xxxxix.
i will love you with every single thing i have
(Two by Sleeping at Last)
__________
February 11, 1980
Hermione's eyes fluttered open when fingertips ghosted over her cheeks. She squinted her eyes when harsh, bright light assaulted her senses. A bit disoriented, she realised she'd fallen asleep while sitting on a chair, head buried underneath her arms which were placed on a bed. A white starchy blanket fell over her shoulders when she pulled herself up, and it was only when she met Anya's clear, blue eyes that Hermione remembered where she was.
"Mum!" she cried, already launching into Anya's arms, careful enough to avoid the bandages tied around her abdomen.
"Hello, sweetheart," her mother greeted with a small, sweet smile. The smile then morphed into a pained grimace as she glanced down at her injury. "Are we in St. Mungo's?"
The brunette blinked back her tears and pulled away from the confused witch. "Yes," she said, reaching out to tightly clutch onto Anya's hand, as if afraid she'd be hexed with a dark curse once more. "Do you remember what happened to you, Mum?" Terror struck her face as she squeezed her hand tighter. "There was a Dark Mark over our house and the Aurors thought... the Aurors thought you were—" The words died down from her lips, unable to voice out one of Hermione Pettigrew's greatest fears.
When James and Sirius had arrived at the Potter Manor bearing bad news, Hermione instantly thought of the worst possible scenario. Sirius hastily assured her that Anya was still alive but had been gravely injured.
She couldn't remember how she'd arrived at St. Mungo's after that. Hermione almost worried herself sick as she waited outside her mother's room, pacing furiously just to do something. James urged her to rest, that it wouldn't be good for the baby, but Hermione was too distraught to keep still. It was only when Peter arrived, with tears in his eyes, that she allowed herself to be dragged down onto a chair. She'd clung to Peter, terrified that Anya would be taken from them both, when they weren't ready to lose her yet.
The Healers soon came out, reassuring the family that Anya wasn't in danger anymore. However, the dark curse had tired her and they didn't expect her to wake up for the rest of the day.
Hermione had reverently stayed beside Anya, waiting for her mother to wake up. Peter and the others had long left St. Mungo's to continue the investigation. Her brother was reluctant to go, but Hermione urged him to join the others. Peter promised he'd drop by once they'd filed their report.
"How long was I unconscious?" her mother then asked, her soft voice breaking through Hermione's tumultuous thoughts.
"About a day and a half," she croaked, more tears tumbling down from her eyes. "You've given us quite a scare, Mum."
Anya's blue eyes filled with tears as she brushed her fingers against Hermione's cheek. "Was it that bad?" she asked.
"The Healers told us you were lucky," Hermione explained. "Said that if you'd been brought in an hour later then—" Her breath hitched, her mouth still unwilling to continue that sentence. In spite of her tears and the fear in her heart, Hermione managed to expel a dry chuckle. "Mrs. Jones saw the Dark Mark over our house and she thought we were up to no good again and immediately called the Muggle cops. She might be a spiteful old lady, but we owe her everything, Mum." She fearfully threw her arms around Anya's shoulders again and sobbed. "If it weren't for her, you'd be—"
"Hush now, sweetheart," her mother whispered, placing a sweet kiss on her head. "Worrying too much will be harmful for you and the baby."
"Don't worry about me," Hermione insisted. "Worry about yourself more."
Anya softly chuckled. "Hermione, the moment I held you in my arms, I knew you'd be my top priority," her mother said. "You and Peter both come first. Even in terms of worrying."
"But what really happened, Mum?" she asked again. "The wards you placed around the house were decent enough. Peter and I agreed adding a few more wouldn't hurt because of the increasing attacks. How was a Death Eater able to breach our wards? It doesn't make sense."
While she rambled on, Hermione noticed the guilt in Anya's eyes. The brunette thoughtfully nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to ponder over Anya's expression, when realisation finally dawned. With widened eyes, she breathily continued, "Unless... unless you willingly let one in."
Anya's expression was already telling and Hermione couldn't understand. She knew her mother had already integrated herself back into the Wizarding World, constantly visiting the Potters to converse with Euphemia over tea. But despite this, Anya still steered away from bustling Wizarding streets such as Diagon Alley and from what she remembered, Anya hadn't associated herself with other wizards or witches.
"Mum..." She faltered, grasping onto Anya's elbow and waited until she met her eyes once more.
"It was my fault," her mother sighed. "I received a letter a few days ago from my brother."
"Brother!" Hermione gasped in shock. Anya rarely told them about her family, but Hermione had done her research. Even as Hermione Granger, she'd never really known about the Selwyns, except that they were staunch supporters of Voldemort. Which admittedly made her curious, to be related to people who'd supported an evil wizard that had brought terror and turmoil over the Wizarding World. It didn't bother her at all, especially because she was brought up and taken care of by such a wonderful witch. She was just thankful her mother had run away from home and Hermione wasn't forced to live amongst Pureblood bigots.
Anya's eyes welled with more tears, deep pain and betrayal painted on her pale face. "My brother and I... we used to be just like you and Peter, my love," her mother explained, daintily sniffing as she swiped her wet cheeks. "But I ran away from home when I fell in love with your father and I cut off all ties with my family. I thought... I thought he wanted to reach out, after all these years."
Hermione's glistening eyes hardened. "He did this to you," she harshly spat.
A small, sad smile appeared on her mother's face. "It was my fault for trusting him, in spite of everything I knew he'd done with his life," she said.
"That bastard!" Hermione growled. "I will tell Peter and—"
"Hermione," her mother cut her off, "I'd rather your brother doesn't know who attacked me."
She deflated, a confused look on her face. "But Mum, he needs to be imprisoned for what he did to you," she insisted.
"He's still my brother."
"Who tried to murder you!"
