keelywolfe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keelywolfe) wrote2005-12-10 05:41 pm
keelywolfe) wrote2005-12-10 05:41 pm
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FIC: A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Thirty. *COMPLETE!*
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Thirty
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Notes: If anyone has been waiting for it to be finished to read it or they'd just like it on one page to save or whatever, it's available here: http://www.ravenswing.com/~keelywolfe/lacking.html
Chapter 30
~*~
In Which there is an end.
~*~
How it could be taking him so long to pack, Ron wasn't sure. His bag was the same size it had always been and he had less to put in it than before. He could still hear the sound of the mirror cracking underneath Snape's heel; it had seemed sharp enough to pierce flesh even from that distance. He supposed he should be grateful to Snape for finally taking the thing away from him but he couldn't, not just yet. Maybe later, when the echo of shattering glass had dimmed in his thoughts he could be. Maybe.
He catalogued each item automatically as he placed it in his bag, mentally adding to a list the things he'd have to purchase in Diagon Alley. The only new things he were taking with him he carried on his skin and in his mind, and they seemed heavier than anything had a right to be. It didn't matter. Nothing really did except for his driving urge to be gone from this place, out of Hogwarts and possible out of the country. Maybe it was time to be somewhere warm again and let his freckles peek out just slightly from the clearing charm he'd bought years back to hide them.
An unfamiliar shirt appeared from beneath the small pile of his own clothes. It made Ron pause, that shirt, and he could see it in the back of his mind, the way it looked rucked up under Harry's arms while Ron licked a path down his belly. In a rush of pathetic need he snatched it up and shoved it into the bottom of his pack, hurriedly piling his own clothes on top of it. It was foolish and pitiable to be sneaking out of this school with a stolen shirt but Ron thought perhaps he could be excused, just this once. It had only taken him four years to begin getting over Harry the first time, and that had been before he'd known the taste of his skin, breathed in the warm scent of him beneath the blankets.
He'd had his time then, Ron told himself roughly. He'd had his share of Harry Potter twice over and that would have to be enough. Time to start the cycle again, though he did wonder how long it would take him this time to leave Harry behind. If he ever would.
One lock of his hair had escaped from his ponytail and kept falling forward across his face to tickle at his nose. Ron pushed it back again impatiently, muttering, "Should've left it short."
"I don't know, I rather like it long."
Ron was moving before he even thought about it, his torn and aching reflexes still serving him well, although the curse dying on his lips was somewhat more brutal than he would have used a short time before.
Harry didn't so much as flinch from the wand suddenly pointed at him, leaning against the doorjamb like it had been made just for his back. "I see you're not in the hospital wing anymore."
Ron lowered his wand and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Pomfrey let me out this morning."
"I know." Harry stepped into the room and Ron watched with a sinking heart as he closed the door. This was exactly what he'd been trying so hard to avoid. Sitting in the hospital wing day after day, watching the world outside his window turning from icy winter to spring. It was a crap metaphor for him, he decided, and if there was to be a rebirth in his life, he'd rather it wasn't delivered by the poor prophecies of the weather.
"Leaving without even a goodbye shag, are we?" Harry asked with deceptive mildness. The ache in his body was nothing like the one taking shape in his gut, twisting in on itself while Ron started tossing in his personal items haphazardly, half-terrified Harry would touch him again. Because Ron wouldn't tell him no, couldn't, every cell in his body betraying him when it came to Harry but he just couldn't bear this, not now, he just couldn't, oh, please.
"Goodbye shags are overrated," he said roughly, cramming his spare boots on the top of everything else and strapping the pack closed. "I wasn't running off on you, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, actually, I wasn't thinking that at all." Ron dared a glance at him and couldn't let it linger. Dark hair, always mussed like he'd just been tumbled out of the sheets, it was so easy to want that, and it was an addiction he was going to have to learn to let go of.
"I expect you were probably going to get all of your things gathered up and tell me goodbye in the Main Hall," Harry continued, some of the calm in his voice betraying him. "Going to give me a handshake and wish me the best, were you?"
"I'm not leaving forever," Ron snapped. "I just need some time away, is all!" He took a deep breath, lowered his voice to something more persuasive. "We're still friends, Harry, that hasn't changed."
"Course it has. You and I haven't been friends in a very long time."
It hurt, unexpectedly harsh, and Ron had to turn away from it, couldn't look at Harry eyes right now and see what was in them.
"We're far past that. Expelliarmus!"
His wand snapped free of his loose hold and Ron barely had a moment to be shocked before another spell overshadowed the disarming one. He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling the softness of the bed beneath him.
"Harry, what are you—" Ron tried to sit up and found he couldn't, his arms and legs attached firmly to the mattress with invisible bonds. His head was free enough and Ron craned it round until he finally saw Harry standing over him.
He was smiling, just a little. "You really are a stubborn prat, do you know that? It's one of the many things I love about you."
Ron closed his eyes. "Harry, don't."
"Don't what? Stand here quietly and let you walk away from me again? That's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it? You've made a life out of protecting me, Ronald Weasley and I'm quite sick of it. If you'd bother to notice, I can take care of myself."
"I know that."
"Do you? Then why are you trying to protect me from you?" Harry challenged. A soft touch of fingertips against his cheek made Ron flinch, but they followed him, tracing a path down the line of his jaw to his ear, circling gently.
