Motherly Advice

Light streamed in through Hermione Granger's bedroom window. She moaned and rolled over in bed, trying to recapture the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. Ron Weasley, her best friend of five years, had been in it. Hermione seemed to be having a lot of dreams about him lately, but she couldn't work out why. Maybe they were trying to tell her something.

Hermione managed to fall asleep again, and was just getting to a good bit in her dream when she was prodded awake. Trying to ignore it, she rolled over again and moaned as the bright sunlight hit her eyes.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," her mother laughed, and pulled off her daughter's quilt. Hermione flinched, and brought her knees up to her chest. "Come on, darling, get up! It's a beautiful day!"

"I'm tired, Mum! I don't want to get up, and I don't care about the weather!" Hermione pulled the quilt back over herself again.

"Come on, now, Hermione." Mrs. Granger sat down on her daughter's bed. "Usually you're up bright and early. What's the matter?"

"I was dreaming," said Hermione. She pulled the covers over her head, not wanting to tell her mother what she had been dreaming about.

"Ah, I see. It's about that Ron Weasley fellow, isn't it?"

"No," came Hermione's voice from under the quilt.

"Really, Hermione," said Mrs. Granger, pulling her daughter's covers off. Hermione shivered. "I know a teenage crush when I see one. After all, I had plenty myself."

"It's not a teenage crush, Mum!" said Hermione, sitting up bolt upright. "And it isn't anything like you and Dad either!"

"What is it, then, dearest?" said Mrs. Granger gently, stroking Hermione's hair. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Not this," said Hermione stubbornly, pulling away from her mother's touch. She swung her legs off the bed.

"Now, Hermione, that's not like you. Tell me what's up."

Hermione remained silent.

"If you don't tell me right this minute, I'll tickle you," said Mrs. Granger, mock-threateningly.

Hermione still wouldn't talk.

"Very well, then. Here comes the tickle monster!" said Mrs. Granger, using the name she hadn't said to her daughter since Hermione was little. Then she launched a full-scale tickle attack, nearly making Hermione fall off the bed. Hermione giggled uncontrollably as she tried to dodge the tickles, failing miserably.

When Mrs. Granger finally ceased tickling, Hermione said in a voice that held a great deal of giggles, "You know, Mum, that is a form of torture."

"Sorry, darling," said Mrs. Granger, laughing too. "But you were asking for it."

"Mum!"

"Don't worry, Hermione. I was only pulling your leg."

"Why do you use silly puns, Mum?" Hermione asked. "They never make any sense. Tell me straight-out what you mean!"

"Calm down, Little Miss Logical," said Mrs. Granger laughingly. Then she took a few deep breaths and composed herself. "Now, tell me what it is that's bothering you."

Composing herself, Hermione spoke in a quiet voice with a hint of emotion. "It's Ron."

"I see," said Mrs. Granger knowingly. "Go on."

The next words came out in a rush. "I've been dreaming about him ever since I came home, and I don't know why." Hermione's next few sentences trembled with oncoming tears. "I know I'm smart and all that, but this is the one thing I haven't been able to figure out. I know these dreams must mean something but...but...I just don't know what! Can you help me, Mum? Please? Please? Tell me what this means, 'cause I just don't know! I don't!" With that, Hermione buried her head in her mother's lap and sobbed her heart out.

"Shhh, darling, sssh," soothed Mrs. Granger, inwardly puzzling over her daughter's ever-present need to know everything. She gently stroked Hermione's bushy hair. "No-one ever said love was simple."

"What?" said Hermione, sitting up and sniffling. "Is that it? I'm in love with him?"

"That's the only diagnosis I can come up with," said Mrs. Granger simply.

"I'm in love? With Ron Weasley?! That's impossible! That self-absorbed, self-centered, insensitive prat? The person I argue with every second day at school? " Hermione was shaking her head fiercely. "It just doesn't make sense! He's my complete opposite!" Hermione got up and began to pace around the room, thinking hard.

"Well, you know, dear, they do say opposites attract," said Mrs. Granger matter-of-factly. Then she smiled wryly. "In fact, by the way you describe the frequency of your arguments with him, I'd say you're perfect for one another."

"But it doesn't make sense!" said Hermione again, and then flopped back onto bed as a thought occurred to her. "Even if I do love him, what are the odds that he loves me back? I mean, come on - he didn't even notice that I was a girl until our fourth year!"

"Boys are strange creatures," said Mrs. Granger mysteriously. "He probably does have feelings for you, but he can't work up the nerve to show it. You probably feel the same way. Have you ever thought that you liked him, or he you?"

"No...oh, hang on a minute. There was a time when -" Hermione paused, as she let a particular memory fill her up.

***

Standing ten feet apart, they were bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase to bed.

***

Hermione sighed, and fiddled with the hem of her pyjamas."I knew he liked me then. But I was so angry - because he had the chance to ask me to the Yule Ball and he didn't take the opportunity until the very last minute, when I already had a date!" Hermione said, the old anger reviving itself within her. "I didn't like being treated as if I was the last one on his list of possible dates. You see, Mum? You see? This is why I shouldn't be in love with him - he's a stupid idiot!"

"Ah, I see," said Mrs. Granger wisely. "I know what you mean. I have met my share of stupid, idiotic men like him."

"Then why are you suggesting that I love him? If he's a man - er- boy like that then why are you encouraging me to go after him? Shouldn't he be the type of guy to avoid?"

"In normal circumstances, yes. But from what you have told me about these dreams of yours - you like this boy, despite his many faults. You will learn to put up with his behaviour eventually - 'insensitive prat' though he is. You will learn to accept his bad qualities as part of him - and also accept that you will never change him. It's useless trying to change men - " Mrs. Granger smiled ruefully. "Believe me, I know. I've tried - and failed."

Hermione listened, absorbing her mother's words like a sponge soaks up liquids. She knew she would never forget those words - a mother's advice to her only daughter.

"But, anyway, Hermione," said Mrs. Granger. "Hermione - my shining girl, my princess - ask yourself - do you love Ron Weasley?"

Hermione didn't answer. She was remembering again.

***

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry -"

Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened.

***

Now, finally, through her mother's words and her own memories of time shared with Ron - her Ron now, she thought- Hermione realised what her dreams of him had been trying to tell her - she was in love. Mad, insensitive idiot that he was, she loved Ron for his faults, yet loved him even more for his strengths.

At last, at long last, Hermione answered the question her mother had posed, not only out loud but in her heart too. "I do love Ron Weasley! I do, I do!"

THE END