iii.
it seems they have been chosen
(Say by Sleeping at Last)
__________
August 5, 1972
"Peter, knock it out," Hermione grumbled, noting with dismay that her brother perked up every time a noise that resembled tapping reached their ears.
"Why aren't you excited?" he shot back with a frown. "You're going to Hogwarts soon!"
"You weren't this excited last year," she murmured under her breath. Peter's face turned splotchy red and he scowled upon hearing her words.
Anya sauntered into their cosy kitchen, eyebrows raised upon noticing the glaring contest between her children. "What happened and who started it this time?" she asked with an exhausted sigh, placing the steaming plate of fried chicken in front of them at the table.
Peter's glare wavered, thoroughly distracted by the food, but he was able to say, "Hermione's being a berk."
"Peter! Language!" Anya hissed, now glaring down at her sheepish son. "Where did you learn that?"
Hermione snorted and helped herself to a large spoonful of mashed potato. "I'm sure it's from his friends, Mum," she pointed out. "They've been a bad influence on Petey here."
"No they haven't!" he retorted with frown.
The brunette quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Professor McGonagall's letter of disappointment begged to differ," she quipped in return.
"That was just one time, seriously," Peter grumbled into his food, his cheeks now a darker shade of red.
Hermione secretly smiled, remembering the letter from the furious Head of Gryffindor House about her disappointment at the numerous pranks Peter and his friends had pulled throughout their first year, just for the fun of it. McGonagall also pointed out that Peter had gone through numerous detentions and lost a lot of points for their House because he'd been tagging along with Sirius, James, and Remus. Anya was surprisingly more amused than enraged, having worried herself sick over Peter's situation in Hogwarts after what had happened earlier that year. It placed her heart at ease that he had at least made friends with harmless, albeit rowdy, boys.
When loud tapping from their kitchen window caught their attention, Peter flinched and glared when Hermione snickered under her breath. But when the tapping persisted, Hermione's eyes widened and she glanced at the kitchen window. A handsome barn owl was patiently waiting, clutching what was obviously two Hogwarts letters in his beak.
"I'll get it!" Peter exclaimed, racing down from his chair towards the window. He pushed it open and the owl entered, landing gracefully beside Hermione's plate. While Peter brushed his feathers, Hermione caught the letters and fed the owl some treats, before he flew away once more.
Hermione passed Peter his own letter while she dumbly stared at her own—'Hermione Pettigrew' scrawled across the envelope. Although she had been through this once before, she still couldn't deny the giddiness she felt at being invited to Hogwarts to study.
"What are you waiting for?" Peter urged, his unopened letter still clutched in his hand. "Open it!"
"Honestly," Hermione said, laughing in spite of herself. "We all know what it says anyway."
But she opened it nonetheless, her smile growing wider as she read through the words Professor McGonagall had written on her Hogwarts acceptance letter.
"Congratulations, love," Anya said, leaning over to affectionately pat Hermione's hand.
"I don't want to leave you alone, Mum," Hermione honestly replied, catching her mother's hand and giving it a tight squeeze.
Anya rolled her eyes. "If you stubbornly refuse to go, I'm going to be tempted to write to Dumbledore this time," she warned, prompting Peter to turn red in the face and for Hermione to burst into giggles.
"I hope you get Sorted into Gryffindor," Peter said, distractedly reading his own letter for his second-year essentials.
"I think Hermione will be a Ravenclaw," Anya claimed.
Peter paused and frowned, glancing down at his sister. "Well, that is highly likely too," he said. "Since you're a terrible swot."
"Hey!" Hermione claimed, but Peter merely gave her a lazy grin.
"We can all go to Diagon Alley tomorrow," Anya said. "Sound good?"
Identical sounds of agreement escaped from the siblings.
"All right," their mother said. "Now finish up your lunch so that you can start with your chores."
Peter exclaimed a loud groan, earning him a reproachful look from his mother. "I'm not going to wash the dishes," he warned.
Hermione sighed, extended her upturned palm, and bent her fingers to motion a silent 'gimme' at his direction. Peter rolled his eyes and fished a bunch of toffees from his pocket. "Bribery," he hissed.
She smirked and merely shrugged her shoulders.
__________
August 6, 1972
Since they were living in a Muggle part of London, the Pettigrews had to ride the London Underground in order to reach Charing Cross Road.
