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For the first time since Harry and Hermione had arrived at the Burrow a stillness had settled over the house. Encouraged by the blanket of night, the occupants of the Weasley family home had all separately slunk off; some taking the opportunity for an early night in bed, some crossing the boundaries of the Burrow, some experimenting with what do with a hole that has replaced one’s ear.
Others, however, had not been afforded such a luxury. With the wedding only two nights away Molly Weasley was sparing no time, nor hands, in preparation. On this particular evening, Ginny and Hermione sat with Mrs Weasley at the kitchen table, lacing beads onto thin steel rings- serviette holders- Molly had said. An essential part of the table design.
The lamp above the table flickered and flared, pouring light over the scene of the three women. A singer on the wireless crooned softly in the background and the sweet smell of meringue still hung in the air from the afternoon’s baking.
Ginny sucked on her finger for the third time that evening, trying to make a show of it and eyeing her mum under her brow. The metal rings were sharp on the end and the work was tedious. Ginny glared at her mum a moment longer, then sighed loudly.
‘Ginny- ‘Her mum warned.
‘Why can’t you just use magic mum? Hermione and I have better things to do.’ Ginny started.
‘Because. This is nice. Just us girls, sitting here with no boys about. And when you look down at the table on Thursday, you’ll be proud to say that you made the serviette rings.’ Molly said, not taking her eyes off her work, easily threading beads on the ring. Ginny narrowed her eyes as her mother daintily picked a blue bead from the bowl on the table.
‘Hermione can do magic. She’d be very proud to look at the table and see her serviette rings. And I’d be proud knowing I offered emotional support.’
Hermione was still looking down at her beads, though Ginny could see the smallest smile behind the bushy hair that framed her face. Molly set aside another finished ring and looked at Ginny with an exasperated expression.
‘Ginny, sometimes the muggle way can be more rewarding. Besides, when there isn’t a specific spell for something it’s quite hard to achieve- ‘
‘-Hermione’s the brightest witch of her sodding age!’ Ginny interjected.
‘Language! And I don’t care, we are doing it this way. We are going to enjoy doing it this way.’ Her mum finished with an even tone, straightening out the pile of shining serviette rings set aside at the far end of the table.
Hermione rose from her seat and reached over Ginny to add her finished beadwork to the pile. Ginny made eye contact with her on the way and they both shared a look, Ginny was bold enough to roll her eyes, but Hermione simply sat back down and fished in the bowl for a pearl bead.
Though it had been like this since Harry, Hermione and Ron had convened to be underneath the same roof, Ginny had at least expected her mother to be less obvious. And less persistent. Ginny twisted in her chair to look at the wall clock which pointed close to ten. She sighed, and violently grabbed a bead from the table.
They continued in silence for a while longer, and the darkness outside deepened. The pile of serviette rings grew progressively larger, but Molly showed no sign of stopping. It was when Ginny was standing by the kettle- seeking a reprieve from the repeated maiming of her fingers- making tea, that her father came down the stairs, a gown over his pyjamas and an empty mug in his hand, which we promptly passed off to Ginny.
‘Ta, love,’ he said, as she took the mug. ‘What’s all this then? Earrings?’
Molly made an irritated sound and looked up to see her daughter looking rather smug and raising her eyebrows. She looked to her husband, who was still painfully unaware of his blunder.
‘No, Arthur, they are serviette rings. For the table decorations.’
‘Gosh, never heard of that. Do you suppose we really need tha- ‘He was stopped midsentence by the glare that his wife gave him ‘-at… little? I reckon we need more. A lot more. People will think we’ve gone barmy if we don’t have those at every place.’
Molly sighed and returned to her work. Ginny was almost grinning as she poured tea into the mugs. She leaned against the counter and drummed her fingers into the wood.
‘Where are the boys, Arthur?’ Molly asked.
‘Asleep, surprisingly. Walked into Ron and Harry’s room to find them knocked out about a quarter of an hour ago. Fred and George are doing Merlin knows what in their room,’ Arthur replied, reaching into the pantry and searching for a biscuit, ‘I’m not sure about Charlie or Bill, I saw them walking out of the Burrow earlier.’
Ginny handed off mugs of tea as her parents talked. Her dad distractedly accepted the tea from her and frowned at the serviette rings, watching closely as Molly threaded the beads.
He eventually drew his eyes away from the work and moved to kiss Molly goodnight. ‘I’ll leave you to it! But don’t stay up too late!’ he shouted back at them as he ascended the stairs.
