His earliest memory had to be the day Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider.

His brothers were playing a game of Quidditch only a few feet off the ground while he sat on the sidelines, watching with two-year-old Ginny and clutching his teddy bear, which he had named Bilius. He had yet to receive a toy broomstick, so he was forced to watch while his Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins played on theirs.

His mother was watching her children from the kitchen window, but Ron knew she probably wasn't observing him, as he had a less likely chance of getting hurt than his brothers.

Fred suddenly landed next to him, grinning madly, just as he did before he was about to tease him.

"Hey, Ronnie," he said. "You want a ride?"

He perked up at his brother's offer. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Fred, grinning in a slightly evil manner. "'Course."

So Fred got off and allowed him to mount, for the first time in his life, a toy broom.

The broomstick did not agree with him. It buckled and zoomed every which way, causing him to hold on for dear life. Even though it was only a few feet off the ground, he felt like he was only a speck in the sky. Suddenly, the broom jolted to the side and he was facing the shed, getting closer…closer…

CRASH.

He opened his eyes to see Fred standing above him, glaring down at him. The youngest Weasley brother looked down and saw his brother's broomstick snapped in two. Fred started yelling at him, and he tried apologizing again and again. His teddy bear was nearby, so he grabbed it and attempted to hide behind it.

Suddenly, the bear was no longer a protector for him. The fuzzy fur of the stuffed bear was gone, and in its place, he felt the hairy, spindly body of a very different creature…

He dropped the huge spider he was now holding and screamed. He froze in fear as the creepy creature skidded around before inching its way under the fence and disappearing from view.

He looked up at Fred, who was now laughing so hard he was crying. George had joined him, though he wasn't laughing quite as hard. They both ran back up to the Burrow, leaving their terrified brother frozen in fright.

Harry Potter wasn't as arrogant as he had expected.

He hadn't ever planned on meeting Harry, but if he did, he would've imagined him to be a cocky, overconfident, haughty, famous prat. He had never anticipated him to be so modest and respectful, so unsure of himself in the wizarding world.

But after they met on the Hogwarts Express, their acquaintance grew into a close friendship, which symbolized the mutual trust that was shared between the two.

Harry was noble, brave, and an overall decent bloke. This was why he, a mediocre bloke with no talent, wondered why on earth Harry had picked him for a best friend. He knew a lot about Harry, but there still were the mysteries about him that everyone still wondered about, of which none of them would ever be likely to know.

One day in his second year, he visited Hermione in the hospital wing without Harry.

Madam Pomfrey reminded him once again that it was useless talking to a Petrified person, but he ignored her, making his way to his usual chair by Hermione's bedside. He began to talk to her about their progress in finding the Chamber of Secrets; he informed her they were really close to figuring out where it was.

Furthermore, he told her about what they had been doing in class; he knew if she were awake, she would want to keep up on everything happening in each of her classes. He actually had taken notes in History of Magic for her in the last week and stacked them neatly at her bedside.

"We need you back, Hermione," he told her, glancing at her glassy eyes. To him, she looked dead, and it made him shudder to think of her in that way.

He stayed for another hour, just talking to her about their lives, when Madam Pomfrey finally bustled in and told him curfew was in five minutes. He got up, took one last look at Hermione, and was practically shoved out of the hospital wing by the impatient nurse.

During a good part of his fourth year, Seamus and Dean became his replacement best friends.

It's not like he didn't like Seamus and Dean. They were decent people, kind, pleasant to be around; they just weren't Harry.

He had resented his best mate for a while and the drawing of his name from the Goblet of Fire became a good reason to hate him for being so sneaky. Here he was, already quite famous, and then he needed to enter his name while he was underage to earn even more eternal glory. Harry had told him he hadn't done it, but he was too angry and jealous to care.

Now, he sat in front of Seamus and Dean as they discussed Quidditch and some muggle sport called "soccer" that Dean was into. He sighed and glared over at Harry, who sat with Hermione at the end of the table. Though he was still furious at him, he did rather miss him.

He wished Harry had never gotten himself mixed up into the Triwizard Tournament.

"What do you reckon they're doing?"

Hermione flashed him a cheeky smile. "You know what they're doing."

He smirked. "I just never thought Harry would get a girlfriend this year, especially since he seems so angry at everyone."

