Percy ate with dignity, but still ate very fast. His schoolwork called him even though they could not do magic at home.
'Excellent as always, mum. I'll need to be off.'
The Potter boy stood up and moved to take the plate without thinking. 'Harry, what are you…?'
'I was…' he flushed scarlet and let go immediately, stepping back from the table. 'He was finished, right?'
'Yes.'
'I was going to wash it.'
Mrs. Weasley spoke. 'I'll wash up, or make the twins do it.' They groaned in concert and she ignored them. 'Besides, you're not finished, yourself.' She looked at his unstained, near-empty plate. None of them had paid much attention as they worked on their own meals, but suddenly, in retrospect, she remembered him nervously taking the serving spoon she had held out to him as though being unwisely given an impossible responsibility.
'You…you didn't take much, did you, dear?'
He lowered his head, misery and shame etched on his face. 'I…it's really really good. I guess I just…wasn't hungry.'
'That…won't do, dear.' Firmly, she put the spoon back into the potatoes, making herself give him a bit less than she wanted to, reaching for the platter of chicken and serving him more of that as well. He'd eat the peas, too, she figured, without complaint, unlike the rest of them. But she'd drawn enough attention to them both, for one day. His eyes widened and he winced instinctively as she patted his shoulder. 'Harry, please sit back down. Go on.'
Fred, who understood things more deeply than those around him may have thought he did, gave the boy a reassuring smile and moved to diffuse the tension. 'It's what she does, Harry. She nags and over-feeds us, and you have to let her do it. It's just good guest manners, and it's clear, you have those better than Ron.' Told twice in no uncertain terms that the food was his, entirely, and that eating it was expected, the boy sat and ate, still embarrassed but surprised and faintly pleased. It really was delicious.