Ginny hovered at the table for a moment, but when her mother gave no indication that they were close to finishing, she sat back down. She leaned back in her chair and leisurely sipped her tea.
‘Come on Ginny, we’re almost done,’ her mum said, eyes flitting towards her.
‘I think we have enough.’
‘Ginny! Are you going to make Hermione- our guest- do all the work?’
‘Well you seem to be okay with it! Making sure she’s busy with something every hour so she can’t talk to Ron or Harry!’
‘I am not!’ Molly exclaimed, ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley I don’t know what has possessed you lately, but your behaviour has been inexcusable. Since you got off the train, you’ve been unsociable and- and- I will just not tolerate it, especially in front of our guests!’ her mum said, eyes bulging.
Ginny stared at her mother for a moment, a lump forming in her throat, and then sat back in her chair and chewed on her tongue, arms crossed over her chest. Hermione finally looked up from her beadwork at the outburst. She looked not at Molly, but Ginny. Her mouth was slightly agape, and her eyebrows furrowed, focussed on Ginny.
Ginny tried her best to ignore Hermione. She wanted to reach out and shut her friends jaw for her, but it was too late. Molly had seen Hermione’s reaction and was scrutinising them both.
‘What happened?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean what happened. At Hogwarts.’
‘Nothing mum, what are you going on about?’
Molly had all but abandoned her serviette ring. A shiny bead slipped off the metal strand and landed in the middle of a mug stain on the table. Ginny fixed her eyes upon it.
Hermione looked between Ginny and Molly, biting her lip, then she snapped her head back down and almost tipped the bowl full of clear beads over as she struck out her hand to grasp one. Molly’s eyes remained fixed on the two girls.
‘Don’t play me for a fool, Ginny. I should’ve realised sooner that something happened, the way you’ve been these past few weeks,’ Molly said.
‘There really is nothing to say- ‘
Hermione sighed and looked at Ginny ‘-Why haven’t you told her?’
‘Told me what?’ Molly pushed.
Ginny threw her arms in the air. ‘No idea, mum! Hermione,’ Ginny turned to her friend, her eyes trying to communicate, ‘what are you talking about?’
Hermione threw her a sceptical look, raising one eyebrow. Ginny realised that Hermione knew that she shouldn’t be bringing this subject up, but she was going to anyway. The two girls engaged in some sort of stand-off for a while. Eventually Ginny huffed and threw herself back against her seat. Hermione flicked a piece of hair over her shoulder and picked up her metal ring again.
Molly leaned forward so that her elbows rested on the table. She briefly looked up when the clock chimed, then refocussed her attention on her daughter, who was tracing the tea stain on the table with her finger.
‘Ginny,’ she said softly.
Ginny raised her eyes from the table to meet her gaze. She took a deep breath, then began to speak.
‘Harry and I, we got together this year. After the last quidditch game,’ she said tonelessly.
Her mother's face then underwent a myriad of emotions. From her plastered neutral and understanding expression, to raised eyebrows in surprise, to clapping her hands together and simpering at Ginny. Then, a small crease at her eyebrows. Confusion. Her eyes narrowed.
‘What on earth did that boy do to you!’ Molly said, almost raising from her chair. Ginny winced and hurried to reassure her mother.
‘Nothing mum! We were- it was brilliant, but then…’ Ginny tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
‘Well, then Dumbledore’s funeral happened, and we had to break up because,’ Ginny glanced at Hermione out of the corner of her eye, and she nodded to her, encouraging her to continue. ‘Because Harry has to end this, he has to finish what Dumbledore started, and he needs Ron and Hermione’s help and he doesn’t need- ‘
Ginny cleared her throat.
‘He can’t have- he can’t risk You-Know-Who using me, or something noble like that.’ Ginny finished her sentence, mumbling under her breath.
No one was bothering with beads or rings of metal anymore. Hermione moved a hand to rest over Ginny’s that lay on her lap. Ginny raised her head to look at her mum, and was met by those same bright brown eyes, though Molly’s were shining and wet.
‘He lo- ‘
‘-Mum.‘
‘He likes you so much that he wants to protect you,’ Molly said, any trace of anger gone from her face.
Ginny rolled her eyes and mumbled even lower than before, ‘I suppose so.’
‘I just don’t know why you thought you couldn’t tell me,’ Molly said.
