They would be forty two.

If they hadn’t died, to Death Eaters at twenty eight. They’d had so much to live for, to do, they’d not been ready to leave, and yet-they did. And Albus just had to bring them up that week, he just had to suggest going back and seeing their face, when Minerva had been purposely trying to avoid it, but he’d been so persistent. It brought back memories, so it did, but most were horrible, awful memories, things they did in their childhood, things she wished she could relive, to hear their voice again, to see their smile, their laugh.

“I miss them.”