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Chapter 4

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February 19, 2000, Part 1

Hermione drummed her fingers on the scarred wooden table she was waiting at. Though the Hog's Head wasn't her favorite place to go in Hogsmeade–she much preferred the cheery atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks–she felt she owed it to Aberforth to visit at least once a month. He had, after all, been instrumental in protecting the students at Hogwarts while she, Harry and Ron were on the run. Besides, she thought as she took a sip of her butterbeer, the Hog's Head was a much better place to meet people. Fewer patrons, less noise and more room to cast a successful silencing charm so your business wouldn't be overheard.

She'd discovered in the week she'd owned J Pippins Potions that she had quickly become the topic of most conversations and gossip. It didn't help that she'd shut the shop down for renovations, of course, but the amount of talk about it was astonishing. Half the town thought she was Mr. Pippin's estranged pureblood daughter finally coming into her inheritance. Laughable, that. The other half thought she'd either swindled the business from him or offered him so many galleons the man had gone off to Tahiti to live out the rest of his days soaking in the sun. No matter what they thought, Hermione hoped all the interest in her would pay off big once she finally re-opened the shop.

Glancing at the door for the hundredth time, she wondered if she ought to send a patronus to remind Ron about their meeting. He really was the worst about being prompt and today of all days she didn't need him tromping in an hour late with meaningless apologies on his lips. Just as she grabbed her wand to send the patronus, the door swept open and Ron met her gaze with a lopsided grin.

"Worried I'd be late?" he said loudly as he made his way over.

Hermione snorted. "I knew you'd be late. I was worried it would be an hour or more."

Throwing himself into a chair the way she swore only a Weasley boy could do, Ron signalled for a butterbeer. "Got a hot date you didn't want me to interrupt or something?"

If she had been meeting anyone else after she was done with Ron, Hermione would have said yes. Just to see him get flustered and upset. But sometimes Ron still got jealous over her–Merlin only knew why–and Hermione would rather not have him irrationally attacking the person she was hoping would be her supplier. That definitely wouldn't be a good first impression.

"No, but I thought I'd take a nap before heading out to gather tonight." She did intend to take a nap later, so it wasn't a complete lie, but she could see Ron trying to work out if she was telling the truth or not.

"The full moon," she elaborated, gesturing vaguely to the windows.

"Oh," he said, glancing at her slyly as he realized that meant her flat would be available. "Do you think I could bring Cecelia over?"

"I thought you had a game?"

Ron's offended stare told Hermione she'd gotten his schedule wrong again. "That was last week. Seriously, Mione, it's like you purposely forget so you don't have to watch them."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't purposefully forget; she just found that after spending the majority of her childhood keeping track of Ron and Harry's schedules, she was sick of managing their lives for them. Besides, she thought, it wasn't as if Ron's schedule was as easy as Double Potions on Thursday at three. The man played quidditch and muggle football professionally as well as joining Harry on the Ministry's inter-departmental sports league. She was lucky she'd pinned him down for a quick pint on such short notice; he never seemed to be around anymore. Unless, of course, he was borrowing her flat.

Ron snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Mione."

"Sorry," she said, realizing she'd been lost in thought again. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I don't think you should use my flat for your little trysts anymore."

"B-but… Mione, you know Gin would castrate me if I took a gal home."

"More like force you into a shotgun wedding. She wants more nieces and nephews apparently. Castration would be the last thing on her mind."

As Ron blanched at the suggestion of a wedding involving muggle firearms, Hermione polished off her butterbeer and reached into her purse. "But I'm not really worried about Ginny, Ron. The fact of the matter is I've bought out the potions shop here in Hogsmeade and won't be using my flat anymore."

"You bought the potions shop?" Ron zeroed in on the detail she'd hoped would disinterest him most. "Does Harry know?"

Huffing, Hermione withdrew the piece of parchment she'd been looking for and scowled at Ron. "No. Honestly, I only bought it a week ago, it's not like–"

"How long have you been thinking about it, though? It's not like you to rush into something like this. Not without talking it out with Harry or me."

She waved a hand in the air. "I already bought it and we're talking now. What matters is I've got three months left on my lease and–"

"What about your job?" Ron interrupted, reaching across the table and grabbing her hands. "I mean, you weren't planning on running a potions shop and working at the Ministry, were you?"

Well damn. She was really hoping to distract him with the business about the flat. Signalling Aberforth for another butterbeer, Hermione stroked her thumb across the back of Ron's hand in a way that used to soothe him and wished she could be drinking firewhiskey instead. It would have made this conversation easier or, if not easier, more tolerable on her part.

"Honestly? I left the Ministry six months ago."

Ron flushed red and stood up, knocking his chair over as he bellowed, "You did what? You loved that job. You bullied Kingsley into hiring you before you even passed your NEWTs. How on earth could you just leave and not tell anyone? Do you know how insane you sound right now?"

