"Harry, there's an owl at the window," Hermione whined, poking him in the side.

"Grargh." He growled incoherently. "Why doesn't it drop it in the letter box?"

"It's a little early for me to dissect the inner workings of avian psyche, Harry." Hermione groaned. "Go let it in."

"Why me?"

"Aren't you just dying to be the male protector guy?" Yawning and stretching, she rolled over and placed her hand on his chest. "Harry, protect me from the owl noises"

As if on cue, the owl hooted.

"Gah! Fine." Harry pulled back the covers, and stalked to the window. He opened it and pulled the letter off the owl's leg. Quickly, he slammed the window shut and ran back into the bed.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"We need carpeting, that's what it is," Harry exclaimed. "My feet are bloody freezing"

"The letter, Harry!"

"I'm serious," Harry said, holding the letter out of her reach and smirking.

"Harry, you're playing a dangerous game. It's very early and I know innumerable ways to make you cry very loudly."

Harry gave her the letter, but not before she'd crawled on top of him. At the moment, she was sitting on his chest. Much to his delight, moving off of him appeared to be secondary to her interest in reading the letter. Rather unfortunately for Harry, the note was short and Hermione rolled off of him immediately and groaned into her pillow. Harry groaned as well and rolled over onto Hermione's back, covering her and began to nuzzle her neck.

"Mmm..." She murmured, wiggling around a bit until her back cracked. "I knew you were good for something. You're heavy."

"Heavy as in sexy heavy?"

"Heavy as in 'oomph- you're squishing me.'" She lifted her shoulder up an inch until it was pressed firmly against Harry's chest. "Besides, we haven't got time for sexy anything."

"Why not?" He asked as he rolled over and pulled her on top of him. Tilting his head up, he began to pepper kisses up her neck.

"Because that was Glin. She's going to be over to help finish up the little details for this Saturday." Cleverly, Hermione substituted "this Saturday" for the much scarier phrase "our wedding" and "the day after tomorrow."

"Not even a quick-"

"I think there's a rule about that sort of thing," a voice from the bedroom door answered. "I'm sure Miss Manners has written volumes on why not to have sex on the day of your bachelorette party. Although, the two of you are living in sin and all that anyway..."

"Did Miss Manners mention anything about breaking and entering?" Harry said dryly.

"You mean beyond 'keep a credit card in your handbag?'" Glin asked. "I don't know. Besides, if you'd really wanted privacy last night you'd have put up wards like you usually do."

"Give me fifteen minutes," Hermione grumbled.

"I'll give you four and a half. You can get ready in four and you can do what you like with the other thirty seconds."

"Glin-"

"I wouldn't argue if I were you. The clock is ticking. Well, actually, I would argue, but then I don't have your messy little hang-ups about modesty, but that is neither here nor there. Four-fifteen." She recited the remaining time in a sing-song voice.

"She's gotten mean," Harry said, raising his eyebrows as Hermione raced out of bed at lightning speed.

"You'll find out for yourself. You get to tell her about the final line-up decisions while I get ready."

"But-"

Before sprinting into the bathroom Hermione shot him a dirty look. "Harry, she's just a woman. She doesn't have superpowers, hell, I'm sure you could take her in a fight... Probably... That's irrelevant anyway, because she's not a violent person. She's not even terribly emotional."

"Then why don't you tell her?"

"I'm going to be at her mercy for the next twenty hours or so. Four minutes"

"Three-" Chimed in a voice from the hall. "And what is she talking about?"

"Harry'll explain." Hermione looked at him pointedly and said in a whisper, "throw on a pair of pants and go tell her."

Around a minute later, Harry emerged from the bedroom to find Glin sitting on one of the stools that surrounded the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other. A precariously balanced saucer was resting on her knee, and she was sipping a cup of tea. She looked almost harmless.

"Almost" being the operative word.

Lifting one glove-encased hand, she gave him a little wave. "Morning. Best to get the nasty secret out of the way right off the bat."

"Well, Hermione and I were looking at the wedding and we thought it would be best if Sirius stood up for me like a father, because then there'd be an even number of groomsmen and bridesmaids, because Minnie opted to handle the guest book. But then we needed a best man, and Remus said that he'd feel weird doing it, and Ron didn't want to walk with Ginny when Fred and George were walking with their wives and..."

