keelywolfe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keelywolfe) wrote2005-12-05 12:14 pm
keelywolfe) wrote2005-12-05 12:14 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Seven
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Seven
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Chapter 27
~~*~~
In Which the Ministry deals with a Problem; windows are contemplated; and there is a long awaited discussion.
~~*~~
In the end, it was a disaster of generous proportions even for the Ministry of Magic, who had once endured for the better part of a year a Minister who had spent a great portion of his time hiding beneath the desks of the young lady clerks whom he’d fancied.
A prominent Auror captured and brutalized by a Death Eater who’d been supposed dead for some years now, an issue with faulty Intel, and two civilians had gotten involved enough to not only rescue the Auror but also killed his captor. (If one could call Harry Potter a civilian and stopping a dark wizard who’d sold his life for power a death but thinking of the matter that way only made the paperwork unnecessarily complicated.)
As it was, the civilians in question had called the assistant of the Minister of Magic, who had located them at a warehouse once belonging to the Malfoy family. (It was noted in the paperwork that it did, in fact, belong to the Ministry now as it has been seized as payment for war crimes. It was now used for storage.)
The warehouse was located a short distance from Hogsmeade (and it was also worth noting that the civilians had not taken that information well, one of them muttering that after all the effort they'd gone through to find him, he'd been barely ten kilometres away.)
In only a few hours, the Ministry had cleared away the evidence of any crime against magical persons, had performed an inquiry of the civilians in question and had decided that memory charms would not be necessary providing that none of this information was shared with unknowing persons. The Department of Dark Magics and the Department of Magical Removal remained slightly longer than the Aurors themselves, (with the exception of the Auror who had been involved in the incident as he had been transported to Hogwarts to make use of their hospital facilities.) By that afternoon, they had finished as well and the warehouse was once again darkened and still, without even footprints disturbing the layers of dust.
Ron wasn't there for any of it. When he finally woke again, he found he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, alone.
It was surprisingly difficult to sit up but he managed, finding that warm sunshine was already streaming in the windows, filling the room to the brim with light. A ginger investigation of his face with his fingertips told him that most of his injuries were already healed, although a few of the deeper cuts were still sore. Ron assumed that his body had been magically healed past the point of being able to accept it and sank back into the blankets with his head on the pillow. Might be here a couple of days then, he mused, feeling oddly blank and more than a bit tired.
Madame Pomfrey appeared before he could drift back to sleep, and in the cruel approach of healers everywhere, forced Ron to gag down a few hideously flavoured potions before she would let him rest.
Her tight pinched expression warned him away from asking any questions, but there was one he couldn’t keep from croaking out, his throat surprisingly sore.
"Where’s Harry?"
For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Her lips vanished into a pinched white line as she brusquely tucked the blankets around Ron’s feet and legs. "Professor Potter is speaking with the Ministry, no doubt explaining why I had to come in at the wee hours of the morning and perform several highly advanced healing charms to keep you from bleeding to death on the carpets. The House Elves have already had to clean the spots three times."
"But he’s all right?" Ron persisted, breaking into a pained cough. He accepted the glass of water that she conjured for him gratefully but pleaded with his eyes over with rim of the glass. He had to know he’d done some good, that Harry was alive and perfectly well.
"Do you see him lying on a cot next to you?" Pomfrey said sharply. Her tone and glare would have served the school’s Potion Master well, and it left no imaging as to what she thought of fool Aurors who nearly got themselves killed in the middle of the night.
The burst of relief in his chest was so strong that it evaporated whatever willpower was holding the potions at bay. Ron let his head fall back on the pillow, hardly noticing the firm jabs of Pomfrey tucking the blankets around his shoulders.
Next time he nearly died, he’d make sure it was in the afternoon, Ron decided sleepily. And that Harry Potter was far, far away. That one he was counting on.
~*~
It was nearly two days later when Madame Pomfrey announced he was well enough for visitors. But only briefly, she’d told him with a harsh scowl and Ron had nodded obediently from his chair near the window where she had firmly sat him.
Honestly, he could have gone a few more days, or a month, without the visitors he was expecting. Hermione might be the first but he wasn’t hoping for that. A better chance it’d be an inquiry board checking on how many mistakes he’d made since coming here but perhaps Pomfrey would hold them at bay for a little while more.