Ron bit his lip on a dozen answers wanting to spill out. This was ridiculous and he wasn't about to debate his emotions tied down on a bed. He opened his eyes, jerking his head away from Harry's teasing fingers. "You know, I can get out of here."
Harry gestured with his wand, almost a shrug. "Feel free to try."
He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. Standard release spells were the first ones they taught to Aurors and Ron could do them easily even without a wand.
"Relevo!" Nothing happened. Ron frowned and tried again. And again, various combinations of every spell he'd ever known to remove a binding spell. With each one, Harry said nothing, only raising an eyebrow at the increasingly loud and creative swearing that Ron was using in between spells.
He was sweating, shivering with exertion by the time he gave up. "What the hell spell did you USE?" Ron gritted out.
"Made it myself," Harry said, a hint of smug pride in his voice. "Works quite well, doesn't it?" The bed jostled as Harry climbed on it, crawling over to Ron. Fresh pain inside and out as Harry straddled him, settling himself comfortably in the general place of Ron's lap. "Someone showed me recently that if there isn't a spell for what you need, it's time to create your own."
"Harry, this isn't funny," Ron said, and his uneven breathing had little to do with the weight on top of him and everything to do with its placement.
A groan escaped him as Harry rolled his hips. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"
There were hands at his head, pulling the band off Ron's ponytail and mussed his hair across the pillow. Carding it out between his fingers until Ron's breath was hissing past clenched teeth.
"I love your hair," Harry muttered. He leaned forward, his cheek brushing Ron's as he buried his face in Ron's hair. "So soft," he breathed, inhaling deeply, ticklish and warm against Ron's ear. He shivered helplessly, more than a little lost. Harry had never needed a spell for this, not with him.
"Harry, I can't stay here," Ron said weakly, trying very hard to keep still. His cock was already painfully hard behind the zip of his pants, and he couldn't help rocking his hips up just a little, the tiny little rhythm something like bliss."
"I know," Soft, wet touch of a tongue against his ear.
"So this is your last fling with me before I go?" Ron tried to keep his voice flat, tried not to let his eagerness leech into it. Just pathetic, he was.
"No!"
Ron gasped as Harry sat up, all of his not inconsiderable weight pressing right where he wanted it most.
"I told you, I love you," There was anger in those green eyes, pure and hot. "And you're not going anywhere until I make you believe me."
"It's not about believing—"
"You're the one with the Sight," Harry interrupted. "You always told me you couldn't read me, that something always held you back. Well, here I am right now in front of you." He held out his arms, offering. "You're always so afraid of seeing what's in my head. Would you just look and see? Tell me what I have to do to help."
"I can't," Ron said softly, meeting the anger in Harry's eyes. Snape had told him to be honest with him and Ron hadn't been able to bear it, not all of it. Time to end all the lies, he supposed; he couldn't carry them again.
"You can't." Harry repeated flatly.
"No, I…Harry," Desperately searching for words to ease it but there was nothing but truth. "I'm burned out."
Harry looked as if someone had hit him in the gut, mouth open and eyes shocked. "What?"
"I'm burned out," Ron said, very gently. "Can't feel a bloody thing other than the inside of my own head," His mouth twisted into a smile, "Right dull if you want to know the truth. I'm just lucky it didn't take half my wits with it."
Part of him wished his hands were free to touch Harry, so still and suddenly pale. "How did…"
"Eh, it's been coming for years. I pushed it too hard, especially since I got here. I suppose that last little fling I had with Lucius finally shorted it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry whispered and Ron tried not to hear the accusation he was so certain was there.
"Because I knew you'd feel just what you are now! I can see it right on your face, the pity and the guilt! You didn't do anything, Harry." Days of sitting in the hospital wing, watching each new, reddened scar vanish beneath Pomfrey's talented hand had given him a sort of peace with it. Inside his head was silence of the likes he hadn't had in a very long time, the edges of his Sight seared raw and painful. But it wasn't Harry's fault, no one's fault but his own and he'd learn to live with it. Preferably without being pissed all the bloody time.
"You're right, all I did was exist." Harry was still so pale, seemed hardly aware that he was speaking.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Malfoy did that too, so you aren't special."
"I've been trying to tell people that for years," Harry said dryly. Some color came back to his cheeks, ruddy and warm. And lovely, everything about Harry made him want to reach for that ragged emptiness, to feel for him like he'd offered. "So far, it hasn't stuck."
No, he was special in an entirely different way but Ron didn't say it.
"You aren't going to the ministry, are you?" Harry asked, shifting a little, an innocent move, probably to ease the flow of blood into his bent legs but it made Ron want to move as well, in an entirely uninnocent fashion.
"Never said I was." Ron murmured, wetting his lips. Harry's eyes followed the little movement and he wet his own, the soft shine catching in the light and doing impossible things to Ron's stomach. And lower.
"Where are you really going?"
"To visit with my folks. Haven't seen them since I left five years ago and I can't really go back to being an Auror like this." He sighed a little, rolling his shoulders against the faint ache of being bound. Twice in as many weeks, although as bindings went this wasn't all that horrible. He didn't want to want this, but it was harder to believe that with Harry leaning in over him, licking softly at his lower lip. "The Ministry sent me my dismissal and I can't blame them." Except how he could, the letter crumbled and burned in a fit of pique that had made Pomfrey sedate him again. "I depended on my Sight. They said I could come back, if I felt like going through the Academy again, but…no. My Sight was who I was as an Auror. I can't do without it."
