lighting, just the glow of fireplaces. Some kind of music was playing from the speakers, probably tunes from a popular wizard band that I had never heard of. I picked a seat near the door. The place is closing up at eight anyway and I did not expect to be there long. A huge pane was in front of me, allowing a spectacular view of the village at night. I gazed out of it absentmindedly and then turned back to my purchases.

'Ah, coffee, what would I do without you?', I asked, before setting one of the cups down and lifting the other to my face. I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet smell of caramel. I hadn't seen one of those drinks in a long time. A really long time. I could do quite a lot without coffee, I supposed.

Steam and heat radiated from the piping hot cup to thaw my face and stiff fingers. I could only just make out the low chatter of other guests.

I was about to take a sip from my cup, but sudden movement from outside froze me solid again. Harry was across the street, peeking through windows and turning in and out of side alleys. My eyes followed his frantic movements as he ran about and stopped people for brief moments. I could see him raising a hand to indicate height and making other gestures that would describe how I looked. People shook their heads and continued walking. It seemed very comical, the way he was slipping and sliding in the snow as he sprinted about. I giggled despite myself and collected my stuff so I could go after him but our eyes chose that moment to meet across the way. He looked confused for all but two seconds before rushing across the busy street. A wince flashed across my features when he just missed being mauled by a horse-drawn carriage. The bell rang chimed and snow and harsh wind swept inside as he came crashing through the door.

"Emilie!" he exclaimed, leaning a hand against the door and the other one on his chest as he panted. Several patrons in the store glared at him. I almost dropped the coffee in my lap from surprise, even though I'd seen him coming. He looked breathless and flushed. "You gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"Excuse me, Sir?" The cashier said, as she glowered a hole through his head. Another wince. Her voice sounded simultaneously like a high pitched scream and nails scratching down a chalkboard. I had to resist the urge to cover my ears while Harry, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by it.

"Sorry," he said, closing in the door. I watched in mild fascination as the faerie's eyes melted from inky black back into their neutral white. All traces of the dark veins that lined her face were gone from her features when she addressed the next costumer. I made a mental note to research faerie behavior in depth when I got back to Hogwarts.

Harry dusted the snow off his coat and stalked towards me, flicking his wrist as he came. The booth was encased in a thick silencing charm. He did not sit down even when I motioned to the spot to me. If the scowl on his face was anything to go by, sitting was the furthest thing from his mind. I used this opportunity to take a sugary gulp of my coffee before he began his tirade. I figured I would need it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things, evidently," I replied. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I wanted to do it when the time was right. That's what I told myself when I took another scathing mouthful of the drink and felt my sinuses mercifully clearing up. Just when I was content with sitting there and inhaling the rich, spicy scent, Harry slammed his open palm on the table.

"Well?" he asked, evidently finding my previous response lacking. I tried not to recoil under his fuming gaze.

"I had to go to the lavatory."

"You had to what?"

"I said –"

"Why couldn't you just say that instead of having me run around like the goddamn village idiot?"

He loomed over me. My skin was covered in goosebumps from the misplaced magic crackling in the air around us. He really needed to calm down. It was such a nice café, after all.

"Chocolate?" I asked, gesturing to the cup on the table. He looked at it then back at me, glaring.

"No. Get up."

I felt affronted at his tone, but tried not to show it. His expression was tight. My fingers tapped tensely on the side of the cup.

"What's five minutes?" I asked softly. People were looking at us curiously and though they couldn't hear what was being said, it was quite obvious I was being scolded and they were soaking in as much of it as they could. The only thing misery loved more than company is an audience. Thankfully all they were seeing was a married couple in a spat rather than two thirds of the Golden Trio having a row in the middle of Godric's when we were supposed to be conveniently missing from the face of the Earth. Now that would've made headlines.

I coughed to clear my throat, before opening the Daily Prophet in front of me. I focused on the temporary distraction until my heart stopped speeding.

Harry stood there for a couple more seconds before conceding and sliding into the booth with a heavy sigh. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through what little hair he had.

"Can't believe…" he mumbled. I looked up, hoping he was talking to me but he was only massaging his temples and swearing to himself. He angrily slid the cup of hot cocoa towards him but didn't have nary a taste.

After blindly skimming the front page for the fifth time, I risked a look up from the Prophet to find him with his eyes closed and back hunched over the table. The hand that was around his drink shook slightly.

"I'm sorry,"

"Be quiet."

So I downed the rest of the coffee in silence and snuck peeks at the fuming raven whilst he did his best to pretend I wasn't there and I did my best to pretend the drink was as sweet as it was before.

After a few minutes Harry stood. He tossed his filled styrofoam cup in the bin and walked out of the store. I undid the silencing charm on our booth and followed him. The door nearly smacked me in the face because he didn't bother to hold it open. In hindsight I shouldn't have expected him to.

