A/N: Look! Another chapter inside a week! I'm spoiling you. Teehee. Thanks for all the love on this one. I hope you enjoy the story.
xx-Kitten.
All I Remember
By Kittenshift17
CHAPTER FOUR
Sunday, 11th November, 1979
Flourish & Blotts Bookshop, London
"What is going on here?" Mr Blott asked when he came back later that afternoon – well after the lunch rush had ebbed and the afternoon was beginning to teeter on evening.
He looked rather a mess, actually. Hermione frowned at him. She could smell that he'd been smoking, and drinking, and he looked a bit like he'd been in a scuffle, too.
"Mr Blott, you've returned," Hermione smiled at him widely. "How was your appointment?"
The wizard frowned at her for a long moment.
"Bloody bollocks, it was," he grumbled. Hermione watched him stomp over to the counter, intent on checking the ledger to see how many books she'd sold while he'd been gone. "Divorced! She wants to get bloody divorced!"
Hermione frowned.
"Your wife, sir?" Hermione asked softly, frowning.
"Aye. My bloody wife. She's been screwing her bloody boss and now she wants a bloody fucking divorce!" He thumped a fist on the bench in fury. "And what the bloody fuck is this? You sold all these while I was gone?"
He flipped through three pages worth of ledger listings for all the books she'd sold while he'd been gone.
"I… yes, I did."
"This is more than a hundred books in a few hours, girl. On a bloody weekday in the middle of the academic year. I don't usually sell this many in a week!" he protested. "Even when Mafalda was here, we didn't sell this many outside of peak season before Hogwarts went into session. What did you do? How did you sell so many?"
"Oh. Well, I just offered them additional research and materials on whatever they were looking for, sir. I asked them what they were after, what they were trying to achieve and what they'd already tried and then I made my recommendations from there. Primarily you stock textbooks and grimoires, so I merely pointed people in the direction of what I found to be best for their problem."
"But…you've sold everything here from outlandish tomes on werewolves to cookbooks and potion recipes. You've sold novels, too. What happened?"
"I… I'm very well read, Mr Blott," Hermione admitted. "In all honesty, I want the job more than anything because I adore books. I love reading and I like to encourage it in others. I also like to help people find the best thing to help them with what they need by giving them as wide a view as possible on the topic of their research. The chap asking after werewolf information had no idea about the conflicting tomes written by prejudiced hunters or how they compared to bibliographies written by people suffering lycanthropy and so I made sure he'd be fully informed."
"You talked someone into buying one hundred and seventy galleons worth of books just on werewolves?" he scoffed.
"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded. "The chap was very interested when I pointed out the difference of opinion, the disputation of fact and the overall need for wider research. He bought a number of potion books too, see?"
She pointed to the ledger.
"Eighty more on potions books, including a rare book. Bloody hell, girl!" Mr Blott exclaimed. "You're going to run me out of stock by the end of the week if you keep this up."
Hermione blushed.
"Does that mean I've got the job?" she asked.
"What kind of salary are you looking for and how many hours can you do?" he asked.
"Well, enough to get by," Hermione frowned. "What did you pay the last shop girl?"
"Mafalda was on three Galleons an hour," he told her, "It's a little lower than what the other shops pay, mind you, but she was living in the flat above the shop before she shacked up with her beau and her board was factored into her salary."
"Is the flat empty now?" Hermione asked, barely trusting a hope.
"Aye, it is. Why? You want it?"
"I… well, yes. Especially if you'll let me have the job too," Hermione said.
Mr Blott managed a half smile.
"If you're turning over this much business in a few hours, I reckon you might deserve a bit more than three Galleons an hour, girl," he said. "And if I can be completely honest, I'm about to be tied up in a legal mess over this bloody divorce and hardly the best boss. How many hours can you do? Full time?"
"You run the shop between nine in the morning and seven at night, don't you?" Hermione asked.
"Currently. Been quiet lately though. I cut the hours a bit since Mafalda quit."
"Would you be willing to entertain opening for longer?" Hermione asked.
"How many hours do you want, girl. There's only you and me running the place."
"But you could potentially hire someone else on a causal basis. Only, my past experience has taught me that while regular business hours cater to every day folk looking for a book to read on their lunch break or to handle a problem, the bookworms of the world keep odd hours. The number of times I find myself wishing I had access to a book at nine or ten in the evening when I finish one and want to next in a series or I want to read a recommended book for a wider view on my research but can't because the shops are closed ought to be criminal."
