The Burrow was a shabby six-story building further down Clarence Road owned by the redheaded clan of Weasley's. Arthur was slightly older than Remus, and though Hermione's first impression was that he was slightly goofy, when he gestured up the stairs to show her to her room his jacket had moved and Hermione had clearly seen the gun holstered at his waist. Back straight and eyes nervously fixed on Arthur's back all the way to her room, she once again wondered what on earth her mother had gotten her involved with.

Though Arthur may have been deceiving the room was exactly what Hermione had expected. Small and dingy, with an impossibly tiny bathroom. The window seemed stuck, not that she'd want it open. Despite the fact that she was on the top floor she feared somebody would climb through her window, not to mention the view wasn't much - the window faced the rather depressing Clarence Road. There was a tiny bed, shoved in the space between the window and the countertop holding the hot plate. The fridge bothered Hermione the most, even more so than the small shadow she'd seen in her periphery disappearing into the bathroom that had looked suspiciously like a cockroach. Hermione had seen larger minibars in hotels, and she stressed for a minute over how she would handle grocery shopping.

That was the least of her problems, the sensible side of her brain argued.

"Here's the key," Arthur said, and handed her a keyring. "There's two, one for the front door and one for your room. This is not a hotel, you're not allowed to have people come and go as you please."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, perhaps to tell him that she wasn't in the habit of hosting strangers every other night thank you very much, but Arthur was already closing the door behind him as he left her behind. It had seemed eerily like more of a threat than a gentle note of the house rules, however Hermione tried not to think of that.

She sat down on the bed, hands carefully tracing the crisp sheets. They were nothing like the covers from home, Egyptian cotton from West Elm felt like heaven compared to the Weasley's covers which felt like the cheapest Primark had to offer. Hermione sighed, looking at the case by the door. It held few of her personal belongings, a little bit of cash and even less clothes. Having had to leave so suddenly, there really hadn't been time to pack. Idiotically, she thought about all the books she'd had to leave because it wasn't practical and felt like mourning. In a sense, the loss of her books, the only constant companions in her life, hurt much more than the loss of people she held dear. Would she ever be able to contact her family? Her friends?

Evening was creeping by slowly, and though it wasn't particularly late Hermione felt exhausted. Though the bed wasn't the warm, comforting and inviting bed she was used to at home, she put on a pyjama shirt and crawled underneath the covers, too tired for her evening shower.

Hermione fell asleep quickly.

The following day Hermione was late for her briefing with Remus at the bar. First, she'd slept for twelve hours, nightmares of smoke and fire waking her up several times before she was able to properly fall asleep. Then she'd been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of ginger Weasley's that occupied the Burrow building; she'd gone down to the communal sitting room for a coffee only to be met by an abundance of ginger haired people. Arthur introduced her, rather stiffly, Hermione noticed, to his wife, Molly.

Molly Weasley, for all intents and purposes, looked like a loving and nurturing mother. She was rather on the heavy side, with a large bosom and, Hermione noted when the woman spoke with her children, a friendly face. Molly seemed the type to embrace anybody with open arms and care for them as her own, so Hermione wasn't at all surprised that she doted on the black-haired, bespectacled boy as much as, perhaps even more, than she did her own children.

Surprisingly though, the woman had taken an instant dislike towards Hermione upon introduction. Hermione wasn't new to being disliked - her miserable neighbour had once called her an insufferable little know-it-all to her face - so her skin was too thick for it to genuinely bother her. However it was confusing how Molly Weasley gave her one long hard look and then declared to her husband that 'that girl is gonna be trouble'. Hermione had been declared many things, mostly a know-it-all, bookworm and swot, but never in her life had she been called trouble.

She wanted to dispute the statement, but one of the older redheads, with a tooth-earring adorning his left ear grinned at his mother. "Ma, c'mon, with all the troublesome children you have you can hardly expect that little thing to start more shit than any of us?"

Molly Weasley gave an indignant huff, chest puffing out and she waved the spatula in her hand haphazardly. "William Weasley! A mother knows these things!"