They turned a corner and climbed onto one of the moving staircases, making their way up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione sighed as she leaned against the banister. "I think that's why Cho will be good for Harry. He needs as many people who can support him as he can get."

He watched her closely, his mind wandering not to Harry and Cho, but to a different relationship. "Yeah, I sp'ose."

She faced him and smiled. "I've an idea. I've noticed you're pretty good at Quidditch, right?"

He shrugged, not sure what game she was playing. They both knew he could fly decently, but lately during practices and especially games, he was a rubbish player.

They got off the staircase and said the password to the Fat Lady, climbing through the portrait hole, and sitting in two cushy armchairs by the fireplace.

"Well, I've been thinking…I'm no good at flying, as you already know…" she rolled her eyes as he smirked at her. "And well…I was wondering if you could teach me sometime?"

His ears burned as he watched her face flush bright scarlet. "Erm…well…sure. Yeah, that would be cool."

She beamed at him, and his heart started beating at a rapid pace. This had started happening right about the time she had shrunk her teeth last year; now he looked at her a bit differently. It also helped that her hair seemed to have tamed itself over the years, and her eyes seemed to shine brighter whenever she saw him; whether it was out of anger or happiness, it didn't matter…

"Ron!"

He shook himself from his reverie, and found her glaring at him. "What?"

"I just thought that maybe we could do it sometime...after hours?"

He grinned at her and leaned closer to her. "Hermione Granger, wishing to sneak out after curfew? What is the world coming to?"

She smiled and pushed him away. "Shut up. After what you and Harry have gotten me into over the years, sneaking out is the least of my problems."

His grin grew bigger as he watched her blush grow warmer in the dim light of the room. "I think we can arrange that."

The waters sparkled as the sinking sun reflected off the glassy surface. He looked away, feeling like he didn't deserve seeing such a beautiful sight. He sat in the smallest room in Shell Cottage, waiting for Bill to return so he could finally explain himself.

The door opened, and Bill stepped in, looking solemn. "Alright, Ron; what happened?"

He was silent. After a moment, he was able to say, "I did something. Something really terrible."

Bill's eyes only pondered him as if he was an interesting piece of art. He took this as a sign to continue.

He tried to think of a better way of confessing, but he could think of nothing, so he just came straight out with it. "I left."

Bill's expression changed a bit; surprise crossed his face. This caused everything that had been building up in his brother to suddenly come flooding out.

He began to openly sob as he told him everything, or at least as much as he was allowed to tell him. Even though he was angry with Harry, he could never tell anyone about the Horcruxes when he promised Harry to keep it a secret.

"She was screaming at me to come back, Bill!" he sobbed. "She begged me to come back, and I ignored her!"

His face fell into his palms and her voice still echoed through his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Bill's voice above him:

"You'll find them again," His voice was tight, as if he was struggling to not yell at him. "And they'll forgive you, they always do."

He highly doubted this, but he was silent as his brother left the room, leaving him to solitude. He hadn't expected Bill to be sympathetic, because they both knew he had acted like a real prat toward his friends. The eldest Weasley brother had never been one to feel sorry for people who didn't deserve it, and every one of his siblings knew this.

After her torture, he was afraid she would never be the same again.

Quite frankly, he was wrong. When she woke after being knocked unconscious by that godforsaken chandelier, she sobbed into his chest, and he embraced her, cursing Bellatrix to a thousand different kinds of hells, praying that she would some day meet the fate Hermione had been forced to endure.

Hermione was weak, but by some miracle, with all her injuries, she was able to accompany him to Dobby's small funeral by the beach. When he saw her walking toward him, he knew that she would eventually heal and be the same Hermione as she had always been.

Later that night, when Bill had pulled Harry aside to talk, he pulled her aside in the shadows of the doorway.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her, concern for her well-being still the top priority in his mind.

She nodded, smiling slightly at him. "I'm fine, Ron. Really."

She still sounded weak, he noticed. But he didn't push the matter. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time," he told her. "I shouldn't have left you alone with her; I should've fought harder…"

He trailed off when she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly. "Ron, there was nothing you could do. You've done more than enough for me tonight, you – you saved me, Ron."