That made it all the more surprising when he saw just whom his first visitor was. Severus Snape, sweeping into the room with the same flare of robes and expression that struck fear into his students when he entered his classroom. He looked much the same as he always had, bitingly dark eyes and a sneer lurking on his face, waiting to be needed. But there was no mistaking the soft shine to his forehead, indicating newly healed skin, and he was walking with a very slight limp.
Ron turned away and looked out the window. From this vantage, he could see the lake, the last vestiges of ice floating on it like little white-capped islands. He could hear Snape behind him, the faint rustles of his robe.
"I’d ask how you were feeling but inane politeness has never been a strength of mine."
"I’ve noticed. Heard the two of you had to face an inquiry," Ron said dully, not looking from the window.
"Yes. Sadly, neither Potter nor myself remembered much of the incident," Snape replied smoothly. He moved around to small table near the window, inspecting the untouched breakfast tray that Pomfrey had left for Ron. "It was quite an ordeal, as I'm sure you're well aware."
"Yeah, it's a shame my memory seems better than yours," he muttered. "Where is Harry?"
Snape turned to face him, annoyance flickering into his eyes. "I suppose it’s a bit much to expect it this late in my life, but just once, when I’ve risked my life to save someone's arse, I'd like them to be grateful for it."
"I suppose I might, if I weren’t still in shock about it," Ron said. "I thought you hated me."
Snape’s mouth twisted into nothing like a smile. "Oh, I do. I doubt I could express my hatred with mere words. But I've also come to realize that you aren't half-useless between the sheets and it's enough to keep me from letting anyone else kill you. So far."
He settled himself in the chair nearest the window, prissily smoothing his robes over his knees. "Potter is waiting his turn. A little reminder of my assistance a few evenings past was enough for him to agree to allow me in first. Normally, I wouldn't dream of coming between you and your dear Mr. Potter." He ignored Ron's snort. "However, I have a few things to speak about with you and I'm afraid it can't wait.
"Firstly, since I doubt you’ve heard much at all from our resident healer, I suppose I could give you a few small details that came out during the investigation." He didn’t seem to notice the way Ron’s hands tightened into the folds of his lap quilt. "I would seem that instead of killing himself after the death of his son, as we had assumed, Lucius Malfoy had managed to sacrifice most of his humanity to some exceedingly Dark Magics. Made a poor job of it as well; you may have noticed he was hardly in the peak of health."
A soft noise caught in Ron’s throat and he swallowed it back. Snape ignored it and went on. "According to Miss Granger, he must have spent a great deal of time and effort circulating rumors about the Death Eaters coming for Potter. It would seem he guessed, rightly so, that it was the only thing that would get you back to Britain where he might stand a chance of catching you off-guard."
"He did at that," Ron murmured listlessly, unable to inject even bitterness into his voice.
"Hm," was Snape’s only reply. He folded his hands in his lap almost sedately. "You look quite strange with your hair so short."
It startled a laugh out of Ron. He reached up and ran a hand over the velvety stubble that Pomfrey had trimmed his hair down to. "Madame Pomfrey offered to grow it back for me but I feel a little like never letting someone put a spell on me again."
"Quite. Well, as thrilling as this chat has been, I do have classwork to attend to." Snape stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his robe. He paused, half-turned towards the door before adding, "Before I go, I do have one question for you."
He lifted one hand and Ron saw a familiar silvery oval between two of his fingers. His stomach fell down to the floor and Ron looked away from the coolness in Snape’s eyes. His frightful calm was rapidly receding and the panic that was taking it’s place was hardly a welcome change.
"I’m sure you can only imagine my surprise that night when Potter showed me an Eyesou mirror." Snape said between gritted teeth. "Where did you get this? I can’t imagine you were able to charm it yourself."
"I nipped it off someone a few years back," Ron admitted softly.
"Indeed?" A hand slipped beneath Ron’s chin and forced him to look up at Snape’s face. He met the glittering black eyes dully, not even trying to twist away. "You’re aware that these are quite illegal. You could be stripped of your title, even end up in Azkaban with all the others you sent there."
"I know."
There was a long moment of silence. Slowly, Snape drew his hand from Ron’s face, though Ron didn’t look away from his impassive expression.