Coming out from the warmth of those fireplaces and into the harshness of late December winter was a shock to my system. I blew on my hands and rubbed them together so that my fingers didn't freeze and fall off. Harry was paces ahead of me, hands in his pockets and looking straight ahead. I kept up but allowed a few minutes for him to walk off some steam. After a while he slowed down a bit and allowed me to catch up.

"The potion should wear off soon so we'd better take another. You did bring extra, didn't you?" He asked. His voice sounded colder than the temperature.

"Of course," I replied, thankful that I'd thought to pack a few spare. I was sure Harry could not be any more annoyed at this point but not having the extra potions would not have gone over well. We slipped into an alleyway and I pulled out my beaded bag, grabbed two bottles out of it, and handed one to Harry. He popped the corked, dropped a hair into it, and drank the contents of the bottle without preamble. I followed suit.

There was a tingling in the pit of my stomach but other than that, nothing new happened. My fingers reached up and felt my hair to find it just as blonde and short as it was a few moments ago. That should last us at least another few hours but I should have another set of bottles somewhere in case the plan didn't go as planned. It often didn't, no matter how much I thought it through.

We kept moving and I was beside Harry then, figuring he'd had enough time to reconcile with the fact that I was bound to walk in step with him at some point. I watched our wavy reflections in storefronts to pass the time.

"Hermione," His voice sounded tired. "Don't ever do that to me again, alright?"

My mouth was dry as I nodded. "Alright."

Harry did not acknowledge my last statement and I looked away, feeling guilty for worrying him so much but knowing that I would make it up to him by tomorrow.

"I thought I'd lost you," I heard him whisper. He wasn't looking at me as he said it, but my heart clenched all the more.

I reached out and laced our fingers together.

The village centre was right ahead. It was lit in a warm glow and as we neared it, and I could make out a tall statue standing proudly. We stopped and I looked on in silent awe.

There was a man with messy marble locks and askewed glasses looking down at a woman with long straight hair and a pretty face. She was holding a chortling baby on her hip who was reaching out to them both. Jewels, probably emeralds, were used in place of his eyes. Harry stepped closer, looking at the expressions lovingly frozen in stone. It was his parents, and of course, him. I noticed that his miniature likeness was free of a lightning bolt scar and held a joyous, carefree smile instead.

Singing came from the church across the square. Behind it, I could imagine, laid rows and rows of gravestones and tombs. I knew that was exactly where we'd find his parents, the same smiling couple in the statue. Harry stepped away from the carving and turned towards the hymns with downcast eyes. His fingers slipped away from me.

"Come on," he said. I took one last look at the figure and ran to catch up with him. We reached the church gates and Harry stood looking at it, as if it too bore the same significance as the war memorial. At first I couldn't tell whether he was afraid to step in or if he was just waiting for me but the latter was quickly settled on when he pushed open the gate as quietly as he could and waved me through it. I did. He followed. The two sides of the iron gate kissed with the soft clang of metal when they closed behind us.

A holiday service was going on inside and we could heard the muffled singing louder than before. Harry moved in front of me trudging through the snow and looking at the furrows he left with his boots. I followed near him as we sidestepped jutting rocks and dips on the ground.

There had to be hundreds of tombstones laid out in front of us when we got to the back of the old gothic building. The reflection from the stain glass windows made the place look brilliant in rainbow technicolour.

Harry stepped cautiously towards the nearest slab of granite.

"Abbott. Could be a relative of Hannah's," he said. He didn't wait for a reply, before moving deeper into the graveyard. I followed close behind. He bent to read the words off of headstones while I scanned the darkness for anything out of the ordinary. Owls hooted in the trees above us and I heard the scurry of night animals as they moved between the graves. All the cheeriness of the village was gone. The glow of Christmas lights did not reached this corner of the town, leaving more than enough room for the dark to trickle in.

After surveying the area and making sure I was thoroughly spooked, I looked around for Harry, who was stooped down on one knee in front of a tombstone. 'He couldn't have found the grave already...', I thought, knowing that it wasn't that I didn't want him to find it at all but rather that I wish his parents didn't have to be dead in the first place.

I knelt too, unable to suppress my intake of surprise. It was not what I thought it was, but the find struck a sour chord all the same.

"'Kendra Dumbledore and Her Daughter Ariana'," I whispered. There was a quote under the names but my vision blurred before I could see it. I looked away, trying to blink back stinging tears. Harry's features were hidden in shadow but I could tell he had his head down. I could only imagine that he was saying a silent prayer of some sort. He stood after a while.

"Did he ever mention that they –"

"No."

I nodded, though he couldn't see me all too well in the dark. I briefly wondered if he knew what I was going to say or if he just didn't want me to say anything, but it didn't matter either way. "Let's… let's just keep looking."

