Hermione felt like pointing out that if the spell required a button, the bed would be a machine, exactly like the Muggle version, but didn't feel well enough to endure the quiet that would inevitably follow after having corrected someone who was simply trying to help.
"I'm sure there is a spell," she said. "I simply don't know it." Which was not something Hermione admitted to often.
Once seated more or less comfortably, leaning on Harry to stay upright, Hermione took the card he handed her. It really was beautiful. Anything made by a small child was beautiful, regardless of all the inconsistencies and poor colour choices. Teddy had made it; therefore, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Auntie Hermione," she read. Love really was an interesting word, wasn't it? It could be what she felt for Ron one instant, and what she felt for Harry and Teddy the next - and what they felt for her. Hermione lifted her arm to wrap around Harry's shoulders to pull him closer, though she ended up leaning further into him instead. "Thank you."
She dropped the card on her lap, and looked at it a long moment. Such innocence in those colours. So much freedom she no longer felt she had. Had she had that as a child? "Harry-" Hermione interrupted herself. She didn't want to talk about Ron. Not yet. There were more important things. She knew there were more important things. She had to... she had to stop giving him so much importance. "Where did you get the paint?"