"Well, then. It would seem that you don’t need this anymore." Snape dropped it on the floor and Ron closed his eyes against the sharp crack of splintered glass.
Bitter laughter welled in his lungs, choking its way out of him in a pained burst. "I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Seems like no matter what I do, I can’t protect him." He looked back out the window. "Certainly can't now."
Snape said nothing, merely gave an impatient wave of his wand to the floor. The glass vanished and Snape tucked his wand back in his robes, turning back to the tray on the table. He poured a small glass of juice and held it out to Ron, who took it absentmindedly, holding the cool glass between his palms.
"I really made a muck of things, didn't I," Ron whispered, watched water drip down the window from slowly melting icicles.
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that. That was how we found you, you know."
"What?"
Snape jerked his chin towards the floor. "The mirror, you twit. We used the mirror."
Horror filled him. "You mean, you saw—"
"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous!" Snape snapped. His mouth twisted and he looked rather like he'd had a taste of a particularly sour lemon. "Potter did."
"That's not funny."
"And you know quite well that I'm not in the habit of making jokes. He looked in the mirror and saw you," Snape told him, venom dripping from every word like the snake Slytherins took to represent them. "I could hardly lie about it; all you need to do is ask him."
Ron looked away first, back out the window. There were specks of black moving across the yard, students in their uniforms. He hadn’t realized that it was the weekend already and it made him tired to wonder at how many days he’d lost. "Even if that is true, it doesn’t explain how you found me."
"Once you find a path, you have only to place your boots upon it."
Ron stared at him, uncomprehending. With an impatient sigh, Snape clarified. "We stepped through."
The first curl of real emotion he’d felt in days coiled into his stomach like a lump of nausea. "You're telling me you did a mirror walkthrough?" He shook his head. "I don’t believe it. You couldn't've done it."
"Not alone," he agreed, "But with Potter helping an incompetent like Longbottom probably could have managed."
"That's impossible; even with Harry, two wizards alone couldn't have done it unless you had a catalyst." Dawning horror only increased his nausea and he remembered how Snape and Harry had looked at the warehouse, hoped dimly that Pomfrey kept her basins close by. "You're mental!" Ron managed to whisper. "You're lucky it didn't kill Harry! Or you!"
"Yes, thank you for adding me in then," Snape said sardonically. "As it is, the only result, aside from taking us to you, was a few bruises and the destruction of a perfectly decent set of clothes. With that, I do believe I've paid back the favor I owed you, thrice over."
"Yes, you did." He gave a tired laugh, wincing at how pathetic it sounded. "Who did you see then, in the mirror?"
Snape never so much as flinched. "What mirror would that be?"
Suddenly, he didn’t want Snape to leave. He knew what was coming next or rather, who, and Ron was torn between the urge to grab Harry and shake him and demand he never do anything as foolish as that again, and the horrid, desperate need to run so far away Harry would never be able to find him.
But he’d already done that once.
"I don’t know what to say to him," Ron said aloud, hating the misery in his voice and that it was Snape hearing it.
Snape stiffened visibly. "If you're seeking a confidant, do let me send Dumbledore in here. I believe he rather enjoys it."
Ron said nothing, only let his eyes drift down to his lap. He fiddled with a frayed thread on the soft quilt over his legs, tracing the star pattern with a fingertip.
Snape made a rude sound and flung himself back in his chair. "Far be it from me to offer you advice, but perhaps you might consider the truth? It seems to me that a great deal of the problems in Mr. Potter's life, aside from poor genes, stem from the plain and simple fact that no one seems to be able to tell him the things he truly needs to know."
"I can’t. I have an oath--"
"Piss on your bloody oath, Weasley," Snape said, his gaze brutally direct. "You wanted to know what to do and I told you. It's been some five years now, don't you think you should let it go?"
"Like you do, right? Never held on to a grudge yourself, have you, Snape?"
"It's Severus; don't compound your sins with stupidity. And I’m sure that the infamous Mr. Potter is capable of keeping yet another secret." Snape looked rather like he felt as sick as Ron did and he shook himself visibly, clearing his throat. "I believe we’ve said everything that needs saying. Let’s see if we can’t keep to our bargain of seeing each other as little as possible from now on, shall we?"
He stood again, the line of his shoulders ruler-straight and stupid as it was, Ron couldn’t help saying, "You know, if…if I could have, I…"
Snape cut him off with a sharp look. "Don’t."