"I suppose not."
"Probably do me some good to get away from the shrieking brains of a few hundred kids, anyway. Could be that this isn't permanent."
"Could be," Harry feathered his tongue down Ron's jaw, nibbling softly. "I'm coming with you."
"What?!" Ron tried to sit up and came up short against the bind. "You're doing no such thing!"
"Am too. I already gave my notice and my trunk is in the hallway."
"And what about Hogwarts?" Ron sputtered, firmly telling his cock to get over it. There were more important things than a shag, dammit. "You've got a career going on here."
Harry leaned back and gave him a tired smile. "No, I don't really think I do. I like teaching, you know I do. But after my divorce I just—" he frowned thoughtfully. "I did what I always did when I needed a place to be. I came here."
"I'm not letting you do this."
"I'm not giving you a choice. You spent five years of your life writing me a silent love letter. You can prove how much you love me just like that. Seems to me I deserve a chance to do the same. I love you. Tell me what I can do or say to convince you of that?"
"I know you love me," Ron said softly. He looked so fierce, green eyes blazing. Ron had seen this determination so many times before, occasionally even aimed at him.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I know you love me. Probably as desperately and stupidly as I love you. You’re probably half-mad with it by now."
"Wha—how—why do you believe me now?" he asked suspiciously.
"The mirror," Ron admitted softly. "You saw me in it."
"So it…what, shows people you love?"
"Can't be that simple, most people love more than one other person, you know." Ron let his head fall back, staring up at the bed canopy. "It…it shows the person you want more than anything else in the world."
"That's all?" Harry sounded disappointed.
Ron laughed. It sounded hollow, tired, older than he had any right to be. "Yes, that's all, but you have to understand, wanting isn't as simple as all that. Just now, I think we could fuck until we were both sore and bleeding and still wouldn't have enough."
He didn't understand it and Ron wasn't sure he was up to explaining it.
"Do you even know how much I want you?" Ron asked him fiercely. "You think I don't understand how you feel, but I do."
"You see me in it."
"Yeah," he admitted softly. "I see you."
"So, let me see if I understand this. We love each other, we want each other, and you know it's true, and you're still leaving because…?"
"Just because something is true, doesn’t mean it's right. I want you, I want everything about you, I want to keep you, I could kill your little bitch of an ex-wife just for hurting you." He gave Harry an unpleasant smile. "It's better if I just stay away, I think. For five years it didn't matter and then—" Ron shook his head. "No, this won't work."
"That is the most pathetic shite I have ever heard."
Ron blinked.
"You listen to me, and you listen good." He clenched his fists around Ron's wrists, ties of magic and flesh holding him down. "You don't get to decide what's best for me, do you understand that? I think it's been demonstrated that I'm a grown-up and I can make my own damned choices. And let me tell you something, just because you fell in love with me first and got to mope around about it doesn't mean you did a better job of it!"
"You're not listening, you don't know me anymore, Harry, I'm not a good person!"
"You're good enough for me." It seemed he was giving up on words in favor of something more tangible. One hand slid from Ron's wrist and lower, down to the waist of his trousers to slide beneath his shirt, ghosting it upward.
"No, the…the mirror!" Ron blurted.
"Mmmmm?" Harry lowered his head and hummed against his nipple.
"It shows…people," Ron yelped, tongue turning to teeth on tender flesh.
"That would be the main purpose of mirrors, Ron."
"It’s...they're…they're terribly illegal and I’ve been using it to spy on you for about two years now."
"Were you?" Harry murmured, not seeming particularly interested. He was chasing the fine line of reddish hair leading from Ron's navel to the blockage of his trousers, pinching at them with his lips.
"You can see the person you most want," Ron said desperately, "But you also see them no matter where they are. In the toilet, in the shower or...or... fucking their wives. People have become so addicted to them that they stopped eating and I…I didn't let it get that bad but…"
"Hmm, glad of that. What happened to it?"
"Snape broke it. Harry, I watched you, I--"
"Mm. Yes, I heard."
"Ah!" A cool hand slid past his waistband, leather creaking faintly as Harry curled his hand around Ron's betraying cock. "S-Snape!"
"No, it's still Harry."
"I mean…Snape…I-I slept with him."
That finally pulled him up short. Harry looked up, his hand tightened reflexively in an entirely lovely way. "Really?"
Ron nodded frantically. "Last year. He needed a favor from me terribly and I made him sleep with me for it. I--he was desperate and I used him."
Harry considered that. "Was he any good?"
"I…Harry…" He shook his head helplessly against the pillows, and arched, away from the binding, towards Harry, he didn't even know. "I let someone die," Ron managed, hoarsely.
"And I killed someone." Barely loud enough to be heard over the hissing sound of his zipper. "Which is worse?"
"You didn't….Harry, please!"
"Are you going to recite your sins all night?" His trousers were down around his hips, leaving him naked to Harry's eyes. Warm, moist breath teasing against him, timed with his heartbeat.
Ron was panting in air, shaking badly against his bindings and trying so hard not to want this as much as he did.
"I failed you," he gasped, sweat prickling his skin, trailing down his cheeks.
"You couldn't." Another agonizing puff of breath. "I don't need you to protect me or to guard me or whatever else you have in mind. I've only ever needed one thing from you, Ron."
