Chapter 30: Monday, April 28, 1980

"Being wrong about important things is exhausting."

-John Irving

"You know, Ringo is a wizard," Remus said as he hummed along to the song playing from the record player. He was pulling out a fresh batch of Chelsea Buns from the oven while Hermione sat at the table, nose deep in a text about rare potions ingredients from other countries.

Hermione looked up from the article she was reading and furrowed her brows together, "That's not true."

"It is," Remus insisted, setting the hot pan on the stove top and tapping the oven with his wand to shut it off and cool it. "You think Muggles just go around naming their children Ringo?"

"His name is Richard Starkey, and I'm a little disappointed that such a dedicated fan doesn't know that," Hermione said, scribbling a few notes into her journal.

"I'm aware of his real name," Remus said, removing his oven mitts and setting them on the counter before getting two glasses from the cupboard and filling them with water. He brought them both to the table, setting one in front of Hermione before sitting down and taking a sip of his own. "I haven't seen you drink any water today, it's unhealthy to run on chocolate espressos alone."

Hermione looked back up from the text arching an eyebrow at him. Remus reached his hand out, pushing the glass closer to her with a pointed look on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, grabbing the glass and taking a few deep swigs from it before setting it back down.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Not generally, no. But seeing you take care of yourself helps," Remus mumbled. "You've been awake since yesterday morning."

Hermione sighed. He was right, she had been awake for at least thirty two consecutive hours. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep but something she couldn't place was keeping her awake. Ever since her revelation of the Patronus charm and the lack of uses, she had decided to begin exploring ingredients that could have ties to any type of lore connecting back to fortune. She felt like she was wasting what precious little time she had here by not doing more research. No one had even brought up the fact that there were antidotal potions to these strange curses flying about. And every time she opened her mouth to try and say something about it, her wrist burned and reminded her she couldn't step in and provide them with the information unless her life or the mission was in danger.

She stuffed her parchment into the book to mark her page, and closed it, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes and arching her back to stretch, "Ringo Starr is not a wizard," she mumbled, sucking down the rest of the water and thanking Remus when he refilled it with his wand. "Why do you think that?"

"Because it's true," Remus said. "Starkey Menagerie ring a bell?"

Hermione's face twisted in confusion as she shook her head, "No."

"Of course you wouldn't bloody know…" He said, under his breath. "Eyelops is where the Menagerie used to be. They closed down when I was a kid, but they used to sell all kinds of strange animals. My father took me there once when I was about six, mum wanted a cat but every cat she brought home was fucking terrified of me. After the third one attacked me, dad thought maybe a kneazle would be better."

"Was it?"

"No," Remus said, shaking his head. "No, it wasn't. Worse actually. Anyway, Mr. Starkey was always going on and on about his son and how he was a muggle musician. I think half of Wizarding Britain thought he was a loon, but Ringo finally came into Diagon Alley once to shut them all up. The shop closed shortly after but my dad said it was because people started hounding him about meeting Ringo."

"You're kidding!" Hermione said, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I'm not," Remus said. "You can ask James and Sirius if you don't believe me!"

"Ask me what?" Sirius' voice rang in from the living room as the sound of the door closed behind him.

"Isn't Ringo Starr a wizard?" Remus said.

"A bloody rubbish one if you ask me," Sirius answered. "Magic and fame and the man does nothing with it!"

Before Remus could go into an explanation of all the things he loves about Ringo Starr, Hermione spoke up, "What're you doing here, Sirius?"

"What? I can't come see my favorite kitten and wolf duo?" He asked, sliding into the chair across from her and stealing her glass of water.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You know you're welcome here whenever you want. I'm more confused about the fact that you're here. I thought you had been sent out on assignment?"

"Got back last night," Sirius said. "Nothing exciting. Saw Peter for a bit though."

"Did you?" Remus asked.

"Yeah," Sirius sucked down the last of the water in the glass, smacking his lip and setting the glass back down. "Fuck, I'm dehydrated."

"Probably has to do with the amount of Firewhiskey you consume," Hermione grumbled.

"Oh, kitten! Are we grumpy today?"

"She hasn't slept in thirty six hours," Remus said.

"Thirty two," Hermione corrected.

"Merlin! Why?!" Sirius asked, his face looking absolutely horrified. "I need at least nine hours a night. You don't stay looking this good on no sleep!"