"I would have stayed, if I could," Ron said, simply, and the banked anger that always seemed just at the edges of Snape’s eyes flared to life. In two steps, Snape covered the floor between them and yanked Ron from the chair, smothering his mouth with his own.
The glass in his hands fell from his nerveless fingers and neither of them looked as it shattered on the floor. Ron simple hung in Snape’s fierce grip and let his mouth be devoured, not even wincing as Snape’s teeth dug in his lower lip.
Long moments later, Snape pulled away, his breath an uneven rasp that matched Ron’s. Whatever had been in his eyes before was shuttered away now, closed behind blackness. He set Ron back in the chair, even going so far as to pick up his quilt and tuck it back around his legs.
Snape didn’t look at him again, busying himself with again cleaning broken glass from the floor. "I believe we are even now, Mr. Weasley. Ron," Snape corrected himself, softly.
"I thought you wanted me to sleep with you," Ron said, with a watery chuckle.
Snape’s answering smile was arctic cold but it was a smile. "Call it a discount. You saw how well I protected Potter." With a soft whoosh of his robes, he turned towards the doors, hesitating long enough to call back, "When you’re feeling up to it, you might consider growing your hair back. It looks horrid."
The door shut behind him with a soft click and Ron went back to contemplating the window, letting his thoughts drift amongst the nothingness.
*
end chapter 27
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Chapter 27
~~*~~
In Which the Ministry deals with a Problem; windows are contemplated; and there is a long awaited discussion.
~~*~~
In the end, it was a disaster of generous proportions even for the Ministry of Magic, who had once endured for the better part of a year a Minister who had spent a great portion of his time hiding beneath the desks of the young lady clerks whom he’d fancied.
A prominent Auror captured and brutalized by a Death Eater who’d been supposed dead for some years now, an issue with faulty Intel, and two civilians had gotten involved enough to not only rescue the Auror but also killed his captor. (If one could call Harry Potter a civilian and stopping a dark wizard who’d sold his life for power a death but thinking of the matter that way only made the paperwork unnecessarily complicated.)
As it was, the civilians in question had called the assistant of the Minister of Magic, who had located them at a warehouse once belonging to the Malfoy family. (It was noted in the paperwork that it did, in fact, belong to the Ministry now as it has been seized as payment for war crimes. It was now used for storage.)
The warehouse was located a short distance from Hogsmeade (and it was also worth noting that the civilians had not taken that information well, one of them muttering that after all the effort they'd gone through to find him, he'd been barely ten kilometres away.)
In only a few hours, the Ministry had cleared away the evidence of any crime against magical persons, had performed an inquiry of the civilians in question and had decided that memory charms would not be necessary providing that none of this information was shared with unknowing persons. The Department of Dark Magics and the Department of Magical Removal remained slightly longer than the Aurors themselves, (with the exception of the Auror who had been involved in the incident as he had been transported to Hogwarts to make use of their hospital facilities.) By that afternoon, they had finished as well and the warehouse was once again darkened and still, without even footprints disturbing the layers of dust.
Ron wasn't there for any of it. When he finally woke again, he found he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, alone.
It was surprisingly difficult to sit up but he managed, finding that warm sunshine was already streaming in the windows, filling the room to the brim with light. A ginger investigation of his face with his fingertips told him that most of his injuries were already healed, although a few of the deeper cuts were still sore. Ron assumed that his body had been magically healed past the point of being able to accept it and sank back into the blankets with his head on the pillow. Might be here a couple of days then, he mused, feeling oddly blank and more than a bit tired.
Madame Pomfrey appeared before he could drift back to sleep, and in the cruel approach of healers everywhere, forced Ron to gag down a few hideously flavoured potions before she would let him rest.
Her tight pinched expression warned him away from asking any questions, but there was one he couldn’t keep from croaking out, his throat surprisingly sore.
"Where’s Harry?"
For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Her lips vanished into a pinched white line as she brusquely tucked the blankets around Ron’s feet and legs. "Professor Potter is speaking with the Ministry, no doubt explaining why I had to come in at the wee hours of the morning and perform several highly advanced healing charms to keep you from bleeding to death on the carpets. The House Elves have already had to clean the spots three times."