"And what's that?"
"You."
He cried out weakly, he knew he had, dimly embarrassed but Harry's mouth was like being incased in liquid fire, slickly-wet and wonderful, and he let Ron arch into it, taking him deeply into that lovely darkness before pulled back to lap at the head.
"I don't care, Ron, about any of it," he murmured it against wet skin, dragging his tongue in a way that made Ron curse aloud. "I just don't. I don't care who's touched you or where you've been or what you've done. I know you. You're Ron Weasley and I love you. Nothing short of shagging Voldemort himself would stop me."
He looked up. "You haven't, have you?"
Ron laughed shakily. "Not--not that I know of."
"Good enough." And sucked him in.
Ron threw his head back and thrust up into the temptation he no longer had the will to resist, riding against the rough slide of Harry's tongue and it was all too much to bear, everything that he'd always wanted focused just there and he came gasping, tasting blood from his bitten lip.
He felt the bonds holding him down ease, barely able to respond to it, Harry's lips were too-hot and bitter against his own. "If you have to run away," he whispered, "Take me with you this time."
"I think," Ron swallowed dryly, "I think I might."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Ron rolled Harry beneath him, pinning him down by his wrists. "Yeah, I think I might." He nuzzled against Harry's neck and licked at the soft, soft skin, let his hair fall in a red curtain around them as Ron kissed him, again and again, until he began to believe.
~*~
Hours later, he was still awake, brushing drowsy fingers against the soft, sweat-damp skin of Harry's back. Harry let out a tired sigh, squirming just a little closer, one arm flopping across Ron's chest.
He felt oddly content, even here in his own mind. It was all right, he decided, sleepily amused at the turn his life had taken. Two unemployed wizards, sex-slick and sleeping in the guest bed at Hogwarts; he hadn't Seen that, not once, and that was just fine. He felt good, he decided, aching and sore in all the best places. He felt wonderful.
More than that; he opened his eyes, brow furrowed and realized he could feel it, just barely. All the warm, pure-white power that was Harry Potter was bottled up in a human form next to him. It brushed tenderly against his thoughts and when he reached out for it, it slipped from his clumsy, wounded mental fingers and away, fading like an early morning dream.
Ron closed his eyes and thought a foolish little smile was probably on his face. Just a second, only that, but he'd Seen it. Touched it, just this once, and he wouldn't trade that to be the most gifted Auror in the world.
Snuggling deeper into the blankets, he pressed a kiss into the still-sweaty mass of Harry's hair and fell asleep, and if there was a single dream that he still needed, it didn't come that night.
-finis-
...I think I'm in shock. It's...done. It's actually done. I finished it. Five years after I started it, nearly 71,000 words later and it's done. Just shy of 400k, 110k written in just the past two weeks this is easily the longest thing I have ever written and it's...it's actually done!!!!!!
Thank you, everyone, for being so patient and reading this for so very long. I hope it was worth waiting for. :)
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
Notes: If anyone has been waiting for it to be finished to read it or they'd just like it on one page to save or whatever, it's available here: http://www.ravenswing.com/~keelywolfe/lacking.html
Chapter 30
~*~
In Which there is an end.
~*~
How it could be taking him so long to pack, Ron wasn't sure. His bag was the same size it had always been and he had less to put in it than before. He could still hear the sound of the mirror cracking underneath Snape's heel; it had seemed sharp enough to pierce flesh even from that distance. He supposed he should be grateful to Snape for finally taking the thing away from him but he couldn't, not just yet. Maybe later, when the echo of shattering glass had dimmed in his thoughts he could be. Maybe.
He catalogued each item automatically as he placed it in his bag, mentally adding to a list the things he'd have to purchase in Diagon Alley. The only new things he were taking with him he carried on his skin and in his mind, and they seemed heavier than anything had a right to be. It didn't matter. Nothing really did except for his driving urge to be gone from this place, out of Hogwarts and possible out of the country. Maybe it was time to be somewhere warm again and let his freckles peek out just slightly from the clearing charm he'd bought years back to hide them.
An unfamiliar shirt appeared from beneath the small pile of his own clothes. It made Ron pause, that shirt, and he could see it in the back of his mind, the way it looked rucked up under Harry's arms while Ron licked a path down his belly. In a rush of pathetic need he snatched it up and shoved it into the bottom of his pack, hurriedly piling his own clothes on top of it. It was foolish and pitiable to be sneaking out of this school with a stolen shirt but Ron thought perhaps he could be excused, just this once. It had only taken him four years to begin getting over Harry the first time, and that had been before he'd known the taste of his skin, breathed in the warm scent of him beneath the blankets.
He'd had his time then, Ron told himself roughly. He'd had his share of Harry Potter twice over and that would have to be enough. Time to start the cycle again, though he did wonder how long it would take him this time to leave Harry behind. If he ever would.
One lock of his hair had escaped from his ponytail and kept falling forward across his face to tickle at his nose. Ron pushed it back again impatiently, muttering, "Should've left it short."
"I don't know, I rather like it long."
Ron was moving before he even thought about it, his torn and aching reflexes still serving him well, although the curse dying on his lips was somewhat more brutal than he would have used a short time before.
Harry didn't so much as flinch from the wand suddenly pointed at him, leaning against the doorjamb like it had been made just for his back. "I see you're not in the hospital wing anymore."
Ron lowered his wand and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Pomfrey let me out this morning."