"Sweetheart," Anya appeased, "it's fine. I'm just glad I'm still alive to see you get married to a man who absolutely adores you and who has given me the grandchild I've always wanted."
Hermione's face crumpled, disbelieving her words. But she'd forgotten this was Anya Pettigrew, the same woman who'd endured years of abuse from a man who didn't love her. "Why are you being stubborn about this, Mum?" she rasped. "What if he comes back and finishes the deed? I want you to be safe!"
Her mother brushed away her errant tears and smiled sadly. "I have far more important things to worry about than my idiotic brother," she said. "For starters, your marriage and pregnancy."
"Maybe I should tell James we should postpone the wedding," the younger witch suggested, but Anya was furiously shaking her head.
"No, no, I will forbid that," her mother firmly replied. "I've been waiting for years for this to happen, Hermione."
Despite her tears, Hermione huffed a laugh. "I'm the one who's getting married, Mum. Not you."
Anya pointedly looked at Hermione, her grip on her shoulders warm and firm. "But really, sweetheart," she slowly said. "Just because we are at war doesn't mean happiness must be postponed." She fondly brushed away Hermione's curls and smiled. "Remember that."
-ooo-
Hermione's eyes flew open and met hazel.
"Hi," James whispered, brushing away the curls on her face.
The brunette blearily blinked her eyes and shifted on the hospital bed. She briefly glanced up at her sleeping mother, her arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Hermione wasn't quite sure how she'd ended up snuggling against Anya, but she already had an inkling this was her mother's doing. How an injured Anya was able to do it, Hermione didn't know either.
"How's Anya?" he worriedly asked as Hermione pulled herself out of the bed.
"She woke up a few hours ago," she reassured. Hermione paused, noted the dark bags under James's eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink, and concerned, she reached forward and brushed her thumb against his pale cheek. "When was the last time you slept?"
He cracked a wry smile. "It doesn't matter," he replied. Their attention was directed towards the door when Sirius and Peter came inside. Her blue eyes prickled with tears when she saw her brother, who was already bounding towards her to give her a hug.
"Is Mum okay?" Peter croaked, voice already thick with tears. Both he and Sirius also looked terrible, no doubt exhausted from this whole ordeal.
"She's awakened," she reassured, patting his back in added comfort. "Mum's fine. She's just resting again."
Peter sniffed and miserably nodded his head, before pulling away to hastily brush away his tears.
"How's the investigation?" she quietly asked, shifting out of the bed to sit on the chair she'd occupied a while ago.
"Everything's fine, Whiskers," Sirius placated. "You don't have to worry anymore. Think of Prongslet."
"Prongslet?" she snorted, a small, bemused smile flitting on her face.
"Pads is convinced our babe's a boy," James explained with a laugh. "He thought it would be hilarious to give him a nickname already."
Sirius's eyes merrily twinkled. "A fitting name for a future prankster," he giddily replied.
Hermione sighed and in spite of her exhaustion, she smiled. "Not on my watch," she retorted.
The door opened once more, this time an exhausted Remus stumbling inside. "How's your mother?" he worriedly asked upon meeting her eyes.
"She's better," Hermione repeated with a small smile.
Remus didn't return her smile, which was worrisome. "I've talked with the Healer," he explained, striding forward to stand beside Peter. Both she and her brother glanced at the werewolf with worry. "It's nothing to be worried about. But, the dark curse that hit her... he's afraid it might have injured her magical core." Remus expelled a soft sigh, his golden eyes softening in apology. "Your mother might not be able to properly practice her magic for a few weeks."
Fear gripped her heart as she briefly glanced at her sleeping mother.
"She cannot stay at home," Peter insisted. "It's too dangerous."
Hermione slowly nodded her head. "You're right," she murmured. "I'm going to search for a safe house and—"
"That won't be necessary."
She looked at James with surprise in her eyes. "I've talked to my parents," James expounded. "They wholeheartedly agreed that Anya can stay at the Potter Manor while she recuperates." He paused as a laugh escaped from his lips. "In fact, both you and Wormy can stay too until your house is deemed liveable again by the ministry."
Peter's eyes widened. "But... we don't want to impose," her brother replied. "Hermione's right. We can search for a safe house and hide her there while Voldemort's still alive."
"Like I said," the bespectacled Auror repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, "that won't be necessary."
"James—"
"We're going to be a family soon," he cut her off, extending his hand to gently clutch Hermione's. "Honestly, it isn't even a bother. Mum's already terribly lonely because Sirius and I are always away for Auror and Order missions. And she's tired of Dad – her words, not mine, mind you. Mum's grown fond of Anya. She'd be happy to take care of her."
A tear slipped down from Hermione's eyes as she wound her arms around James' torso. "Thank you, James," she said.
"Anything for you, love," he whispered, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.
She lightly smiled, her arms around him tightening.
"Hey, here's an idea," Sirius offered. He carelessly swung an arm over Remus' shoulders and grinned. "Why don't you live with us at Potter Manor too? Just so the Marauders are all living under one roof. Isn't that what we've always dreamt of?"
"What you've always dreamt of," Remus corrected, shrugging Sirius' heavy arm off his shoulders.
"Moony, come on! Think about all the fun we're going to have, pranking Fleamont and Euphemia to our heart's content..."
Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. "I'll be away for a few weeks anyway," he said.
"Dumbledore's still sending you out on various dangerous missions?" Peter asked, frowning deeply with worry.
"It's fine," the werewolf flippantly said, although Hermione could see the hard glint in his eyes. "You lot are too busy with Auror missions anyway. Besides, the Order needs all the help it can get."
He caught Hermione's worried gaze and reassuringly smiled. "Don't worry," he placated. "I'll be back for your wedding. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
She reached out for Remus' hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Be careful out there, Remus," she softly pleaded.
