This beginning of this story has been revamped as of 25/02/2020 - it was fluffy but painted the story into a corner from the off. Apologies if it all doesn't end up in quite the same place!
19th September 1999 found Hermione Granger curled contentedly on a couch in Grimmauld Place, dozing lightly as glowing embers from the hearth warmed her toes. Somewhere between waking and sleeping, she found herself dreaming of Hogwarts, her feet suddenly feeling frigid as she padded across the familiar flagstone flooring on the Entrance Hall.
"Harry?"
A young Harry was running towards her with a smile on his face, arms up, calling for her to slow down so he could catch up. She could feel warmth filling her chest as she looked at him, his easy grin making her shoulders relax. She hadn't noticed how tense she had felt before seeing him.
Except.
Except as he caught up, Harry was looking at her with sparkling hazel eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. Something in the back of her mind niggled at her and started to break through. Not Harry, James.
She could feel her brow furrowing in confusion. The warmth in her chest started to shrivel, and Harry looked at her with the wrong eyes, eyebrows raised, asking if she was alright. The shrivelling in her chest constricted her breathing, it wrapped an icy hand around her heart. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. Her heart felt like it was breaking, like she was aching with loss, like she was watching the love of her life die in front of her, taking a piece of her with them. Harry was calling to her now, shaking her shoulders, and she was screaming and screaming without pause.
"Sirius! What's happening to her?"
It felt like she could hear voices while she was under water, distorted and far away, and the Harry in front of her with the wrong eyes was gripping her shoulders as she screamed.
"Sirius! What do we do?"
"Floo call Remus. Tell him it's happening, we need him now."
The voices from above the water carried on as her chest continued to ache.
"Hermione, come on now kitten, open your eyes for me."
The vision in front of her faded, somehow still in her periphery as she fought her eyes open, beads of perspiration dripping from her brow. Sirius was peering down at her. The periphery vision began changing as she tried to focus on Sirius but couldn't. Flashes through Hogwarts, people she didn't recognise, started to swim through her field of vision. Harry, but not Harry. A sandy haired boy with a scar along his jaw. A beautiful red headed girl. And…and Sirius? Younger, without the haunted look in his eyes that had never left after his escape from Azkaban.
And the visions carried on devolving as the right Sirius called to her, trying to get her to focus. Darkness swirled, she could see curses flying. Her chest gripped with fear and sorrow like she hadn't felt in years. Her lips parted, and the scream erupted, no longer contained in her head.
She looked desperately at her Sirius in front of her, and Harry as he returned from the fire place, agony encasing her.
"Sirius" she gasped "I'm begging you, make it stop."
20th September, 1959
The sleepy village of Godric's Hollow would not have blinked twice at the brightly coloured character waltzing through with purpose at that moment. The residents had long since become accustomed to the eccentric nature of their beloved neighbours. It was the kind of village in which people were born, made their living, and then when their time peacefully came, were buried in the graveyard backing on to the tiny stone church. Any strange families here had been part of the fabric for decades.
Not that the perception of others would have caused Albus Dumbledore to take pause at all. He continued up the high-street clad in his bright plum robes, curled boots protecting him from the snow left behind by an early autumn snap. It had been an unseasonably cold September, even for the west of England. His long beard, auburn rapidly giving way to silver, was tucked neatly in his belt. The villagers glazed over the antics of the Dumbledore family, whose ancestral home was tucked away on the hill. The house stood empty most of the year until the oldest brother returned from teaching at his boarding school, and the elderly generation could again remark my, hasn't Albus aged well.
The only change from the usual that might have caused a raised eyebrow was the tight bundle of cloth propped in Albus' arms.
Albus continued towards his destination, pulling up in front of a brightly painted oak door, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. Readjusting his bundle, he reached out and rapped on the door using a large brass knocker.
"Coming! Ouch!"
A scuffle on the other side of the door, a short pause, and the door was swung open, revealing a knee height house elf grinning up at him. The elf was panting, holding back an older gentleman by the knees by pushing back with one leg.
"Good evening Master Dumbledore, Hooky welcomes you to Potter Manor!"
"Hooky, come on now, we've been over this. Sometimes, I am perfectly capable of doing something myself."
Albus chuckled as a tall, wiry, hazel-eyed man clutched at his bent and misshapen spectacles, salt and pepper hair sticking up at all angles, and robe slipping off one shoulder. Hooky eyed him reproachfully and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Hooky finds that debatable' before pulling Albus into the house by the fabric around his knees, catching his master with his other hand and dragging both into the sitting room.
As they entered, they were greeted with a flash of curly brown hair and a sincere smile.
"Albus! What brings you here to see us? What on earth have you got there?"
Albus studied the couple in front of him with warm eyes. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were among some of the oldest residents on Godric's Hollow. The Potter family had maintained a home here for generations, recently extending the property to something of a manor when Fleamont sold the patent to his Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Euphemia turned with bold affection to her husband, straightening his robes and glasses with a light laugh before turning her attention back to their guest. And suddenly she stilled.
"Albus, is that….."