"But he’s all right?" Ron persisted, breaking into a pained cough. He accepted the glass of water that she conjured for him gratefully but pleaded with his eyes over with rim of the glass. He had to know he’d done some good, that Harry was alive and perfectly well.
"Do you see him lying on a cot next to you?" Pomfrey said sharply. Her tone and glare would have served the school’s Potion Master well, and it left no imaging as to what she thought of fool Aurors who nearly got themselves killed in the middle of the night.
The burst of relief in his chest was so strong that it evaporated whatever willpower was holding the potions at bay. Ron let his head fall back on the pillow, hardly noticing the firm jabs of Pomfrey tucking the blankets around his shoulders.
Next time he nearly died, he’d make sure it was in the afternoon, Ron decided sleepily. And that Harry Potter was far, far away. That one he was counting on.
~*~
It was nearly two days later when Madame Pomfrey announced he was well enough for visitors. But only briefly, she’d told him with a harsh scowl and Ron had nodded obediently from his chair near the window where she had firmly sat him.
Honestly, he could have gone a few more days, or a month, without the visitors he was expecting. Hermione might be the first but he wasn’t hoping for that. A better chance it’d be an inquiry board checking on how many mistakes he’d made since coming here but perhaps Pomfrey would hold them at bay for a little while more.
That made it all the more surprising when he saw just whom his first visitor was. Severus Snape, sweeping into the room with the same flare of robes and expression that struck fear into his students when he entered his classroom. He looked much the same as he always had, bitingly dark eyes and a sneer lurking on his face, waiting to be needed. But there was no mistaking the soft shine to his forehead, indicating newly healed skin, and he was walking with a very slight limp.
Ron turned away and looked out the window. From this vantage, he could see the lake, the last vestiges of ice floating on it like little white-capped islands. He could hear Snape behind him, the faint rustles of his robe.
"I’d ask how you were feeling but inane politeness has never been a strength of mine."
"I’ve noticed. Heard the two of you had to face an inquiry," Ron said dully, not looking from the window.
"Yes. Sadly, neither Potter nor myself remembered much of the incident," Snape replied smoothly. He moved around to small table near the window, inspecting the untouched breakfast tray that Pomfrey had left for Ron. "It was quite an ordeal, as I'm sure you're well aware."
"Yeah, it's a shame my memory seems better than yours," he muttered. "Where is Harry?"
Snape turned to face him, annoyance flickering into his eyes. "I suppose it’s a bit much to expect it this late in my life, but just once, when I’ve risked my life to save someone's arse, I'd like them to be grateful for it."
"I suppose I might, if I weren’t still in shock about it," Ron said. "I thought you hated me."
Snape’s mouth twisted into nothing like a smile. "Oh, I do. I doubt I could express my hatred with mere words. But I've also come to realize that you aren't half-useless between the sheets and it's enough to keep me from letting anyone else kill you. So far."
He settled himself in the chair nearest the window, prissily smoothing his robes over his knees. "Potter is waiting his turn. A little reminder of my assistance a few evenings past was enough for him to agree to allow me in first. Normally, I wouldn't dream of coming between you and your dear Mr. Potter." He ignored Ron's snort. "However, I have a few things to speak about with you and I'm afraid it can't wait.
"Firstly, since I doubt you’ve heard much at all from our resident healer, I suppose I could give you a few small details that came out during the investigation." He didn’t seem to notice the way Ron’s hands tightened into the folds of his lap quilt. "I would seem that instead of killing himself after the death of his son, as we had assumed, Lucius Malfoy had managed to sacrifice most of his humanity to some exceedingly Dark Magics. Made a poor job of it as well; you may have noticed he was hardly in the peak of health."
A soft noise caught in Ron’s throat and he swallowed it back. Snape ignored it and went on. "According to Miss Granger, he must have spent a great deal of time and effort circulating rumors about the Death Eaters coming for Potter. It would seem he guessed, rightly so, that it was the only thing that would get you back to Britain where he might stand a chance of catching you off-guard."
"He did at that," Ron murmured listlessly, unable to inject even bitterness into his voice.
"Hm," was Snape’s only reply. He folded his hands in his lap almost sedately. "You look quite strange with your hair so short."
It startled a laugh out of Ron. He reached up and ran a hand over the velvety stubble that Pomfrey had trimmed his hair down to. "Madame Pomfrey offered to grow it back for me but I feel a little like never letting someone put a spell on me again."
