Hermione didn't know what to say to Harry on the night that his parents had died. He had been quiet all day, sitting up in the greenhouse and pruning things. He'd even sealed things up and repotted her mandrakes.

"They were playing cards," she said that night when she set his dinner in front of him. Once, she'd provided diced mushrooms she had only been partially certain wouldn't give him hallucinations let alone nutrients—now she'd made completely mushroom-free stir fry, his favorite. The vegetables were bright and in a variety of colors, and she'd tenderized and marinated the hell out of the steak before setting the whole thing in the pan full of oil and spices she couldn't pronounce. It was a bit of a specialty.

"What?"

"Your parents. On the other side of the Veil."

"Cards?"

"Yes. Your dad kept pulling cards out of nothing and dealing in whoever was nearest, didn't take any excuses. Your mom always won."

Harry smiled, tucking heartily into his meal. She was fairly certain it was the first thing he'd eaten all day.

"I wish I'd known them."

"Things would certainly be different."

He smiled at her. "We could be playing cards with them right now."

"That would certainly be a change," Hermione couldn't help but smirk. She didn't want to mention that, had things been different, they both could've been beyond the Veil, playing cards with the Potters, Tonks, Sirius, and Dumbledore. She didn't want to mention that she had spent awhile playing cards with them, even though the subject brought it to mind in the first place. Harry seemed oblivious to it, though, merely content to have something to think about other than death, even if it was just cards.

"D'you think we should go visit them?" he asked, setting the dishes to cleaning themselves in the sink and supervising while she selected a good book for her evening reading. She'd been favoring Arithmancy lately; it had always been her favorite.

"I don't much fancy another trip through the Veil at this juncture, Harry."

"No, I mean their graves."

"There's a vigil at Godric's Hollow tonight," Hermione said, nodding at the paper sitting on top of the coffee table, folded open so that the ad on the third page was on display.

Harry contemplated. Hermione wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. She understood, sort of, his want to feel closer to his parents, and that the best way for him to do that was to visit their graves. But she couldn't help remembering the events that had taken place the last time they had visited Godric's Hollow together, the terror, the snake, the broken wand, barely escaping. A shiver shook its way through Harry and she had the feeling he'd been remembering the same thing she had.

"Maybe we could just go to the movies?"

"Good idea."