Ginny merely shrugged and looked down at her hands, she tried to ignore the look that her mother was giving her, tried to bury the thought that perhaps not telling her mother was the last barrier she had to really accepting that it had all been real. And that it was all over.
Hermione turned to Molly after a beat, and said, ‘Ginny must tell you how they got together, it’s a wonderful story.’
Ginny shook her head but smiled at Hermione. Her mother sat up straight and then possibly leaned in closer, eager to hear. Ginny bit her lip for a moment, but then started to talk. Her mother knew now anyway, and she rather enjoyed telling this story.
‘Well, we’d just won the quidditch cup, I got the snitch right under the nose of Cho…’
‘… And the glass broke in his hand! Well, that’s what Hermione said, I wasn’t exactly paying attention,’ Ginny exclaimed, enjoying the opportunity to make her mother laugh. She sat back and let out a laugh herself, holding her stomach.
Molly smiled at her daughter as she recounted the story, though she was definitely skipping parts if the pauses and blushes were any indication. She stole a glance at the clock as Ginny talked about the gossip that she and Harry had caused, Molly gasped, halting Ginny in her story.
‘Godric, it’s nearly half past eleven and here we are shouting in the kitchen! Shall I make one last cup of tea and then we’ll get to bed?’
Hermione nodded through a yawn, Ginny copying her soon after. Mrs Weasley stood up to make a cup of tea, at the same time, the beginnings of footsteps on the stairs could be heard.
‘Oh- um- sorry to bother,’ Harry said, blinking blearily at them and squinting in the light. His hair was messier than usual, and he wore a faded pair of sleep shorts with an equally faded shirt.
Mrs Weasley, Ginny and Hermione just stared at him for a while. Molly with a soppy look on her face, Ginny with the slightest smirk and Hermione pursing her lips. Harry stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs; he glanced towards Ginny, uncertain, and then shifted on his feet.
‘I just wanted to get a glass of water, if that’s alright,’ he said, his eyes returning to Mrs Weasley.
‘Of course, Harry, anything you need, anything at all,’ Molly replied, opening a cabinet and pulling a glass out. She filled it at the tap and handed it to him.
‘I’m making tea, would you like some?’
‘Um, thanks Mrs Weasley, but I think I’ll just go to bed,’ Harry said, accepting the glass of water from her.
‘Of course, Harry, dear. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, you’ll need all the sleep you can get,’ Mrs Weasley said, then looked round to Ginny and Hermione, ‘We should be getting to bed too, I think.’
Harry stood still for a moment longer, the light flickering over his face. ‘Well, goodnight then,’ he said, making to turn back up the stairs. He was stopped on the way though, as Mrs Weasley had thrown her arms around him, and engulfed him in a hug.
Some water spilled out of his glass and splashed on the floor. Overcoming his initial shock, Harry awkwardly patted Mrs Weasley on the back, looking over her shoulder to Hermione and Ginny. Hermione lifted her shoulders as if to tell him to just let it happen. Ginny was looking at him with a small smile, a strange look in her eyes. He felt comforted by that strange look, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.
‘Mum, let him breathe,’ Ginny said.
Molly pulled back from Harry and sniffed, she turned to the kettle and busied herself with pouring the tea.
Harry looked to Ginny again, and she felt the urge to mime her mother and leap from her seat and wrap her arms around him. But she stayed seated and merely rolled her eyes, talking to him without words. His lips turned up slightly at the corners, more of a twitch than anything.
Then he was gone, with another wish of a goodnight, he disappeared up the stairs into the dark. Molly handed mugs of tea to Ginny and Hermione.
‘Thank you for your help this evening girls, now go get some rest,’ she said quietly, though she sat down again at the table.
‘You can’t be staying up, Mum?’ Ginny said.
‘I want to do a few more rings- then I’ll be up- don’t worry about me,’ Molly said, smiling up at the them. Ginny shared a look with Hermione, then shrugged and moved to tiptoe across the kitchen, whispered words of goodbye passed at the foot of the stairs. The two girls moved past each other in Ginny’s dark room, changing into pyjamas and getting ready for bed.
When she finally lay down, Ginny couldn’t help but twist under the covers. She could tell that Hermione was awake too and she wanted to ask her a thousand questions, but none of them could coalesce into words coherent enough to say. Though she felt a bit lighter after talking to her Mum, after seeing Harry so wonderfully mussed from sleep, Ginny felt the knot in her stomach tighten. The worst since it had first been laced into her at the funeral, that now, felt like a lifetime ago.