Hermione kept touching her beard. She had a beard. Harry really, really wanted to laugh. And Ron had. . . well. He was female. Harry wanted to know if he'd had to borrow a bra, but hadn't asked. Largely because he didn't actually want to get punched. But it was still funny. He was going to bring this up whenever Ron was being an arse for the rest of their lives. "You two are husband and wife, yeah? So if anyone looks suspicious, you snog. That'll throw them off. It always works in the movies."
Harry quickly moved to Hermione's other side to evade punching, starting off toward the graveyard, sobering as they started to come into sight of the graves. He didn't know where his parents' were. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see them or not. He did, but it felt a bit. . . he didn't know. Disrespectful to just pop off for a moment while he was wearing an Indian man and here to get something else. It wasn't that big of a cemetery though. He doubted he'd have much choice about it. "The mausoleums are in the back," he said. "Or that's what Fletcher said, anyway." How reliable the dingy little man was, Harry didn't know. He'd been acting oddly anyway - yelling and complaining instead of the twitchiness Harry'd expected. Or he had been at first, anyway. He'd calmed down after the first couple of minutes.
There were a few people around, visiting graves, one caretaker who was mowing the grass off to the side. But for the most part, it was quiet.