Fic: Recovery
Title: Recovery
Author: remuslives23
Rating: PG-13
Theme and Prompt(s) used: Theme used was birthday (although it’s probably not so much a theme as a passing mention. Thanks nathaniel_hp for allowing it!) Prompts used were friends, falling in love, new beginnings.
Summary: After the war, it’s time for new beginnings, new friendships and new love.
Author Notes: Written for the Marvellous Month of March challenge at remus_ron_slash. No warnings other than poor usage of the theme (sorry, again) and that this is my first Remus/Ron. *hides* Thanks as always to my beta, the wonderful dogsunderfoot, who did a marvellous job (despite her lack of appreciation for the pairing). Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Recovery
The fire crackled softly in the stone fireplace, the occasional pop breaking the silence of the room. Remus stared at the orange flames, mesmerised by the movement and lost in his thoughts.
He was spending the night here at The Burrow after he’d joined the family in celebrating the second anniversary of the end of the war. The Weasleys hadn’t come through the battle unscathed - their son, Fred, a fatality. But the family refused to allow darkness to smother their spirit, would not let themselves fall into that deep, dark well of despair. Instead, each year, they and other war veterans celebrated their son, brother and friend’s short, but full, life and gave thanks for the freedoms they now had, that he had given his life for.
He sighed and glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. It was late; he should go up to bed like everyone else had, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the fire. The colour, the bright gold-red flames, made him consider the other reason he came to the anniversary celebration each year.
Ron Weasley.
He forced himself to look away from the fire, wishing his feelings for the youngest Weasley son were as easy to sever as that connection. After the war, after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry Potter - Remus’ oldest friend’s son - had been the most sought after wizard in the Western world and, caught up in the whirl of public appearances and awards ceremonies, Harry had not had the time to help his friends debrief. Ron and Hermione Granger had been beside Harry almost every step of the way in his journey, but they had been overlooked in favour of the conquering hero. Neither blamed Harry; instead watching proudly from the sidelines as their friend, who had been both worshipped and reviled by the wizarding world, was finally shown the respect he’d more than earned.
Hermione had found willing shoulders to cry on, to mourn, to relive, then begin to recover. Ron, however, just nodded his head when asked if he was alright and gave his questioner a fractured smile. Remus watched the young man, seeing his own stubbornness, his own determination not to need anyone, in the redhead. He found himself gravitating more and more towards the other man, spending time just sitting with him and talking about nonsensical things, or not talking at all.
Then one evening, six months after that fateful night, Ron said Fred’s name for the first time and the floodgates opened.
The year Remus had taught at Hogwarts, Ron had never struck him as the emotional type, as someone who could just open himself up and allow himself to be vulnerable and exposed and raw. But this night, his stoic facade shattered and Remus saw the fragility the redhead hid so well. All Ron’s pain and anguish spewed out of him and with the exorcism of all those ghosts, Ron was ready to heal.
And so was Remus.
That night, for the first time since his lover, Sirius, had passed, the werewolf felt the first, slightly disturbing, pull of attraction.
He could ignore it easily enough at first. There was so much to do; they had a world to rebuild. Remus worked side by side with the other survivors to put the smashed pieces of their lives back together, but inevitably, he found himself drawn to Ron. As they worked together building stone walls at Hogwarts, or joked as they cleaned up Diagon Alley, or shared a couple of pints in the pub after dark, Remus felt the attraction growing until his every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of the redhead. He knew Ron was straight, that Ron was involved with Hermione - a relationship that had blossomed whilst they and Harry were on the run - and he knew that this could only end in pain for him.
But he couldn’t help himself.
Ron, for his part, seemed oblivious to the fact his former professor was harbouring a childish crush on him and continued to seek Remus out, turning up at his house with a bottle of Firewhiskey or fire calling him after the full moon to check that he was alright. Despite all Remus’ best intentions to put some distance between them, they spent long hours together talking: Ron proving to have far more depth than Remus suspected many people knew, and in return, the werewolf revealed parts of himself no other living person had ever seen.