Albus tilted the bundle of cloth towards her, and Euphemia reached out with tentative fingers. The newborn child swaddled in Albus' arms slept serenely on, unaware of the new pair of eyes looking down at her with tentative adoration.
"I was hoping, and I realise this is a huge imposition, but she's a muggle-born witch, and an orphan, and I had to get her out before she could end up in the system."
Euphemia pulled the sleeping baby into her arms, and with great effort wrenched her eyes up to first Albus and then her husband, trying to see through rapidly gathering tears. The Potters had been trying unsuccessfully to have a family for nigh on decades, and Euphemia had recently given up all hope.
"Dippet saw her name come up in the Hogwarts book, you see" Albus continued "but only her mother's name was listed beside her, and it was immediately crossed out. I checked, she died in child birth, with no next of kin listed. I didn't want this little one ending up in a muggle orphanage."
Albus feared he would forever regret allowing one of his previous charges to remain within the muggle adoption system. A child who could produce accidental magic was often ostracised in muggle society at the best of times, and without the unconditional love of a parent there for protection…well, children could be cruel.
Euphemia and Fleamont looked down at the sleeping girl clutched in Euphemia's arms, and Fleamont began to laugh.
"She's ours. Look at her, she's already ours. Look at that hair!"
And it was true, for a newborn, the tiny baby had a shock of thick brown hair they could already see was going to tightly curl. Fleamont tugged lovingly at his wife's chocolate curls.
"And no taming it either, my marketing department will hate me, but I'm surrounding myself with wild haired women."
Euphemia's laugh caught in her throat as her cautious elation bubbled up.
"Albus" she asked "what's her name? You said it was written in the book?"
"Hermione" Albus stated "although I imagine you could change it, her birthday was only yesterday."
Euphemia smiled down at her new daughter.
"No, I think that's perfect. Welcome to the family, Hermione Potter."
"Missy Hermione" piped a small voice from around Fleamont's knees. "Hooky is going to have to get used to saying that one!"
The Potters quickly settled in to life as parents, Euphemia delightedly decorating one of the spare rooms as a nursery with rich creams and gold trims, warm blankets draped over a rocking chair in front of the fire. Hermione was a calm child, settling easily in her parents arms as they rocked her and read her stories.
As quickly as they had been able to, they had hurried to the Ministry to complete the formal adoption of baby Hermione. By accepting her into the magic of House Potter, she became every bit their rightful heir as a biological child, despite her muggle heritage. Euphemia vowed to bring Hermione up with respect to her background, and was grateful for the support of their mixed community, providing a safe environment for her new daughter to know both worlds. As the magical adoption completed, Hermione yawned and blinked her bright hazel eyes open.
"Were they always like that?" questioned Euphemia.
Fleamont frowned, thinking.
"I'm not sure, but I think either way she gets the Potter trait now."
With her wild curls and her hazel eyes, their new daughter, by some miracle, looked like the perfect combination between the two of them.
And somehow, it seemed that miracles decide to come along in pairs.
Not more than two weeks after their eccentric neighbour had dropped off their already beloved new daughter, Hooky marched up to his mistress and demanded she set down a rare evening tipple of fire whiskey.
"No Mistress, you is not wanting that."
Euphemia stared at their admittedly rather barmy house elf with confusion.
"Mistress is not wanting fire whiskey while she is pregnant."
At this, Euphemia gaped. Fleamont poked his head up from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet with a frown.
"Honestly Hooky, what a thing to say. Stop whatever joke this is now".
Hooky rolled his eyes and pointed at Euphemia's stomach. With a snap of his fingers, a small golden light shone over her torso, pulsing gently in time with what seemed like…
A heartbeat.
Her eyes snapped up to meet with Fleamont's, and they both leapt out of their chairs.
"New Mister Potter is just hiding in there, doesn't want to show Hooky the bump yet" Hooky stated sagely. "Only a matter of time."
Euphemia shrieked and reached for her husband as he whooped in elation and span her around their living room. Never in their wildest dreams could they have hoped for even one child, and to now find out they were being blessed with two made his heart want to sing. And this one a boy; he couldn't wait to experience the joy of raising both together.
Clutching his hand, Euphemia pulled him upstairs to the nursery, bending them over Hermione's crib to gaze lovingly at their daughter.
"Just you wait, little Hermione. Enjoy the peace while you can, we've got a brother on the way for you."
James Potter surged screaming into the world on 27th March 1960, tiny fists curled and lungs in full working order.
Euphemia laughed as Fleamont winced.
"Well, it seems this one isn't going to be quite as docile as our well-behaved little girl." He chuckled.
That was, until Fleamont settled James down in the crib next to his sister, and she turned her bright hazel eyes towards the loud intrusion.
"Hermione, this is your new brother, James."
Hermione's tiny face screwed up for a moment, and her fist flailed towards the baby next to her. In a reflex, her soft hand closed around the curled fist of her brother, and instantly James stilled. Hazel eyes met hazel eyes, until slowly James' lids drooped, and the two siblings settled down to rest.
Euphemia, supported in the arms of her husband, smiled down at her children, her heart swelling with love that she had given up all hope she would experience. But here they were, the Potter siblings, together.