"I know." Harry stepped into the room and Ron watched with a sinking heart as he closed the door. This was exactly what he'd been trying so hard to avoid. Sitting in the hospital wing day after day, watching the world outside his window turning from icy winter to spring. It was a crap metaphor for him, he decided, and if there was to be a rebirth in his life, he'd rather it wasn't delivered by the poor prophecies of the weather.
"Leaving without even a goodbye shag, are we?" Harry asked with deceptive mildness. The ache in his body was nothing like the one taking shape in his gut, twisting in on itself while Ron started tossing in his personal items haphazardly, half-terrified Harry would touch him again. Because Ron wouldn't tell him no, couldn't, every cell in his body betraying him when it came to Harry but he just couldn't bear this, not now, he just couldn't, oh, please.
"Goodbye shags are overrated," he said roughly, cramming his spare boots on the top of everything else and strapping the pack closed. "I wasn't running off on you, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, actually, I wasn't thinking that at all." Ron dared a glance at him and couldn't let it linger. Dark hair, always mussed like he'd just been tumbled out of the sheets, it was so easy to want that, and it was an addiction he was going to have to learn to let go of.
"I expect you were probably going to get all of your things gathered up and tell me goodbye in the Main Hall," Harry continued, some of the calm in his voice betraying him. "Going to give me a handshake and wish me the best, were you?"
"I'm not leaving forever," Ron snapped. "I just need some time away, is all!" He took a deep breath, lowered his voice to something more persuasive. "We're still friends, Harry, that hasn't changed."
"Course it has. You and I haven't been friends in a very long time."
It hurt, unexpectedly harsh, and Ron had to turn away from it, couldn't look at Harry eyes right now and see what was in them.
"We're far past that. Expelliarmus!"
His wand snapped free of his loose hold and Ron barely had a moment to be shocked before another spell overshadowed the disarming one. He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling the softness of the bed beneath him.
"Harry, what are you—" Ron tried to sit up and found he couldn't, his arms and legs attached firmly to the mattress with invisible bonds. His head was free enough and Ron craned it round until he finally saw Harry standing over him.
He was smiling, just a little. "You really are a stubborn prat, do you know that? It's one of the many things I love about you."
Ron closed his eyes. "Harry, don't."
"Don't what? Stand here quietly and let you walk away from me again? That's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it? You've made a life out of protecting me, Ronald Weasley and I'm quite sick of it. If you'd bother to notice, I can take care of myself."
"I know that."
"Do you? Then why are you trying to protect me from you?" Harry challenged. A soft touch of fingertips against his cheek made Ron flinch, but they followed him, tracing a path down the line of his jaw to his ear, circling gently.
Ron bit his lip on a dozen answers wanting to spill out. This was ridiculous and he wasn't about to debate his emotions tied down on a bed. He opened his eyes, jerking his head away from Harry's teasing fingers. "You know, I can get out of here."
Harry gestured with his wand, almost a shrug. "Feel free to try."
He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. Standard release spells were the first ones they taught to Aurors and Ron could do them easily even without a wand.
"Relevo!" Nothing happened. Ron frowned and tried again. And again, various combinations of every spell he'd ever known to remove a binding spell. With each one, Harry said nothing, only raising an eyebrow at the increasingly loud and creative swearing that Ron was using in between spells.
He was sweating, shivering with exertion by the time he gave up. "What the hell spell did you USE?" Ron gritted out.
"Made it myself," Harry said, a hint of smug pride in his voice. "Works quite well, doesn't it?" The bed jostled as Harry climbed on it, crawling over to Ron. Fresh pain inside and out as Harry straddled him, settling himself comfortably in the general place of Ron's lap. "Someone showed me recently that if there isn't a spell for what you need, it's time to create your own."
"Harry, this isn't funny," Ron said, and his uneven breathing had little to do with the weight on top of him and everything to do with its placement.
A groan escaped him as Harry rolled his hips. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"
There were hands at his head, pulling the band off Ron's ponytail and mussed his hair across the pillow. Carding it out between his fingers until Ron's breath was hissing past clenched teeth.
"I love your hair," Harry muttered. He leaned forward, his cheek brushing Ron's as he buried his face in Ron's hair. "So soft," he breathed, inhaling deeply, ticklish and warm against Ron's ear. He shivered helplessly, more than a little lost. Harry had never needed a spell for this, not with him.
"Harry, I can't stay here," Ron said weakly, trying very hard to keep still. His cock was already painfully hard behind the zip of his pants, and he couldn't help rocking his hips up just a little, the tiny little rhythm something like bliss."
"I know," Soft, wet touch of a tongue against his ear.
"So this is your last fling with me before I go?" Ron tried to keep his voice flat, tried not to let his eagerness leech into it. Just pathetic, he was.
"No!"
Ron gasped as Harry sat up, all of his not inconsiderable weight pressing right where he wanted it most.
"I told you, I love you," There was anger in those green eyes, pure and hot. "And you're not going anywhere until I make you believe me."
"It's not about believing—"
"You're the one with the Sight," Harry interrupted. "You always told me you couldn't read me, that something always held you back. Well, here I am right now in front of you." He held out his arms, offering. "You're always so afraid of seeing what's in my head. Would you just look and see? Tell me what I have to do to help."