"Who's the best man?" She didn't need to ask. She knew. Somehow, she needed to hear him say it.

"Well, that's what I was getting at-"

"It's Ron, right? I mean, all signs point to Ron. The weird secrecy thing, the last minute telling me, the dreadfully uncomfortable air." She set the teacup and saucer on the counter because both were beginning to shake rather ungracefully on her knee. Her hands went to her lap, finding it was easier to steady them that way. "Harry, it's your wedding. Do what makes you happy."

"Thanks for understanding." He gave her an awkward hug.

"It's not exactly like I have the right to pine over him, anyway." She told him with a shrug, wiping her eye. "Now, stop all of this emotional shit so I can go back to being a heartless bitch. And for Christ's sake, take a damn shower."

Harry disappeared into the bathroom, and Hermione emerged from the bedroom. "It's a good thing I'm a witch, otherwise I wouldn't have had time to do much more than throw on a pair of robes and clean underwear."

"You did more than that and you look like this?" Glin said, her teacup clattering noisily against the saucer. "It's a good thing we're going shopping today."

"Shopping?" By Hermione's estimation everything for the wedding was done. From the caterer to the pre-printed thank you cards and little, paper, drink umbrellas, everything was under control.

"For the bachelorette party. I have a few things to pick up, and we need to buy your outfit."

"Outfit?"

"Right, I didn't give you an invitation. Well, the party is at Hex, and Hex isn't really a boring type of place. Thus our attire has to be..." Glin gave a giggly sort of laugh. "Less than boring. Well, technically more than boring, I suppose. Regardless, it's muggle themed and as the guest of honor, you need to look particularly... special."

"I have muggle clothes Glin. My parents are muggle, and I do have undercover stuff."

"Well, you never wear anything like that in front of me so I generally don't associate you with that sort of thing. Let's go look through your things." Glin slipped down off her stool and pushed the door to the bedroom open.

Hermione trailed behind her calling "Harry, stay in the bathroom, we're coming through! Glin, they're in the closet, second set of doors."

Dramatic as always, Glin sat in the window seat, one leg propped up, the other dangling down onto the floor. "You know them better than I do. Just show me everything and I'll veto."

Six outfits were discarded for being "entirely too nerdy," four for being "grandma-frilly" and one for having "gone out with the Bangles." The remaining pieces were things Hermione usually wore with a black ski mask and plenty of weaponry.

"The normal stuff," as Glin referred to it.

Finally Glin picked a black tank top out of the pile and grimaced. "This is salvageable. The rest... I really don't see how you could be a spy and have such blah spy clothes. You'd think you never went undercover as a biker chick or a slutty nurse."

"I haven't."

Staring at Hermione with a mix of revulsion and horror, a scary revelation came to Glin. "Spies are boring."

"Don't listen to her." Harry walked out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of pajama pants and towel drying his hair. Walking up behind Hermione and wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck. "She's just jealous."

"Of boring spies and married people?" Glin asked in disbelief. "Right."

"We're not married yet," they said in unison.

"That is merely a technicality. Nerds."




When Glin arrived at Hex, she was surprised to see a very nervous-looking Mark. Somehow, she feared that didn't bode well for the ladies night out she'd planned. "What is it?"

"Someone in the booking office did a very bad thing..." Mark bit his lip and winced, expecting her to be angry before she'd even heard about the nature of the problem.

"Don't even try to sugar coat this, Mark. I've got to decorate before the party, and I've got a very important and probably unpleasant appointment in an hour."

"We're double booked," he blurted out, as he began wringing his hands.

Glin's eyes narrowed to slits. "Who? Who did else is booked tonight, Mark?"

"Some Weasley fellow. I don't know him."

The growling noise. She made was highly undignified. "You're going to cut the price in half for him. Put his party upstairs. Charm the place so the two floors are completely isolated. Not a sound gets through or both parties are free, and the booze is gratis as well."

"Glin, baby, be reasonable," he cajoled.

