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Written for;
The Months of the Year Challenge - June. A strong marriage. Extra Prompts - Feminine, Purple, Cheerful, Impulse, A family home, Marriage.
Eternally Sleeping
"It's coming, Arthur," she murmured, her voice slurred as she thought to keep her eyes open. He continued to stroke her hand comfortingly, refusing to let the threatening tears fall from his eyes.
They'd been married for so long, over seventy years, and the very idea of her not being there when he woke in the morning was unthinkable. He knew he was lucky to have had her beside him for so long, but he was greedy and he needed her to be there forever.
Their marriage had been kind to them. Seven healthy, beautiful children. So many happy memories, so many sad memories, so many hard times, but they'd managed together through it all. It was hard to believe that he'd asked her to marry him, all those years ago, on an impulse.
It was the best impulse he'd ever had.
Her cheerful smile was all it took to take away his bad mood after a hard day at the Ministry. Her feminine smell more calming than the sweetest candle when he was stressed. She was his everything, and to take her away would be like taking away the most important part of him. His soul.
"Arthur, I'm scared."
"Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart," he whispers, shifting so he is sitting beside her on the bed. He strokes her hair away from her face. "You're going to be fine."
"The kids..."
"Will be sad, but they will remember every single hug, kiss, and comforting word you ever gave them."
"I love you, Arthur."
"As I love you. Always have, always will."
Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing laboured. Arthur pulled up the purple blanket, her favourite, and wrapped it around her. That she was dying in the family home, the place she'd spent her happiest years, gave him some peace, but nowhere near enough.
Because he wanted more time.
He wanted more memories.
He'd always thought, hoped, he would die first, because then he would have escaped the pain he was feeling now. Standing up, he moved around the bed, lying down beside his wife.
As Molly took her final breath, he pressed his lips gently to hers.
She was his idea of perfection. Perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect woman. And now she was gone.
Closing his eyes, intent on spending one more night with his Mollywobbles, he let the tears fall silently into the pillow as he drifted off to sleep.
Years later, Ron would still be telling his children and his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren about the marriage his parents shared. How they loved each other so much that one couldn't live without the other. He would tell them about the morning he found them, his father wrapped around his mother, both looking as though they were sleeping.
And they were.
Eternally sleeping.