A/N: I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long, I had family in town and then shit kind of hit the fan here in Dallas. As always, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and suggestions, you guys are awesome. Writing this really wouldn't be so fun without you.

oOo

If Hermione had been asked a few hours ago about the shopping habits of one Remus Lupin, she would have guessed that the werewolf was not much of a shopper. Her experiences with wizards on trips to the store had been limited to Harry, Ron, and occasionally Seamus when he dragged Hermione with him to buy new robes because evidently "all witches know how to pick out robes."

Not only was this assumption sexist, but it was also not the case for Hermione Granger.

The Brightest Witch of Her Age valued practicality and simplicity- she was nothing if not utilitarian. Hermione owned two pairs of dark muggle jeans, five jumpers (all grey, black, and occasionally red), an odd assortment of t-shirts (in the same colors), a set of formal robes, a set of casual robes, and her Auror robes.

Also socks and knickers. That goes without saying, really.

Her clothes fit her well and she took great care in maintaining them- Hermione hated to look unkept and she had an uncanny attention to detail, which allowed her to look at all times prim, proper, and wholly put together. However Hermione was not interested in the latest fashions in the way Lavender or even Ginny were. She had bigger fish to fry, or dark wizards to catch as the case may be, and did not find shopping for clothing or pouring over Witch Weekly to be an effective use of her time.

So Hermione was completely unprepared for the whirlwind that was Remus Lupin.

Some knickers, socks, maybe a jumper she could wear while the one she was currently wearing was in the wash- that's what Hermione had been thinking. Remus had other plans. The pair had started off in Diagon Alley, but Remus had quickly decided there was nothing in those shops that suited Hermione's figure and without giving the witch time to protest, he had ushered her through the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London.

Hermione had occasionally thought to herself, while looking through old photos of her parents, that the 80's had been a sad time for fashion. Neon colors, high waisted pants, and giant shoulder pads weren't flattering on anyone, but they were even more horrifying when witnessed first hand.

Remus had cajoled her into dressing room after dressing room, shoving bright pink and purple button down shirts, yellow pants, and dresses that no human should have ever been subjected to into her hands. Hermione had tried to shove the clothing right back, but Remus had smiled in his way and Hermione found herself trying on things that would have normally made her gag. Remus's smile, the witch had decided, must somehow be enhanced by his wolfish blood because no normal wizard could smile in a way that was all at once unsettling and entrancing.

Hermione was beginning to discover that when Remus Lupin wanted something he got it and currently he wanted Hermione to try on every godawful piece 1980s apparel he could get his paws on. It was downright surreal.

Hermione leaned her bushy head out from behind the curtain of dressing room, clutching an orange blouse to her chest. "Remus!" She hissed between clenched teeth. The wizard looked up from the magazine he was flipping through as he sat nonchalantly on a bench against the wall, his eyes awash of green mirth. "I am absolutely not trying on any more of these- give me back my jumper!"

Remus smiled broadly and used his foot to push Hermione's jumper, folded neatly on the floor, even farther from her. While Hermione's back had been turned Remus had, with closed eyes, reached into the dressing room and grabbed her practical black jumper. "You'll get this back after you've tried on the yellow dress, that was our deal."

"Deal?!" Hermione sputtered. "There was no deal! This is a hostage situation and I'm done negotiating. Give me back my jumper or I'll-"

"You'll what? We're in a muggle shop, remember?" Remus responded.

"There are plenty of mundane ways for me to throttle you." Hermione narrowed her amber eyes, imagining all of those ways in great detail.

Remus laughed and turned back to his magazine. "When you've got the dress on you can have the jumper back."

"I'm not putting the dress on you pigheaded man!" Hermione stomped her foot. "Why are you so interested in women's fashion anyway? Who cares if I try on the dress? I'm won't be purchasing it anyway." Hermione scrunched her nose in thought. "Wait, didn't James and Sirius accuse of this when you were looking at my Auror robes? Are you some sort of fashion guru or something?"

Remus snorted. "Hardly."

"Then what is it, because I'm about out of patience for this nonsense."

Remus looked up and sighed. "Hermione, you have no clothes or soap or-or shampoo or anything and who knows how long Sirius and I are going to be looking after you. We could be stuck at Grimmauld Place for Merlin knows how long- especially of Sirius has his way. Maybe the wizard's lonely or something, I don't know. But anyway, the point is I'm being practical. You're going to need more than a couple pairs of knickers-" Hermione blushed "-and an extra jumper. Plus it's hilarious how you won't try on the dress. At this point I'm just curious to see how much I can get you to try on, it's quickly becoming my favorite pastime."

"Oh, I'm glad this is so amusing for you." Hermione rolled her eyes and then thought for a moment, considering the wizards argument. "But, Remus, I can't y'know..." she looked around awkwardly. "I can't pay for all of this."

"Is that what this is about?" Remus put down the magazine and folded her arms across his broad chest. "And here I thought you actually hated to look nice."

"Excuse me!" Hermione scoffed indignantly. "I look nice!"