"Ain't real safe opening too late, love," Mr Blott scratched idly at his pot belly. "The Alley might be well protected, but there's dodgy folk about. I wouldn't want to leave you exposed and unprotected that late here by yourself. Not with the riff-raff leaving the pubs and looking for love in the wrong places and such."
"I assure you that I can handle myself, Mr Blott, but I do see your point. Would you consider extending the hours just a bit, opening nine until nine? Or perhaps seven until seven? Or maybe initiating an after-hours postal order service. I'd be happy to handle it and I know that students at Hogwarts, in particular, would thank you for it. Or… well, I would've when I was a student."
"Ravenclaw, were you?" he smiled, his eyes crinkling a little.
"Gryffindor, actually. But I'm a know-it-all bookworm at heart."
"If you're willing to handle it, you draw up a proposal for it and we'll take a look, alright. We'll run an advert in the papers and see what happens. You're happy with full-time, then? If you're doing after-hours work with order processing you need more money. Five galleons an hour plus your board upstairs sound fair?"
Hermione's eyes lit up. The equivalent of twenty-five pounds an hour sounded beyond brilliant.
"I'm certain that hugging you exuberantly would be improper, but I'm in danger of it, sir," Hermione admitted.
The man chuckled.
"You're a funny little thing, witch," he told her fondly. "What say I show you where everything goes, how were handle the ordering for more stock and the labelling for the books and… ah, bloody hell."
He trailed off on his offer when a witch flung open the door of the shop and stormed inside. Hermione's wand was drawn before the door even banged against the wall and Blott shot her a startled look.
"Though she bloody deserves it, she's my wife, girl. Don't hex her," he muttered, and Hermione tucked her wand away once more.
"Billius Blott, you wretched bastard! How dare you?" the woman screeched as she blew into the bookshop like a tempest in a teacup.
"Tell you what, Granger? You take this key for that flat upstairs and get yourself settled for the afternoon. You don't need to see this."
Hermione took the key he gave her while the man's wife stormed inside and flung the door closed behind her.
"Stairs are over there," he nodded her to a door at the back of the shop. "The flat is on the top floor above the three tiers of the shop. Take a look and see what you think of it and what you might need. Go on out the back to get to the street so you don't have to see this."
Hermione did as she was told when the man's wife began flinging books at him and screeching about how he'd gone and announced to the entire patronage at the Leaky Cauldron that she was a cheating bitch and wanted a divorce. She hurried up the stairs, so she wouldn't have to witness the fight, focusing her attention on turning the lock in the key when she reached the door at the very top of the stairs.
When she opened the door to the flat, Hermione didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't what she found. Indeed, she'd been imagining vague notions about a dingy little studio apartment, a single-room box with the kitchen and laundry all in the same space as the bedroom. But that wasn't what she got. Hermione's jaw dropped open at the sight of the cosy living room and kitchen she could see from the doorway. They weren't enormous by any stretch of the imagination, but Undetectable Extension charms had obviously been put to use on the flat.
There was a long wall of arched glass widows that looked out over the alley, one with an inbuilt window seat. Hermione grinned at the idea. She'd always wanted a window seat. Like most magical residences, it had a large hearth big enough to Floo through and though it was bare of furniture, Hermione could easily imagine covering the walls with bookshelves and squashing in a few couches.
She found herself turning to grin over her shoulder at Harry before remembering that Harry wasn't there to share in the excitement of decorating her own place – something they'd whiled away hours discussing when they shared a dingy tent for months of end. Sadness filled her for a moment, waves of grief washing over her at the notion that she would never share such a thing with Harry again, but she pushed it away as she pushed inside the flat. He might not be there to enjoy it with her, but Hermione would be damned if she wasn't going to include all the little homey touches and things she and Harry had daydreamed up.
An inspection of the kitchen showed that it was perfectly serviceable, if a little dingy. Hermione flicked her wand to make a few adjustments, uncertain if Mr Blott would mind, but doubting it as long as she improved things. She extended the bench a little further, and widened the entire space to make more room just in case she ever had visitors to cook for. Further perusal showed the flat boasted three good sized bedroom and a small but serviceable bathroom with a separate loo.
