He catches her sitting on the floor in Rose's room, hunched over her pile of school supplies. She is running one hand absent-mindedly around the edge of her daughter's new cauldron, and with the other she is reaching for The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. The casual observer would think she was packing. But no matter what Hermione might still say, no matter even how often she still means it, Ron's emotional knowledge could fill litres by now.
Besides, it's not a great leap to make. She's had bouts of mild depression every end of summer since graduating from her Ministry entrance training, it only makes sense that Rose heading off would worsen things.
He settles himself on the floor behind her, and she leans into the circle of his arms with a sigh.
"Which is going to bother you more?" he asks, laughter threatening to edge out. "Watching Rose get on the train for Hogwarts, or not being on it with her?"
"You'll miss her, too."
"No doubt of that. Your Quidditch playing is rubbish. Two summers from now when she and Hugo both leave, you'll probably find me in mourning in the broom shed." He can almost feel her roll her eyes. "But I'm not going to be the one in here pining over textbooks and new quills."
She turns her head so she's almost meeting his eyes. "Everything was simpler at school," she says, and they both do laugh at that.
It's been a running joke every year since her first utterance of the statement, which had come out without a hint of conscious irony and had almost sent Ron's eyebrows shooting off his face entirely. Fifteen years later, and most of his incredulity over how much she wishes she could have taken classes for the rest of her life has worn away. (Most of it.)
"Tell you what," he says, very seriously, and she turns the rest of the way towards him. "If it'll make you feel better, I can start grading you."
"An alluring prospect, but I think I'll be all right." She smiles and gives him a quick kiss.
"Hm...not your best work, Weasley." He jumps to his feet before she can respond. "Now let's get going. Rose and Hugo are waiting for us in the garden. They want to toss the Quaffle around with us a bit before she leaves tomorrow."
"Heaven only knows what I'll do when Hugo does go off to Hogwarts, as well. I don't remember how I ever handled you all by myself."
"Don't worry," he says, reaching a hand down for her. "You were Outstanding then. By now you're clear off the scale."
She kisses him again, obviously putting a bit more effort into it this time, so he doesn't finish with his one exception.
Her Quidditch playing really is rubbish.