“Hermione, dear, will you come and join me for a little while?� I asked. It was a sticky mid-July evening. Dinner was finished, and the twins, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had been tramping upstairs to play a game of Exploding Snap in the room the twins were occupying. It had become rare in the past few years for my children to spend time together, and I didn’t want to discourage it. Still, I had been meaning to have a talk with Hermione ever since she’d arrived at Grimmauld Place, and I didn’t know when I would have another chance if I didn’t seize this one.

“Yes, Mrs Weasley?� she replied, returning to the kitchen.

“Would you mind keeping me company for a little while as I knit?� I requested. “I have so little time to myself, especially quiet time, that I shouldn’t really complain, but it can get so lonely in here by myself sometimes.�

“Of course, Mrs Weasley!� she said, beaming, as she settled on a chair. “I’d be happy to.� She was such a nice, well-mannered girl.

“So, how are things going with you and Ron?� I inquired as my knitting needles clacked together.

“Pardon me?� She was obviously pretending not to understand a word I was saying, but a faint blush had crept onto her cheeks.

“I have been a mother for twenty five years,� I said. “I am hardly oblivious to what is going on under my own nose.�

I had noticed that summer that they’d been glancing furtively across the dinner table at each other, missing each other’s glances by seconds. Also, whenever the twins made fun of Hermione, Ron’s ears would turn a bright red, though he never defended her. He was probably afraid they’d make fun of him.

“There’s nothing going on,� she muttered, her look slightly darker.

“Hermione, my Ronald is not the most observant of boys,� I said. “How is a boy who can’t find his own socks, let alone match them, supposed to notice that his little friend has blossomed into a lovely young woman?�

“He could try!� she burst out. I could tell that though she was talking about little things like socks and quills and homework, the feeling came from the latter part of my statement.

“Give him a little time,� I assured her. “He’ll grow up. He is growing up. He just hasn’t quite caught up to you yet. Why, Ginny was running before he could toddle well, but you wouldn’t know that now, would you? Hermione, according to his letters, he’s just figured out you’re a girl. Now you have to let him figure out what to do with that information.�

Hermione had started giggling halfway through my little speech, and just couldn’t seem to stop. Finally, wiping away a tear of mirth, she said, “Yes, it was December. That’s when he observed my state of femaleness.�

Now that I had her in a good mood, I knew I had to bring up something painful – or perhaps more painful, I should say. I could tell that she was suffering from what she viewed as Ron’s rejection of her. “Hermione, I owe you an apology,� I confessed.

“For what, Mrs Weasley?� Hermione asked, bewildered. “It’s been lovely staying with you this summer.�

“I was pretty angry at you for a while during the last few months,� I admitted. “I put to much credence in Rita Skeeter’s reporting. She’s a scarlet woman – excuse my language – I’ve always said. It’s just that I was thinking that where there’s sparks, there’s magic, as the saying goes. I am a mother before anything else, and the only thing I hate more than seeing my children hurt is the person who hurts them. For as I saw it, from what Rita wrote, you were hurting my Harry – yes, I think of him as one of my own – by cheating on him with Viktor, and my Ron by being with both of them. Now I know that isn’t true, but I wasn’t very nice to you for a while. I am sorry. You really are a lovely girl, Hermione.�


She didn’t seem too focused on my apology. “But I thought you said Ron was a little ways behind me?�

“He loves you, Hermione, but he just doesn’t know it yet,� I explained. “I knew that he fancied you from his first letter home, complaining about a bushy-haired know-it-all girl in his year. It broke my heart. I felt like I was losing him already. I knew it was bound to happen some day, but I’d counted on it being a few more years, at least. When I met you in Diagon Alley the summer before his second year, I felt relieved, though. At least you weren’t going to break his heart, the one you’d stolen, if inadvertently, from me. I should have stuck with the sentiment, Hermione.�

I wasn’t expecting what happened next. Hermione stood up from her chair and flung her arms around me. “Thank you, Mrs Weasley,� she murmured.

As we broke apart, my knitting slid off my lap. As I picked it up, I remembered something – a complaint, naturally – from one of Ron’s letters. “How rude of me!� I exclaimed.

“What, Mrs Weasley?� Hermione asked.

“You knit, don’t you?� I inquired. “I should have asked if you wanted to go get your knitting so we could knit together while we talked.�

“I don’t knit very well,� Hermione said modestly. “Usually I end up resorting to magic. It’s quicker, and the end product is much nicer.�

“I always thought I’d pass down my knitting skills to my daughter,� I told her. “It was something I looked forward to. As Ginny grew up, I came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. Surrounded by boys, she grew up to be just like one. She wanted want to sit still long enough to learn. She’d rather go out in the orchard at the Burrow and play Quidditch. Still, I always have wanted to teach somebody what I know. I would be happy to help you, Hermione.�

“I’d be honoured,� she replied instantly with a pure, heart-warming smile.

“Knitting by hand can be hard at first, but once you learn how, it’s comforting to have something to do with your hands while you sit and think and worry. It’s my favourite way to relax…