Peter was bustling with energy and had been excitedly chattering about all the brilliant things in Diagon Alley. Hermione had opted to skip coming with Peter when Anya brought him to Diagon Alley last year, using the excuse that she was feeling under the weather. In truth, she wasn't ready to face the place which she had once feared going to, having witnessed numerous attacks and battles—numerous deaths. She knew it was inevitable now, and to conceal her nervousness, she indulged Peter by answering his giddy questions at the right time.
When they stopped in front of an inn crammed between a delightful bookshop and an old record shop, Hermione couldn't stop herself from gawking at the Leaky Cauldron. In her past life, the whole pub had been thrashed down until it was unrecognisable, as the Death Eaters had realised members of the Resistance oftentimes gathered there to convene their secret meetings. Also, since it was usually the way for Muggleborns living in the Muggle world to enter the Wizarding World, they made sure such access was restricted to keep them away from entering.
Hermione swallowed down her rising bile when they stepped inside the pub. It was brimming with people, raucous laughter echoing at a table as one drunk wizard started to climb up and do a funny dance. She half-expected the loud alarms installed by the Death Eaters to start ringing shrilly, but then caught herself and shook her head to keep those dark thoughts away.
"Are you all right, Hermione?" Anya worriedly asked, comfortingly clutching her elbow.
"I'm just a bit overwhelmed," she lied with a tight smile.
"It's wicked, isn't it?" Peter gushed out, beaming widely at the chaos that was happening inside.
Anya brought them towards the brick wall separating the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. She pulled out her wand and started tapping the right bricks, waiting for the wall to rearrange and reveal a passageway. Hermione almost backpedalled at how the whole alley was bustling with life.
Peter, mistaking her frozen demeanour for awe, grinned and held her hand. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, Hermione Pettigrew," he said.
"Hold on tight, sweetheart," Anya warned, grabbing onto her other hand. "This is your first time coming here so you can easily get lost."
"Where to first, Mum?" Peter asked, craning his neck up to look at their mother.
"Gringotts first," she said. "I have to make a withdrawal."
Hermione paled at Anya's answer and mechanically walked with her family until they finally reached Gringotts. She kept close to her mother throughout the whole ordeal, trying to make herself invisible lest a goblin recognised her as the woman who had managed to break through Gringotts' wards, steal a precious artifact from one of the highly guarded vaults, and get out unscathed.
"Why are you so jittery today?" Peter asked, amused.
"Shh," Hermione harshly exclaimed under her breath, noticing how one goblin curiously looked in her direction.
Peter's eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Are you scared of the goblins?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Her cheeks reddened and she petulantly glared at her brother. "No, I'm not," she retorted back. "Shut up, Peter."
He snickered under his breath but blessedly kept quiet.
Hermione silently berated herself at how ridiculous she was being. She hadn't been a thief in this time, after all. Although goblins were bright, clever creatures, she knew they could never predict a future heist by merely looking at the potential thief.
She had marginally calmed down after this thought, but still stayed silent as she trailed behind her mother. She only breathed a little better once they were able to walk out of Gringotts safely without a band of angry goblins stampeding towards them.
"We should really go to Florean's," Peter insisted, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "James said they sell the most ridiculous flavours and I would love to try them."
"Later," Anya firmly said. Peter deflated slightly, so their mother quickly added, "We need to buy a lot of things for Hermione first."
"All right," he answered with a soft sigh.
Anya next brought her children to Madam Malkin's. While Hermione's measurements were taken, she watched in amusement how Anya and Peter argued over buying the boy a new set of robes.
"Mum, I didn't grow that tall," Peter exclaimed. "My robes still perfectly fit me."
"But the hems are above your ankles," the older witch reasoned out. "Boys your age will shoot up in no time so we just have to prepare."
Peter threw an exasperated glance at Hermione. "A little help here, please," he called out.
Hermione laughed and stepped down the small dais, thanked the kind witch who got her measurements, and walked towards her mother. "We can do that next year, Mum, if the hems of his robes are now hanging below his knee," she offered.
Anya sighed and agreed in the end.
They waited for a few more minutes before their robes were given and they left for another shop.
They went to Flourish and Blotts, and Peter had sent her a teasing grin, knowing that this was the place she was most excited to visit. Hermione's eyes had grown wide, noting the towering bookshelves decorated around the quaint bookshop. She almost felt teary eyed, remembering how her precious books were ransacked by the Death Eaters when they caught the owners as supporters of the Light.