He went off on his own and I let him, figuring that he needed it. After a minute of looking through the Chatwins and Rogers and Goyles, I nearly choked on a sharp intake of stale, icy air. I thought it was because I read 'Potter', but I was mistaken. Curious, I rubbed moss away from the stone's surface with the palm of my hand.

"Harry, come here." I looked ahead and saw his slow his movements in my direction. When he sat down beside me, his body heat did little to drive away the late-night frost.

"What is it?"

"It's Grindelwald's Mark!" I exclaimed in a hushed whisper. Harry peered at it closer and I moved out of his way so he could get a better look. The name carved above the symbol was nearly illegible. I squinted and casted a Lumos so we could see it better.

"I think it says Ignotus." He was neither surprised nor excited by this discovery, and I couldn't fault him for it. "I'm going to keep looking for my parents. You go ahead and make a note of this or something."

His last sentence was said as an afterthought. I got up off my knees and dusted the snow from my trousers so I could make myself useful. The light in the church clicked off when the service ended, leaving us in suffocating darkness but for the glow of our wands.

The name soon jumped out at me again, and this time I was sure. My pulse raced. "Over here."

He moved with some kind of muted apprehension, knowing from my tone that this wasn't a clue or a puzzle piece that needed arranging into the big mess of a mystery we found ourselves in. This was it. I had no idea what was going through his head, so I wouldn't gamble a guess.

HARRY

I turned towards her slowly, mouth dry and fingers clasped together and shaking like leaves just barely hanging on to their branches. All I could hear was the rhythmic thumping in my aching head and the heaviness of my footsteps as I moved towards where she stood. The headstone that she was looking at was tall and carved out of marble, just like the statue in the square. It was practically glowing, and I couldn't believe we missed it before. After a while there wasn't a need to go any closer, because the names on it were written big, bold, and clear.

...

JAMES POTTER

Born 27 March 1960

Died 31 October 1981

...

LILY POTTER

Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981

...

My knees gave out, and I would've fallen if Hermione's arms didn't catch me and bring me down slowly. This was them. This was really them. In my head I could see their cold bodies lying under the earth with eyes closed and ears deaf to a world going to utter shit while their only son, whom they gladly gave their lives for, was right there in the muck of it. Right there and they'd never even know. I thought about this moment many times but I never imagined it could hurt so damn much. Everyone said I survived the Killing Curse, that's what they've been telling me my entire life, but I couldn't feel more dead than I was right then.

I pressed my eyes closed trying to keep it together, but realized that if anyone was allowed to fall apart that night, it was me. Tears fought their way down my cheeks and froze on their way down. I didn't try to hold them back. I didn't want to.

It shouldn't be possible to miss people that you barely even knew, but there I was, missing them with every labored beat of my broken heart.

I mourned the smiles I was too young to recall, the ones that I had to see rendered in marble instead of in flesh and blood. I mourned the celebration of my first words, my first steps, and my first lost tooth. I mourned the first time my dad took me flying, and the last time my mum had to tie my shoelaces for me by hand. I mourned the stories that were never read and the way they would have told me that the real monsters were outside and not under my bed frame. I mourned the goodbye hugs I never felt on the platform, and the way they would have looked at each other in love deeper than I could ever dream of as the Hogwarts Express pulled away. I mourned all the things that never were and never will be. I mourned, and mourned, and mourned until there was no mourning in me left.

It felt like tiny splinters pierced my lungs, making it that much harder to breathe. The frigid air burned. I wheezed through a sob and Hermione held me tighter.

I realized that I hadn't brought anything for the grave. All the plants in the graveyard were frozen and leafless. 'Sorry, guess I forgot. S'okay, right?', I thought, even though the corpses couldn't hear, let alone forgive. Hermione must have read my mind because she pulled out her wand and conjured a wreath filled with Christmas roses. A beautiful lily was the centre piece. I thanked her silently and knelt down in front the stone.

'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'

The quote was written right below their names. The quiet speech I was going to make caught in my throat.

"Is–Isn't this a Death Eater motto? What's it doing here?"

"Not in the same context… It's trying to say," Hermione sniffed before continuing. "It means living beyond death. Living after death."

Living after death? The little kid that lived in the cupboard under the stairs of 4 Privet Drive beamed at the prospect of them still being alive somewhere, watching over me and living life after death. I quickly directed him to the dark corner of my mind and got back to the real world, where they were rotting under my feet.

I nodded tensely at Hermione before using my palm to flatten out a patch of snow. I laid the wreath down and stood, not remembering the words I was going to say and not finding the strength to say them even if I did. Hermione wrapped an arm around my middle and I placed mine around her shoulders. I was ready to go. I held her tightly to my side as we left our footprints in the snow.