Home Is Where the Heart Is

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, in their Muggle disguises, stood in front of a marble tombstone that held the names of Harry's parents.

IN LOVING MEMORY:

JAMES POTTER
BORN 27 MARCH 1960 -
DIED 31 OCTOBER 1980

LILY POTTER
BORN 30 JANUARY 1960 -
DIED 31 OCTOBER 1980

THE LAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH

The pair had arrived on Christmas Eve to visit Godric's Hollow to find Bathilda Bagshot to see if she had the Sword of Gryffindor so they could destroy the Horcruxes, but Harry wanted a moment with his parents, or rather, their graves, to maybe find closure.

Harry knelt, the knees of his jeans dampening with the snow, and brushed aside the white powder to dig his fingers into the  cold soil. Hermione knelt beside him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, making sure to keep the Invisibility Cloak on both of them.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes and he stifled a sob. He wiped the back of his hand under his nose, sniffling quietly.

"I wish they were here, Hermione." He choked.

"I know, Harry." Hermione said sadly.
Unbeknownst to either of them, a single teardrop of pure, untainted magic slipped from Harry's eyes and fell to the soil, absorbing into the ground. Harry wiped his eyes and looked up at the tombstone, tracing their names carved into the faded marble.

Suddenly, there was a whisper of wind that billowed through the naked branches of the hibernating trees and through the two teens' hair. It was warm and comforting, filled with magic and mystery.

"Did you feel that?" Hermione questioned in confusion. Harry had also felt the breeze but was clueless to what it meant. His hands still burrowed in the frozen soil, he let out a yelp of fear when he felt freezing cold fingers entwining with his own. Hermione heard his distress and let out a little shriek at the sight of pale white hands that were now emerging from deep underground, fingers clasped onto Harry's.

A thin arm shot out from the ground at the right of the grave and the hand attached to it clutched firmly at Harry's sleeve, as said young man tried not to hyperventilate, his eyes wide in terror. From the left came another set of hands and arms that were attached.

And from the hands and arms came the heads. Harry's face went white and his jaw dropped at the sight of dirty, tangled red and messy black hair bursting from the ground of the Potter gravesite. And with the heads and hair came faces. The living body of Lily Potter, her face obscured by her ratty red hair, dragged itself out from six feet under and was draped across Harry's legs. James Potter soon followed and lay in a heap at Hermione's feet.

There was a deadly silence that followed. Harry had a hand clamped over his mouth to stop himself from screaming out his lungs at the fact that his supposedly dead parents had just pulled themselves out from the grave, breathing steadily but unconscious.

"H-Harry..." Hermione stuttered, breathless.

He turned to her with wide eyes and responded. "What?"

Hermione bit her lip. "They're naked." She whispered. Harry's head snapped over to his mother and saw the smooth expanse of creamy white, yet dirty skin and he blushed, not wanting to see his parents naked as the day they were born so he quickly shed his jacket, leaving him in a thick jumper and a tee shirt, draping the jacket over his mother's backside and legs. He saw Hermione doing the same with James, and was avoiding looking at the area she'd covered with her own winter jacket.
They sat in silence, debating on what to do.