He shook his head in disbelief of the amazing witch in front of him. Even after the traumatic event she had endured, she still was so strong in spirit. It made his love for her grow stronger.

He wanted to kiss her, but as if on cue, Harry called to them, beckoning them to speak to Griphook with him.

He cursed Harry for stealing their moment, but he quickly shrugged it off, because Hermione was looking so drained of energy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and followed Harry to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Someday soon, they would get another chance.

"Ron, you have to let me go. Just for a few weeks."

He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets as Hermione turned away to stuff more possessions in her small beaded bag. She insisted on going alone to retrieve her parents from Australia, but she couldn't possibly leave him at home to worry if she was safe…

"I honestly don't see what the big deal is, Hermione," he told her. "What's wrong with having someone there to watch your back?"

"Because I have to do this alone," she shot back. "I can't explain it – it's just the way it is –"

"Hermione!"

She turned and looked at him with an exasperated expression. He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking like a fish out of water. "I just need to know you're safe. I need to protect you."

"From what?" she asked softly, her eyes shining. "What could be out there that is a threat to me? The war is over, Ron!"

"Hermione, you know that is a load of rubbish!" he yelled, getting impatient with her excuses. "There are still tons of Death Eaters loose, and I'm sure they're just waiting to pounce on anyone who was against Voldemort, especially a Muggleborn witch who happens to be the best friend of Harry Potter!"

"I can take care of myself, Ron!" she shouted, her face now a bright red. "I saved your and Harry's arses numerous times in the last year, in case you don't remember, and I don't need you to protect me!"

"But I need to protect you!" he burst out, stepping closer to her. "Don't you see? Hermione, I can't allow you to go alone because I can't handle losing you! If you were to go missing, or get captured or k-killed…" he ran a hand through his hair as he stuttered, unable to imagine the horrific feeling if he were to find out she was dead. "I would blame myself for letting you go alone. I wouldn't be able to take it, Hermione. It – It would be the end of my world."

Her eyes were sparkling with tears as she looked up at him. Finally, after an eternity of silence, she extended a hand to him. He gave a slight smile and gingerly took it.

"I thought I needed to do this alone," she told him. "I thought I was meant to do it alone, you know? But I guess after everything we've been through, I'm not meant to do anything alone anymore."

He smiled at her and gently kissed her forehead as they squeezed hands and Disapparated on the spot.

He was sent by Hermione to retrieve the groom for the start of the wedding.

He approached the door and knocked, poking his head inside the room. "Mate, it's time."

Harry Potter stood at the window, his fingers fumbling to secure his tie as he watched the guests gather in the backyard of the Burrow.

"This isn't happening." The statement made his best man raise an eyebrow, and he took a step closer to the groom.

"This can't be happening!" said Harry, finally giving up on the tie and facing his friend. The redhead took pity on him and looped the tie for him, finally grasping his shoulders.

"What are you one about, Harry?" he asked. "You're the bloody Chosen One, mate! Getting married isn't the end of the world compared to what you've done –"

"To be honest, I think I'd rather take on Voldemort right now," said Harry hopelessly. "I'm going to screw something up, mate, I just know it. Or she's going to take one look at me and take off running –"

"Shut it," he scolded him and scowled at the groom reproachfully. "If there's one thing I'm sure about my sister, is that she's mad about you, mate. There's no way she's turning out of this."

This seemed to bring Harry to his senses, and he nodded slowly as his Adam's Apple bobbed nervously. His friend thumped him on the back bracingly and they left the room to attend the ceremony.

He had seen the rose in her hair numerous times.

Hermione wore the small silk rose in her bushy mane only when she would go out with him, as if it was a symbol that represented them as a couple. She wore it when they attended their first Ministry Ball together a few months after the war. She wore it on their first official date, which consisted of a muggle movie and a cheap dinner (He was rather tight on money, and he had refused to allow Hermione to pay).

When he left for his first mission as an Auror only three weeks out of training, Hermione hadn't worn the rose. He hadn't expected her to, but he reckoned she might surprise him.

The Ministry was sending the Aurors to different parts of the world to pick up the pieces left by the horrors of the war. He and Harry, who was already second-in-command to the Head Auror, were sentenced to a portion of Ireland, which had been torn apart by the Death Eaters.