"It's astounding how large your ego is," Hermione said.

"Almost as large as my-

"Sirius!" Remus barked, his tone low and warning.

Hermione sat up a little straighter in her chair, her eyes slowly drifting to Remus as he sat rigid in his chair, his jaw set tight. Was he actually angry with Sirius for making a joke about his anatomy? She studied Remus as Sirius laughed and continued talking, but his words were lost on Hermione as she noticed the gold flashing through Remus' eyes. She had never heard him take that tone before with anyone, let alone Sirius. But Sirius seemed to not even notice it… Suddenly, it dawned on Hermione.

"What's the date?" she asked, interrupting Sirius.

"The 28th," Remus said.

"Oh, that makes so much sense!"

"What does?" Sirius asked.

Hermione motioned to Remus, her hand waving about in the air.

"Me?" Remus asked, "What about me?"

"You've been muttering to yourself all day, worried over me, and now you're snapping at Sirius for making a joke about… assets… Full moon is in less than two days!"

"Moony's territorial kitten, have you not noticed?" Sirius laughed, "Of course, I guess you wouldn't. Not like he comes out to play this close to the moon, usually he's locked up in his room by now."

"I am not territorial!"

"You may not be, but Moony sure as fuck is. You barely let Lily do anything when it's this close to the moon! Lily said it's your way of protecting your pack, since she's pregnant the baby is as good as yours!" Sirius said.

"I do not think the baby-

"Of course you don't, love. Not literally. But it's still your baby to protect," Hermione explained. "It makes perfect sense, really."

Remus began muttering about his irritation with them both and Hermione once again found herself fading out of the conversation. Perhaps it was just lack of sleep stealing her focus away or maybe the thought of the delicious things Remus did with his face planted between her thighs when his eyes were lit up that gold color, that had her completely distracted as she watched his nostrils flare with anger and his eyes go solidly gold before swirling with vines of green. It left a strange twinge in her chest to think that he was territorial- protective of her. She closed her eyes for a moment and suddenly a memory unlocked itself from the depths of her mind, slamming itself full view in front of her eyes.

It was Harry's birthday.

Hermione wandered around the back garden at the Burrow, the slim and ancient copy of Tales of the Beedle and the Bard in her hand as she found a tree to sit under. It was a relief to see Harry enjoying himself for once. Allowing others to celebrate him in the form of a loud conversation and a giant golden snitch shaped cake that Mrs. Weasley had spent all morning baking and decorating. Somewhere deep inside, she knew this could very well be the last time they felt this unbridled happiness, this relaxed atmosphere that swam around them.

They would be leaving the day after tomorrow. Had planned only to stay for Bill and Fleur's wedding and leave early the next morning before the sun even rose. It had been an argument to get Harry to even stay still this long, and she knew, despite the smile on his face as he laughed at something Fred and George were saying to him, that he was itching to be on the move. To find a way to win this war, to defeat Voldemort.

The rustling of the tall grass around her pulled her eyes up from the pages she had been studying to see Professor Lupin- Remus, as he now insisted she call him, standing a foot or so from her. He looked exhausted, but then, she supposed, he always did.

"Escaped to read during a party, have we?" Remus asked, a glint of mischief swimming in his eyes as a small smile pulled his lips upward.

"The party is nice, but I'm rather fond of a book." Hermione replied, half her mouth lifting in a smirk.

"I fancy myself the same," Remus said, huffing a bit as he fell to the grass next to her, his back against the tree as he pulled his knees up, his arms resting atop them with his scarred hands dangling between. "What are you reading?"

"A children's story," she said, showing him the cover.

"Is that a first edition?"

Hermione nodded, "Dumbledore left it to me in his will. It's completely in runes, though. I've been working to translate it but a lot of them I haven't seen before."

Remus shifted closer to her, looking over her shoulder at the open page. Hermione could smell the cologne he wore, woodsy and light, not the type of overpowering cologne that most men wore, but something that mixed well with his natural scent and… He's a professor, Hermione. Stop thinking about how good he smells, Merlin! She thought.

"Hermione?" Remus was looking at her, his gaze roaming her face as he spoke.

"Sorry, I didn't… What did you say?"

"I said I know you lot are planning on leaving soon, Ron and Harry aren't as surreptitious as they think they are… Or maybe it's just my hearing…"

"Your hearing?" she asked, "Oh! Because of your lycanthropy? It gives the witch or wizard infected heightened senses, particularly around the full moon!"