Wishing she had cast a silencing charm around them earlier, Hermione smiled nervously at the half-dozen or so patrons who were gawking openly at Ron. She grabbed his shirt sleeve from across the table and tugged on it.

"Ron, please. Sit down," she hissed. "You're making a scene."

He obliged her but she could see the muscles in his jaw working to contain his notorious Weasley temper. She cast a silent silencio around them and wondered why she'd ever thought this conversation would go smoothly.

Oh right, she was an optimist.

It was hard to pinpoint just when she'd started loathing her job. Ron was right; she had begged Kingsley for the Ministry job and been quite proud of it. But she hadn't realized how tired she was of getting chewed up and spit back out by the machine that was the Ministry until she overheard one of the old geezers from the Wizengamot mention that JP was talking about selling his potions shop. Almost without realizing it, she'd dropped her files in the shred, flipped off the elderly wizards who had been the bane of her existence for a year and marched out of the Ministry without even bothering to quit. It was the single most sound decision she thought she'd made since the war.

She hadn't meant to not tell anyone about leaving. But as soon as she'd arrived home, Hermione had dedicated herself to purchasing J Pippins Potions. Between traversing across the world in search of dragon scales and dittany, reading everything on business and potioneering she could get her hands on and getting her finances in order at Gringotts, Hermione hadn't realized how little she'd communicated with her friends. It had been full-on prep mode and, she sighed, she was never a very good friend in prep mode.

When she was sure Ron wouldn't explode again, she pushed the paper on the table over to him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Or Harry. There wasn't a good reason and I won't make an excuse. But it's already done so can we just move past it? Please?"

After what felt like eternity but was probably less than a minute, Ron dipped his chin in a gesture Hermione took as acquiescence. Sighing with relief, she continued, "What I was saying is I still have a few months left on my lease. I know you like staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Gin but, if you wanted, I would be willing to let you live in the flat for half rent until it's up."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Wha–?"

Drumming her fingers on the table again, Hermione arched an eyebrow at her friend. She could literally see him processing the information she'd just dumped into his lap. The confusion. The understanding. And in three, two, one...

"Blimey. Are you for real right now, Mione?"

The excitement.

She nodded, smiling. "I figured you might like to have a place to call your own when you're in town. And since you couldn't possibly settle down with a nice girl to introduce to your sister, I may as well let out my flat to you. It's not like you're not already using it and this way I'll get a few galleons out of the desecration of my bed."

The smile on Ron's face was completely worth it as she shoved the sublet notice into his hands and he skimmed over the terms. She never understood how Ron could just glance at a contract and sign it without reading the fine print but she supposed he trusted her to do it. Tapping a finger to her lips, she wondered if she'd coddled the boys too much in school. Maybe if she'd let them make their own study schedules they would be more responsible.

As Ron signed the sublet with his jerky, squared-off signature, Hermione hummed to herself. If she'd done that they wouldn't need her as much. And she kind of liked being needed by her boys.

"I'll pay the full rent," Ron said.

"Don't worry about it, you're helping me enough by subletting. It would be prohibitively expensive if I had to back out of the lease, considering I just emptied my Gringotts account to buy a potions shop."

Ron patted her hand and drained the last half of his butterbeer. "It's not like I don't have the galleons, Mione. Besides, I may as well get used to paying the whole rent now. Decide if your flat is worth holding onto when the sublet is up."

"If you want to," Hermione agreed. Ron may not need the galleons and not having to pay any part of her rent would really help her out right now. She had to find a supplier and soon if her store was to run smoothly. Still, she didn't want to take advantage. "Just let me know if you change your mind."

Ron rolled his eyes at her, slipped a few galleons onto the table for Aberforth and kissed her on the head before he headed out. Hermione had just enough time to clear the galleons, lease and empty tankards from the table before the door to the Hog's Head opened once again. She hoped it was her future supplier and groaned when a familiar voice greeted her.

"Granger?" Cormac McLaggen strolled right up to her table and tweaked one of her curls, smiling like a cat toying with its food. "Well this is a pleasant surprise. Tell me, are you the clever witch who bought out JP's old shop? I'd thought about it, you know, but business is going so well and I can't imagine lowering myself to shopkeeping."

"Hello, Cormac," Hermione said, barely keeping the regret out of her voice.

Closing her eyes as he finally released her curl and circled the table, she repeated a mantra over and over in her mind. I need a supplier, I need a supplier. When she opened her eyes it was to watch as he chugged down his butterbeer and ordered another. She could do this, she told herself firmly, the smile wavering on her face. She'd survived a terrible fake date with the man only three years ago, surely he couldn't be any worse now.

He winked at her and chugged his second butterbeer. Oh Godric, don't let him be any worse, Hermione prayed.

I had to split this chapter up into two because it wound up being so long. I'm publishing this part early because I really love the next part and can hardly wait to get the final edits done so it can be published for you.

Thank you all so much for reading and for all the reviews, favorites and follows you've given me. It's overwhelming, really. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Blessings.