"Go grab the books you need, Peter," Anya told her son. "I'll help Hermione get her school supplies."
Peter nodded his head and bounded away. Hermione held Anya's hand and followed her mother. As the younger sibling of a wizard, obviously Hermione would inherit Peter's books. She didn't mind the hand-me-downs and appreciated that although Peter wasn't a rigorous student, he at least kept his books neat.
Anya grabbed rolls and rolls of parchments, bought pieces of quills and inkwells, and other supplies she deemed would be useful for Hermione. The young brunette pleaded to buy at least one book, and Anya thankfully relented.
They met Peter at the counter, a pile of thick tomes teetering on his shaking hands. Anya laughed and pulled out her wand, unburdening her son.
"Thanks, Mum," he sheepishly smiled.
Hermione grinned at her mother, feeling inexplicably happy every time she pulled out her wand and did some simple magic. After their father died, Anya had been using magic more frequently these days and Hermione had never seen her mother happier.
Her mother then paid for the purchases and the small family went back onto the streets of Diagon Alley.
__________
They bought more supplies for Hermione, such as cauldrons and scales, and other standard first year equipment, before Anya declared it was time for Hermione to buy her very own wand.
This was the moment Hermione had been fearing ever since Anya told them they would be going to Diagon Alley. Although she was excited she was going to get a wand, she feared it wouldn't be her old wand. When she woke up in this world without her wand, she felt like a part of her limb had been taken away from her. Hermione knew she would feel greatly disappointed if she didn't get the magical stick she had dearly loved.
A small bell tinkled above the door when they entered Ollivander's. Thankfully, the shop was devoid of other aspiring first year students, so the family were able to quickly walk towards the counter.
Hermione gazed around, unable to see the famous wandmaker, while Anya rang the bell on the counter. The family comically flinched when Ollivander finally slid into their sights, perched almost precariously on his rickety ladder.
"Ah, welcome, welcome," he jovially greeted, climbing down and walking towards the counter. His eyes slightly widened upon seeing their mother. "Anastasia Selwyn. Elm and dragon heartstring. Twelve inches. Very swishy and flexible."
"Anya Pettigrew, please," Anya corrected, giving him a tight smile. "But quite right, Mr. Ollivander."
The wandmaker ignored her words as his eyes then swept down at Peter, who was widely staring at him with unabashed awe.
"You really do remember all the wands you've sold," he quipped. He blushed when Ollivander chuckled under his breath.
"An Ollivander never forgets the wands he sold," the wandmaker replied. "And you, young Pettigrew. Cedar and unicorn hair. Thirteen and a half inches. A little rigid, but supple."
Peter vigorously nodded his head, his eyes growing wider.
His gaze finally landed on Hermione and his smile grew. "Ah, what do we have here? A new student?"
She stiffly nodded her head for her reply.
Ollivander pulled his very own wand and swished it in the air. Instantly, measuring tapes appeared and started getting Hermione's measurements.
"Now, Miss Pettigrew," he started, "we have a different array of wands and cores, but you must note that no two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes are quite the same."
When he swished his wand again, the measuring tape disappeared. He sauntered towards the closest box and eyed it with keen eyes. "Hmm... cypress and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. Quite springy." He thrusted the wand towards Hermione. "Go on, go on. Give it a little wave."
Hermione eyed the wand with distrust. Even before she touched it, she knew they wouldn't be well-acquainted. She recalled using Bellatrix's wand when her beloved wand was snatched from her, and grew sick in the stomach. She didn't want to experience that ever again.
"I want—" She started, hesitant in voicing out her desires. But when Ollivander frowned and lowered the wand he was clutching, Hermione cleared her throat and stood a tad taller. "I think, I'd like to try vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten and three-fourths inches long."
Both Anya and Peter gawked at her in surprise.
"Please," Hermione quickly squeaked under her breath, wondering if what she'd done was the right thing.
"That's awfully specific," Peter said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
Hermione cleared her throat once again and hid her trepidation. "I did some reading before coming here, you see. I think vine wood with a dragon heartstring core would suit me. And as for the measurements... well, I hazarded a guess when your magical tape started taking my measurements."
Anya and Peter seemed to accept her explanation. "Even with choosing a wand you can really be a know-it-all," Peter teased, earning him a glare from his sister.
But Ollivander seemed very suspicious. He had grown silent after Hermione's demand, and had been observing her quietly for a few seconds.