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he chuckled.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and she promptly stamped down that embarrassing notion, clearing the thickness from her throat as she spoke again, "I can't tell you anything, Remus. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"I know you can't," Remus said, a twinge of agitation to his tone. "I have a favor to ask of you, though."

"Of me?"

He nodded, the action causing his sandy hair to fall into his eyes before his hand came up to scrape the unruly locks from his face, "Yes. I've noticed that over the years, you fall to the wayside between your research and making sure Harry and Ron keep their heads on straight. I'm asking you to, please, look after yourself."

Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it while she listened to Remus, the worry tightening his voice while simultaneously tightening something in her chest. She again found herself intoxicated by his scent as a breeze kicked up, tousling his hair about on his head. She said a silent prayer to whatever deity she could think of to help her repress these extremely inappropriate feelings that were tugging low in her belly.

"You're one to talk," she finally said, twisting a bit to smirk up at him. "Telling me to take care of myself when you don't do the same. A bit hypocritical of you, isn't it?"

She couldn't look away from him, watching as his face seemed to twist with some sort of pain, guilt?

"I get by with a little help from my friends," Remus whispered, his eyes dragging away from her as he looked back out at the gathering.

The song coming from the record player, that must have been what pulled the memory from the depths of her mind, in conjunction with lack of sleep and Remus' behavior so close to the moon. But the words he said to her under that tree… They had meant little to her then. She thought the reference was coincidental. But perhaps…

Did Remus, the Remus in her time, did he know? Did he remember this? Was he aware of everything that had happened between them? She suddenly felt sick, her stomach twisting uncomfortably and she could feel the color drain from her face. She was getting too invested, she was becoming too close to him. If she continued this relationship, continued following the path her heart was carving that led straight to Remus Lupin…

Hermione took a sharp breath as her wrist burned as if it had been lit on fire. Her right hand grabbed at her left wrist, massaging the ache from it. The moment she had thought of removing herself from Remus' life, her arm caught fire again. Was she supposed to do this? Did this mean something later on..? Would her being here dictate the path laid for Remus' future? For her future?

"Hermione, are you okay?" Remus' voice danced through the air, cutting into the speeding rate of her heart.

"I'm fine," she lied. "I just need to sleep."

Hermione woke with a start, a thin veil of sweat coated her back, her curls clinging to her neck as she bolted upright in her bed. Her heart was racing in her chest and she could still smell the burning of spells flying past her in battle, the heat of a poorly controlled Fiendfyre licking at her heels. Her stomach rolled, bile creeping up the back of her throat as she panted for air, trying to calm her nerves. Home. You're home. Well, as home at being in a different year than you should be can get, she thought, trying to find comfort in the room around her.

It had been years since she had a nightmare about the battle at Hogwarts in 1998. She had certainly seen her fair share of war since then, some things far more gruesome compared to that night. Somewhere in the back of her mind the vision of Remus' face, scarred and exhausted plagued her again. She wondered why her brain kept supplying her images of the Remus she had known in her own time, as if it were trying to tell her something important, the answers just on the edge but the blocks that Draco had put up in her mind were holding strong and she couldn't break through them to get to it.

Hermione pulled herself from the blankets that had gotten twisted around in her fitful sleep and grabbed her wand off the nightstand. If she wasn't going to be awarded any more rest tonight, she could at least get back to her research. She slipped on a pair of comfortable linen shorts under the long cotton tee shirt she had slept in and padded out to the living room.

"Oh! Remus! You- You're still here?" Hermione asked, seeing his head resting on the arm of the sofa, his body stretched out over the cushions.

Remus sat up, swinging his legs to the floor and twisted his body around to look up at her. "Yeah, is that… Is that okay?"

Hermione exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, relief flooding her at the sight of him. Somewhere deep down, she knew she needed to see he was okay, alive and well. She nodded, stepping over to the sofa and falling onto the cushion next to him, "Yes, of course. You know I don't mind if you stay here, don't you?"

"When you went to lie down, I cleaned up my baking mess and ended up laying here for a kip. I didn't mean to stay the night," he explained.

"Either way," Hermione said, offering a kind smile. "I don't mind. You're always welcome here, you don't have to ask."