"You look sensible. Sensible and nice are quite different." Remus pointed out. "And don't worry about the money, it's all taken care of."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. What does he mean all taken care of? Surely...oh no. "Remus! You are not buying me these useless garments. I absolutely forbid it."

The werewolf cocked a brown eyebrow. "Firstly, you cannot forbid me from doing anything and secondly I'm not buying them."

"You're not?"

"Nope."

"Then who is?"

"Sirius is." Remus grinned.

Hermione looked around, half expecting the black haired pureblood to pop out from behind a curtain. "How exactly is he going to do that?"

"Before he left for work I informed our dear friend Mr. Black that if he insisted on the two of us living under his roof for the duration of our...time together, then it was his duty to provide us with some proper food. The state of his pantry was downright ghastly. And being the aristocratic pureblood he is, with absolutely no real sense of how normal wizards live, he gave me a bag- no, a sack- of galleons. Which could probably feed a small country for a year."

Hermione considered this. "Brilliant, alright, we've got some galleons and normally I would object to this sort of expenditure, but I'm sure the Black vaults are quite vast. However, this is a muggle shop, they don't take galleons here."

"Give me a little credit, Hermione. I'm only halfblooded after all. While you were trying a few things on at Madam Malkin's I took a quick jaunt over to Gringotts and exchanged a few for pounds." Remus looked altogether too smug for his own good, Hermione decided.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and then gasped suddenly. "Remus! I was talking to you the whole time I was trying those awful fuchsia robes on!"

Remus cast Hermione an innocent smile. "Were you? Oh dear, I didn't notice."

"You awful man! Do you mean to tell me I was standing there talking to myself like some sort of nutter?! No wonder everyone was staring at me when I came out!" Hermione was using all her self-control to suppress the urge to wring Remus's neck while he just sat there smiling. Goddamned werewolves and there stupid smiles! "You! You! You villainous clot! I can't believe this, return my jumper at once!"

Remus shook his head. "Try on the dress and it'll be yours."

"It's already MINE!" Hermione screeched. In a flash of wild hair and dark skin, she ran out of the dressing room, still clutching the blouse to her chest, and snatched her black jumper form the floor before rushing back into the dressing room. "I'm afraid the fashion show is over, Lupin! We are done here."

was laughing too hard to respond.

Oh yes, laugh all you want you awful wizard! Hermione Granger never forgets a transgression!

"I need a cuppa." Hermione hissed under her breath as she pulled her jumper back on. "Or maybe something stronger after an afternoon like this."

The two paid for the clothing Hermione had deemed not entirely outlandish and made their way back the Leaky Cauldron in companionable silence. The air was chilly and the breeze whipped across Hermione's face leaving a rosy nose and cheeks in its wake. Hermione was glad for her thick jumper, but wouldn't have minded a coat or her Auror robes. When she had woken up and dressed yesterday morning in her time it had been April 25th and Hermione found herself wondering what month or even day it was currently. Not cold enough to be winter, not warm enough to be summer. Hermione considered asking Remus straight out, but decided that might be too strange. But really, what's too strange at this point?

Remus seemed to have acknowledged the initial strangeness of the last twenty-four or so hours and then simply moved on. It was quite amazing, really. Hermione would have expected more suspicions or at least more questions than she was receiving from the wizard, but instead Remus had offered her acceptance- the whole thing was bizarrely comfortable. This Remus was not entirely like or unlike the professor that she had adored and lost, but he fit her in a way. Like a glove that hadn't been made for her, but somehow slipped on perfectly. Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of the uncanny familiarity she had almost immediately felt with Harry when they'd met first year- an experience that had not repeated itself before or since. Until now, that is.

"You alright, then?" Remus looked down at Hermione, who smiled wanly at him. With practiced expertise, Hermione pushed her feelings down into the vault of her soul and locked them away. "I didn't traumatize you too much with the shopping?"

"Ha!" Hermione laughed. Trust me, Remus, it'll take a lot more than trying on a few shirts to traumatize me. "If I say 'yes' does that mean you'll buy my drink?" Hermione nudged Remus and peered at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Why, you cheeky little thing!" Remus wrapped on a large arm around Hermione's shoulder and shook her gently. "Suppose I owe you that, eh?"

"Well, that and you have all the galleons." Hermione reminded him.

Remus gasped in shock. "I knew it, another witch just after me money. And here I was thinking you'd be different. It's just like my dear mum warned me. Never trust a witch with amber eyes and dark hair."

Hermione's laugh rang out through the cold air as she slid her arm around Remus's waist. "Really? That's oddly specific."

"I always thought so, yes, but I try not to question her too much." Remus winked at Hermione and turned them both down Charing Cross Road. Once inside The Leaky Cauldron, Remus sat Hermione down at a table in the back and went to the bar, when he returned was carrying two small glasses. Hermione eyed the glasses curiously and the dark amber liquid swirling in them.

"Firewhiskey." Remus answered her unspoken question as he sat down. "I figured I owed you something a little stronger than butterbeer."