He squeezed her hand in return. "Of course I will, Hermione."
__________
March 5, 1980
From where James was standing, he could see that Euphemia Potter was obviously disappointed.
James snorted, his hazel eyes nervously gazing around the small garden. He spied his best mates horsing around, hilariously hanging out with Regulus Black once again disguised as the Muggle neighbour of the Snapes. He wondered if people were starting to get suspicious of the unpretentious Muggle, who constantly appeared during important events in their lives. Euphemia was of course ranting endlessly under her breath to Fleamont, most likely lamenting all the grand plans she'd concocted for their only son's marriage, only for them to be put to waste. Fleamont's eyes were glazed, however, humming in agreement at various times just to appease his wife.
His eyes then swept towards the Snapes, the husband awkwardly patting the redhead's back. James' lips twisted into a bemused smile, watching as Lily tried to rein in her tears but was failing terribly. He remembered she wasn't this weepy on her own wedding day, all smiles and starry eyes when she'd finally said 'I do' to the smarmy git sitting beside her. She honestly looked like she was giving away her daughter, not her best friend.
He saw Hermione's Ravenclaw friends too, names he still embarrassingly couldn't remember. There were a few Gryffindor blokes he'd used to tutor Transfiguration to in attendance, and the Order members they'd invited. Headmaster Dumbledore was amiably talking with some old codgers of the Order, his blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles impossibly bright.
Truth be told, he'd imagined this day differently too. They'd been buried with endless wedding preparations and as the heir of a rich Pureblood family, everybody expected their wedding would be grander than anything they had ever seen. But Euphemia insisted that the wedding should be moved at an earlier date because of the unexpected conception of the future Potter heir, so they'd crammed the preparations too. Besides, with the outside world tense with Voldemort's terror, with Anya still recuperating from the dark curse, and with Hermione constantly feeling under the weather because of her pregnancy, the couple decided they'd make this wedding as simple as possible. Hermione had slaved over the guest list, crossing out people they weren't really acquainted with, until they'd settled on a meagre number of guests.
James didn't really mind. Just as long as he was getting married to Hermione today, everything else didn't matter.
His eyes finally snapped towards the end of the aisle when a soft, melodious music filled the little garden. James felt his heart leaping into his throat, his eyes widening at the sight of Hermione in a glorious, albeit simple, white dress. She'd left her hair down, no doubt tamed by two, whole tubs of Sleekeazy's. Flanking her were Peter and Anya, both Pettigrews unabashedly crying for the whole crowd to see.
Hermione had tears in her eyes too, but the huge, wide smile on her face was unmistakable.
James beamed back when she started her slow walk along the aisle, her bright, blue eyes never gazing away. Everything around him seemed to melt away and all he could see was her, white and bright and beautiful. It felt like he was brought back to Lily and Snape's wedding once more. While everybody was looking at the bride, James' eyes had been solely on Hermione.
It was on that day that he realised he wanted to marry her.
And now, now there she was, walking towards him on the day of their wedding.
A few tears escaped from her bright eyes, but she didn't seem to notice.
'I love you', she mouthed, and James huffed a disbelieving laugh, unbeknownst to her that he was in tears too. It was still surreal, how this brilliant witch loved him despite all the idiotic things he'd done in his life.
'I love you too', he mouthed back, his lips stretching wider, if that were possible.
She and her family finally reached him and James eagerly extended his hand, waiting for Hermione to clutch it with her own. But Peter's grip on her arm was tight, large tears still dripping down from his glistening eyes.
"Peter, honestly," Hermione said underneath her breath followed by a lovely laugh. James pursed his lips and tried his best not to snicker when Peter took a mighty sniff and finally, reluctantly let her go.
Hermione held James' hand and squeezed it tight. Anya gave him a sweet kiss against his wet cheek and pulled Peter away.
With Hermione now standing in front of him, James reckoned he had never seen anyone as beautiful as she was today.
"Hi," he breathed out, placing a hand against her freckled cheek to brush her tears away.
"Hi," she replied, her grin widening.
James cupped her other cheek with his hand and started to lean down to kiss her. Hermione tilted her head to meet him halfway, but the starry-eyed couple paused when someone loudly coughed.
"I believe a kiss is given at the end of the ceremony," a grumpy Alastor Moody snapped.
"Right," James sheepishly smiled as Hermione's cheeks turned a lovely shade of red. "Sorry about that."
"Are we going to start now or what?"
Hermione and James shared an amused glance. "Always so grumpy," James whispered under his breath.
"What was that, Potter?" Moody barked.
"Nothing," he hastily answered. He tugged Hermione so that they were both now facing Moody.
He eyed them both warily before taking a deep breath and proclaiming, "Dearly beloved..."
-ooo-
Hermione found herself staring widely at the quaint cottage, the memory of its ruined state resurfacing in her mind. The last time she'd been to Godric's Hollow, she was with Harry to search for Bathilda Bagshot, hoping she'd be in possession of Godric Gryffindor's sword.
A shiver ran down her spine, remembering how the old witch morphed into Nagini, intent on killing them both. Hermione was glad Voldemort still hadn't created that blasted snake. It was the last horcrux they were unable to destroy as Voldemort had grown paranoid at news of their horcrux hunt, constantly keeping the huge snake at his side.
'No time for such thoughts,' she firmly told herself, shaking her head slightly to clear her mind. Today was a happy day and Hermione couldn't afford to reminisce about her horrible past.
She slowly approached the homely cottage, lifting her hand to brush her fingers against the stone wall. At the same time, her other free hand gravitated towards her stomach. She was already showing – and one could tell if she wore her casual clothes, but her small baby bump had been cleverly hidden under the layers and layers of her wedding dress today. In only a few months, her baby would be born, and Hermione was still firmly convinced this was Harry.