She already had plans to use the main bedroom for herself, pop a spare bed in the second bedroom with vague hopes of overnight guests or even a flatmate, and the third she would turn into a training room. She expanded the space of the third bedroom with a flick of her wands before conjuring practice dummies that would be her duelling opponents. This was hardly the time to lose the edge so long on the run and so much war-time training had bought her.
"I need furniture," Hermione muttered to herself. "And someone or something to talk to so that I don't go mad by myself."
Having determined the space at hand, Hermione left the flat via a second door that led to some back steps. They wound down and around the back of the bookshop, letting out in a small and mostly unnoticeable nook on street level.
"Muggle London for furniture," she muttered to herself before disapparating with a crack.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Two hours later Hermione was hurrying back through the Leaky Cauldron with her purchases all shrunken down and secreted away in her purple beaded bag. She hadn't had time for more than the essentials, but she'd managed to get herself a bed, a closet, a dining table, a couch and some armchairs.
"Oomph," Hermione grunted in surprise when she ploughed right into someone whilst fishing for her house-key.
Jerking her wand up on the culprit and getting annoyed with herself for paying such poor attention to her surroundings, Hermione blinked in surprise to find herself staring at Harry Potter.
"Blimey," the man said, and Hermione experienced a strong sense of discombobulation when the voice coming out of Harry's mouth was not the one that should be.
Not Harry. James. James Charlus Potter.
"Oh, dear," Hermione whispered, noticing that in bumping into James, he'd just spilled a pint all over himself. "I'm terribly sorry, are you alright?"
James blinked at her in reply.
"Who are you?" he asked, frowning at her.
"I… well, I hardly see how that's relevant when I'm attempting to apologise for crashing into you and causing you to spill your beer. I'm terribly sorry."
"Got a habit of crashing into people, don't you Granger?" an aristocratic voice came from behind her and Hermione spun so quickly that James caught a face-full of unruly curls. Her wand still drawn, she aimed it on Sirius before she recognised him.
"Bloody hell, Black! Don't sneak up on me!" Hermione hissed when his eyes widened and dropped to her wand dangerously. She lowered the weapon before he could think to arrest her.
"Jumpy little thing, aren't you?" he asked. "What are you doing here? Other than smashing into James like he stole your teapot?"
"My teapot? Really?" Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I wasn't paying attention and was attempting to apologise."
"You know this bird, Pads?" James asked.
"Aye, I was tailing her while I was on duty earlier. You alright, mate? You're going to need another pint. Oi, Hermione, join us, yeah?"
"Oh, no I couldn't possibly…" she trailed off when Remus appeared to see what all the fuss was about. They flanked her on three sides and her heart rate kicked into high gear at the sight of Remus. Unlike earlier, when he'd looked well put together and ready for an interview, he now looked much more relaxed. His tie hung loose about his neck and his top buttons were undone to reveal a hint of the scarred flesh beneath his shirt. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and he was grinning and laughing at James's expense.
"You alright there, Prongs?" he teased, not paying her any mind. Hermione caught the way Sirius smirked at the fact that she couldn't take her eyes off Remus. "Bloody hell, mate. You'd think you get your showers often enough at home. No need to take 'em in public, too."
"Piss off, Moony, or you'll wear the next one I buy you," James retorted. "Listen, Miss. I reckon you owe me a drink."
"I'll give you a drying charm," Hermione bargained immediately.
"Nah, she's having a drink with us, lads," Sirius said. "What's your hurry, Granger? Did you get a flat yet? I've got a bed you can crawl into for the night."
"Honestly, Sirius I'd rather not risk whatever I'd likely catch coming out the other side of that particular experience," Hermione said without thinking. James looked at her blankly for a moment before his expression lit into one of hilarity at Sirius's shocked expression.
"Bloody hell, witch! Just for that I'll shout you a round. She's got your number, Pads. Who are you, woman?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione sighed, unable to resist the familiarity when James slung an arm around her shoulders. "And you would be…?"
"Blimey, being rude, aren't I? Name's James Potter, love," James said, offering her his free hand to shake without releasing her.
Hermione shook her head even as she shook his hand.
"Pleasure to meet you. Not to deter you from what I don't doubt is usually an affectionate hug, but you reek of beer, Potter," Hermione told him.
