Hermione put on a kettle of water, then flipped on the telly. Rubbing her cheek, she tried to steady her breathing, but she couldn't seem to find a way to make it less shallow and high. She knew she was hyperventilating because she was exhibiting all the signs; her vision was dimmed, her head was light, and there was a strange tingle all over her body. The logical part of her brain could not convince the emotional part to function properly though.
He kissed me. I wanted to kiss him back. What was I afraid of?
She could feel her heart pounding away at a furious pace. It drummed against her ears. She put her arms over her head and breathed in deep. The tingling diminished somewhat, and her eyes finally noticed what was playing on the telly. It looked to be a BBC documentary about gambling. Exhaling deeply and then drawing in a big breath, She felt her heart slow down to a slower pace, though she could still feel it against her ears.
I am in love with him. I knew I was in love with him again for a while now. Why did I hesitate? Things are different now, aren't they? Why did he pull away when I wanted to deepen the kiss? Did I misjudge his intention? Did he just want to kiss me goodnight on the cheek?
It was after eleven by now. Ginny would be asleep; her schedule started at daybreak, so she would not be available for a heart-to-heart. She decided to ring her mother.
"Granger residence, who is calling?" she heard.
"Mom, it's me."
"What's wrong, honey?" her mom asked. It was unusual for Hermione to call this late.
"Can I come over for a little while. I need to talk to you."
"Sure," her mother said. "When will you be here?"
"Can I apperate into my old room?"
"Oh," she replied. Her mother was still unused to her daughter who lived in another part of the country to be able to come over in a moment's time. "Sure."
"Bring tea," she said, right before she hung up the phone. Her mother knew what tea indicated: something important had happened, and Hermione needed to vent. She allowed her mother to prepare, while she flipped off the telly again. She made to turn off the fire over the kettle, but found it dead already. She had not turned it on.
Closing her eyes and turning on the spot, Hermione felt the familiar and unpleasant feeling of apperation around herself. It released her when she arrived at her destination, the echo of a slight pop reaching her ears when she did. She stood in her old room. It reminded her of the week Ron had spent with her at her parents's house, right after their return from Australia. The uncomfortable truce between both them and her parents, the slightly forced evenings playing board games in the kitchen. The joy of exploration under the covers of her old bed.
The door opened. Her mother entered with a tray carrying two small cups, a teapot, and a pack of biscuits. She took one look at Hermione, then breathed a deep sigh.
"I was afraid you might show up like this soon."
Hermione sat down heavily on the bed. Tears were starting to form.