Someone cleared his throat behind her and Hermione craned her neck over her shoulder. Regulus in his disguise stood awkwardly behind her, a small, hesitant smile on his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "You're the bloody bride, Pettigrew. You should be having fun on your special day."
Hermione snorted and jutted a thumb towards a boisterous James. The bespectacled wizard was loudly outmatching Sirius in a ridiculous dance-off, a small crowd now gathered around them. "I think he's having enough fun for the both of us," she said. "And I guess that's Potter to you now, Regulus. Or better yet, just call me 'Hermione', blimey."
The smirk on his face looked so out-of-place on a supposed unpretentious Muggle. Instead of answering, he extended his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked.
The music by then had turned into a slow song and with a smile, Hermione placed her hand on top of his and followed him to the dance floor. James and Sirius' ridiculous dance battle ended, the blokes clambering towards the refreshment table. Only a few were swaying on the dance floor. Hermione caught sight of her mother being twirled around by Moody, which brought a surprised smile to her face.
Regulus kept her at a decent distance, his back snapped ramrod straight, and elegantly led her in a simple waltz. "It's mighty suspicious for a Muggle to dance like a Pureblood, you know," she teased.
He snorted. "Please. Just because I'm in disguise doesn't mean I have to act like a bloody Muggle." Hermione quirked an eyebrow, prompting his cheeks to redden in embarrassment. "Not that there's nothing wrong with that, of course," he quickly added.
"It's my bloody wedding, Regulus," she pointed out with a laugh, yanking him a little closer. "You're allowed to relax today. No one's going to judge you."
"Except I'm disguised as a weird Muggle thrice your age." He smirked as his dark eyes swept around the small garden. "I can see your mother's questioning look, wondering who the strapping Muggle dancing with her daughter is."
"Strapping, right," she repeated with a teasing glint in her eyes.
His smirk merely morphed into a small grin.
Regulus occasionally twirled her around, bringing out surprised laughs from the bride. He danced with her even when the song changed, matching his steps to the new upbeat song.
By the time another slow song played, the Black heir had finally grown relaxed, merely swaying around with Hermione. She grimaced and shot a glare at her feet. They were already killing her, undoubtedly swollen from too much dancing and pregnancy hormones combined.
"What's wrong?"
Hermione sheepishly met his eyes. "Can we sit down?" she asked. "My feet are killing me."
Regulus shot an amused glance at Hermione's feet before wordlessly pulling her towards one of the tables and letting her sit.
"How's your pregnancy, Pettigrew?" he asked as he gave her a glass of water.
She rolled her eyes at his address, but Hermione chose to let it slide. "Shite," she grumbled. She took a quick sip from the cold drink and sighed. "I'm already on my second trimester, though, so things have gotten better. But the hormones and the aches..." She made another face. "Shite."
His eyes flicked at her concealed abdomen and Hermione was confused at how forlorn they'd become. "You know," he deliberately started, his gaze refusing to meet hers. "If I'd befriended you during our first year, perhaps you wouldn't be in this situation at all."
Hermione furrowed her brows, confused when a wry smile appeared on his face. "What do you mean?" she asked.
His dark eyes finally met hers and Regulus was about to say something, but his eyes briefly glanced over her shoulders. He tightly pursed his lips, met her eyes again, and sighed, "I believe I was a little too late." Regulus ignored the confusion on her face, murmured a soft 'Congratulations', and excused himself.
She was about to call out to him, but a warm hand clutched her shoulder. Hermione glanced up and met James' hazel eyes, worry painted on his face. "All right, Whiskers?" he asked, occupying Regulus' previous seat. He reached forward and placed a hand against her abdomen. "Is the little menace reigning terror again?"
Hermione laughed and patted his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine," she replied. "I just needed to rest a bit because my feet are killing me."
James frowned and dragged his chair closer to Hermione's. Then, wordlessly, he shifted her on her seat so that her feet were now resting on his lap. Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to place her feet back on the ground, but James' grip on them were firm.
"Honestly. You're worse than Peter," she said with a sigh, although she was unable to keep her lips from tugging upward. James started to massage her ankles to relieve her of the pain. The soles of her shoes were already soiled from the dirty garden floor, but James didn't mind.
Hermione smiled at him appreciatively, reaching forward to fix his askew glasses. James matched her smile with his handsome, crooked one. "Can you believe it?" he breathlessly asked, his hazel eyes twinkling brightly. "We're actually married."
His happiness was infectious and Hermione couldn't help but to smile wider. She'd never expected to marry at such a young age. Hermione Granger was too busy running away from Voldemort with her emerald-eyed best friend to even think of such frivolous things. Even after being reborn as Hermione Pettigrew, she had been too preoccupied with her horcrux hunt and desire to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Falling in love with a wonderful man, carrying a child amidst the war... all of these things had never even crossed her mind.
Her smile faltered as her gaze roamed over James' face, pinpointing all the features he didn't share with her Harry. Whilst at first glance, anyone could easily mistake him as Harry Potter, James actually had a sculpted face that spoke of Pureblood aristocracy. Harry's face was softer, without the rough and pointy edges, which he got from Lily.
Her hand rested on her swollen abdomen, the worry about a possible future she didn't wish to partake in again weighing heavily on her shoulders. She'd mentally berated herself, perhaps for the umpteenth time, for being careless enough to bring forth a new life, despite all the turmoil and terror blanketing the whole Wizarding World. This baby's father was a reckless Gryffindor. The mother, a bloody time travelling War Heroine, with every intention of defeating the Dark Lord whatever it took. That baby's life would most definitely not be an easy, peaceful one, lest the world got rid of Voldemort.
"Hermione?"