"I can't," Ron said softly, meeting the anger in Harry's eyes. Snape had told him to be honest with him and Ron hadn't been able to bear it, not all of it. Time to end all the lies, he supposed; he couldn't carry them again.
"You can't." Harry repeated flatly.
"No, I…Harry," Desperately searching for words to ease it but there was nothing but truth. "I'm burned out."
Harry looked as if someone had hit him in the gut, mouth open and eyes shocked. "What?"
"I'm burned out," Ron said, very gently. "Can't feel a bloody thing other than the inside of my own head," His mouth twisted into a smile, "Right dull if you want to know the truth. I'm just lucky it didn't take half my wits with it."
Part of him wished his hands were free to touch Harry, so still and suddenly pale. "How did…"
"Eh, it's been coming for years. I pushed it too hard, especially since I got here. I suppose that last little fling I had with Lucius finally shorted it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry whispered and Ron tried not to hear the accusation he was so certain was there.
"Because I knew you'd feel just what you are now! I can see it right on your face, the pity and the guilt! You didn't do anything, Harry." Days of sitting in the hospital wing, watching each new, reddened scar vanish beneath Pomfrey's talented hand had given him a sort of peace with it. Inside his head was silence of the likes he hadn't had in a very long time, the edges of his Sight seared raw and painful. But it wasn't Harry's fault, no one's fault but his own and he'd learn to live with it. Preferably without being pissed all the bloody time.
"You're right, all I did was exist." Harry was still so pale, seemed hardly aware that he was speaking.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Malfoy did that too, so you aren't special."
"I've been trying to tell people that for years," Harry said dryly. Some color came back to his cheeks, ruddy and warm. And lovely, everything about Harry made him want to reach for that ragged emptiness, to feel for him like he'd offered. "So far, it hasn't stuck."
No, he was special in an entirely different way but Ron didn't say it.
"You aren't going to the ministry, are you?" Harry asked, shifting a little, an innocent move, probably to ease the flow of blood into his bent legs but it made Ron want to move as well, in an entirely uninnocent fashion.
"Never said I was." Ron murmured, wetting his lips. Harry's eyes followed the little movement and he wet his own, the soft shine catching in the light and doing impossible things to Ron's stomach. And lower.
"Where are you really going?"
"To visit with my folks. Haven't seen them since I left five years ago and I can't really go back to being an Auror like this." He sighed a little, rolling his shoulders against the faint ache of being bound. Twice in as many weeks, although as bindings went this wasn't all that horrible. He didn't want to want this, but it was harder to believe that with Harry leaning in over him, licking softly at his lower lip. "The Ministry sent me my dismissal and I can't blame them." Except how he could, the letter crumbled and burned in a fit of pique that had made Pomfrey sedate him again. "I depended on my Sight. They said I could come back, if I felt like going through the Academy again, but…no. My Sight was who I was as an Auror. I can't do without it."
"I suppose not."
"Probably do me some good to get away from the shrieking brains of a few hundred kids, anyway. Could be that this isn't permanent."
"Could be," Harry feathered his tongue down Ron's jaw, nibbling softly. "I'm coming with you."
"What?!" Ron tried to sit up and came up short against the bind. "You're doing no such thing!"
"Am too. I already gave my notice and my trunk is in the hallway."
"And what about Hogwarts?" Ron sputtered, firmly telling his cock to get over it. There were more important things than a shag, dammit. "You've got a career going on here."
Harry leaned back and gave him a tired smile. "No, I don't really think I do. I like teaching, you know I do. But after my divorce I just—" he frowned thoughtfully. "I did what I always did when I needed a place to be. I came here."
"I'm not letting you do this."
"I'm not giving you a choice. You spent five years of your life writing me a silent love letter. You can prove how much you love me just like that. Seems to me I deserve a chance to do the same. I love you. Tell me what I can do or say to convince you of that?"
"I know you love me," Ron said softly. He looked so fierce, green eyes blazing. Ron had seen this determination so many times before, occasionally even aimed at him.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I know you love me. Probably as desperately and stupidly as I love you. You’re probably half-mad with it by now."
"Wha—how—why do you believe me now?" he asked suspiciously.
"The mirror," Ron admitted softly. "You saw me in it."
"So it…what, shows people you love?"
"Can't be that simple, most people love more than one other person, you know." Ron let his head fall back, staring up at the bed canopy. "It…it shows the person you want more than anything else in the world."
"That's all?" Harry sounded disappointed.
Ron laughed. It sounded hollow, tired, older than he had any right to be. "Yes, that's all, but you have to understand, wanting isn't as simple as all that. Just now, I think we could fuck until we were both sore and bleeding and still wouldn't have enough."
He didn't understand it and Ron wasn't sure he was up to explaining it.
"Do you even know how much I want you?" Ron asked him fiercely. "You think I don't understand how you feel, but I do."
"You see me in it."
"Yeah," he admitted softly. "I see you."
"So, let me see if I understand this. We love each other, we want each other, and you know it's true, and you're still leaving because…?"
"Just because something is true, doesn’t mean it's right. I want you, I want everything about you, I want to keep you, I could kill your little bitch of an ex-wife just for hurting you." He gave Harry an unpleasant smile. "It's better if I just stay away, I think. For five years it didn't matter and then—" Ron shook his head. "No, this won't work."
"That is the most pathetic shite I have ever heard."
Ron blinked.
