But now, Hermione was just madly excited about the very idea of kissing. When she was younger, she often kissed the back of her fist and pretended that it was Harry she was smooching instead. It was honestly as close as she thought she'd ever get to the real thing. Now, she clenched that same fist into the folds of her fluffy quilt, attempted to accept a world in which kissing Harry was normal, then fought with the urge to scream out in joy as this amazing notion consumed her. It was bouncing around her heart like a manic pinball.