She met his eyes, the worry he was sporting a while ago now back on his face again. She shifted her feet back onto the ground. Hermione then slowly placed a hand against James' cheek, her eyes already welling with tears. "Promise me, James Potter," she whispered. "Promise me that we're going to grow old and grey together. Promise me that we'll watch our family grow. Promise me."
James grasped her hand on his cheek. His eyebrows were knitted together with deep concern and confusion at her impassioned plea. "Of course, Hermione," he earnestly replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Of course."
Hermione vigorously nodded her head while haphazardly wiping her tears away. "Okay," she said as a tentative smile grew on her face.
Despite his obvious worry, James managed to crack a teasing grin. "Hermione, please," he cajoled. "People might think you're not happy you married me."
She expelled a watery chuckle. "I'm sorry. It's the pregnancy hormones," she easily lied with a small smile.
-ooo-
As the sun began making its slow descent, Hermione asked James if she could dance with him before the guests left. Her husband ('Merlin, what a surreal thing!') agreed and pulled her onto the dance floor. Despite the upbeat song, James opted to lead Hermione in a slow dance, drawing her closer to him until she could tuck her head underneath his chin.
"Have I told you yet you look beautiful today?" he whispered against her ear.
Hermione breathed out a soft laugh. "Yes," she answered. "For the umpteenth time, if you must know."
He grinned and pressed a kiss against her temple. She tightened her arm around James and expelled a soft, contented sigh.
"Mind if I cut in?"
Hermione craned her neck and saw a widely smiling Remus. "Get your own wife, Moony," James snapped with a light scowl.
The brunette snorted and tried to pull herself away from James, but he just held onto her tighter. "Learn to share, Prongsie dearest," Sirius tutted, sidling up beside Remus. The handsome Pureblood flashed a wide smile and offered her his hand. "Dance with me instead, kitten. I promise I'll be good to you."
Sirius was suddenly shoved away by a disgruntled Peter. "I get dibs first because she's my sister," he complained, ignoring James' glare when he started to tug her arm away. "Come on, 'Mione. Dance with me."
"You had her for nineteen years!" James whined. With a petulant frown, he stared down at the brunette. "Tell him you love me more, Hermione."
"That's not possible!" Peter exclaimed, successfully pulling Hermione away from James' hold. The two started a ridiculous row in the middle of the dance floor and with rolling eyes, Hermione grasped onto both Sirius' and Remus' hands.
"I'm surrounded by idiots," she said with a tired sigh.
Sirius snorted to concur, a cheeky smile now appearing on his face. A surprised laugh escaped from her lips when he pulled her into a dizzying twirl. James noticed this, ignoring Peter altogether, and tried to steal Hermione away. But the brunette laughingly shied away from his arms, opting to dance with the other Marauders instead.
This went on for a few minutes, the others constantly teasing James. Even her husband ('Husband!') couldn't help but to join in the fun, trying ridiculous dives and means to steal Hermione back for himself.
There was a sudden flash of bright white light that startled the group. Swivelling their heads around almost at the same time, Hermione spied her mother standing not too far away from where they were, a Muggle camera clutched in her hands.
"Come on," Anya encouraged. "Stand together properly to get your pictures taken."
Hermione grinned and grabbed onto James' hand, pulling him closer to herself. She hooked her other arm around Peter to also pull him close. Sirius and Remus stood on the outside and smiled widely at the camera.
"No movements, Sirius," Anya admonished. "This is a Muggle camera after all."
"Terribly sorry, Anya," the shaggy-haired wizard quipped, slinging an arm over James' shoulders.
There was another flash of light as Anya took their photograph.
Her mother then encouraged Hermione to go around and take photographs with everybody before the guests left. Hermione indulged Anya and went around the reception area. She took pictures with a red-rimmed, watery-eyed Lily and a fondly smiling Severus, posed beside her Ravenclaw roommates, and giggled with a pregnant Alice Longbottom in front of the camera. Hermione found herself beside James once more, posing with a beaming Euphemia and a proud Fleamont. She even posed with a disguised Regulus, which made Anya suspicious again.
James snatched the camera from Anya's hands, urging her to stand beside her daughter to get their picture too. Peter joined them soon after, standing right in the middle of the two witches, draping his arm over their shoulders.
Hermione was all smiles despite her smarting cheeks. This day had been so lovely and the happiness of everyone who'd attended was terribly infectious.
When Peter and Anya rearranged themselves for another photograph, Hermione caught James' glinting hazel eyes. His cheeks were flushed in a brilliant shade of red, eyes a little wide and lips pressed into a thin line. Hermione quirked a questioning eyebrow, prompting him to huff out a laugh.
Instead of taking another picture, James pulled out his wand and pointed it against his throat. He muttered a soft 'Sonorus', magnifying his voice, and loudly cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," he started with a booming voice, "thank you for coming today but honestly, you've all overstayed your welcome already."
"James!" Hermione exclaimed in shock.
James threw her a meaningful glance, his lips stretching into a wide smile. "I' d like to spend the rest of the night with my wife – my wife, Merlin and Morgana! Alone. So please, for the love of all good things and holy, I'd like for you all to Apparate away before I lose my mind."
Twin 'boos' from Sirius and Peter echoed from where they stood but it only managed to widen his smile more. Hermione's cheeks had reddened in embarrassment, believing that James was being plain ridiculous, and a tad rude, but if she were being honest with herself, she wanted to spend the rest of the night with him alone too.
The guests approached Hermione and gave her quick hugs and kisses of goodbye. Hermione kept on apologising for James' behaviour, but they all seemed more amused than offended. James was quipping loudly for everyone to hasten, cursing the Marauders when they were trying to obviously stay. This had earned James a scolding from Euphemia, mollifying the boisterous wizard for a bit, before his mother kissed him tenderly on his cheek for her goodbye.
