A/N:

After looking at all of the Comments for the last two chapters, I think it would be easier for me to sum up and answer a few question, else I'll have about three pages of answers and that's just silly.

First, thank you for taking the time to continue reading the story and comment. It's what keeps me writing so fast.

Second, sorry for the lack of additional postings, as is my habit, over the last two days. These have probably been the worst two days in quite a long time and it is rough writing when I am depressed and angry. But the story must go on.

Before I get into a few things I want to sent this personal note out to 'Sezlij' --- "QUIT READING THE FREAKING STORY IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE WAY I WRITE! And for god's sake don't comment anymore I will just ignore them in the future. Arrogant prick!"

To all the rest of you, sorry for my outburst. Some people have no class whatsoever.

Okay, this chapter and the next should explain a few things that people have been asking constant questions about and complaining about since about chapter 3. If you can't figure it out in this chapter then wait for the next.

I was going to go into more but Sezlij has just sucked the joy out of anything further I had to say.

Read on. That is if you think that my ideas aren't stupid and I have no character development and basically can't write.

Chapter 35

The Ministry car pulled up Gerrard Street at the intersection of Newport Place in Soho. Lupin looked at the address for the fourth time.

"It's a pub," he said plainly.

"Check out the address exact, Remus, " urged Applegate. "Wouldn't happen to be an A would there?"

Lupin nodded and looked above the pub to the second story.

"He's upstairs." His brow furrowed. "Odd place to have a tailoring shop."

"The salesperson did say he was just starting out," reassured Hermione.

Applegate opened the car door, "I'll go make sure it's on the up and up."

They watched as he trotted upstairs and rang the bell which was quickly answered by a scruffy looking young man in a gray bathrobe.

They both stepped in and after a moment Applegate reappeared and waved them up.

*********************

"Diane, said a couple might be by. Rich as all get out, she said. Don't look rich to me." The man scowled at their clothes with obvious distaste.

Hermione bristled, "Can you help us or not?"

He sniffed and looked around, "Depends ... can you pay in cash?"

"Look, I assure you that we can ..."

The man raised his hands and made padding motions to quiet Hermione down. "Jus' been having a little trouble with the revenuers is all."

Lupin leaned in to Harry's ear, "Who says revenuers?"

Harry ignored him and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw a thick roll of muggle money. The man's eyes lit up.

"Blimey!"

He rushed to his bedroom, throwing off his bathrobe along the way. "What kind of occasion is it you say?"

"A wedding," called Hermione.

They heard a loud racket of items either falling or being thrown around the bedroom. "Not looking for traditional stuff I gather?"

"Not really, no."

"Here it is!" they heard his voice call.

He rushed back out. "Sit, sit, wherever you can find a seat. Sorry about the mess. Struggling artist and all."

He was hauling a very thick album and set it on the coffee table in front of his frayed beige colored loveseat. "Have an eye at these."

Terry, the tailor, as he came to be known later flipped to about a third of the way into the album and stopped, spreading the pages smooth for Hermione who was standing as not to get anything on her clothes that might be living on the loveseat's upholstery.

"Oh! That's nice," she cooed and sat slowly without thinking.

Harry found a relatively clean barstool, witch he had an odd feeling had been lifted from the pub downstairs since it bore the logo of the pub on the backside, and sat.

After only fifteen minutes of ahh's and un-huh's Harry almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Hermione shriek, "Oh! This one! This one! Most definitely! What type of fabrics do you have?"

Time ticked away as they discussed fabrics, colors, location setting, and number of guests, but eventually things started to wind down. Sweet anxiety slipped away as he felt confident that their shopping day was coming to an end.

"When?" Terry also shrieked in a most unmanly manner.

He drummed his fingers on his lips nervously, "Six weeks? Six weeks? Six weeks ..." Then he nodded. "I'll have to bring in a couple of other people -- maybe four, and I'll need the rest of your party's measurements as soon as possible. I'll take yours and the misters now."

Harry thumbed at Lupin, "And his. He's one of the groomsmen."

Lupin looked a bit startled, "I am?"

Harry nodded, "If I have to be in this wedding so do you."

Lupin smirked and nodded, "Proud to, Harry."

************************

They settled on a price and Lupin's insisted that Harry only give a down payment for materials and supplies, and regular payment at certain stages. "I'm sure you understand, since this is not proper place of business."

Terry the tailor nodded reluctantly, but Harry slipped him an additional £ 150 if for no other reason than ending the pursuit of clothing that would be worn for only one day and then will probably hang in a closet for the rest of his life.

Once they had detoured to a empty street a the loud bang of the Ministry car signaled their return trip to Hogsmeade. Hermione was glowing with happiness at her choices and Harry could tell she was busy plotting the owl she was going to send to her mother that evening with details of their day and requests to be involved in other aspects of the wedding.