"Your fault, Granger. Come on, what are you drinking? You want a pint or are you too girly, like my Lily flower?"
"Wine, if they have it," she sighed. "Something red and sweet."
Hermione glanced over at Remus to find him watching her.
"Hello, again," she smiled at the werewolf.
"Hello. I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon," Remus replied, smiling wickedly at her.
"You know this bird too, Moony?" James asked before ordering more drinks from Tom.
"We met earlier when I accidentally tried to bowl him over in the alley," Hermione said. "And I met Sirius doing a poor job of stalking me for suspicious activity."
"You up to no good, love?" James grinned pressing a glass of red into her hand and steering her toward the booth they'd been sharing. Hermione didn't miss the way James nodded her in first to shuffle around the circular booth while Sirius pushed Remus in from the other side so that he'd have to sit next to her.
"I was going to the bank," Hermione said. "I really am sorry for crashing into you, James. Can I just…?"
She wiggled her fingers, practicing her wandless magic to keep the muggles from seeing as she freshened and dried James's shirt so he wouldn't go home to Lily stinking of hops.
"Blimey. Thanks," James grinned. "You better be careful doing that with muggles in here."
Hermione waved away his concern.
"I never did finish apologising to you either, Remus. I'm sorry about this morning."
"I'm not," Remus replied boldly, surprising Hermione.
"We're actually here to celebrate Moony getting the job he interviewed for this morning," Sirius told her, smirking at the way Hermione's cheeks went pink the longer she stared at Remus, who was grinning at her like she amused him.
"Oh really? Congratulations, that's wonderful. Where are you working?" Hermione asked him.
"It's nothing exciting. I got a job a Pottage's Cauldron shop," he admitted, downplaying the job even though she suspected he was stoked about it. Given how many jobs he tended to lose, she supposed it would be a thrill every time he got a new one.
"That's wonderful," Hermione smiled encouragingly. "You'll be just down the alley from me.
"Oh, yeah?" Remus asked.
"Blott gave you the job, eh?" Sirius grinned.
"And board is part of the deal," Hermione grinned widely. "So, though I'd have turned down the notion of crawling into bed with you regardless, I don't actually need anywhere to stay tonight, Black. But thanks for asking."
"He's putting you up, too?" Sirius asked.
"Yeah. The top floor of the shop is a flat. My board is part of my salary. I've just been out buying furniture, actually. I should really get back and set up so I'll have somewhere to sleep tonight rather than making a bed on the floor."
"Nonsense," James said. "You got a new job, too. Drinks all around!"
Hermione began to suspect James Potter had already had a few when he sloshed beer toasting the success of Remus and Hermione.
"Congratulations on the job. I didn't know Flourish and Blotts were hiring," Remus said quietly, sliding slightly closer to her on the bench when someone else arrived and plonked himself down on the end of their booth next to Sirius.
Peter Pettigrew was nothing like Hermione had expected. She'd seen pictures, a long time ago, that Sirius had kept of their Marauding days at Hogwarts and Peter had been blond, pudgy and squinty-eyed. Similarly, what she recalled of him as a grown man had been a plump, pathetic man prone to cringing and cowardice. The man sitting on the end of the row, however, looked every bit a Marauder.
He was taller than her, though shorter than both Sirius and Remus. He'd lost his baby fat and not yet spent twelve years as a rat gorging on Molly Weasley's cooking. His hair was thick and a vivid shade of golden blond, styled in an unfortunate eighties look bordering on a mullet, but he carried himself with a quiet assurance for all his impending cowardice.
"Wormtail! Took you long enough! Where the bloody hell have you been, mate?" James asked. "We waited awhile for you, but we got thirsty."
He slid a pint toward Peter.
"Granger, this is Pete, you probably remember him from school. Wormtail, this is Hermione Granger."
Peter looked over at her and Hermione didn't like the shifty, calculating look in his eyes for all that his mouth smiled brightly in greeting.
"How're you doing, Hermione?" Peter asked, offering her his hand to shake.
Hermione eyed it like it were a live snake, wrestling with the urge to pull her wand and murder him where he sat. When she reached to shake his hand before she could give herself away, her arm trembled with barely restrained rage.
"Fine, thanks," Hermione said, not wanting to speak to him any more than necessary. She suspected from the way Remus stiffened beside her that he could smell her fury and even Sirius cocked his head slightly, darting a glance between her and Peter.
