49 | i will love you with every single thing i have

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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—"

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