Their friendship grew as time passed and the intimacy of their relationship did not escape notice. Several months earlier, Hermione knocked on his door, asking for Ron.
‘He’s always with you,’ Hermione declared in exasperation when Remus told her the other man wasn’t with him. ‘Anytime I need him for something, he’s here. Anyone would think you two were dating!’
Remus blinked. There had been no malice in Hermione’s voice, but the reminder that Ron had a girlfriend, that Ron wanted a nubile young woman and not a broken-down werewolf twice his age, had made Remus’ heart ache and it was then that he realised he was in love with the other man. He swallowed his pain and hid his devastation behind a blank mask and simply shrugged; telling Hermione he would send Ron home if he turned up. Once she had Disapparated, he locked the front door, closed the Floo and sat down on the couch to drink himself numb.
He did as he told Hermione he would. Each time Ron appeared, he sent him away. It had ripped Remus apart to see the expression of hurt and confusion on Ron’s face when he told him he couldn’t come around for a chat, that he wasn’t available to go out for a drink, but Remus was true to his word. He encouraged Ron to settle into a future with Hermione and tried to ignore the gnawing jealousy in his gut when he saw the two holding hands, smiling together, kissing.
As long as Ron was happy, Remus tried to be happy for him and quietly sank back into his suddenly empty life.
Then, just three months earlier at Remus’ surprise fortieth birthday party, Ron confronted him, demanding an explanation for Remus’ absence in his life. He brushed aside Remus’ pathetic, hastily constructed excuses and their back and forth exchange became more and more agitated until Remus did the unforgivable.
He kissed Ron.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss as he, in his nocturnal fantasies, had imagined it would be. It was rough and hard and Remus poured all his pain into it, wanting Ron to feel what he felt; for Ron to, just for a moment, hurt like he hurt.
When he released the younger man, Ron stared at him with wide, blue, betrayed eyes before he turned tail and ran.
Remus locked himself in his bedroom and, ignoring the concerned queries from the other side of the door, anaesthetized himself with Firewhiskey once again.
Remus sighed now and leaned back against the couch cushions, scrubbing at his tired eyes. Ron had obviously not told anyone what Remus had done because a few days ago, Molly Weasley had turned up on his doorstep with his refusal of their yearly invitation in her hands. She begged him to attend and he’d given in, stomach churning with nerves for days at the thought of seeing Ron again.
When it happened, it was anti-climactic. Ron had just smiled and welcomed him to The Burrow with a clinical shake of his hand then had gone off to play Quidditch with his brothers. Remus spent the day with Arthur who confided that Ron and Hermione had split up.
‘Neither of them will say what happened,’ Arthur said as he drank his tea. ‘But they both seem happier for the break.’
Remus’ heart leapt, but he pushed the hope away. His heart was already riddled with cracks - he didn’t know if it would survive another blow without shattering completely.
And now, after carefully avoiding Ron for the evening, he was sat on the Weasley’s lumpy couch, admonishing himself yet again for falling for the worst person imaginable.
‘Remus?’
It was barely more than a whisper, but the susurrus sound heated Remus’ skin and made him tremble. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could fool Ron into believing he was asleep.
‘I know you’re not sleeping, Remus. You snore.’
Obviously not.
Remus opened his eyes, staring directly into Ron’s too-close face. ‘I’m just about to go up to bed, Ron.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Ron said, steel in his voice that Remus hadn’t heard before. ‘You’re going to listen to what I have to say.’
Remus frowned and opened his mouth but Ron clamped a hand over it and glared at the werewolf.
‘First of all,’ he said, kneeling on the couch next to Remus. ‘You are a complete and utter tosser for trying to push me away. I’m twenty years old, Remus, and perfectly capable of choosing my own friends.’
Remus tried to interrupt, but his words were lost, muffled by Ron’s palm.
‘Secondly,’ the redhead continued. ‘You’re lucky I don’t punch you in the nose for ignoring me all day. Don’t think that urge has passed either. I’m still pissed off with you.’