Another of the redheads leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Ma fancies herself sort of a seer in these matters." The boy snorted and nudged her with his shoulder. He looked to be about her own age, Hermione gauged, with messy red hair and a heavily freckled face he was quite handsome in a boyish kind of way. Having a difficult time placing the different Weasley characters, Hermione gave the boy a shy smile.

"So…," he seemed appeased by her attention, further messing up his hair by pulling a hand through it in a nervous manner. "Have any plans for the evening?"

Hermione's smile fell of her face faster than a speeding bullet. "Sorry, I've got work. I gotta go."

The last thing she heard before she left was William dunking the boy on his back. "Way to strike out, Ron."

"Shut up, Bill!"

Upon entering the Marauder's once again, Hermione was struck with a sense of deja-vu. It was a short distance from the Burrow, though Hermione had opted for her car instead of walking as she would be getting off late. Remus was wearing a shirt that looked identical to yesterday's aside from the slight change in pattern, and he was once again wiping down the bar in circular patterns with the dirty old dishrag.

He stopped his administrations when she entered. "Hello, Hermione."

Hermione smiled in greeting. Much like last evening, the bar was quiet and calm, far from what she expected from a dive bar in this area. Two redheads sat in the back corner, each nursing a pint and chatting quietly. Briefly, Hermione wondered if they had any relation to the Weasley's of the Burrow.

Throwing the dishrag over his shoulder Remus appraised her.

"You look very… middle-class."

The smile fell from Hermione's face, Remus had spoken tersely and made it sound like a curse. Nervously smoothing her hands down her skirt, Hermione wondered what was wrong with her outfit. She wore a casual skirt, shorter than the pencil skirt of yesterday, a sheer blouse and ballerina shoes. A cute and practical outfit for the late-summer London heat.

"Thank you?"

"It wasn't a compliment," answered Remus bluntly. "Still, we'll make do. Get behind the bar."

Hermione tripped over her own feet as she moved to get behind the bar. Normally not one so clumsy, she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

For the following hour Remus went through the liquor shelf teaching Hermione about the different kinds of spirits the bar offered. Mostly whiskey, Hermione noted. Richard Granger had been known to, on occasion, enjoy a glass of whiskey in his private study. It was a rare occasion that her father allowed anybody besides himself into his study, he'd called it his private refuge, but when Hermione had been accepted into Oxford she'd been invited in to share a glass of brandy with her father. The strong, burning sensation of the liquor as it went down her throat still stung whenever she though of it, and she could remember clearly the shudder that had ran through her body. Brown liquor was not Hermione's drink, she'd found out that day. Still, in respect of her father, she'd forced herself to finish the glass.

"One never pours more than two fingers of whiskey in their glass, Mione, that's how a gentleman drinks his whiskey." Richard explained, relaxing into the worn leather of his brown leather Howard armchair. The bottles on her father's bar cart had all looked significantly more expensive than the rows of bottles on the shelves behind Remus' bar.

She shouldn't have been surprised, really, to learn that Richard Granger's two-finger rule did not apply at the Marauder's. The clientele didn't look the gentleman type.

"We don't do cocktails, at the most you'll have to pour a G and T, and quite frankly a baby couldn't mess that up." Remus said, reaching for the Beefeater bottle. Far from a cocktail aficionado, Hermione had been like her mother and more appreciative of a nice bottle of red wine, she was surprised to actually already know something. Susan and Neville had dragged her out to a fancy club in Knightsbridge for her last birthday and told her that red wine made her even more boring then proceeding to pour gin and tonics down her throat for the rest of the evening. Hermione was certain that Remus made his gin and tonic with a larger ratio of gin to tonic than the ones she'd had with Susan and Neville.

"If it's not one of the regulars, top it off with a lime wedge otherwise don't bother." Remus told her, then placed a lime-less drink in front of her, looking at her expectantly.

"Am I supposed to…" Hermione trailed off, confused. Pretty certain that Remus was expecting her to drink it and at the same time certain that a bartender should not drink on the clock. Although, perhaps as she was only having a learning experience today it didn't count?

Hesitantly sipping on the drink, she looked to Remus for affirmation. A smile tugged on his lips when he noticed her poorly hidden grimace. It tasted little of tonic and Hermione wasn't a fan of the heavy taste of liquors. Plucking the highball glass from her hands unceremoniously, Remus let the smile tugging on his lips grace his face for a second.

