"Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas."
"Hey, Mum, Dad," Harry whispered. He stood in front of the marble headstone, the pale glow of his wand illuminating nothing beyond the edges of the grave. But the darkness felt not nearly so oppressive with the weight of Horcruxes lifted from his shoulders. It had been two months since the battle had been won, almost exactly. It was July third, a day before some American celebration Hermione had mentioned earlier in the week. "So, I was thinking, you know Ginny Weasley, and, well, I had to break up with her before the war..." He trailed off, unsure. Harry, of course, knew his parents wouldn't return their side of the conversation. It was simply nice to be here. To tell them about his life.
"But I really do like her quite a lot and I've no idea how to tell her. Oh, Dad, how'd you got Mum to date you would be wonderful advice right now." He sat down heavily by the headstone, pushing away the awful memories from the Tournament's graveyard. One finger traced his parents' names in the stone, each curve and line. He'd never get much closer to them, beyond digging himself a grave right alongside. "Oh, god, I just miss you and I've hardly met you." But then he suddenly knew what to do about Ginny. Well, he supposed, nothing like speaking to dead parents in the deep of night for ideas. Harry stood and dusted off his pants, muttering a quick 'Nox!' to turn out the light of his wand. The grass rustled as he hurried away, opening the gates and taking one last glance at the graves in the distance. He had placed a white lily on the grave.