It was difficult leaving England, especially because of Hermione. He would be away for a month at least, while she went back to Hogwarts to complete her education.

On the day he left, she still had two days before she returned to school from winter break. On the platform, they exchanged goodbyes, kisses, and hugs, promising each other that they would write every day.

As the train boarded, Hermione pushed a small package into his hand. "Promise me you won't open this until you're just about to fall asleep tonight."

He hesitated, then grinned. "Alright."

That night, by the light of his wand, he opened the package. Inside was the small silk rose. It smelt of her, sweet like the garden of flowers she had planted in their backyard. He kissed it, tucked it under his pillow and fell asleep soundly.

He had a special relationship with his first niece. He supposed this was because she was the first child of the new Weasley generation, save from Teddy. He never felt like he had the same kind of way with Teddy that he had with Victoire. He wasn't related to Lupin's son in any way, and the child belonged to Harry, in the loosest term possible.

But Victoire, she was the first child to be born from his brothers. She did everything first out of all her cousins, and she seemed to take a liking to her Uncle Ron especially.

He adored her from the moment she was born. She was a new life that he could love; she was the child he got to entertain when her parents grew weary.

At Percy and Audrey's wedding, he was her date, only when Hermione was dancing with someone else. He would twirl her around in the middle of the dance floor, her flower girl dress spinning out around her.

She was adored by everyone, but most of the time, she only had eyes for her Uncle Ron. He was her playmate, and she loved him because on many occasions, he acted just like she did.

The events that had taken place in his life in the last year had caused him great happiness. His life was suddenly better than it ever had been, and he didn't know how it could improve.

His wife was lounging on the porch of their little cottage at about four in the afternoon, a book in her hands as usual. He looked down from the loft where they slept, and he could just see her legs stretched out on the lounge chair through the screen door. He grinned and began to climb down the ladder to the lower level of the tiny house. He opened the creaky screen door, and Hermione looked up at him, beaming.

"Morning, love," he said, kissing the top of her head. He sat in the chair next to her, staring at her with (he reckoned) a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Ever since they had gotten married a year ago, the two of them were in exceptionally good moods. They rarely fought like they used to, and they spent a lot of time traveling the globe and exploring other countries together. Their lives were the simplest they had ever been, even with their jobs at the Ministry. They were rarely apart, and they relished in the idea of being together forever.

She had noticed that he was staring. To this day, if she caught him looking at her for a moment too long, her face still turned a deep red. "What?"

His grin grew wider, but he didn't look away. "Nothing," he said, "I just don't know how I ended up with such a brilliant, beautiful witch for a wife."

She looked round at him, smiling warmly. "You didn't. Your wife is quite average –"

"She is not."

Hermione looked taken aback as he leaned closer to her, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you're less than amazing, because that would be a complete lie."

She smiled again and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. A moment later, she had returned to her book.

He stared at her for a moment longer before getting up from his chair and leaning against the porch pillar as he faced her. She looked up at his transition of movement.

"You want to go to Italy?" he asked randomly. "I know you've always wanted to go there, especially because of all the history –"

"Ron, we just came back from Greece two weeks ago!" she exclaimed, but she was smiling, like she really liked the idea of Italy.

He only shot her a meaningful glance that told her he didn't mind traveling again. She positively beamed, and practically jumped into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

She broke apart just as quickly, whispering, "I'll owl the Ministry to let them know we'll be out for a week."

She kissed him once more before retreated inside the cottage, leaving him grinning like an idiot on the porch.

Yes, life most certainly was good.

"Ron, please don't be mad."

Hermione's pleading eyes were frantically searching his for any trace of anger. "I couldn't wait any longer; I needed to know what we were having."

He only stared down at her, his eyes flickering back and forth from her eyes to her bulging belly.

"Ron, say something!" she burst out desperately, her hands clasped together.

"How – how can I be mad?" he asked her, his brain stunned in amazement. He smiled slightly. "I'm having a baby girl."

Hermione's look of terror and worry melted into one of relief and happiness. "So you're not angry?"

He slowly leaned toward her and placed his lips on hers in response.

Within Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he held his daughter up to the glass that held the Pygmy Puffs in their cage.