"The clientele prefer strong drinks, that's how it should taste. One part gin, one part tonic. It can me more gin, never more tonic."

Hermione couldn't stop the shudder, but nodded nevertheless. So long as she wasn't the one gulping down the horrid drinks she could follow Remus' wish.

Remus then proceeded to give her the run down of the rules. It was a very short list. She wasn't supposed to ask any questions about anything unless it regarded liquor. If a fight broke out she was supposed to tell the parties involved to take it outside. The most important thing though, Remus had stressed, was to not ask questions and to never, ever call the cops.

None of that had unnerved her so much as when Remus opened the cash register and pulled out a small black revolver.

"You're gonna need to tend the bar alone at times. If anybody gives you trouble while me and my men are gone you pull this out and point. Just point, don't shoot. Here," he held out the gun.

Hermione's heart was pounding. She'd never seen a gun this close before, let alone held one. Bloody hell, she'd written a dissertation on the importance of gun control for her university paper, she couldn't very well wave that thing about without the proper licence. Be bloody hypocritic.

"Uh, I… no, what," she stammered, hesitantly stepping away from the offending metal.

Remus sighed, holding the gun up haphazardly shoulder level. "Hermione, you came to me for help. I'm not going to have you here if I don't know that you can defend yourself. "

Hermione huffed indignantly, and stomped her foot. "I can too defend myself!"

Remus scoffed in reply. "Sure, if it helps you sleep at night. However, one online course in self-defence for upperclassmen won't help you here. Hold the bloody gun, Hermione."

In one surprisingly swift move he'd grabbed her hand, pried her hands open and placed the gun. With his hand still around her wrist Remus spun her around so her back was facing his front. His right hand joined his left on her wrist, effectively caging her in between his arms and aiming the gun for her.

"Square your shoulders," he murmured, then Hermione gasped as he shoved her feet further apart with a well aimed swoop of his foot. "It's all about confidence. Because you're working for us, anybody looking for trouble will assume you know how to handle yourself-"

"I do!"

"-so as long as you pretend you know exactly what you're doing you'll be fine," said Remus, efficiently ignoring her indignant cry.

The rest of her evening progressed without less illic gun use. Remus let her handle some of the customers, for the experience. Until the hour had gotten late and a brute of a man entered the bar. By far the biggest man Hermione had ever seen, the giant also sported an impressive black beard.

"'Ello Moony," the giant greeted as he unfolded himself after having to duck to get through the door. Hermione's eyes followed every movement, awestruck. What was this man?

Remus cast Hermione a suspicions look and she quickly began wiping down the bar in an effort to look busy and definitely not as though she was unabashedly trying to overhear his conversation.

"Hagrid," Remus replied in greeting.

There was some grunting noises - probably Hagrid - and then rustling. Upon surreptitiously glancing up, Hermione witnessed an envelope passing between the men.

"Cheers man, Pads will be pleased." Remus dunked the elder man in the back, before ushering him towards the door muttering about 'new recruit'.

Hermione supposed he was referring to her.

Turning around, Remus caught her glancing down and Hermione felt a blush colouring her cheeks at her impertinence.

"You'll need to improve those eavesdropping skills if you want to listen in on this clientele and keep your life," Remus leaned in to whisper in passing. "You had better keep mum about this, Mione."

Although horrid, the nickname helped take some of the harshness out of Remus'… threat? Statement? She had a hard time sussing out which it was.

"Don't worry, I don't have anybody to tell even if I wanted to."

Remus gave her a small smile before slipping into the backroom.

AN: I had real issues getting this chapter out. I've gone over it several times over and I'm still not entirely happy with it so I'll just leave you with this.

I have a lot of ideas for this story and I'm really excited to write them but I am going on vacation for a few weeks shortly so I'll see when I can get the next chapter out.

Also there was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of Sirius in this chapter - he's making an appearance soooon don't worry. So looking forward to writing Sirius, he's probably my favourite character! Do you have any favourite character? Also, please do leave a comment if you have any thoughts, predictions or feelings about the story, I'm dying to hear what you think.