Chapter 3

Four years later, The Potter's Stand was the most popular café in the neighborhood. And on a warm September evening, a man walked in to find a poetry reading was about to start in the back. A familiar purple-haired young woman watched appreciatively as a little girl with red hair, piercing green eyes and glasses walked onto the stage.

"Welcome evwy one to The Potter's Stand. Let the Potter Poetry Comp-compit-compit – Mummy what's the word?"

Ginny Weasley smiled while the regular customers laughed. They were actually amazed that a three year old could even introduce a poetry reading, but that's a wizard's child for you. "Competition, sweetie"

"What my mummy said. Bye!" She received thunderous applause and sat down on her mother's lap.

"Lily looks so much like Harry" Remus said to the woman with such bright hair.

"She does, doesn't she?" Hermione agreed.

Suddenly a memory kicked into the werewolf's mind. "Umm., Hermione. Your hair . . ."

"Oh yes, it's purple. I know. I'm doing my Diagon Alley birthday ritual tonight. I've learned my lesson long ago about going there without a disguise. Who would guess this rebellious purple-haired, fishnet wearing, black-donning rebel is the sole-surviving, bookwormy third to the Golden Trio? Oh, don't look so surprised about the fishnets, it's just for one night."

"Umm, yes, of course. Well here's your gift then." He thrusted a package at her. "GoodluckthenandI'llseeyoulater" and with that he disappeared quite quickly.

Hermione was very confused as Ginny came over to talk.

"Was that Remus?" she asked.

"Yes, and he was acting very strangely."

"He always acts weird around you."

"He does, doesn't he? Well, I think I'm going to head off. I'll be back late, I suppose."

"Alright. Have a good time, and happy birthday! Oh, I love the hair by the way. Purple suits you." Hermione laughed and went into the back room to apparate. When she ended up in Diagon Alley, on a rather deserted and grimy end of it, actually, she remembered she was still holding Remus's gift. It was a stationary kit, all in Gryffindor colors. She smiled and stuffed it in her purse.

Walking down a little further, something caught her eye in the window of a junk store. It was a time turner! Nostalgia for her third year overwhelmed her, and she impulsively decided to buy it (despite that it was probably illegal). Giddy with excitement, she exited the store ten minutes later with her pockets considerably lighter.

She laughed joyfully and ducked into an alleyway behind a pub and inn (The Goblin's Gore), and decided to test it out immediately.

She turned it once, and in doing so, realized her mistake.

It was a decometer - something that historians used to take them back decades instead of hours (the blue sand and Latin inscription gave it away). But soon she was whirling into 1999 with nothing to stop her.

When she landed, she perused her infinite knowledge and knew that she'd be stuck in this time for a whole year and then would return to her time as if only an hour had passed. She weighed her options and decided to get a job and try to keep a low profile, hoping not to meet anyone she might know. Especially not Order members . . .

She looked up at the sky and saw the familiar constellations from those nights at Hogwarts in astronomy class, and they comforted her, the moon was full.

She walked from the alleyway and immediately noticed that the Goblin's Gore had a Help Wanted sign in the dirty window. This would do just fine . . .

She walked in and found it actually a bit crowded. Apparently the place was popular despite its poor condition. She headed for the bar and the man behind the counter.

"Hallo! I'd like to inquire about the Help Wanted sign outside" She said as cheerfully as possible

"Arr Finally! Someone to help! Do you got any references or experience?" He asked.

"Ummm … I'm sorry … No."

"That's OK! As long as you can carry a plate and pour a shot of firewhiskey."

"That I can do, sir"

"Yer callin me sir! I like you already. Now, people don't normally stay long here at the ole Goblin's Gore. My bartenders away tonight on his day off as it is. Anyhows, yer duties would be as a waitress from 3 in the afternoon to 3 in the morning. You'd get an hour of breaktime in between. I pay 60 galleons a day, which is real decent if you asked me. Are you in?"

"Umm, first, is there any way I could rent a room here?"

"Well, that's just what my bartender does, he's a right good lad he is . . . Oh, yes, of course. It'll be 600 galleons a month just about, I'll just take it out of your paycheck, if that's alright. You'd get four days off a month, you can take em any days yer want. Actually, it's best if you take em off on Mondays. That's our slow days. Yup, you get each Monday off. So are you in?"

Hermione thought for a minute. The pay wasn't that good and the hours absolutely stunk. But she didn't want to let anyone know she was here, and this seemed as good a place as any to spend her year.

"I'll take it!" She said with decision.

"Great. I'll need you to sign a contract, though. For the room too."

"How longs the contract for?" She asked suspiciously.

"Just a year. Like I said, no one stays here too long" He laughed.

Soon she was an official employee, and tenant, although under the name Violet Guinness. That night she collapsed into sleep wondering how life had gotten so complicated.

She woke up the next morning with the Crack! of someone apparating into the room across the hall. She knew it must be the mysterious bartender (from the endless ramblings Mr. Chapwell had told her about him as he'd shown her up to her room. Of course, he had said everything except his name "He mixes a mean Fizzing Whizbee, that one does, etc, etc)

To get off on the best foot possible, she decided to go introduce herself. They would be working 12 hour shifts together, after all.

She knocked politely on the door to Room 12. No answer. She knocked again. She considered that he might be anti social. But what if he had splinched when apparating? What if he was hurt? What if he had tripped on a shoe? Gathering her Gryffindor courage, she slowly opened the door.

And there, passed out on the bed was the man she'd be spending almost every minute with for the next year. And it just had to be a 30 year old Remus Lupin back from a night as a werewolf.