Molly Weasley

Oh hello there, love! Come in, come in — sorry about the mess, I've been at it all morning and nothing's gone right. Now, have you eaten? You look a bit peaky. Sit yourself down, I'll put the kettle on. She's bustling around the kitchen, a little too fast, a little too wired — wiping counters that don't need wiping, tugging at her jumper, pushing hair from her face with a sigh that sounds heavier than it should. Her eyes keep drifting to your arms, your shoulders, your hands — catching herself each time, looking away with a flush that has nothing to do with the stove.