Three Generations

"Do you ever think about death?"

"Donny!"

Rose looks at her youngest child, shocked by his words, Ron's own little Rosie who has grown up to be a loving but strict mother.

Little Ronald, known as Donny everywhere he goes, though lately he has wanted to leave the childish nickname behind him, looks at his mother, obviously hurt. He is a clever boy, has lived through fifteen summers and is intelligent enough to know that death is a natural thing, stupid enough to think that knowing makes it an easier thing to discuss about.

Ron doesn't scold Donny. The boy himself might think he is almost a grown-up, but Ron looks at him and remembers the gigantic chess game, Acromantulas and petrified Hermione, and is glad Donny is still only an innocent, naïve child.

"Of course I do", he answers, an old man from his soft armchair. "All people do, I think."

Hermione certainly did, and did it so well he didn't have to do almost anything after his beloved passed away three years ago, as sweet and young as she was the day he realised he loved her. Ron looks quickly at Rosie and knows why she wants Donny to stop talking – it still hurts. But Ron also knows it will always hurt, and talking doesn't make it worse, so he smiles at Donny to show he is allowed to ask more questions.

With more timid voice, Donny continues. "If you died today, what would you regret, Grampa?"

Ron looks at him – his brown eyes (Hermione's eyes, and Rose's), anxious face, tensing shoulders – and for a while he is at loss of words. Then he thinks of the question, and even though he already knows Donny will be perplexed by the answer, he says it anyway. He is an old man and he has right to say queer things.

"Many things. And nothing."

"What do you mean, Grampa?"

"There are many things I wish I would have done differently", Ron answers, looking back to the old memories. "But if I had a chance to change them now, I wouldn't."

Donny's eyes are round as Sickles. "Why?"

"They made me to who I'm now." He is silent for a while and then ruffles Donny's hair. Rose's expression is less worried now, but he can see she is still afraid.

"Do you miss Gramma, Grampa?" Donny asks quietly, coming closer to Ron after a protective glance towards his mother.

"Terribly", Ron confesses to his ear. "But somehow it's like she never left me at all."

Donny doesn't understand this sentence either, but he will in some far future. Ron puts his old, big hand to Donny's thin shoulder and smiles. His grandson answers to the smile and Rose comes closer to the two of them, and the children of three generations sit there in silence.