HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

third year ➤sirius who?

"Oh my dear, I'm so dreadfully sorry!" She exclaims, dusting me off and running her fingers through my hair in a motherly fashion.

I find the gesture comforting but unfamiliar.

"No, no that's okay," I reply. "All my fault I should've been paying attention."

I'm now able to take in the appearance of the woman and, though I've never met her, recognize her immediately.

She's a short and plump woman with curly ginger hair, the obvious giveaway. She's got smile lines and tired eyes, as I imagine you would have with seven kids. Her eyes though clearly very exhausted, are kind and she smiles grandly at me despite the fact that I had just ran into her. I feel frustrated at myself for such a bad first impression on a wonderful lady, of whom I've been waiting to meet.

"You must be Molly Weasley," I say extending my hand. Her eyes widen and she searches my face presumably confused as to who this random clumsy girl is and how she knows her name. "I'm y/n, I'm good friends with Ron."

I've barely got out the first half of my name before her eyes brighten and she pushes my hand away, pulling me in for a hug instead. Once more I'm taken by surprised at her lovingness, even to a total stranger, to her at least.

"The kids have told me so much about you," she smiles. "It's nice to finally have a face to match the description!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I say.

She searches around me, frowning slightly. "Now you didn't come here all on your own now, did you, dear?" She asks in a motherly tone.

"Oh, no," I respond, gesturing towards the exits. "Hermione's parents dropped the two of us off. I stay with her family during summer vacation. Lovely people."

Lovely is an understatement. After the events of last year I was sure that I'd be back on the streets. I was completely terrified to tell Hermione's parents that it was me who had petrified her, their only daughter, and I had half expected them to turn me away and ban Hermione from ever seeing me again.

What they did was quite the opposite. They were infuriated for me, not at me. Though it seemed as somewhat of an empty promise, because I highly doubt the ministry would take complaints from a couple of Muggles, they were more than willing to contact Dumbledore or even the higher ups and demand some sort of compensation for what had happened to me. I politely declined wanting more so to put the past in the past, especially because I knew that not much could, or rather would be done. Still, I appreciated their concern for me rather than the hatred I had expected.

The Grangers have been very good to me. From taking me shopping, to teaching me how to bake cookies, they've stepped up even when they didn't have to and took me in as one of their own.

Mr. Granger has helped me train to one day be on the Quidditch team, 'enjoying having someone else in the house who takes an interest in sports' even though said sport is one that he, as a Muggle, has a limited understanding about.

Mrs. Granger takes me shopping, to get my nails done. She bakes with Hermione and I on the rainy summer days that were better spent indoors. And every time we're at a restaurant or around the town and someone says something along the lines of, 'what lovely daughters you have', they say thank you, rather than correct them.