"I'm not feeling fucking reasonable," Glin said, punctuating her words by poking him repeatedly in the chest. "I haven't felt fucking reasonable for a really long time, and I'm really about to snap, so you'll do what I say, when I say, or you'll regret it. Remember why people come to your club, Mark. There are hundreds of places that can pour a good drink, hundreds of places that have good music and moderately beautiful women. The reason your club has enjoyed the modicum of success it has it because regardless of the trouble I have to put up with from certain individuals, I come here, and I tell people that I come here. The bands you get are because of me, the crowd you get is because of me." She grabbed him by his tie and pulled his face close to hers. "The connections you have are because of me. For awhile, certain allowances were made because I consider you a friend. If you choose to piss me off, the allowances will be stopped, and all the privileges that come with being my friend will cease to exist. Somehow, I don't think you want that to happen, do you, Marky?"

This certainly, was not what Mark had expected. He had expected her to be mad. He hadn't expected her to almost strangle him with his tie and threaten to dissolve their business-like relationship. It was as if something inside Glin had broken. She wasn't nice and fun and flighty anymore. Something had happened, and it didn't look like it could be solved with a whiskey sour, so Mark was pretty much at a loss. "Glin-"

She was already walking away though, and the only reply she gave him was a steely glance and the cold words "don't fuck with me, Mark."

She flicked her wand casually, and vanished from sight.







"What am I doing again?" Remus asked nervously.

"Helping me pick out an outfit. It's what boyfriends do," Tracy said, popping out of the bathroom, and very nearly popping out of the deep v-neck cut in the emerald green dress she was wearing.

"Umm..."

"Right. I'd have to shave my legs. Pants it is." She disappeared into the bathroom again. Remus wondered if his mouth could get any drier and...

"Oh my..." Remus may very possibly have swallowed his Adam's apple from the way his throat was convulsively contracting. "Tracy... I... um... wow..."

"I guess this is it," Tracy said, rather nonchalantly for a woman wearing a vinyl jump suit. Particularly when she was primping in said body suit, which, incidentally, left practically nothing to the imagination. "Normally, this wouldn't be party-appropriate, but I think with the proper accessorization, Glin will appreciate my taste."

Remus stared at her blankly. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. Bending, she rummaged for something in the satchel she'd dropped on the floor earlier. Soon, it became dreadfully (or wonderfully, depending upon your take on the situation) apparent that the silver zipper running down the front of Tracy's suit was for functional purposes rather than just decoration. Each new bend of Tracy's body gave the zipper the opportunity to slide just a little lower, revealing just a hint more of tantalizing, creamy skin. Lower and lower and...

Remus made a whining sound in the back of his throat.

Startled, Tracy looked up with eyes that were genuinely innocent for once. "Remus?"

"Zipper-" He managed to choke out.

Tracy looked down and rolled her eyes and then zipped it up to her neck. "Better?"

He nodded, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. "It's a little close to the full moon. Sorry."

"Remus, we've been dating almost a month. We could get down to the wild monkey sex fairly soon without tarnishing our reputations."

"Tracy, I just think-"


"Okay." She said abruptly. "No crazy monkey sex. How about crazy monkey kissing? I'll set my watch to stop us in five minutes."

And then she was on him. Her smooth, long fingers running restlessly up and down his arms, her lips devouring his and he knew they shouldn't . It'd be much too hard to pull away, especially with Tracy on his lap and his hands positively itching to ease that zipper down. It'd just take a tug, really, and then no stupid, little stopwatch would distract them. They had to stop, and he was going to push her away, he really was, but then she put her hands on his shirt lapels and tugged and oh, Merlin, they deserved this. They'd been so good, practically chaste, and this was so fucking good... And then... the beep.

Tracy stopped, panting, her hot breath warming his neck. "Oh Goddess, Remus, we'd better do this sex thing before we explode from the tension. After we're both done with the cycling thing for the month, I'm jumping you, whether you still have reservations or not."

"I need a cold shower," he breathed heavily. "Bloody Hell, I could throw myself into the channel and I'd still be overheated."

"Let's think of something non-sexy. Accessories. Do you have a silver chain?"

"Necklace or restraint?"

"Either," she said curiously.

"Both."

"Kinky." She couldn't help arching an eyebrow and running her hand along his hip. Evidently, she wasn't the only one lacking self-control, as Remus arched up into her touch, biting back a moan.

"Sorry," they said in chorus.

"There's a wooden box at the top of my closet. It has some stuff you can use." Remus kept his eyes closed. "I'll be in the shower."