Feeling a little uncomfortable with his gaze, Hermione cleared her throat for the third time and asked, "Well?"
"A wand chooses the wielder, Miss Pettigrew," he said, the tone of his voice now curiously devoid of his initial joviality. "Not the other way around."
"Please," she insisted. "Just let me try it."
When a deep frown graced Ollivander's face, Hermione internally sighed.
She just really missed her wand.
"As an honest suggestion from me, Mr. Ollivander," Peter suddenly quipped. "I think you should really just follow her request. Mighty stubborn, this one is—OW, HERMIONE!"
"Shut it," she hissed under her breath, glaring at her brother who was now rubbing his sore ribs.
Anya shushed her children then sheepishly smiled the wandmaker. "I apologise, Mr. Ollivander," she said, "but we really need to go."
His eyes never left Hermione, but he finally sighed. "Very well," he stonily replied. "I'll be right back."
He wasn't gone for a minute. When he came back, Hermione's breath hitched at the familiar green box that had once housed her beloved wand. She had to bite her tongue hard to stop herself from crying in relief when he finally opened the box and showed her the exact replica of her own past wand.
He offered the stick to her. "Go on. Give it a try," he said hesitantly.
The moment she touched the textured handle of the vine wood, instant warmth spread through her fingertips. The magic inside her hummed pleasurably upon being reacquainted with an old friend, and it didn't surprise her when red and gold sparks shot out from her wand like fireworks.
Peter clapped at the display, grinning widely at Hermione. Anya placed a hand on top of Hermione's shoulder, a proud grin on her face.
"Hmm... curiously you were right," Ollivander claimed, closing the green box and moving it away. "I've sold a thousand wands in my life, Miss Pettigrew, and this is the first time a witch was able to correctly choose her wand."
Hermione gave him a shaky grin, hugging her wand close to her chest. "I'm a know-it-all, remember?" she joked.
Ollivander's brows knitted at the middle, trying to decipher Hermione like she was a difficult puzzle. But then, he finally gave up and gave her a hesitant smile.
"I wish you many happy years in Hogwarts, Miss Pettigrew," he answered instead.
__________
"No one's going to snatch your wand, Hermione," Peter teased when he slid inside the booth across from the brunette.
"You can't be too careful," she murmured under her breath, finally, yet reluctantly, sliding her wand inside her sleeve. She eyed the colourful ice cream in front of her brother and didn't bother asking him what flavour he had gotten. Instead, she looked around the ice cream shop and frowned. "Where's Mum?"
Peter shrugged. "She said she needed to buy something else," he answered. "We can go ahead and eat our ice creams."
Hermione nodded and ate her ice cream – a normal toffee flavoured one – and savoured how the creamy dessert melted on her tongue.
"I really wish you'd be Sorted into Gryffindor," Peter then quipped. "We'll have so much fun."
She wondered if the Sorting Hat would allow her to choose. Although she'd always be a Gryffindor through and through, the thought of staying inside their cosy common room and sleeping in the dormitories without her own friends didn't sit well with Hermione.
"Maybe I'll be a Ravenclaw," she casually replied. "You know, so no one will judge me for being a swot."
Peter grinned. "I bet you'll be at the top of your year," he said.
She lifted her chin a little higher. "Is that a challenge, Peter?" she snootily asked.
His eyes gleamed, leaning forward to meet her in the eye. "What are the stakes?"
"A yearlong supply of toffee if I win," she said without any hesitation.
"Figures you'd say that," Peter snorted. "Fine. Deal. But if you lose?"
Hermione smirked. "Oh, I think I will win," she confidently replied.
Peter guffawed and waved his spoon in her direction. "Maybe you'll be well suited in Slytherin instead, you berk," he laughed.
She was about to retort, when Peter suddenly shot up from his seat. A huge smile broke out on his face as he immediately clambered out of the booth.
"HEY!" he exclaimed. He was greeted with a chorus of 'Hellos' and curious, Hermione peeked from the booth she was sitting in. Three other boys were raucously shoving Peter's shoulders, already excitedly talking with her brother. The boy with a mildly scarred face smiled kindly at Peter, asking him about his vacation. The one with shaggy black hair was playfully messing with Peter's sandy hair. And lastly, the boy with impossibly dishevelled hair with elegant, thin-framed glasses perched on top of his nose was wildly gesticulating with his hands, perhaps enumerating his adventurous summer.