Once the last of the guests had gone, James met Hermione's eyes again. Under the pale moonlight, his eyes were almost dark and mischievous. Hermione's heart thudded wildly inside her chest as James started to slowly meet her in the middle of the garden, a small, dangerous smirk now growing on his face.
Up close, she realised that his eyes were already dark due to his blown-up pupils. "That was very rude, James," she breathlessly whispered, eyes magnetising down his lips when he reached forward to cup her cheek.
"I think I'm allowed to behave however I want on my wedding day, Whiskers," he huskily replied, dipping his head closer to give her a soft kiss.
She braced her hands against his chest and smiled at how his heartbeat pounded against her palm. "I love you, James," she tenderly murmured as she met his eyes again.
James slipped a soft 'I love you' back and pressed his lips against hers, this time unwilling to pull away. Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck, blindly moving backward until her back was pressed against the cold wall of their new home. He started to trail kisses down her jaw and neck, nipping her pulse point that made her breath hitch.
"B-bed," she stuttered out, followed by a brief laugh. "Bed, James."
He skimmed his nose against her neck and pressed a kiss on her jaw. "I don't think I'll be able to hold on until we reach our bedroom."
"Very impatient," she teased with bright eyes. "At least inside, blimey."
James pulled away and beamed widely down at her. Then, without warning, he draped an arm behind her knees and carried her in his arms. Hermione yelped in surprise, but James was kissing her again. He smiled against her lips and carried her inside.
__________
March 12, 1980
A week after the Potter-Pettigrew wedding, Dumbledore sent them a letter, asking to meet with them at the Order Headquarters.
Hermione figured the Headmaster wanted to destroy another horcrux, but as she prepared for the meeting, she couldn't shake off a feeling of foreboding. James asked her if something was wrong, but she just gave him a reassuring smile. Her worry was baseless after all, and she didn't want him to worry too.
As they strode out of the Potter Foyer and greeted an overly excited Pokey, Hermione mentally calmed herself down and allowed James to lead her into the East Tower. They were the last to arrive, as the other Marauders, the Snapes, and a surprisingly un-disguised Regulus were already waiting inside.
The worry she'd tried to brush away came back once more when she met Lily's eyes. The quiet redhead was standing stiffly beside Dumbledore, incessantly worrying her bottom lip. Hermione tried to silently ask her if something was wrong, but Lily gave her a brief smile and refused to meet her gaze.
Now that she properly thought about it, Lily had been almost inconsolable during her wedding. Hermione thought it was sweet that Lily was crying her eyes out for her, but now, with Lily's strange behaviour, Hermione wondered if her tears stemmed from another reason.
"Why did Dumbledore call for a meeting?" she heard James ask the others.
"I reckon we're going to destroy another horcrux," Remus said with a casual shrug.
Hermione's eyes then landed on the Headmaster. To her surprise, he was already looking at her. "We are still waiting for a few more people," he vaguely replied. "Answers will be given afterwards."
This only made Hermione more suspicious. Destroying a horcrux always consisted of just this group. Although the current Order members already knew that all of Voldemort's horcruxes were collected, they still had no idea what they all were and how they were procured.
She tried to meet Dumbledore's eyes again, but to her utmost frustration, even the Headmaster was avoiding her gaze. Dread bloomed in her heart, wondering why both Dumbledore and her best friend wore an expression that was nowhere near pleasant. Lily looked like she would burst out into tears any minute now.
"I can hear your mind thinking very loudly," her husband whispered for only her to hear.
She turned her head to meet James' amused eyes. "Something's wrong," she replied.
James furrowed his brows in worry. Before he could answer, successive knocks in a familiar rhythm brought their attention towards the door. It magically swung open and in came Moody and Kingsley, the Longbottoms not too far behind.
Hermione's mouth ran dry. Moody and Kingsley were already knowledgeable about her past and how truly important Hermione was in their persistent campaign to defeat Voldemort. The Longbottoms, however, only knew about the horcruxes and not Hermione's past. Their presence merely intensified Hermione's feeling of dread.
"Welcome, friends," Dumbledore amicably greeted. "Now that we are complete, I believe we can destroy another horcrux."
He dug his hand inside the pocket of his starry robe and pulled out Tom Riddle's diary wrapped in a handkerchief.
"Let me destroy it," James offered before anyone else could volunteer. Dumbledore smiled and nodded his head, wordlessly placing the horcrux on the circular table. Remus passed over the pouch containing the basilisk fangs. James strode towards the horcrux and pulled out his weapon. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration, his lips pressed into a thin line, and with one mighty thrust, the diary was destroyed.
Hermione didn't flinch when the Dark Mark-shaped smoke billowed out of the diary. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the older Aurors weren't surprised either. Perhaps, they'd seen similar things during their stint as Aurors and nothing could shake them anymore.
"That's it?" Moody grumbled as soon as the smoke disappeared. "Why call for a bloody meeting just to watch Potter destroy a horcrux?"
The brunette firmly nodded her head and bore holes into Dumbledore's face. But the Headmaster was still serenely smiling as he pulled out a chair. "Please," he said, gesturing at the empty chairs. "Have a seat first."
Hermione wanted to scream, frustrated with his stalling. She stiffly plopped down on the chair James had pulled out for her and crossed her arms against her chest.
Lily by then had started to silently cry and judging from Sev's face, even he didn't know what this meeting was all about.
"Something's wrong," Hermione blurted out, intent on getting an answer.
She took a sharp intake of breath when both Dumbledore and Lily pierced her with their eyes. Hermione slowly furrowed her eyebrows, her initial frustration now fizzling into deep worry.
"Two months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting with Sybill Trelawney."
It was as if Hermione had stopped breathing altogether. Blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded loudly inside her chest. The dread she'd felt morphed into mighty fear, crawling into her veins until it seized her whole. She dumbly watched as Dumbledore waved his wand, several parchments flying over to each of the members. Several words were exchanged, questions were raised, but all the voices were muffled and distorted.
