Harry lay on his bed, surrounded by the people he called his friends. There had been many visitors in the past few days, all of which he had given his final words. He was dying; there was no doubt about it. He had lived a long life, filled with many stories of success and regrets. Looking around him, his greatest regret was that he wouldn't die surrounded by his children and grandchildren.

He had never married, not even showing the slightest bit interest to change his status.

Many had thought that he was afraid to die, but everyone who really knew him, knew that he had longed for death, wished for it for seemed like his whole life. The only reason he had to stay, he told them, was that he wanted to see a lot of things, so that when he met Hermione, he could tell her everything she'd missed. They were surprised he had managed to hold on for so long.

"Kingsley, can you get that letter from my drawer?" Harry whispered softly. They heard him well enough despite how softly he had said it, all were alert to his movements, not wanting to miss a moment with him before death finally knocked on his door.

The letter was taken and handed to Harry, where he proceeded to open it with shaking hands. It was Hermione's last letter to him, so many years ago. He traced the words he never got to hear from her. "I'm happy, 'Mione. Can you see me smiling? I wish I told you what I felt. I love you, 'Mione, forever and always." He spoke softly, holding the letter to his heart, his eyes closed. "Everyone, when I'm dead, I hope you wouldn't mourn for me. I–I'm happy, you know, wherever I'm going. I hope, when I die, you bury me right next to her."

Everybody watched as he breathed deeply. I'm happy, 'Mione. Wait for me. He opened his eyes and looked around, smiling as he did.

He took another breath, closed his eyes and was no more.

The funeral of Harry Potter had been a somber one. None of his friends had been seen crying, but none were smiling too. They were the most composed of the millions of witches and wizards around the world that wished to see him one last time.

He had truly lived a long life, serving the British Ministry for more than 50 years. During his service, he had rebuilt everything and had been known as the most accomplished minister, having passed a lot of laws that helped better the people. He had also been the most mysterious of all, only aging slightly ever since he sat as Minister.

When the time to bury him came, Neville added one last thing to his coffin.

"What's that, mate?" George asked.

Neville stood. "It's a ring Harry asked me to make for him. He said that, when he reached the afterlife, he wanted to set things straight and propose to Hermione first chance he got."

"Funny boy, that one." Arthur said as they looked at the sky above. Patting the marble tomb one last time, they left the forest

"Hey, Hermione." Harry called as he neared the familiar bushy hair.

The woman turned around and smiled. Not at all disturbed by the empty Hogwarts. "Hi, Harry. My, you haven't changed. How's everything going?"

"Hermione, I know I never got to ask you last time. I wanted to tell you, you got everything wrong. I love you and I hope that you'd do me the honor of being my wife." He said as he knelt in front of her.

Hermione smiled sweetly, tears running down her eyes. "I guess I'm not dreaming anymore, right?"