May 2, 2050
"Molly?" Arthur asked, clasping the hands of the middle-aged woman at his bedside.
"No, Grandpa, it's Rosie," the woman replied, with more patience than Molly, who was standing in the doorway, could have managed. "Would you like Grandma to come and sit with you now?"
Rose Malfoy got up from her chair and kissed Arthur's forehead before joining Molly at the threshold. She clasped her grandmother's hand and looked at her with pained eyes. "It's okay, Rose. You are so great with him."
"I'm going to miss him so much. He's been wonderful."
"I think everyone will miss him. He loves you, Rose."
"I love him, too. And you, Gran. Are you sure you're going to be okay? You look tired. I could stay with you if you'd like."
There was genuine worry on her face, but Molly smiled confidently. It didn't matter how she felt; she wanted the time to be with her husband alone. "I'm doing just fine. You don't have to worry about me, dear. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Molly hugged her granddaughter tightly before walking into her bedroom to see her husband. She used a cane now, and her walking was more like hobbling as she made her way towards the chair that had been placed beside the bed for the last few weeks. Finally seated and short of breath, Molly took her husband's hand.
"I'm here, Arthur. I'm right here." He didn't answer, but squeezed her hand faintly. It was terribly ironic, Molly thought, that her husband who was so fascinated with Muggles would end up with one of their diseases. Dementia, they called it, and it wouldn't kill him. Instead, in the the last few years, things seemed to slip away slowly from his mind until he couldn't keep the names of his children straight, couldn't remember that he had grandchildren. But even as he asked when Fred would visit him, or confused one of Lily Luna's sons for Ron or Percy, Arthur never forgot his wife. The thought filled Molly with a sad sort of pride.
Despite the bustle of their family downstairs, Arthur's breathing evened and soon he was asleep. Molly stayed beside him, talking to him about the past. "Do you remember what it was like back in London? I loved our flat so much, trying to be so grown up when we were only eighteen. I remember the way you would get home from work and smile at me like it was the first time you ever saw me. You even ate the terrible dinners I used to make!" Molly knew that she was rambling, and she felt herself going half-mad at the way his breathing became scattered and shallow. "You kept me sane, Arthur, as I thought I would go mad for want of a daughter, and it was because you loved me that I could love our sons. Thank you so much for our sons," Molly said. "And Ginny. Ginevra was worth the wait, don't you think?" She chuckled and the smile reached her eyes.
Talking was taking too much effort, and Arthur wasn't awake to listen anyway, so she just sat and stayed. There were so many memories made in one hundred years of life. She knew she couldn't remember them all anymore, but the ones she kept were wonderful. The simple white dress she wore on her wedding day, the rate her heart was beating as she walked down a makeshift aisle to meet the love of her life. The morning sickness and realizing that she was pregnant for the first time, the anticipation of being a mother. Leaving the job she loved, the regret and then the joy of staying instead to watch her seven wonderful children grow up. The Battle of Hogwarts, where she lost her son far too young. The first and only time she killed another human being and how she never, not once, regretted it.
She remembered the birth of each of her twelve grandchildren, and the day Rose came to her, married less than a year, to say that she and Scorpius were expecting. Her youngest great-grandchild was only six months old, and Albus and his wife couldn't be prouder. Molly couldn't be more proud of them, either. There were twenty-five people in the world so far who existed simply because Arthur and Molly loved each other. But really, as much as Molly had wanted children and descendants and a legacy, there had really only been one dream that mattered, and it came true. She had lived to be 100 with Arthur at her side, and old age did nothing to decrease her love for him.
With some difficulty, Molly leaned forward to whisper into the ear of her sleeping husband. "There are two joys in life: not getting exactly what you wanted, and finding out that what you got was everything you needed." And as Arthur's breaths became slow and scattered, Molly lay down beside her husband of more than 80 years, placed her head against his chest, and quickly fell to sleep. Hands entwined, the rising and falling of both of their chests slowed and stopped altogether before the morning came.
A/N: This chapter was shorter than I expected it to be, but I think I said everything I needed to. My prompt was "old" and with it, this story is complete. Now that it's over, those of you who have been following and not left a review, I would love it if you could drop me even a quick note to let me know what you thought of the whole story. Thanks to everyone who's followed this and made it a pleasure to write, and to Magic Doors for the challenge, structure, and pairing. (Also, I didn't morph into JKR during the process of writing this, and the characters are hers.)