Nothing registered in Hermione's brain. Not even Lily's steady stream of tears, or Peter's fearful exclamation that surely, surely they'd gotten it all wrong. It didn't register in Hermione's brain, even when Sirius started releasing a string of expletives, or when Frank Longbottom jumped from his seat and started to pace incessantly. She wasn't able to notice how Alice placed a hand against her own abdomen and had started to earnestly cry, or how Remus and Regulus had tried to calm Sirius down.
The parchments bearing the prophecy then burst into flames and Hermione watched with blurry eyes as the fire flickered, consuming the paper until there were mere ashes on the table.
It was only when a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders that Hermione's consciousness snapped back into focus. "It's okay, love. I've got you. I've got you."
Hermione glanced at James with wide eyes, finally realising that terrified sobs were escaping from her lips. All the antics from the other members inside the room had ended, as they stared at Hermione with wide, terrified eyes. She tightly closed her eyes and drew comfort from James, taking in deep, calming breaths until all she felt was exhaustion and dread.
"Hermione."
Her blue eyes snapped back towards a grave Dumbledore. His eyes were dull and weary, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line.
"The prophecy," the Headmaster started, his tone of voice strangely firm. "It's the same as the one you've always known, isn't it?"
"Yes," she managed to croak out. She shakily lifted her hand to brush her tears away, marginally calmed down by James' arms wrapped around her. "But I was hoping it wouldn't be spoken in this time."
"And why do you say that?" Dumbledore calmly replied.
A wry smile appeared on her face as she met Lily's eyes across from her. "Because my best friend, the beacon of all light and hope, The-Boy-Who-Lived... I thought he wouldn't exist anymore," she softly revealed. She saw the confused looks on the Longbottoms' faces, as they were the only ones in the room who didn't know about Hermione's past as Hermione Granger.
"What do you mean?" the old wizard insisted.
Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no point in keeping them in the dark about her best friend, now that she was most likely carrying him in her womb, now that a prophecy had been made that would undoubtedly still be about him.
"My best friend's name was Harry James Potter," she firmly declared. James' arms around her tightened in alarm, realising that she was finally telling them about this best friend of hers. "He was born on July 31 in 1980 to James Potter and Lily Evans-Potter." She smiled despite her tears at how Lily's jaw had dropped. "So naturally, I gave up hope that he'd be born at all." She saw how Sev gripped Lily's hand protectively and gave him a small smile. "Obviously, things have changed now that I'm here. Now that I'm pregnant with James' child."
Tears welled in her eyes when she placed a hand on her swollen belly and met Dumbledore's eyes again. "Voldemort knows about the prophecy now, doesn't he?" she whispered.
"I believe he doesn't know yet," Dumbledore gravely continued. "But regrettably, Sybill was overheard by Lucius Malfoy during her trance, but not all of the prophecy was heard."
"It doesn't matter," Hermione dully replied. "He knows that his downfall will be born at the end of July. He'll do whatever it takes to destroy those who have the power to defeat him."
Alice choked out a sob while Frank drew a deep, shuddering breath.
"Prophecies are not predictions of the future," Lily declared with an impassioned tone. Her emerald eyes were wide with fear, but there was also a certain steeliness in them. "It's one of the fundamental laws I've learned as an Unspeakable."
Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose in exhaustion. "Whatever it takes," he reminded her.
"It can't be about Hermione and her baby. It can't!" Peter vehemently replied, despite the steady tears from his blue eyes. "She's not the only one whose due date will be at the end of July. Nor Alice!"
"We've defied him countless of times, Petey," Hermione softly replied. "He knows we're connected to Dumbledore. I think that's reason enough for Voldemort."
Peter shakily stared back at her, his face crumpling at her words.
"Voldemort still hasn't heard the prophecy," Regulus reassured, a pinched look on his face. "I've attended various meetings with him in the past but he has yet to speak about a prophecy."
"But he soon will hear about it," Moody gravely supplemented. His steely blue eyes landed on Hermione, but she couldn't decipher what he was feeling right now. "By then, their lives will be in grave danger."
James' hold on her suddenly tightened.
"They must be kept safe," Kingsley offered. "If the prophecy still comes to pass, Voldemort's supposed equal must be protected. The child must be protected if he's the hero the prophecy speaks about. The child must be protected if we want to defeat that evil bastard once and for all."
The breath was knocked out of Hermione at Kingsley's claim. Images of her Harry, grieving and terrified and so, so tired swam back into her vision. Her hand slowly crept to her stomach as ire flared in her heart. "We will not subject my child to the same fate as my best friend!" she strongly replied. "I forbid it!"
"Hermione—"
Tears swam in her eyes once more, but her gaze on Dumbledore was resolute. "I've spent my entire life fighting alongside Harry," she continued. "I saw how the bloody fucking war broke him. And no, no, no my baby will not be placed in the same situation." Her face crumpled as huge sobs racked from her body. "Please."
James' chair screeched loudly as he pulled himself closer to Hermione just so he could gather her in his arms. "We're leaving," he declared, his tone of voice leaving no room for any protest. No one moved when he pulled her back onto her feet and led her out of the Order Headquarters.
-ooo-
Hermione had marginally calmed down once they'd Floo-ed back to their house in Godric's Hollow. James was already in their kitchen, fixing her a steaming cup of tea and Hermione was left to contemplate what had just transpired.
Her cheeks reddened, ashamed at her behaviour a while ago. All of her rationality had flown out of the window when she'd heard of the prophecy—the exact prophecy—that had haunted Harry all throughout his life. Admittedly, when she'd found out she was pregnant, she'd thought of this possibility too. It didn't mean it lessened the blow when it was actually realised.