Hermione's breath hitched when the four boys looked over at her. Peter's cheeks reddened in embarrassment while the other three stared at her curiously.
Suddenly embarrassed herself, Hermione hid behind the booth once again and prayed to Merlin they wouldn't come over.
But then, when several sets of footsteps grew closer, Hermione's heart thudded in panic. She desperately tried to calm herself down, told herself repeatedly that she wouldn't show how much their presence had affected her.
Hermione suddenly stilled when a bespectacled boy slid down beside her. Peter sat on the seat across from her, a sheepish smile on his face. The scarred boy sat down beside Peter. And the boy with the shaggy hair chose to stand instead, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stared down at Hermione.
"So..." the boy beside her started, "you are the infamous Hermione Pettigrew."
She stiffly stared at her brother instead, refusing to glance at the boy that looked exactly like her Harry. "I'm not infamous for anything," she murmured.
The shaggy haired boy – Sirius – burst into raucous laughter. He leaned down on the table and placed his chin on top of his hands. "Excited to go to Hogwarts, kitten?" he asked.
Hermione scrunched her nose, remembering the older Sirius' horrible nickname for her. She briefly threw him a scathing glare and stared at her brother again. "Don't call me that," she spat. "I have a name."
Instead of getting offended, Sirius' eyes glinted brighter.
"What's gotten her knickers in a twist?" the boy beside her – James – asked, jutting a thumb in her direction.
"She's just mighty nervous, that's all," Peter explained, giving her a small smile.
"There's nothing to be nervous about attending Hogwarts, kitten," Sirius said, ignoring how she bristled on her seat. "The Sorting can be exhausting and terrifying, but once you get through that alive, then you're all good."
James started snickering under his breath while the scarred boy – Remus – groaned. "You don't need to scare her, Sirius," he reprimanded. He gave her a small, kind smile and Hermione's eyes slightly watered, remembering her favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "The Sorting's not that terrible, Hermione. Trust me. It'll be done in a minute."
"Mine wasn't," Peter reminded with a wide smile.
"Can't believe you almost got Sorted into Slytherin," James said with a wrinkled nose. "Those bunch of snakes are evil, I tell you."
Sirius reverently nodded his head. "I'm so glad I got free from the Black family curse," he said with a dramatic sigh.
"Which is?" Remus asked with knitted eyebrows.
"Why, getting Sorted into Slytherin, of course!" Sirius cried. "Imagine sleeping in a dungeon for seven years." He made a face and shivered in disgust.
James snorted. "Funny," he started, "I thought the 'Black family curse' was when members of the family started to go mental as they aged." He grinned widely when he dodged Sirius' punch. "Mental, that's definitely you."
"Shut up, wanker," Sirius said, sticking out his tongue petulantly.
"Language," Hermione suddenly admonished with a frown.
The Black heir looked at her in surprise. "You're not my Mother," he shot back.
She sighed and looked away, once again comforting herself by staring at Peter instead.
"But seriously, though," James said, addressing Hermione again. "I hope you won't get Sorted into Slytherin. Peter talks about you all the time and we'd hate it if his sister got Sorted with the snakes. They're evil."
"You really shouldn't generalise people because of their House," she berated, glaring at him out of the corner of her eyes.
James frowned. "What?" he asked. "I'm not. I'm merely stating facts."
"Baseless facts," she corrected. "Slytherins are not all evil. Hogwarts: A History spoke about how cunning they can be, and it would be mighty helpful when planning for a raid once they become Aurors. Hufflepuffs can be brave and intelligent. And Ravenclaws can hurt other people if they want with their brains."
She was suddenly haunted by all the people she had encountered in the battlefield, lines blurred and House colors unimportant. She had long learnt that such generalisations always led to heartache and betrayals.
Her eyes unwittingly glanced at her brother once more, remembering how a Gryffindor had betrayed his friends in the end.
"Or... or you know, how not all Gryffindors grow up to be brave." She finished her speech in a small whisper, glancing at her hands and trying to keep her emotions intact.
"What?!" the boys collectively thundered.
Hermione blinked, surprised with their outburst. She lifted her head and looked at each of their faces, noting the thunderous expressions painted on their splotchy red faces. Even Peter was looking at her with a disapproving frown. "What?" she echoed, confused.
"Gryffindors are brave!" James interjected. "How can you say that?"
"Not all," she insisted, annoyed.