"You want to hold one, Rosie?" the one-year-old nodded silently, intrigued by the small puffballs. He smiled and opened the cage, withdrawing an orange one and giving it to his daughter, his hand hovering under hers as he made sure she didn't drop it.

He had taken his daughter to Diagon Alley in order to give Hermione a break. She was having a day out with Ginny, Angelina, Audrey and Fleur. He didn't mind though. He hadn't gotten to spend much time with his daughter because of work. The Auror Department kept him late after every other Ministry worker had gone home, and most nights, he came home to both his daughter and his wife asleep.

Rose giggled as the small creature nuzzled her hand, shaking him from his thoughts. He grinned and said, "Mummy's not going to be very happy if we bring one of these home." She giggled again and looked up at him with the same beautiful, brown eyes as Hermione's. She was a quiet child, unlike either of her parents had ever been. She knew a few words, but other than that, she was awfully easy to please.

They watched the Pygmy Puffs for a few more moments before George came over and fawned over Rose, tickling her and making her laugh like mad. For some reason, he seemed to favor Rose over his other nieces and nephews. He would joke that it was because he waited so long for her parents to get together, but sometimes his brother wasn't sure he was joking.

"So, are you up for one of the Puffs, Ron?" asked George, raising an eyebrow as he removed a green one from the cage.

"You think I should?" he asked as he watched Rose cuddle the orange Pygmy Puff. "I guarantee you I'd pay for it when we get home; Hermione wanted to wait for pets until Rose was older."

"But Rose really wants one," George nuzzled the Pygmy Puff in his niece's hand, and grinned at him evilly. His daughter looked at the small creature in her hand, and then up at her father with huge, pleading, brown eyes, which Ron always had trouble resisting. Even at such a young age, she knew exactly how to get her way.

"Fine. Just…don't tell Hermione, alright? Let me do that." He paid his brother, who gave him a discount, and they left the shop with the orange Pygmy Puff in a small cage.

"What are you going to call it, Rosie?" he asked his daughter, who was looking at the creature adoringly. She stared at it a bit longer, and finally said, "Book."

He laughed and gently kissed her forehead. "Think you might want to rethink that, love."

"Ron, are you going out?"

He looked at her like she was mad; he was sitting next to her in bed quietly reading a Quidditch magazine and making no attempt for the door. However, she raised her eyebrows, and he knew if he said the wrong thing, he would feel the wrath of his very emotional, pregnant wife.

"Yes, love," he sighed as he got up and began to slip on his shoes. "What do you need?"

"Well, I have a grocery list, just a few things, so would you mind going by the market and picking them up for me?" She handed him the list and he groaned internally; he hated shopping. However, he wasn't about to complain to Hermione. He had learned during her first pregnancy that arguing with an expecting hormonal woman is the last thing any man wants to deal with.

"Alright," he said as he pulled on his coat. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ron. I know you hate to do it, but I can barely get on my feet."

The sincerity in her voice suddenly made the errand less of a hassle and more of just a necessity for his wife and children. Why was he complaining? Hermione was the one who was carrying his child, she was the one who usually did all the housework, shopping, and child care. Who was he to complain about a simple errand?

"It's no problem," he told her, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his. "It'll be a privilege." She laughed as he winked at her and Disapparated on the spot.

His son was going to Hogwarts.

He had dreaded this day for the last few months, and of course, today he watched him push his trolley onto the platform.

Ever since Rose had left for school two years ago, her parents had turned their main attention to their son. Now, both children were leaving them, and their parents were feeling the empty nest syndrome.

As the train boarded, he knelt down to his son and gave him a large parcel.

"Here's something you can remember us by, Hugo," he told him, grinning at his son.

Hugo smiled and opened the package. Inside, there was his father's old set of Wizard Chess, which he had always admired, seeing as it was a special edition his father had received in Diagon Alley when he was fifteen.

His son grinned and flung himself at his father, hugging him tightly. The older Weasley embraced him just as strongly, never wanting him to leave.

The train whistle blew, and he rose, ruffling his son's hair. "Don't look for too much trouble, alright mate?"

Hugo smiled and ran onto the train, finding a window, and waving next to his sister, who had already boarded. The train started to chug away, and soon both his children were out of sight.

He wrapped an arm around Hermione, who had tears sparkling in her eyes, and they both Apparated home.

