Tom: Actually it originally said in the script that Hermione slaps Draco and I think they were worried a punch was gonna be too physical so I said to Emma ‘Do you want to run this, we should rehearse it, we should make this as convincing as possible, slap me!’ and she was like 'No I’m not gonna slap you.’ 'Go on, slap me right now let’s just do this!’ and when I said 'slap me’ it was like 'movie-slap me’. Emma: I’m pretty sure I felt terrible… I feel really bad! I’m not really sure what I was thinking. Tom: She just went, smacked me right across the face which completely took me- I didn’t know what to do, I just, like 'yeah, that was really good, that was great’ I kinda walked off sheepishly.
Rupert: We have to be holding hands as well, We have to kind of fall romantically as well. Interviewer: Was that a stage direction? Rupert: Yeah! She’s got to kind of, nestle into me. Yeah, it’s quite cool. Interviewer: Is that something that you coordinated with Emma? Rupert: Yeah, this is kind of after the kiss so we’re kind of a couple now.
Let’s call that the second Ron/Hermione kiss. They kiss for the first time and smile at each other. ‘Finally.’ And then they remember they’re in the middle of a war and their smiles disappear. They kiss one more time and forget everything, just for a few seconds.
Interviewer: There was a huge cheer when you and Ron finally snogged… Emma: Finally snogged! Ten years! We finally did it! I think it’s like the most anticipated kiss in history, we’ve been building tension to this moment for like 8 movies, and Rupert and I really felt that on the day, people are really waiting for this moment and we really got to pull this off and I was like “yeah, I know, what are we gonna-” Interviewer: You don’t wanna bump noses… Emma: No! And um, I think we did alright.
On a bright and sweltering Sunday, I meet Williams at the three-story brownstone in Boerum Hill where she lives with her daughter, Matilda. Reminders of Heath Ledger, from whom Williams was separated when he died in 2008, are everywhere—in family photos, in the oversize stuffed animals that he bought for Matilda, in the large, brooding mountainscape by the Australian photographer Bill Henson that hangs in the living room. The most vivid reminder, of course, is Matilda herself, a spirited, sunny six-year-old whose face, a felicitous mix of both her parents, lights up when Williams walks into the room. “Supermommy!” she shouts, running to throw her arms around her mother’s waist. “Hiya, Superdaughter,” Williams says, kneeling down to kiss her forehead.