Nothing is What it Seems
-Going Back-
I could hear myself breathing as I lay there in the darkness of my room trying to figure out my next move. The light was peeking through the curtains and I could hear the birds chirping melodically outside as if beckoning me out of my comfy bed. I let out a small groan of defeat and pulled the covers off of myself, letting the cold air hit my body. My bare feet clapped on my hardwood floor as I made my way into my bathroom. I clicked on the light and looked at my sleepy reflection in the mirror. I am 17 now, even though it seems like only yesterday that I had turned 11 and had gotten my letter for Hogwarts, but here I am, and its my last year. I took the hairbrush off of my sink and ran it through my bushy hair until all of the knots were gone.
"'Mione!" my mother called from the kitchen "Come get some breakfast before you have to leave!"
"I'm coming mom!" I shouted back. I hastily brushed my teeth and clapped back into my room to make sure I had packed everything I needed and to get dressed. After a few minutes I decided to wear a pair of faded blue jeans and a pink polo shirt that showed the smallest amount of mid-drift and some sandals. I glanced briefly at the mirror to check my reflection and then pulled my trunk into the kitchen where my mother and father resided.
"Morning," I smiled as I kissed my mother and father on the cheek and sat down at the kitchen table. My mother placed scrambled eggs, bacon, and a glass of orange juice in front of me and I began to eat.
"Ready for another school year sweetie?" My father asked from the top of his newspaper.
"Yes father." I smile, already feeling the anticipation that I got in my stomach this time of year. I couldn't wait to get back.
"Mrs. Weasley is expecting you, right dear?" asked my mother.
"She is mother, I'll be traveling by floo powder, just like last time. Don't worry mom." I said smiling at her worried expression. They always got this way when I left. The clock in our living room rang out, letting us all know that it was now eleven, meaning that it was time for me to go. My mother sighed sadly and my father folded his newspaper up on the table and looked at me with a sad smile on his face.
"Well kiddo," He said, standing up and walking towards me, "You have a great year, don't forget to write." He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me hard, giving me a kiss on my forehead and then stepping back. My mother let out a whimper and smothered me in her arms.
"You better write Hermione Granger." She whispered with tears in her eyes and sadness in her voice.
"Of course I will mom." I assured her.
I sighed and collected my stuff up. We walked into our cozy living room and I stood in front of the fireplace.
"I love you guys." I whispered, grinning at them both. I took out some floo powder from my trunk and stood in front of the warm fire that my father made every morning.
"The Burrow!" I shouted, and off I went.