She took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. He could see the thanks in the sparkling of her eyes and he knew at once, all the searching and endless hours of trying on suit-coat after suit-coat had bee worth the look she was giving him. He dipped his head down for a brief taste of her lips as she squeezed his hand harder, emoting her thanks.

*********************

Lupin escorted them through the gates of Hogwarts and up to the main doors. "You two get some rest. You have a day's worth of training to make up for tomorrow."

"Good night, Remus. Thank you for everything," said Harry.

He nodded back, "It's was a pleasure to spend the day with both of you. It brought back good memories."

They watched as he disappeared back down the pathway into the night.

Hermione squeezed his hand once more and turned into him for a hug. Harry brushed his face through her hair and breathed deep taking the scent of her into his lungs. He stiffened ... in more ways than one.

"Harry?" she asked feeling her fiancé trying to pull certain parts of his body away from hers.

"Sorry," he said as they separated.

Hermione smiled coyly, "Harry, it's all right. I do understand about the functions and uncontrollable reactions of the human body. I did take a course in my last year of Muggle school. And I've been studying several books on the subject."

She closed in and slid her hands into the underside of his jacket, running them up his chest. "I know a number of ways to," she looked downward and smiled, "ease your discomfort."

He wanted nothing better than to forget the last few moments ever existed. "Maybe we should be going to bed?"

She jumped and clapped her hands, "Oh, Harry, I thought you'd never ask."

He knew that wasn't what he meant and shook his head trying in vain to clear his thoughts and the sudden cloud of haze that was trying to make him forget his promise to Mrs. Granger. "I ... "

She took his hand and pulled him toward Gryffindor tower and their rooms. "You better take your coat off and cover things up, or everyone is going to know what we'll be doing."

He nodded and stopped in one of the many shadows along the way to do just that. He slung his coat over his arm and hung it nonchalantly in front of certain tented areas.

Harry's head started to feel light as he heard Hermione whisper the password to their private rooms. The strange part was that he didn't remember even passing through the portrait hole guarded by the Fat Lady.

She batted the coat from his hands and grasped him through his suddenly tight jeans. Harry's breath caught and before he had a chance to utter any sort of resistance his fiancé's mouth was on his and the only feeling he had left in his body was being massaged roughly.

Their lips broke apart and they both gasped.

"Harry, I need you." she breathed. "I can't wait until the wedding night."

He nodded robotically, and steered her to the bed. Hermione's hands worked feverishly on the buttons of his shirt, snapping one in her haste.

"Too many clothes," she moaned as his undershirt came into view.

He reached down and pulled it over his head letting it fall from his grasp when her mouth fell onto his chest and her cool hands found purchase on his ribs, pulling him closer.

His mind had gone delirious as he felt her lips travel downward and her hands working on his belt and soon thereafter the button and zipper of his jeans. Somewhere in the muffled haze of his hearing he heard a gasp and felt a the cold night air on all of his body parts.

"Oh, Phineas, it's been so long."

The name escaped his mouth before he realized what he was saying, "Carpathia ..." Then his vision clears and his mind becomes sharp once more. "Hermione!"

Harry pulled back and fell to the floor since he didn't remember that he had his jeans around his ankles. Hermione seemed to be in the same straights, except she was fully clothed and covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Harry ... what have I done?"

She looked down at his obvious arousal and turned away as fast as she could. Her face was burning furiouslyas Harry scrambled to preserve his nonexistent dignity and pulled his jeans up.

"It's this ring!" she said in frustration. "It's this stupid, magical, ring! It's possessing us!"

He agreed. "Hermione, it's not your fault."

He got up and retrieved his shirt, wondering how half the buttons were missing, then set it aside. Hermione had her face in her hands, on the verge of tears when she felt the hands of her husband-to-be on her shoulders, then she jerked away in fear.

"What?" asked Harry like he had done something wrong.

She turned around and her eyes almost told the story. "Harry, I can't touch you. It hurts inside."

He kind of understood. He wanted Hermione in the worst way, but it was something he felt he could push down inside of him.

"I know, Harry. I know what it feels like to have you ... all of you ... and it hurts not to have you there. Every time we touch I can feel something missing from me and I want it back inside."

He inched closer and she took a big step back.

"She's in my head, Harry! Making me do things I don't want ... well that's not exactly true, but she's making me, Aarrggh." Hermione growled in frustration.

Harry set a resolved look on his face, "We're going to see Dumbledore."

Her hands went to her mouth again. "We can't tell him what I ..."

He stopped in his turn to the closet. "I can be discreet, Hermione. He doesn't need details."

She shook her head, "Of course, what am I thinking?"

Harry grabbed a shirt and started to put it on. "Look, lets think of something else. How about ... um ... "

"What?"

He shrugged, "Well it worked for me a couple of days ago when ..." he shook his head. "Just think of this scene: Snape and Umbridge in swimwear at the beach, snogging."

"Harry, that's awful!"

"Exactly."

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh, good idea. Eewwwww."

He grabbed Sirius' winter cloak and threw it around his shoulders, "Come on."