Snakepit

Chapter 9

Hermione's finger hovered over the "call" button on her phone. Every time she convinced herself to just hit the damn thing, her finger stopped only a centimeter above the screen. It went on like this for a few minutes before she muttered "fuck it" and tapped the screen with more force than necessary, holding her phone up to her ear. The phone rang once, twice, three times...Hermione let out a relieved breath–

The call was picked up on the fourth ring.

"...Hermione?"

An uncomfortable shudder ran through Hermione. The woman's voice was so, so familiar. "Hey Mom," she swallowed, sounding uncertain even to her own ears.

"I...I don't understand," her mother's delicate voice shook on the other end. "Is it really you, Hermione?"

Of course it was her, there was no one else it could possibly be.

"I know it's been...a while," Hermione said, trying to sound put-together.

"It's been years," her mother replied, a brief hint of coldness peeking through. Ah, so the bitterness between them hadn't quite thawed yet. There was a pause. "I'm sorry...I just don't understand."

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be in the area next week. I'm working on a case right now and there's a person of interest that I need to interview down there. I just wanted to tell you...in case you wanted to get dinner or something?" She accidentally ended her carefully planned monologue as a question, cringing.

Her mother let out a breath of surprise. "Of course! Of course! I'd love to see you, Hermione! What days will you be in town? You should stay at the house! Your room is the same, I've only been in there to clean. I can cook one of your favorite meals! You used to love that stewed chicken I always made–"

"That's fine, I can book a hotel. I have a partner coming down with me and we'd like to drive together to the interview. I don't want to bother you." Hermione interrupted.

"It's no problem at all! We have extra rooms, they can stay here too!" Her mother suggested, sounding more excited by the minute.

"Is Marcus going to be there?" Hermione couldn't help herself from taking the low blow.

"I–yes...Marcus will be there," her mother stuttered. Good. She still remembered Hermione's feelings for the man.

"Then we'll get a hotel," Hermione said, with blunt finality in her voice.

"We should talk, Baby, there's so much we need to talk about," her mother sounded desperate. It had been years, of course there was a lot to talk about. It was the exact reason Hermione had avoided contact with her mother. She didn't want to talk about it. Any of it.

"We'll be flying in on Tuesday and staying until Thursday. I can meet you on Wednesday night for dinner. Do not bring Marcus, I don't want to see him," Hermione told her mother.

"Hermione–" Her mother started.

"That's it. Have a good day, text me if you want to get dinner. My number is the same," Hermione ended the call before her mother could reply. She sat, staring at the opposite wall of her bedroom for a few seconds or maybe a few minutes. Maybe it was an hour. She couldn't tell.

"Fuck her," Hermione whispered, curling her knees up to her chest. She didn't care if she was being childish or unforgiving. Her adolescence had carved scars into her that refused to heal and she didn't know how to act as if she wasn't still in pain from them. She had let Draco convince her to interview Alicia Goodwin, but now she regretted that decision. Her mother's voice had brought back memories that she didn't know how to deal with. They hurt.