"Yes, all," James replied.
Hermione had to stop herself from hitting her forehead with her palm. These boys were still so blinded by their Houses and the rigid delineation of what was good or bad, of what was light or dark, it was almost saddening. If Hogwarts had taught them about how the real world was a wonderful spectrum of different, various shades of grey, then the war might not have dragged out as long.
Hermione expelled an exhausted sigh and slumped down in her seat. She knew arguing with these bright-eyed boys would be futile, anyway. "Never mind," she quietly murmured. "Believe whatever you want."
"Your sister's weird, Petey," Sirius pointed out with a frown. "She definitely won't be Sorted into Gryffindor."
In spite of herself, she snorted. "Woe is me," she dryly replied.
She saw how this made Remus laugh. "Definitely a Ravenclaw," he said with a resolute nod. "You dolts won't be able to handle that big brain of hers."
James, who had now marginally calmed down, threw a bemused glance at Peter. "You didn't tell us your sister's annoying," he joked.
Peter grinned. "A bloody know-it-all, too, if you ask me," he laughed.
Hermione, slightly affronted, scooped up her melting ice cream with her spoon and made a makeshift catapult with her finger. She flung the ice cream towards her brother, which landed squarely on his forehead.
Sirius released a low whistle while James and Remus exploded into boisterous laughter. "Nice shot, kitten," the Black heir said with a wide grin.
Peter's face steadily turned red as he tried to retaliate, scooping up a handful of his own melting ice cream and hurtling it towards his sister. Hermione laughed and dodged. The ice cream landed on James's shoulder, prompting him to yelp in surprise. He snatched Hermione's spoon and flung more of the dessert towards Peter.
Suffice to say, when Anya came back to collect her children, she was surprised by the scene that greeted her.
"What happened here?" she gasped, glancing at the massacred creamy dessert clinging to various parts of their hair and clothes.
"Hi, Mum," Hermione and Peter sheepishly said.
"Good day, Mrs. Pettigrew," Sirius said with a ridiculous bow and a charming grin. He looked extra ridiculous because most of his right cheek was covered in ice cream. "It's been a while."
Anya started reprimanding the rowdy children, lecturing them about respecting their food, and by the time all the children were clean, they were properly shamefaced.
When the other three boys bid their goodbyes, promising Peter to save him a seat on the Hogwarts Express, Anya reckoned it was time for them to go home.
"Your friends are so annoying," Hermione complained when she clung at Anya's hand.
Peter gave her a cheeky grin. "I think they like you," he shot back, clutching Hermione's other free hand.
Hermione rolled her eyes, murmured under her breath how she thought that wasn't a compliment. She promised herself she would keep as far away from the Marauder's radar as possible. They were too involved in the war after all, and well, that was not what Hermione wanted in the first place.
When they finally got home, before Hermione could deposit her new things in her bedroom, Anya stopped her.
"I bought you a congratulatory gift, Hermione," Anya said with a sad smile. "Now that my daughter is going to start her education soon, I thought it was fitting to give you a farewell gift."
Hermione threw a glance at Peter, who merely shrugged in return.
Anya then pulled out an aged copy of Hogwarts: A History that almost made her eyes bulge out from their sockets.
"A first edition?" she gasped, reverently cradling the book in her hands. "But... but Mum, this is so expensive."
Her mother kindly smiled down at her and brushed a loose curl away. "Never mind the price, love," she tenderly replied. "After seeing your expression, I knew buying it was the right thing to do."
Tears swam in Hermione's vision as she threw her arms around her. "I love you, Mum," she whispered earnestly.
Anya smiled and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I love you too, sweetheart," she replied. "I know you are going to make me really proud."
"Can I join in the hug too?" Peter hopefully asked, a large grin on his face.
Hermione chuckled and pulled him close. She was then sandwiched between the two people she had cared for the most in this world and Hermione hadn't felt this happy in a long time.
__________
A/N: So, I've finally introduced the Marauders and I hope I gave justice to their characters hahaha. James was mighty difficult to write so I don't really understand why I'm obsessed with him and subsequently wanted to pair him with Hermione in this story. I'm purposefully complicating my life smh. Also, James/Hermione are endgame, I promise, but I did say it'll be a slow burn so... :)Next chapter is Hermione's first year at Hogwarts! Oh, and I introduce Lily and Snape.P.S. Follow me on tumblr! (kimmy-writes)