"You listen to me, and you listen good." He clenched his fists around Ron's wrists, ties of magic and flesh holding him down. "You don't get to decide what's best for me, do you understand that? I think it's been demonstrated that I'm a grown-up and I can make my own damned choices. And let me tell you something, just because you fell in love with me first and got to mope around about it doesn't mean you did a better job of it!"
"You're not listening, you don't know me anymore, Harry, I'm not a good person!"
"You're good enough for me." It seemed he was giving up on words in favor of something more tangible. One hand slid from Ron's wrist and lower, down to the waist of his trousers to slide beneath his shirt, ghosting it upward.
"No, the…the mirror!" Ron blurted.
"Mmmmm?" Harry lowered his head and hummed against his nipple.
"It shows…people," Ron yelped, tongue turning to teeth on tender flesh.
"That would be the main purpose of mirrors, Ron."
"It’s...they're…they're terribly illegal and I’ve been using it to spy on you for about two years now."
"Were you?" Harry murmured, not seeming particularly interested. He was chasing the fine line of reddish hair leading from Ron's navel to the blockage of his trousers, pinching at them with his lips.
"You can see the person you most want," Ron said desperately, "But you also see them no matter where they are. In the toilet, in the shower or...or... fucking their wives. People have become so addicted to them that they stopped eating and I…I didn't let it get that bad but…"
"Hmm, glad of that. What happened to it?"
"Snape broke it. Harry, I watched you, I--"
"Mm. Yes, I heard."
"Ah!" A cool hand slid past his waistband, leather creaking faintly as Harry curled his hand around Ron's betraying cock. "S-Snape!"
"No, it's still Harry."
"I mean…Snape…I-I slept with him."
That finally pulled him up short. Harry looked up, his hand tightened reflexively in an entirely lovely way. "Really?"
Ron nodded frantically. "Last year. He needed a favor from me terribly and I made him sleep with me for it. I--he was desperate and I used him."
Harry considered that. "Was he any good?"
"I…Harry…" He shook his head helplessly against the pillows, and arched, away from the binding, towards Harry, he didn't even know. "I let someone die," Ron managed, hoarsely.
"And I killed someone." Barely loud enough to be heard over the hissing sound of his zipper. "Which is worse?"
"You didn't….Harry, please!"
"Are you going to recite your sins all night?" His trousers were down around his hips, leaving him naked to Harry's eyes. Warm, moist breath teasing against him, timed with his heartbeat.
Ron was panting in air, shaking badly against his bindings and trying so hard not to want this as much as he did.
"I failed you," he gasped, sweat prickling his skin, trailing down his cheeks.
"You couldn't." Another agonizing puff of breath. "I don't need you to protect me or to guard me or whatever else you have in mind. I've only ever needed one thing from you, Ron."
"And what's that?"
"You."
He cried out weakly, he knew he had, dimly embarrassed but Harry's mouth was like being incased in liquid fire, slickly-wet and wonderful, and he let Ron arch into it, taking him deeply into that lovely darkness before pulled back to lap at the head.
"I don't care, Ron, about any of it," he murmured it against wet skin, dragging his tongue in a way that made Ron curse aloud. "I just don't. I don't care who's touched you or where you've been or what you've done. I know you. You're Ron Weasley and I love you. Nothing short of shagging Voldemort himself would stop me."
He looked up. "You haven't, have you?"
Ron laughed shakily. "Not--not that I know of."
"Good enough." And sucked him in.
Ron threw his head back and thrust up into the temptation he no longer had the will to resist, riding against the rough slide of Harry's tongue and it was all too much to bear, everything that he'd always wanted focused just there and he came gasping, tasting blood from his bitten lip.
He felt the bonds holding him down ease, barely able to respond to it, Harry's lips were too-hot and bitter against his own. "If you have to run away," he whispered, "Take me with you this time."
"I think," Ron swallowed dryly, "I think I might."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Ron rolled Harry beneath him, pinning him down by his wrists. "Yeah, I think I might." He nuzzled against Harry's neck and licked at the soft, soft skin, let his hair fall in a red curtain around them as Ron kissed him, again and again, until he began to believe.
~*~
Hours later, he was still awake, brushing drowsy fingers against the soft, sweat-damp skin of Harry's back. Harry let out a tired sigh, squirming just a little closer, one arm flopping across Ron's chest.
He felt oddly content, even here in his own mind. It was all right, he decided, sleepily amused at the turn his life had taken. Two unemployed wizards, sex-slick and sleeping in the guest bed at Hogwarts; he hadn't Seen that, not once, and that was just fine. He felt good, he decided, aching and sore in all the best places. He felt wonderful.
More than that; he opened his eyes, brow furrowed and realized he could feel it, just barely. All the warm, pure-white power that was Harry Potter was bottled up in a human form next to him. It brushed tenderly against his thoughts and when he reached out for it, it slipped from his clumsy, wounded mental fingers and away, fading like an early morning dream.
Ron closed his eyes and thought a foolish little smile was probably on his face. Just a second, only that, but he'd Seen it. Touched it, just this once, and he wouldn't trade that to be the most gifted Auror in the world.
Snuggling deeper into the blankets, he pressed a kiss into the still-sweaty mass of Harry's hair and fell asleep, and if there was a single dream that he still needed, it didn't come that night.
-finis-
...I think I'm in shock. It's...done. It's actually done. I finished it. Five years after I started it, nearly 71,000 words later and it's done. Just shy of 400k, 110k written in just the past two weeks this is easily the longest thing I have ever written and it's...it's actually done!!!!!!