Remus snorted and Ron smirked. ‘Don’t give me attitude, Lupin. You’ve lost weight over the last few months; I could probably take you - werewolf strength and all.’
Remus raised an eyebrow as Ron paused, the amusement fading from his face.
‘And thirdly...,’ he said softly, shifting to slide a leg over Remus’, his knee on the couch between Remus’ legs, pressing into the werewolf’s crotch.
Remus’ eyes widened in shock but, when Ron removed his hand, he was unable to ask what the other man was playing at, struck dumb by the feeling of Ron’s body against his.
‘Thirdly,’ Ron repeated as he slid his hands around the back of Remus’ neck. ‘This...’
He dipped his head and caught the werewolf’s lips with his own.
The kiss was soft and gentle and everything Remus had imagined the kiss would be and he moaned into the other man’s mouth. Ron caught the tiny sound and echoed it back, tangling his fingers in Remus’ hair. His tongue traced the seam of the werewolf’s lips, encouraging Remus to open up to him, which he did eagerly before catching himself and reluctantly pulling away.
‘Ron, what...?’
‘You thick wolf,’ Ron whispered affectionately, hands shifting to cup Remus’ jaw. ‘I’ve been in love with you since that night you let me cry all over you.’
Remus heart stuttered then picked up its pace, finding a staccato beat that surely Ron could feel.
‘You...? But you and Hermione...?’
Ron frowned, his eyes troubled. ‘She...she was a little upset, but she said she’d suspected what I felt for you was more than just friendship. She knows she deserves someone who can love her completely, who is not using her to avoid facing what he knows is true.’
Remus couldn’t stop himself, raising a hand and stroking a thumb along the other man’s cheekbone, scarcely able to believe that this was okay.
‘And what is the truth, Ron Weasley?’
The corners of Ron’s mouth turned up and his eyes shone with what was unmistakeably love.
‘The truth is, Remus Lupin...I’m yours.’
Remus smiled broadly and Ron grinned before lowering his head and taking up where they’d left off.
fin.
Author: remuslives23
Rating: PG-13
Theme and Prompt(s) used: Theme used was birthday (although it’s probably not so much a theme as a passing mention. Thanks nathaniel_hp for allowing it!) Prompts used were friends, falling in love, new beginnings.
Summary: After the war, it’s time for new beginnings, new friendships and new love.
Author Notes: Written for the Marvellous Month of March challenge at remus_ron_slash. No warnings other than poor usage of the theme (sorry, again) and that this is my first Remus/Ron. *hides* Thanks as always to my beta, the wonderful dogsunderfoot, who did a marvellous job (despite her lack of appreciation for the pairing). Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Recovery
The fire crackled softly in the stone fireplace, the occasional pop breaking the silence of the room. Remus stared at the orange flames, mesmerised by the movement and lost in his thoughts.
He was spending the night here at The Burrow after he’d joined the family in celebrating the second anniversary of the end of the war. The Weasleys hadn’t come through the battle unscathed - their son, Fred, a fatality. But the family refused to allow darkness to smother their spirit, would not let themselves fall into that deep, dark well of despair. Instead, each year, they and other war veterans celebrated their son, brother and friend’s short, but full, life and gave thanks for the freedoms they now had, that he had given his life for.
He sighed and glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. It was late; he should go up to bed like everyone else had, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the fire. The colour, the bright gold-red flames, made him consider the other reason he came to the anniversary celebration each year.
Ron Weasley.
He forced himself to look away from the fire, wishing his feelings for the youngest Weasley son were as easy to sever as that connection. After the war, after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry Potter - Remus’ oldest friend’s son - had been the most sought after wizard in the Western world and, caught up in the whirl of public appearances and awards ceremonies, Harry had not had the time to help his friends debrief. Ron and Hermione Granger had been beside Harry almost every step of the way in his journey, but they had been overlooked in favour of the conquering hero. Neither blamed Harry; instead watching proudly from the sidelines as their friend, who had been both worshipped and reviled by the wizarding world, was finally shown the respect he’d more than earned.
