Young at Heart

Prologue

Loved always

It had become a familiar path that she took any time the heartache struck her. She could never deny it, even on a night when the wind blew the trees and grass heavily, she would follow her heart, with her hair whipping around her face.

Tonight it was only just becoming dusk and the sun was just a thin line over the horizon of Catchpole, her home for countless years now. It was hard to remember when she'd ever lived anywhere else.

The wind blew her most of the way but she was still breathless when she reached her destination. It seemed stiller here like the wind dared not interfere with the souls that rested in a peace that would last forever.

It had been too soon.

The earth was cold beneath her barefoot, she'd forgotten, as she often did, to wear shoes as her grief carried her usual sensible head without rhyme or reason. Loss makes you lose your head, her mother had used to say that. I would rather lose my head than my heart, her father used to say that.

She wiped dust and debris from the tombstone and sunk onto her knees letting the sobbing take her as it usually did, here at least she would not seem so irrational, the mascara down her face, the hair in which way direction and the strong, ridiculous noise that came from her own body.

Ron Bilius Weasley

Loving son, husband, father, brother and best friend

Hero to the Wizarding World

May he rest here

Loved always

His sister had done the headstone and the first time she'd seen it, she was sure that she would never stop crying. She felt a hand on her shoulder and couldn't help the knowing laugh that her children thought to call the one person that could take care of her while they are away at school.

"Hermione," Harry said, in his way.

He waited until the sobbing stopped then gently reached down and helped her up, he hugged her for awhile then encouraged her to come home, her feet seemed stuck in the ground so he picked her up. As he walked away and Hermione rested her chin on his shoulder she could see a lone figure further up where the more elaborate (and expensive) tombstones could be found. His robes were thick and heavy (and probably expensive) and he stood with his head slightly bent and a large bunch of lush roses in his hands. He glanced up at her briefly, his grey eyes soaking into her own. It was strange how they'd never quite been able to get rid of him, he'd always been in their lives. She had seen him a few times and she knew somehow that this would not be the last encounter.

Note: Please note I do not own anything. I've written this story twice now and felt it was time to post.