Tracy climbed off him and trotted dutifully into his bedroom.

When he emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Tracy had apparently had the presence of mind to cover herself up. Unsettling as it was, covering up the costume with one of his weathered old t-shirts hadn't really solved the problem. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed and she was lovely. The box was open in front of her, and she was picking through it gently with one hand, her other brushing a fallen strand of hair out of her face. She looked up at him and smiled softly before patting the bed next to her.

"Come tell me about this stuff."

He obliged, even though he knew he shouldn't be doing this, getting this close to her. It was just... she looked at him so tenderly and he knew that this was one of those moments where couples were supposed to bond.

"Whose rings?" She asked, her small for once.

"Oh," he said. The rings. He'd forgotten they were there. "I had them made for me and a...friend when we graduated from Hogwarts."

"Why do you have both?"

Remus looked at the rings in the box rather than at Tracy. "It's not really all that interesting. I didn't tell her as soon as I should have and it ended poorly."

"There's more, but I'm not gonna dig." Wrapping her arm around his waist, she hugged him gently, then laid her head on his shoulder. "Some people are stupid. Her loss. What do the little symbols mean?"

"Runes." He took the larger ring from her and rotated it so she could see it better. "The one that looks like an 'x' is 'Gebo- it means gift. The upside down 'u' is Uruz. Passion. The 'p' is Wunjo, it means joy. The two bent lines are Jera, or 'reward.' 'S' is Sowulo, which means success. "B"- Berkana, new beginnings. The sort of 'm' is Mannaz, or family, and the last is Inguz, which means bounty. I kept them because I thought they were kind of a nice thought, if not for that particular person."

"They're beautiful," Tracy said, smiling up at him sadly. "How come all the good boys are emotionally scarred or gay?"

"I'm not emotionally scarred," Remus protested. "At least not by that. And not really all that much in general. It's not like I kept them in this box, pulling them out every once and awhile to pine over her. We were exclusive for a few months, and she wasn't who I thought she was, and I was disappointed. I kept them because they're pretty and I thought maybe someday I'd give one to someone else. That's all, no great love affair and tragic ending. Hasn't that ever happened to you?"

"Yes. His name was Lawrence Jenson, and I was madly in love with him. He told me he'd always love me, and I gave him my chocolate pudding. We went steady for three weeks before he kissed Miranda Jenkins behind the cubby holes and I had to dump him in front of the whole class. It was harrowing." She sighed dramatically.

"Chocolate pudding? Cubby holes?"

"Third Grade, Miss Markham's class," Tracy said. "I guess I'm not just the melodramatic love affair kind of gal."

"Be that as it may. There's a small silver chain in there, I think." He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a thin silver necklace. "Here. If you put the smaller ring on it, it'll look nice, like a pendant."

"Remus, don't..."

He was already slipping the chain around her neck, though. "I'm not giving it to you, Tracy. Think of it as a loan."

"This is getting all sappy." She said, almost grumpy, before abruptly changing the subject though. "What're the bigger chain and padlock for? Locking up some dangerous magical artifact?"

"Only me, I'm afraid. They're silver plated. Quite handy before the Wolfsbane potion came about. It's actually a choke chain. You clip one end to a hook on the wall, and the other slips around. A bit longer than usual, so that when I shifted it wouldn't actually choke me." It was his voice that was quiet now, as if softening the words softened the memories.

Tracy kissed his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry they locked you up, Remus."

"Not me. The wolf."

She took his face in her hands and looked at him soberly. "You can't pull that alter-ego bullshit on me. You know as well as I do that the wolf is very rarely fully in control. You're always there, even if just a little." He turned his head awkwardly and looked away. She let go. "It isn't anything to be ashamed of. Wolf-you just wants to do what wolves do. Run around, eat when you're hungry, be safe. Everyone has a little bit of animal instinct, why should anyone blame you for yours physically manifesting itself?"

"This isn't just a self-perception problem, Tracy. The world hates who I am."

"The world hates lots of things, Remus. The world is kind of shitty at times, which is why the world doesn't matter. People do. I like you, and I'm self-centered enough to think that should be enough."

"Sometimes it is," he admitted. They sat in silence for awhile before Remus spoke again. "The choke chain would probably make a reasonably attractive belt for that get-up."