Very suddenly, Remus stood from the sofa, extending his hand out to her. She arched an eyebrow up at him before chuckling and grabbing his hand, allowing him to drag her into the kitchen and lightly push her into one of the chairs. He walked over to the counter, pulling out a couple plates and mugs from the cupboard. She watched him as he busied himself in the kitchen for several minutes, paying special attention to the way the muscles in his back and shoulders flexed under his jumper. She inwardly groaned in irritation with herself, clearly she needed to work out some frustrations.

The smell of cinnamon hit her nostrils just before the smell of chocolate and espresso and a large grin split her face as Remus placed a Chelsea bun in front of her, along with a mug of steaming liquid.

"This may be my best batch, yet." Remus said, taking the seat next to her with his own plate and mug.

"I'll be the judge of that," Hermione said, picking up the bun and taking a bite. She sighed, shaking her shoulders with a small dance of happiness.

"And what's the verdict?" Remus asked, his eyes lighting up with amusement at her appreciative dance.

"I think you're right, Remus. This is the best batch!" Hermione took a sip of the steaming beverage and smiled again. He had made it perfectly to her taste. Not too much chocolate, not too much espresso. Perfect.

They sat in silence as they finished eating and Hermione stole glances at Remus through her lashes. Every month that Hermione remained in 1980, she had performed the ritual to remain with a heavy heart, missing her friends, worrying about the Order and wondering if they even realized she was gone. But the last few months, it had gotten easier to drag the blade across her palm and offer bits of her soul and blood up to stay. Hermione looked down at her hands and saw the faint scar across her palm. Even with dittany, there was only so many times you could heal the same wound without scarring.

"I hope you don't mind," Remus began, breaking Hermione from her thoughts, "But I erm… I read through a bit of your research. I've never heard of water of fortune in the physical, tangible sense. But… But there's a children's story that talks about it."

"A children's story?" Hermione asked, looking up from her hands to meet his gaze.

Remus nodded, "The Fountain of Fair Fortune. It's in-

"The Tales of the Beedle and the Bard."

He nodded, "Well, I don't know if it will help at all, it's probably a load of shit, honestly, but I've heard ever since I can remember that there's some truth behind those stories."

If you only knew, Hermione thought, her mind instantly going back to The Tale of the Three Brothers and her time on the run with Harry and Ron, hunting for horcruxes. "You think it's real?"

Remus shrugged, "Wouldn't surprise me to find out that it is. If that's what you've come here to look for though, there's not a lot of hope in finding it. Wizards have searched for centuries for it, as you can imagine. Having an elixir of life like that? Fuck, I can't imagine what people would do with it."

"There's no chance the Order knows the location of this possibly real fountain, is there?"

Hermione knew the answer before Remus even spoke it. She knew there was no chance that she could be so lucky, that someone would know the location of this fabled fountain. But then.. Why would it have been written in the book if it hadn't been found? Why would it be listed as an ingredient if…

"Oh my God," Hermione said, her eyes going wide. "Oh my God! I'm an idiot!"

"I… I don't know what you're-

"I am such a fucking idiot!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to the neat stack of journals and books that sat on the coffee table in the living room. She heard the scrape of Remus' chair against the floorboards as he left the table to join her on the sofa. She pulled out the slim, black journal, flicking through to the last three pages and stared down at them. She had the journal memorized by now, she had studied it so closely, so many times. But not once had she ever paid attention to the thin line drawn above the 'water of fortune', separating it from the rest of the recipe.

She had never once put any thought into the line that dragged vertically down the page, meeting the horizontal line above the words. She assumed it had just been accidental, a drag of ink by quill that was moving faster than the writer's hand could keep up. Merlin knows she had been guilty of the action more than once. As she stared down at the page, tears of fury burned in her eyes.

It wasn't an accidental drag of a quill. It was a cancellation of the recipe. It was marking the recipe as nonviable, with a possible solution in the water of fucking fortune.

Her hand flew to her mouth as it fell open, a puff of breath pushing through her fingers. Her stomach knotted around the Chelsea bun she had just consumed, threatening to push it back up her throat. Her breath came in sharp, almost painful, gasps as she realized her mistake. Her absolutely colossal, monumental fuck up.

There were no answers.

There was no strange potion ingredient that she would find.

There was no cure or countercurse or antidote.

Snape had tried to come up with one, only to be stumped and give up before he was able to find it. And she had come back to this timeline for nothing.