Hermione had found willing shoulders to cry on, to mourn, to relive, then begin to recover. Ron, however, just nodded his head when asked if he was alright and gave his questioner a fractured smile. Remus watched the young man, seeing his own stubbornness, his own determination not to need anyone, in the redhead. He found himself gravitating more and more towards the other man, spending time just sitting with him and talking about nonsensical things, or not talking at all.
Then one evening, six months after that fateful night, Ron said Fred’s name for the first time and the floodgates opened.
The year Remus had taught at Hogwarts, Ron had never struck him as the emotional type, as someone who could just open himself up and allow himself to be vulnerable and exposed and raw. But this night, his stoic facade shattered and Remus saw the fragility the redhead hid so well. All Ron’s pain and anguish spewed out of him and with the exorcism of all those ghosts, Ron was ready to heal.
And so was Remus.
That night, for the first time since his lover, Sirius, had passed, the werewolf felt the first, slightly disturbing, pull of attraction.
He could ignore it easily enough at first. There was so much to do; they had a world to rebuild. Remus worked side by side with the other survivors to put the smashed pieces of their lives back together, but inevitably, he found himself drawn to Ron. As they worked together building stone walls at Hogwarts, or joked as they cleaned up Diagon Alley, or shared a couple of pints in the pub after dark, Remus felt the attraction growing until his every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of the redhead. He knew Ron was straight, that Ron was involved with Hermione - a relationship that had blossomed whilst they and Harry were on the run - and he knew that this could only end in pain for him.
But he couldn’t help himself.
Ron, for his part, seemed oblivious to the fact his former professor was harbouring a childish crush on him and continued to seek Remus out, turning up at his house with a bottle of Firewhiskey or fire calling him after the full moon to check that he was alright. Despite all Remus’ best intentions to put some distance between them, they spent long hours together talking: Ron proving to have far more depth than Remus suspected many people knew, and in return, the werewolf revealed parts of himself no other living person had ever seen.
Their friendship grew as time passed and the intimacy of their relationship did not escape notice. Several months earlier, Hermione knocked on his door, asking for Ron.
‘He’s always with you,’ Hermione declared in exasperation when Remus told her the other man wasn’t with him. ‘Anytime I need him for something, he’s here. Anyone would think you two were dating!’
Remus blinked. There had been no malice in Hermione’s voice, but the reminder that Ron had a girlfriend, that Ron wanted a nubile young woman and not a broken-down werewolf twice his age, had made Remus’ heart ache and it was then that he realised he was in love with the other man. He swallowed his pain and hid his devastation behind a blank mask and simply shrugged; telling Hermione he would send Ron home if he turned up. Once she had Disapparated, he locked the front door, closed the Floo and sat down on the couch to drink himself numb.
He did as he told Hermione he would. Each time Ron appeared, he sent him away. It had ripped Remus apart to see the expression of hurt and confusion on Ron’s face when he told him he couldn’t come around for a chat, that he wasn’t available to go out for a drink, but Remus was true to his word. He encouraged Ron to settle into a future with Hermione and tried to ignore the gnawing jealousy in his gut when he saw the two holding hands, smiling together, kissing.
As long as Ron was happy, Remus tried to be happy for him and quietly sank back into his suddenly empty life.
Then, just three months earlier at Remus’ surprise fortieth birthday party, Ron confronted him, demanding an explanation for Remus’ absence in his life. He brushed aside Remus’ pathetic, hastily constructed excuses and their back and forth exchange became more and more agitated until Remus did the unforgivable.
He kissed Ron.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss as he, in his nocturnal fantasies, had imagined it would be. It was rough and hard and Remus poured all his pain into it, wanting Ron to feel what he felt; for Ron to, just for a moment, hurt like he hurt.
When he released the younger man, Ron stared at him with wide, blue, betrayed eyes before he turned tail and ran.
Remus locked himself in his bedroom and, ignoring the concerned queries from the other side of the door, anaesthetized himself with Firewhiskey once again.