Thank you, everyone, for being so patient and reading this for so very long. I hope it was worth waiting for. :)
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(more coherent feedback may come later, I want to reread the whole thing, but, *squee*)
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Er, not that I have much to say since I love putting characters through hell as well, but hey.
Excellent job, Keely.
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Five years! WOW! You really deserve a pat on the back. Thank you for devoting your time to this and giving me and many others something so glorious to read.
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Thank you!
Five years! WOW! You really deserve a pat on the back. Thank you for devoting your time to this and giving me and many others something so glorious to read.
Lord, yes, it was five years at least because I started it before I got pregnant and my son is 4. Although it was more like I'd write on it furiously for a month and then leave it for a year. *G* I feel great sympathy for the poor people who read it from the start.
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(Anonymous) 2005-12-10 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)PS: Who did Snape see in the mirror? Man. I'm guessing it was Harry, because of his reaction to Harry's confession that it showed him Ron.
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Thank you!!
PS: Who did Snape see in the mirror? Man. I'm guessing it was Harry, because of his reaction to Harry's confession that it showed him Ron.
Aww, now, I can't say! I had always intended to write a prequel/sequel and if/when I do, it would be a horrible spoiler! ;)
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I don't know quite what to say, except Thank You! This is a fantastic story, well worth waiting for, and definitely a keeper for my files.
Thank you again for the hard work you've put into this and the lovely Harry/Ron you've given us. You truly do rock!
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And thank you for continuing to read it! Heck knows I would have given up on a WIP that took this long to write. :)
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This was a great read, beginning to end. I loved the mirror and Ron's Sight, and the complications with Snape, and...well, just about everything!
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Thank you so much!
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"Harry, this isn't funny," Ron said, and his uneven breathing had little to do with the weight on top of him and everything to do with its placement. - this is where steam started coming out of my ears.
"So this is your last fling with me before I go?" Ron tried to keep his voice flat, tried not to let his eagerness leach into it. Just pathetic, he was. - this is where I started crying again.
"Could be," Harry feathered his tongue down Ron's jaw, nibbling softly. "I'm coming with you." - this is where the word feathered killed me.
"I know you love me," Ron said softly. He looked so fierce, green eyes blazing. Ron had seen this determination so many times before, occasionally even aimed at him.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I know you love me. Probably as desperately and stupidly as I love you. You’re probably half-mad with it by now."
This is where I sobbed.
"I failed you," he gasped, sweat prickling his skin, trailing down his cheeks.
"You couldn't." Another agonizing puff of breath. "I don't need you to protect me or to guard me or whatever else you have in mind. I've only ever needed one thing from you, Ron."
"And what's that?"
"You."
*lost it completely*
*sobbing*
I cannot beleieve what you've done in the last two weeks - simply incredible - and your Ron is still so perfect.
And his Harry loves him.
*sigh*
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Heh, honestly, neither can I. I'd pretty much given up this story for dead and just happened to catch the PoA movie on television and it just...sparked. Guess I need to watch the movies more often. *G*
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now... onto the sequel?? *innocent grin*
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I left a comment before I found this, it's wonderful, just WONDERFUL!
So can I ask who Snape saw in the mirror, I have an idea, but I just wanted to know...
That was just wonderful. I loved seeing Snape as a good guy, in a very J.K.R. Snape way. Honestly I could go on about this for ages, and if you need a good pump of confidence, tell me to go on, if not just know that this is one of my new favorites.... Wonderful.
K
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Nope. It would be a spoiler in the prequel I have planned. ;)
That was just wonderful. I loved seeing Snape as a good guy, in a very J.K.R. Snape way. Honestly I could go on about this for ages, and if you need a good pump of confidence, tell me to go on, if not just know that this is one of my new favorites.... Wonderful.
Thank you so, so much! For as long as it took me to write this, I seriously love this story and I'm delighted that other people are enjoying it, too. :)
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Prequel???
EEE... good...
K
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Oh, in a very superficial way for me, thanks to give him his long hair back!!
Here I stopped again and took my time.
Then as I went along, I cried and cried and cried some more. Because to read Harry just lying all the cards in the table, doing, trying, talking everything so just Ron can see how much Harry loves him is the most especial thing I have read; to read Harry realizing all Ron went throught and love him like he does, it's just too emotional for me.
This brought tears and a smile from me
And this broke me and started sobbing, crying and could not stopped!
Endings are so hard to do and you invested so many years in this, and one cannot help but to feel great that you made such an spectacular ending of this; and a happy one because there were chapters that it was so hard to believe for a Happy Ending, and there it was.
Perfection, you are wonderful writing this.
And thanks.
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Oh, I just had to let him grow his hair back. My mind's picture of him with long hair is entirely too lovely for him to walk around shaved clean of it!
Endings are so hard to do and you invested so many years in this, and one cannot help but to feel great that you made such an spectacular ending of this; and a happy one because there were chapters that it was so hard to believe for a Happy Ending, and there it was.
It was very difficult for me to end this, for a number of reasons. I was rather shocked when it WAS done. It feels wonderful and it's also sort of sad. But at least other people can enjoy it, finally complete. :)
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To be honest, I am a secret Harry/Snape fan but it took a couple of brilliant stories to convert me. *G*