"You went to Hogwarts?" Remus asked, letting it go rather than giving away his heightened sense of smell.
"Oh, yes. I did. The year ahead of you lot," Hermione lied.
"No way," James said. "What house? I don't remember seeing you around."
"Gryffindor," Hermione said in a small voice.
"You lived in Gryffindor Tower while we were there?" Remus asked.
"Please don't also express your shock as though you didn't see me, either," Hermione sighed, feigning a glum mood at the notion in the hopes that they would buy her story. "Sirius already did a fine job of making me feel like an invisible wallflower despite once drunkenly propositioning me in my final year."
"I never saw you there," Peter said tactlessly, and Hermione winced.
Sirius smacked him in the back of the head.
"Hey! What was that for?" the rat protested.
"Being a git," Sirius said.
Remus was eyeing her strangely and Hermine suspected he doubted her story but didn't want to make her feel bad by saying he didn't remember seeing her there, either.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "I spent most of my time hiding in the library with my nose buried in my books and avoiding my roommates. It's hardly a shock that none of you noticed me or remembered me."
"Sorry, love," James shrugged. "More drinks! Pete, your shout."
"I just got here!" Peter protested.
"You were late. Don't pout that we started without you. Come on, I'll help you carry them." James jumped out of his seat and hauled Peter off to the bar.
"He's going to get loose tonight," Remus warned.
"He and Lily had another tiff," Sirius shrugged. "She's got her knickers in a twist after what happened at my party."
"That was five days ago."
Five? Hermione frowned before remembering that the full moon had fallen smack on the day of Sirius's birthday.
"It was a week night and he talked her into sleeping over. Pretty sure he shagged her, too. And she got in some trouble at work for being so hungover."
"Sleeping over?" Hermione frowned. "Aren't those two married yet?"
Sirius laughed.
"Nah, Lily's being contrary about the proposal since he's asked so many times since he was twelve that she can't tell he's being serious when he asks her to be his wife," Remus explained.
"Right. Well, I suppose that makes sense," Hermine muttered before taking a big gulp of her wine.
"You're taking him home," Remus warned Sirius. "I consoled him the last time he got fall-down drunk and sobbed about Lily."
"Nah, it's Wormtail's turn," Sirius asked.
"Wormtail's too cranky with his job and got too much on his plate with his Mum not being well. He doesn't need a late one when he's got work in the morning," Remus argued.
"We all live in the same bloody flat, you lot will have to put up with him as much as I will."
"Take him to Dorea and Charlus. Maybe they can talk some sense into him before he does something stupid, like ambush Lily's flat with those love-cherubs again," Remus shrugged. "She'll kill him if she has to put up with him tonight and she's late for work again in the morning."
"I wish she'd stop screwing around and just marry the idiot. He's a right git when they fight."
"He's always a git," Remus laughed. "And tonight he's your responsibility. I have a job to look decent for in the morning and I bloody won't if James is crawling into bed with me at half four in the morning to lament Lily's supposed lack of love."
"I've got training in the morning," Sirius protested.
Hermione chuckled softly to herself watching them argue who would look after him. Across the bar James was making an arse of himself looking like he was attempting to play wing-man for Peter.
"Is he chatting up that witch in her fifties?" Hermione asked.
"Ah, hell," Sirius groaned. "I hate when he gets it in his head to set us all up to be besotted berks like him."
"That witch is going to hex him if Wormtail doesn't do it first," Remus laughed.
"Say, Granger? You want him for the night? He's no trouble, honest," Sirius said.
"I doubt I'd be able to keep him in my flat even if I had somewhere to put him. He'd panic and dash out intent on finding Evans if he ends up in a strange woman's apartment."
"Probably true," Sirius complained. "Bloody git. Ah, bugger they're coming back."
"I should go," Hermione protested, beginning to slide out of the booth.
"Stay," Remus said, reaching for her. "You should celebrate getting a job and a flat. Just ignore James."
Hermione looked back at him, drinking in the sight of him. So young. So alive. So happy.
"Go on," he smiled enticingly when she hesitated. "Just one more drink."
Hermione pressed her lips together to hide her smile.
"Just one," she agreed, feeling a flutter inside her chest at Remus's triumphant grin.
