You may tire of me as our December sun is setting
Cause I'm not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes
These wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below
Who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for
Both a beginning and an end
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize
When he catches his reflection on accident
I did not know who I was when I woke up this morning. It hurt me to sit up, and when I did, I saw you across the room at your vanity, putting your long, grey hair in a single braid. I did not remember your hair being grey when I kissed you goodnight before we went to bed the previous evening. No, in fact I remembered it being its beautiful shining chestnut color. You turned and smiled at me, the wrinkles of your face lifting as your entire countenance brightened. Your skin was always silky and soft, like smooth cream. "Bloody hell," I hissed. A mischievous gleam flashed through your eyes as you said, "Language, dear." Dear? You'd never call me 'dear', not in your right mind. A huge wave of pain washed over me, and I was suddenly aware of the hurt in my body. My back ached, my neck throbbed, my hip was stiff, and my fingers were numb and swollen. I briefly wondered if this was what Mum and Dad felt like when they first woke up. "Hermione!" You whirled around to face me again, one earring dangling from a drooping ear. They didn't used to droop like that. Your face showed pure concern, and as always, was very inquisitive. "Where are my parents?" Your entire body seemed to sag, and you looked very remorseful. "Now, Ronald, you know what happened to them, I know you do. Let's not do this again, please. Not today." Happened to them? Something had happened to them? "No, Hermione I don't," something had happened to my voice as well; I sounded so much…older. "Please tell me. If it's bad, I want to know, I need to." You sighed and perched your newly fragile body on the edge of our bed. You leaned over to grasp my hand, and I noticed how bony your fingers were. The skin stretched across them, and a simple silver ring sat loosely on your left hand. "They, died, Ron. A very long time ago." A silence took hold of the room, and I could almost hear your heart beating. You took a sharp breath and said, "Ron, how old are you?" I let out a shaky laugh. "I'm twenty, Hermione, we both are." You gazed at me sadly, eyes filling quickly with tears. Your fingers ran up and down my arm now, somewhat soothing my racing mind. You took a deep breath and said, "Darling, you are not twenty, and have not been twenty in a very long time. Over fifty years. Now, when you are ready, I want you to get out of bed and go look into the mirror of my vanity. I expect you will find that you've changed a bit." I could feel my face contort in confusion. 'There is no way that fifty years have passed without me knowing!' You took my hand in yours again and pressed your lips against it. That was something that had not changed. Your lips were still soft and warm, like when we were still twenty. It took me a while, but I managed to pull myself from our bed and shuffle to the mirror. I stopped half way there when I saw the man I had become. I was thin; far more than I was in school. My spine had curved into itself, and I struggled to stand straight and tall. My freckles seemed to have sunken into my skin, and the wrinkles that covered me ran deep like caverns. I lifted a shrunken hand to my head, horrified at what was there. My hair, my Weasley hair, was no longer its fiery red, but a subdued grey, much like yours. My eyes darted up and down the mirror, terrified by my own reflection. I was seventy years old, and had never felt more like it than when I sank to the ground, darkness consuming me.
When I awoke, I felt something hot against my sticky forehead. "Oh!" Someone called. "Hermione, he's up!" A female voice that was not yours rang out from beside me. Managing to squint, I saw my sister sitting over me, holding a towel to my head. Behind her, I saw Harry seated in an old chair in the corner of our room. You rushed in and sat yourself hurriedly next to me on the bed. "Oh, now, Ronald, when are you going to stop this?" I couldn't find any words, my mouth was full of cotton, and my brain did not want to work. "How," my voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. "how long have we been old?" Harry and Ginny stared at me with pained expressions, also looking far beyond what I remembered, but you simply took my hand again, and said, "Ron, we've always been old; it's just taken a while for our bodies to catch up with our minds." How did they know that they were old? Why am I just now seeing it? Where did my life go? Ginny, my precious baby sister, moved over to sit on the edge of the bed as well, and took my other hand. Harry still sat in the corner, looking more upset than I had ever seen him. He was the last thing I saw as I fell into darkness again.
I jolted awake again soon after, to find you crying into my shoulder. Ginny was lying down on the sofa near to the door dozing, and Harry had moved into the chair next to the bed. You were burying your head into me, clutching at me, your fists clinging to my shirt. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I turned my head again to look at Harry. He held an intensity in his eyes that was unfamiliar to me. And I knew. I knew that this was it. Harry leaned forward and took my free hand, as my other one was tangled in your curls, and whispered, "It's alright mate, you can go now." I opened my mouth, but no words came. I wanted so desperately to say the things to him that I never had, to reassure him of my loyalty and love. In school, I would have never told Harry that I loved him, but now, it was the only thing I wanted to say. He clutched my fingers tighter, and said, "I know, Ron. Me too." I could tell I was crying. I could feel the hot tears streaming down my face, and made no effort to remove them. I looked over to Ginny, and watched her slumber for a moment. Then I glanced back to Harry and widened my eyes. He murmured, "I'll tell her, mate." I nodded stiffly and turned back to you. I kissed the top of your head and you lifted your head to me. "No, Ron. Not now. Not yet, please!" And here I am now, millions of things I want to say to you, but cannot.
I'm tired, love. I can barely look at you, my eyes are so heavy. I can feel myself being pulled away from you, and I know that I can't stay with you. I just wish I could tell you that whatever life I missed, I hope that it was everything you wanted. I hope that I gave you what you deserved, and that I treated you with everything you were worthy of. I take one last look at your face, still beautiful after years of life, and close my eyes. As I fall away, I wonder if I if loved you as fiercely as I could, and as passionately as you desired.
Hermione wrapped her arms around her husband whom she loved so fervently, and knew that he was out of pain at last. Cries threatened to take over her as she whispered harshly into his ear so that no one else could hear, "You did, love. You loved me like no one could, more than I ever needed. And I will love you just as ardently until the day I join you."