"Quite. Well, as thrilling as this chat has been, I do have classwork to attend to." Snape stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his robe. He paused, half-turned towards the door before adding, "Before I go, I do have one question for you."
He lifted one hand and Ron saw a familiar silvery oval between two of his fingers. His stomach fell down to the floor and Ron looked away from the coolness in Snape’s eyes. His frightful calm was rapidly receding and the panic that was taking it’s place was hardly a welcome change.
"I’m sure you can only imagine my surprise that night when Potter showed me an Eyesou mirror." Snape said between gritted teeth. "Where did you get this? I can’t imagine you were able to charm it yourself."
"I nipped it off someone a few years back," Ron admitted softly.
"Indeed?" A hand slipped beneath Ron’s chin and forced him to look up at Snape’s face. He met the glittering black eyes dully, not even trying to twist away. "You’re aware that these are quite illegal. You could be stripped of your title, even end up in Azkaban with all the others you sent there."
"I know."
There was a long moment of silence. Slowly, Snape drew his hand from Ron’s face, though Ron didn’t look away from his impassive expression.
"Well, then. It would seem that you don’t need this anymore." Snape dropped it on the floor and Ron closed his eyes against the sharp crack of splintered glass.
Bitter laughter welled in his lungs, choking its way out of him in a pained burst. "I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Seems like no matter what I do, I can’t protect him." He looked back out the window. "Certainly can't now."
Snape said nothing, merely gave an impatient wave of his wand to the floor. The glass vanished and Snape tucked his wand back in his robes, turning back to the tray on the table. He poured a small glass of juice and held it out to Ron, who took it absentmindedly, holding the cool glass between his palms.
"I really made a muck of things, didn't I," Ron whispered, watched water drip down the window from slowly melting icicles.
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that. That was how we found you, you know."
"What?"
Snape jerked his chin towards the floor. "The mirror, you twit. We used the mirror."
Horror filled him. "You mean, you saw—"
"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous!" Snape snapped. His mouth twisted and he looked rather like he'd had a taste of a particularly sour lemon. "Potter did."
"That's not funny."
"And you know quite well that I'm not in the habit of making jokes. He looked in the mirror and saw you," Snape told him, venom dripping from every word like the snake Slytherins took to represent them. "I could hardly lie about it; all you need to do is ask him."
Ron looked away first, back out the window. There were specks of black moving across the yard, students in their uniforms. He hadn’t realized that it was the weekend already and it made him tired to wonder at how many days he’d lost. "Even if that is true, it doesn’t explain how you found me."
"Once you find a path, you have only to place your boots upon it."
Ron stared at him, uncomprehending. With an impatient sigh, Snape clarified. "We stepped through."
The first curl of real emotion he’d felt in days coiled into his stomach like a lump of nausea. "You're telling me you did a mirror walkthrough?" He shook his head. "I don’t believe it. You couldn't've done it."
"Not alone," he agreed, "But with Potter helping an incompetent like Longbottom probably could have managed."
"That's impossible; even with Harry, two wizards alone couldn't have done it unless you had a catalyst." Dawning horror only increased his nausea and he remembered how Snape and Harry had looked at the warehouse, hoped dimly that Pomfrey kept her basins close by. "You're mental!" Ron managed to whisper. "You're lucky it didn't kill Harry! Or you!"
"Yes, thank you for adding me in then," Snape said sardonically. "As it is, the only result, aside from taking us to you, was a few bruises and the destruction of a perfectly decent set of clothes. With that, I do believe I've paid back the favor I owed you, thrice over."
"Yes, you did." He gave a tired laugh, wincing at how pathetic it sounded. "Who did you see then, in the mirror?"
Snape never so much as flinched. "What mirror would that be?"
Suddenly, he didn’t want Snape to leave. He knew what was coming next or rather, who, and Ron was torn between the urge to grab Harry and shake him and demand he never do anything as foolish as that again, and the horrid, desperate need to run so far away Harry would never be able to find him.
But he’d already done that once.
"I don’t know what to say to him," Ron said aloud, hating the misery in his voice and that it was Snape hearing it.
Snape stiffened visibly. "If you're seeking a confidant, do let me send Dumbledore in here. I believe he rather enjoys it."