Remus sighed now and leaned back against the couch cushions, scrubbing at his tired eyes. Ron had obviously not told anyone what Remus had done because a few days ago, Molly Weasley had turned up on his doorstep with his refusal of their yearly invitation in her hands. She begged him to attend and he’d given in, stomach churning with nerves for days at the thought of seeing Ron again.
When it happened, it was anti-climactic. Ron had just smiled and welcomed him to The Burrow with a clinical shake of his hand then had gone off to play Quidditch with his brothers. Remus spent the day with Arthur who confided that Ron and Hermione had split up.
‘Neither of them will say what happened,’ Arthur said as he drank his tea. ‘But they both seem happier for the break.’
Remus’ heart leapt, but he pushed the hope away. His heart was already riddled with cracks - he didn’t know if it would survive another blow without shattering completely.
And now, after carefully avoiding Ron for the evening, he was sat on the Weasley’s lumpy couch, admonishing himself yet again for falling for the worst person imaginable.
‘Remus?’
It was barely more than a whisper, but the susurrus sound heated Remus’ skin and made him tremble. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could fool Ron into believing he was asleep.
‘I know you’re not sleeping, Remus. You snore.’
Obviously not.
Remus opened his eyes, staring directly into Ron’s too-close face. ‘I’m just about to go up to bed, Ron.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Ron said, steel in his voice that Remus hadn’t heard before. ‘You’re going to listen to what I have to say.’
Remus frowned and opened his mouth but Ron clamped a hand over it and glared at the werewolf.
‘First of all,’ he said, kneeling on the couch next to Remus. ‘You are a complete and utter tosser for trying to push me away. I’m twenty years old, Remus, and perfectly capable of choosing my own friends.’
Remus tried to interrupt, but his words were lost, muffled by Ron’s palm.
‘Secondly,’ the redhead continued. ‘You’re lucky I don’t punch you in the nose for ignoring me all day. Don’t think that urge has passed either. I’m still pissed off with you.’
Remus snorted and Ron smirked. ‘Don’t give me attitude, Lupin. You’ve lost weight over the last few months; I could probably take you - werewolf strength and all.’
Remus raised an eyebrow as Ron paused, the amusement fading from his face.
‘And thirdly...,’ he said softly, shifting to slide a leg over Remus’, his knee on the couch between Remus’ legs, pressing into the werewolf’s crotch.
Remus’ eyes widened in shock but, when Ron removed his hand, he was unable to ask what the other man was playing at, struck dumb by the feeling of Ron’s body against his.
‘Thirdly,’ Ron repeated as he slid his hands around the back of Remus’ neck. ‘This...’
He dipped his head and caught the werewolf’s lips with his own.
The kiss was soft and gentle and everything Remus had imagined the kiss would be and he moaned into the other man’s mouth. Ron caught the tiny sound and echoed it back, tangling his fingers in Remus’ hair. His tongue traced the seam of the werewolf’s lips, encouraging Remus to open up to him, which he did eagerly before catching himself and reluctantly pulling away.
‘Ron, what...?’
‘You thick wolf,’ Ron whispered affectionately, hands shifting to cup Remus’ jaw. ‘I’ve been in love with you since that night you let me cry all over you.’
Remus heart stuttered then picked up its pace, finding a staccato beat that surely Ron could feel.
‘You...? But you and Hermione...?’
Ron frowned, his eyes troubled. ‘She...she was a little upset, but she said she’d suspected what I felt for you was more than just friendship. She knows she deserves someone who can love her completely, who is not using her to avoid facing what he knows is true.’
Remus couldn’t stop himself, raising a hand and stroking a thumb along the other man’s cheekbone, scarcely able to believe that this was okay.
‘And what is the truth, Ron Weasley?’
The corners of Ron’s mouth turned up and his eyes shone with what was unmistakeably love.
‘The truth is, Remus Lupin...I’m yours.’
Remus smiled broadly and Ron grinned before lowering his head and taking up where they’d left off.
fin.