More errant tears escaped from her eyes and she brushed them away.
"Bottoms up, Whiskers," James said, arriving back with her tea. Hermione murmured her thanks and took a few sips. The peculiar taste of Calming Draught coated her tongue and when she threw an accusatory glare at James, her husband didn't show any regret. "You needed it."
"You still should have told me," she said with a sigh, her mind already clearing from the effects of the potion. The fear receded, hiding in the deepest recesses of her heart, until there was a pleasant, serene calm settling over her.
She closed her eyes, allowing a few more tears to slip past her eyes, before leaning against their couch. James occupied the seat beside Hermione, shifting her until her feet were resting on his lap.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. James quietly massaged her swollen ankles and Hermione took that time to gaze around their homely cottage. Although definitely smaller than the Potter Manor, their house was filled with expensive pieces of furniture worthy of a Pureblood heir. Their first week as a married couple had been spent filling the house with various trinkets and memories, making sure that love was imbibed in every corner, ready for when their baby arrived.
Her eyes skimmed the wall opposite where they sat, different Muggle and Magic photographs alike of family and friends, displayed for everyone to admire.
She was observing the photographs from their wedding day when James finally decided to break the silence.
"So... Evans was the mother," he deliberately started.
She tore her gaze away from the photographs and glanced at her husband. Despite how near she was to him, she could not decipher what he truly felt at that moment. "Yes," she slowly replied, shifting her feet out from his lap and back onto the floor. "Small world, isn't it?"
He didn't look amused by her poor attempt to lighten the situation. Instead, James removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose, a disgruntled expression now on his face. "I mean— holy shite," he breathed out. He tightly closed his eyes and continued to mercilessly rub the bridge of his nose.
"James..."
She swallowed her words when his eyes cracked open, a myriad of emotions swirling in the brown and green. "Well, at least that explains why you were so adamant to get Evans and I together," he shakily pointed out, a wry grin now stretching on his face. "Why you were so adamant I will leave you in the end."
"Harry was... my Harry— He—" Hermione grabbed onto her tea and took a few sips, allowing the Calming Draught to clear her muddled brain. "When I was Hermione Granger, everything I did was for him. I think I should be forgiven for having a hard time of letting go of my emerald-eyed, messy-haired best friend."
James' face crumpled. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered.
"We've talked about this before, James," she pointed out. "You know that I've already let go of that version of him. I don't even understand why you're apologising!"
He let his hand fall back down on his lap, terrible guilt in his eyes. "Do you regret this, Hermione?" he asked. "All of this. Our baby... me?"
A sound of protest escaped from Hermione's lips. "How can you even ask me that?" she cried. "I love you. I love you so much, James."
"But this Harry—"
"I love you," she repeated, this time softer, clearer, as she reached forward and cradled his jaw against her palm. "I don't regret any of this. Letting him go was truly hard, but Harry wanted me to live a happy life and you and I both know I'll only achieve that if I stayed by your side."
James placed a hand on top of hers. "But now... the prophecy," he breathlessly whispered. His hazel eyes clouded with fear and reached for her swollen belly. "Our baby..."
"I was fervently hoping it won't be uttered this time," she murmured.
James tiredly closed his eyes and leaned against Hermione's touch. He looked older than nineteen and it pained Hermione's heart. They were still so young, barely out of Hogwarts, but now... now, there was a bloody prophecy about their unborn child.
"I was dead, wasn't I?"
Hermione took a sharp intake of breath at James' startling question. "What makes you say that?" she croaked, drawing her hand back to her chest.
A small, sad smile appeared on James' face. "I deduced it, based on your words a while ago," he said. "When you talk about your best friend... my son, blimey, you always sound like he's been through a lot of hardships. I-if I were alive in the future, I would have at least stayed by his side and made his life better."
He slowly met Hermione's gaze, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "And you are from the future, Hermione," he added. "I've seen how you look at Sirius, Remus and Peter, like there was recognition in your eyes. I guessed you'd met their older counterparts. But when you look at me—" A tear slipped down his cheek. "You look at me with such sad eyes. I've always thought I might not have survived this war. You were the least comfortable with me before, you know."
James huffed out a hollow laugh. "Besides, if what Dumbledore said was true, that Voldemort would do whatever it took to destroy anyone who would hinder him from reaching his goals, I'm sure I—even Evans—would have protected our son even if it meant we were going to give up our lives."
"No one will die," she firmly declared. "Not you. Not Lily. Not even me."
She tightly closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "If... if it means I have to brew a thousand more potions and be reborn a thousand times more just so Harry Potter grows up to be well-loved and safe, then I'll gladly do it. If it means you or Lily or anyone who has sacrificed themselves just to make this world a better place will live until you are all old and grey, I'll gladly do it."
Her eyes fluttered open as she smiled tenderly at James. "If it means you'll be happy, that everyone I've grown to love in this world and my past will be happy, I'll gladly do it. Over and over and over again."
James snorted despite his tears. He pulled Hermione closer to rest his forehead against hers. "I won't let you make that sacrifice, Hermione," he whispered, his warm breath soothing her wet cheeks. He placed a brief kiss on her forehead and slightly pulled away. "Despite everything that is happening right now, I am happy. With you. With our unborn child."
He tenderly rubbed his thumb against her cheek. "I can't imagine a life without you in it, Hermione," he said. "So, no. No brewing a thousand potions. No being reborn a thousand times more. I'd rather you stay beside me, fight alongside me, and I will make sure that no one else dies."
"The future is uncertain, James," she whispered. "Even though I tried to interfere to change the future, nothing changed. There's still a prophecy about Voldemort's downfall."
"Then we will just fight extra hard, yeah?" he asked, cracking that lopsided smile she'd fallen in love with.
Hermione smiled and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "We will."