Ron said nothing, only let his eyes drift down to his lap. He fiddled with a frayed thread on the soft quilt over his legs, tracing the star pattern with a fingertip.
Snape made a rude sound and flung himself back in his chair. "Far be it from me to offer you advice, but perhaps you might consider the truth? It seems to me that a great deal of the problems in Mr. Potter's life, aside from poor genes, stem from the plain and simple fact that no one seems to be able to tell him the things he truly needs to know."
"I can’t. I have an oath--"
"Piss on your bloody oath, Weasley," Snape said, his gaze brutally direct. "You wanted to know what to do and I told you. It's been some five years now, don't you think you should let it go?"
"Like you do, right? Never held on to a grudge yourself, have you, Snape?"
"It's Severus; don't compound your sins with stupidity. And I’m sure that the infamous Mr. Potter is capable of keeping yet another secret." Snape looked rather like he felt as sick as Ron did and he shook himself visibly, clearing his throat. "I believe we’ve said everything that needs saying. Let’s see if we can’t keep to our bargain of seeing each other as little as possible from now on, shall we?"
He stood again, the line of his shoulders ruler-straight and stupid as it was, Ron couldn’t help saying, "You know, if…if I could have, I…"
Snape cut him off with a sharp look. "Don’t."
"I would have stayed, if I could," Ron said, simply, and the banked anger that always seemed just at the edges of Snape’s eyes flared to life. In two steps, Snape covered the floor between them and yanked Ron from the chair, smothering his mouth with his own.
The glass in his hands fell from his nerveless fingers and neither of them looked as it shattered on the floor. Ron simple hung in Snape’s fierce grip and let his mouth be devoured, not even wincing as Snape’s teeth dug in his lower lip.
Long moments later, Snape pulled away, his breath an uneven rasp that matched Ron’s. Whatever had been in his eyes before was shuttered away now, closed behind blackness. He set Ron back in the chair, even going so far as to pick up his quilt and tuck it back around his legs.
Snape didn’t look at him again, busying himself with again cleaning broken glass from the floor. "I believe we are even now, Mr. Weasley. Ron," Snape corrected himself, softly.
"I thought you wanted me to sleep with you," Ron said, with a watery chuckle.
Snape’s answering smile was arctic cold but it was a smile. "Call it a discount. You saw how well I protected Potter." With a soft whoosh of his robes, he turned towards the doors, hesitating long enough to call back, "When you’re feeling up to it, you might consider growing your hair back. It looks horrid."
The door shut behind him with a soft click and Ron went back to contemplating the window, letting his thoughts drift amongst the nothingness.
*
end chapter 27
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And I solemny promise I'll read this some day soon. I'm just currently in a DC = teh Cute frenzy.
Connor! Kyle! *melt*
Frank Aiden Ryan
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Still love Connor/Kyle, though. ;)
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It's just that I like to feel all warm and fluffy during the holidays =)
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That was deep and intense and mysterious and hot - and harry wasn't even in the room!!!
*icon*
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Heh, maybe a little of both. *G*
Thank you!
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"Yes, thank you for adding me in then," Snape said sardonically.
*snicker* I love your Snape. You're timing is wonderful--I came online looking for an update and yay, there it was. But then ending it right there before Ron talks to Harry, evil. (And yes, Ron, please do grow the hair back. I hate thinking of him--or any redhead--with a buzz cut, it hurts me. *g*)
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Now i'm REALLY CURIOUS and I am going to have to go back and re-read EVERYTHING.
AGAIN.
Oh, the agony. Can't you hear me screaming from it? Oh oh oh, the sheer agony, please don't make me read it again.
*grin*
Seriously -- that was really intense and VERY cool. And I really really really want to see a prequel and sequel. You can't possibly be nearly done with this!!!
I really like the emotion and energy flow you've got going here!
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okay, so i actually - shockingly - enjoyed the interaction between ron and snape. but it's still no reunion scene between ron and harry. *bg* and i like the bit about the mirror. but i want more. O:)
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And please, let Ron have his long hair back.
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*cries* and Ron with a buzz cut like mine. That's wrong, so wrong.
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Also, what in the blazes is an Eyesou mirror? Does it show the bearer their love, or what?
Ron explains it in the last chapter. :)