A/N: For the Scrabble Challenge (prompt: longevity)
He holds her hand, trying not to notice how frail it feels, how the bones poke through paper-thin skin. "Does it hurt today, Gran?" Teddy asks.
She smiles at him, her free hand patting lightly against his cheek. "Such a good boy," she whispers, turning away as a strong cough rocks her frail body.
"Should I get you a Potion?"
"No need, dear," she croaks, her eyes closing. "Won't be long now."
It takes him a moment to realize what she means, and when he does, it's like a weight is pressing on his chest. "You can't..."
Her fingers push through his mousy hair, a smile stretching over her face. "I've lived a long life," she says. "Twelve decades is more than enough."
"Not for me."
"It was a good life, Teddy. You made it beautiful again."
A fresh coughing fit hits, and Teddy holds her hand through it. God, each spasm that grips her body feels to him as though she might split apart.
"You are so much like your mother," Andromeda whispers, a smile creeping along her lips but freezing halfway as her chest ceases to rise and fall.
And Teddy no longer cares that he's an adult, that such impulses are now considered childish. He lays beside his grandmother, head on her chest, and he cries.