"Ron, if you don't stop pacing, I'll hex you."

He sat down heavily on the couch, picked up a magazine and flipped through it, not paying attention to any of the writing within it. He tossed it aside, and resumed pacing.

Hermione sighed and stood up, grabbing his arm and spinning him toward her.

"Ron, she's a sensible girl. She's not going to do anything that you're worried about."

"It's not her I don't trust!" he burst out. "It's him!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly Ron. Scorpius is a nice boy –"

"He's a Malfoy, Hermione! In case you don't remember, they supported Voldemort, and their home was where you got that scar on your neck!"

Hermione stared at him, her hand flying to her throat to feel the thin scar that was carved into her flesh, which was the result of Bellatrix's knife being pressed against her skin.

He knew he had gone too far, because he could feel his ears burning. He looked away and muttered, "Sorry."

She stepped closer to him and tilted his chin so his eyes met hers. "In case you don't remember, Scorpius Malfoy wasn't even born until years after the day I was tortured. And his father has yet to contact us in any way, so I don't think he's keen on having a lifelong rivalry. Rose likes Scorpius, and he's nothing like the rest of his family; he's respectful. So please, Ron, for the love of Merlin, let it go."

She left the room, and Ron fell onto the couch, his eyes flickering to the clock every two seconds as he sulkily waited for his daughter to come home from her date with his old rival's son.

He was beginning to slow down. He could feel it in his bones as the years of being an Auror began to catch up with him.

Rose's wedding to Scorpius Malfoy had been only a year ago, and Hugo had moved to Romania to study dragons under an apprenticeship under Charlie Weasley. They still visited every once in a while, but otherwise he and Hermione had the house to theirselves.

One night, as he looked in the mirror, he saw the many scars that held so many memories on his body. He saw the welts that the brains had left him when he was attacked in the Ministry in his fifth year. He saw the scar that was left when Hermione had accidentally Splinched him when he was seventeen. A long, thin slash was cut through his chest, an Auror accident when he had been fighting former Death Eaters at the age of twenty. Hermione had seen it and cried at the sight of another scar on his body.

He pulled his shirt on and sighed. There were many other smaller scars from his years of battles and fighting, but he couldn't remember them all; there were too many.

He turned around and came face to face with Hermione. She smiled at him and he felt like they could've been eighteen again. She gripped his arms and turned him around so he was facing the mirror again. Her reflection's eyes met his and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You know, all those scars only show how bravely you've fought," she told him. "And as much as I hate hearing that you've gotten hurt, I love seeing them. I know the reasons you became an Auror, Ron. You wanted to protect everyone you loved; you wanted to rid the world of evil so we could have a better life. And you did that." She kissed him on the cheek and smiled at him as she left the room.

He watched her go, and looked at himself in the mirror once more, this time smiling slightly at his reflection.

Death had visited him more than others throughout his lifetime. He had witnessed his brother's death when he was only eighteen, too young to feel that kind of pain. And his years at Hogwarts were never death-free.

But none of those deaths made him feel the way he did when Hermione left him.

She was ninety-one when she passed, so she wasn't too young, thank Merlin. Nevertheless, it tore him apart to know that his wife wasn't with him anymore.

Now, he wandered through the graveyard very slowly, searching for the headstone he craved to see.

He stopped in front of the large stone that was rather new and taller than him. The wizarding world had sent him money to chip in for such a large grave; they wanted to honor the witch that had helped vanquish the Dark Lord. There were flowers pinned to the large headstone, attached randomly by her fans. People had left pictures of her in frames of her at every age, from when she was eighteen to the age she had been when she had died. Notes were posted on almost every inch of the stone. In the center of the headstone, large words read:

HERMIONE GRANGER WEASLEY

September 19, 1979 – October 4, 2070

LOVING MOTHER, WIFE, FRIEND, AND STRENGTH-HOLDER.

One-third of the Golden Trio and helper to the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, the wizarding world honors Hermione for her bravery and outstanding courage during the Second Wizarding War.

Ron sniffed and brushed away a tear as he read the headstone for the millionth time. With a withered hand, he used his wand to conjure a bouquet of everlasting red and black roses. He left them in front of the headstone and carved one last note in small letters above the flowers into the stone:

I love you, Hermione.