Hermione took the glass, knowing it'd be rude not to, but didn't immediately drink the beverage. Firewhiskey had never been her drink of choice- no, but Ron loved the stuff- and truth be told she'd never been much of a drinker. She watched Remus take a sip from his glass and looked back down at her own. Realizing she was being impolite she said "thank you" and gingerly brought the liquid to her lips.

The alcohol burned down her throat and warmed her belly and though it was not exactly a pleasant sensation, it wasn't unpleasant either. Hermione sighed- she'd forgotten how firewhiskey felt.

"Funny, isn't it?" Remus mused after a few minutes. "Muggles have developed so many varied and interesting ways to get pissed over thousands of years and wizards really only stick with firewhiskey and butterbeer and butterbeer hardly counts."

"Bit a brandy sometimes too." Hermione commented, remembering Ron and George drinking a bottle on occasion.

"True, but what have muggles got? Brandy, cognac, whiskey, wine, beer, mead, tequila, rum, vodka." Remus counted on his fingers as he spoke.

"And think of how many types of each one. Beer could be an ale, a lager, a stout, an amber." Hermione pointed out.

"And none of them butter."

Hermione laughed. "Yea, a bit strange that. Wizards and their peculiarities."

Remus leaned back in his chair and gave Hermione a pointed look, his green eyes boring down on her.

"What?" The witch asked, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

"Hermione Granger isn't a wizarding name." It was a statement, not a question.

"No." Hermione shook her head and took another sip of firewhiskey. "No, I'm muggle-born."

"Hermione's an interesting muggle name though." You don't know the half of it. "I almost thought you might be halfblooded at first."

"My mum loved Shakespeare." And that's definitely the understatement of the year. Hermione's mother had lived and breathed Shakespeare, they'd been the first stories she'd read while learning English. An odd place to start with such an unusual language.,

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Hermione is a Shakespeare character?"

"You know, Hermione, the virtuous queen of Sicily." Remus's eyebrow did not retreat back down is forehead. "From The Winter's Tale."

"Don't think I've read that one."

Hermione scoffed. "Good sir, are you certain you're British?"

Remus laughed. "Quite certain, but Shakespeare isn't part of the Hogwarts curriculum."

"Pfft ridiculous I know." Hermione huffed. "Even in that joke of a class, Muggle Studies, Shakespeare isn't even mentioned in passing. It's all why muggles need electricity and other such nonsense."

Remus stiffened and Hermione caught the movement from the corner of her eye. "Did you attend Hogwarts then?" He asked, furrowing his brow. "I don't recall a Granger."

Crap. Crappity crap crap. Hermione opened her mouth a fraction as panic set in. Way to go, Granger. Now we have to think up a lie about attending a wizarding school. No one's going to believe you went to Ilvermorny or Beauxbatons. Maybe Uagadou? No you're too British for that dammit. Though it would help explain the wandless magic...

Hermione was floundering. The firewhiskey had seeped into her system, slowing down her normally impeccable processing speed.

"REMUS!" A masculine voice called out and Hermione's shoulder's almost sagged in relief as Remus's attention was diverted.

Note to self, when sober devise a believable backstory.

"Remus! Who is this witch you have hidden back here away from us." Hermione looked up into a pair of light brown eyes and nearly spit out her firewhiskey.

George! Her own eyes grew wide as she took at the wizard standing behind Remus when from behind him another wizard sauntered up. Fred!

"Look here, Fabian. Remus is hiding a witch from us!" The wizard wearing George's face laughed. But wait-no. It wasn't George's face. This face was sharper in the chin and nose and his hair was a deeper red, more like Ginny's and-

Molly's! The Prewetts!

"Remus how could you!" The other wizard- Fabian- put a hand over his chest as if injured. "I thought we were mates. Mates don't hide lovely witches from each other!"

"Right you are there, Fabian." His twin agreed. "And now he's not even introducing us."

"You haven't even given me a chance to introduce you." Remus protested. "Hermione Granger, Fabian and Gideon Prewett."

Fabian reached out and took Hermione's hand in his, leaning down to gently kiss her knuckles. The witch blushed and Fabian wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Hermione, the beautiful Queen of Sicily."

"What? How did you know that?" Remus asked, pushing Fabian's hand off of Hermione's.

"Shakespeare, mate. You're not British if you haven't read Shakespeare."

"He was a muggle." Remus insisted.

"Dear Remus, we never took you for a blood purist." Gideon laughed and pulled out a seat.

"Alright." Remus growled and pushed Gideon's chair back in before the wizard had a chance to sit down. "I've introduced you, now you can go away.

"Go away?" Gideon asked, pulling out the chair again. "Oh no, for trying to keep this witch to yourself we're owed not only a glass of firewhiskey, but also a long and charming conversation."

"Indeed we are, brother!" Fabian smiled at Hermione, who was giggling at the annoyed look on Remus's face as the twins sat down.

"We're almost finished with our drinks and then I'm afraid we've got to be going." Remus said, taking a big gulp to finish off his glass of firewhiskey.

"Oh, you're right, our lovely queen is nearly done and a queen should never be subjected to an empty glass." Fabian scooted his chair towards Hermione. "Tom!" He called out. "Four more firewhiskies!"