Fling Wide the Whirlwind, vampire!Ron fic update, most recent chapter

[thrihyrne]

Mostly plot; must say how much I love Wikipedia. They provided the backstory for Martin once he'd informed me in the car last week on the way to church that he'd once been the Exchequer. Today in church it struck me that my next Gimli-fic will be set just prior to and during the Battle of Five Armies. Gimli would've been old enough to fight; the visions are already coming to me. My mind just never stops, I swear. Even mowing the lawn, I was trying to figure out what happens next. And my apologies again with the line spacing; it's a BBEdit to LJ thing.

This is still slash, still Harry/Ron, still adult (barely so in this chapter), so if not of interest, please skip. I'll post about RL soon; mostly I've been having fun making nominee buttons and award button entries for the MEFAs, usually for the Dwarvish categories. Big surprise. ;)


Wisps of clouds like smeared bruises blew across the sky. The full moon was so bright it seemed to
vibrate as Ron stared at it, aware more than ever of his increased faculties. Ron was trying his
level best not to be so absorbed in the sound of every churning wave, the eerie moans as the wind
rushed over the sand and grasses, attempting to tune things out the way he used to. Unfortunately,
even half a bottle of Ogdens had almost no effect on him. If he wanted to feel intoxicated, he'd
have to feed on someone who'd spent the evening at the local pub, and he was far too miserable and
weak to do that. He kept drinking anyway. When he couldn't stand the pulsing aura of the moon he
sat up and brought his wrist to his mouth. He drug across his veins with his fangs and drank, but
his own blood gave no relief to his thirst.



Ron was no martyr; he wasn't on a hunger strike. He'd simply restricted himself to drinking the
Ministry approved blood-like substance since Harry had left, five days prior. He'd gone to Sandaig
with its isolated house, opening his vampiric mind and sending what amounted to distress calls to
Martin, night after night. The other vampire had yet to reply, and Ron was beginning to sink into
a morass of despair. Ron couldn't Change Harry, that was madness. Ron had simply gotten
overwhelmed and Harry had snapped. Surely he would come back to his senses and recognise that
despite Ron's melodrama, Harry had been correct in saying they would be okay. His note, however,
indicated otherwise, and Harry's mental presence remained closed to Ron. Ron had absolutely no
idea where he was. That was the worst part of it, he decided, fingering Harry's ring, now on a
chain around his neck. He was so dreadfully alone.



Seamus had owled Ron a clipping from the Prophet the day after Charlie's birthday party
that proclaimed Harry had suddenly resigned from his coaching position.



"What the bloody fuck is this?" he'd written. "Fire call me NOW with some explanations."



Ron hadn't replied. He'd thrown a few things in a bag, mementoes, mostly, locked and warded the
flat, and flown his Skyrunner out to the island.



Martin! he sent out now into the mockingly luminous night. Merlin, Martin, I need you!
Come find me. I don't know what to do.



He looked down at his lap, at the Ogdens, and his wrist, which had already healed.



Fucking immortality. He brought his arm up again, tearing more savagely at the skin and
trying to relish the blood as it filled his mouth, to no avail. He took another swig of whiskey,
able to absorb the burn of the liquor if nothing else, and threw himself back onto the ground. The
glistering stars shone down dispassionately on him. Ron watched with detached interest as the
gouged skin on his arm knit itself together, as though sewn up from the inside by the tiniest of
tailors.



Ronald.



Ron sat up, shaking. Martin?!



I'm en route. His precise British accent was the most beautiful, lilting music Ron had ever
heard. You will cease harming yourself. Understood?



Ron nodded vigorously in his solitude. Yes! Where are you?



On the mainland. I'll be with you shortly, he promised. Have you been there long?



Five days, Ron said mournfully.



My apologies, Martin said, the regret obvious even in his telepathy. Please remain where
you are.



I will.



After thirty minutes passed, fear, then anger jettisoned through Ron. Feelings of abandonment rose
up, made all the worse as he heard the approach of a Muggle car. He cast a spell to disguise the
state of the house and hastily erected a set of strong wards.



Ronald. I cannot get to you if you put up barriers to me.



You're in the car? Ron whipped out his wand to dismantle the wards.



I can fly a great distance, but I'd already come a long way and am not at full strength. This
seemed the fastest way. I'm merely, he paused, borrowing this. I'll return it before
sunrise.



Even as Ron heard the sentence, the automobile came to a stop in what was ostensibly the yard.
Martin got out of the car as Ron stood up, his limbs rubbery as he stumbled over to him.



"Martin, he left. Harry left me," he cried, clutching the vampire's tweed cape.



"Why did he leave?" Martin asked as he drew Ron to him, rubbing his hands over Ron's back.



"We had a fight. No, it was more than that." Ron sniffed, trying to pull himself together now that
he was in Martin's stabilising presence. "Emotionally I lost it and nearly forced myself on him.
Sexually," he choked. "Harry threw me off— he's really powerful, much more than I am. I think he
went a bit mad. He left his joining band and a note that said I can't see him again unless I Turn
him."



Martin cradled Ron's head, running his fingers softly against Ron's scalp. "I don't believe he
fully knows what he's requesting of you."



They stood in silence, the wind tearing around them. Martin's physical being soothed Ron
immeasurably and he sank against him.



You've not been feeding properly, Martin gently rebuked. Let's go inside and you may
drink some from me. Then we shall talk.



Okay.



Martin turned and waved toward the car and the driver's side door closed. They walked to the small
house and shut themselves in, Ron casting an Incendio to get a fire going.



Come here, fledgling.



Ron approached Martin, still surprised at how normal he appeared, except for his eyes, of course.
A small smile quirked the vampire's lips.



I've been remiss in telling you more about me. When I was a mortal, I had another name. I was
Baron Martin Cottington, and I was a banker. Well, I served as the Chancellor of the Exchequer, to
be precise.



I don't know that that is, Ron said, his silent thoughts transforming to an audible sigh as he
nosed at Martin's neck. Why'd you change your name?



I was no longer myself. I'll explain more later, my young one. Now you must feed.



Ron mouthed the smooth skin, emulating a kiss before sinking in his fangs. He sensed more of
Martin as he drank, his worried cares for Ron and other, more concealed musings. Ron was careful
not to feast for long. Martin's blood was deliciously potent, the ambrosial liquid velvet sliding
down his throat in an invigorating stream. He drew back, licking at the wounds even though Martin
healed more quickly than Ron.



Thank you. I don't know how I made it before you adopted me.



Martin caressed Ron's cheekbone with his thumb. I've said this before: you, Ronald, are
powerful and strong. You were certainly selected with good reason. You shall be as a hawk trained
by a beloved falconer before ultimately being set free.



"I don't understand," Ron said helplessly. "I'm clever but not that clever, I've got a wicked
temper at times, and I've never done anything extraordinary. Well, being bonded to Harry is pretty
extraordinary. Was."



Martin could tell how morose Ron felt. "Let's go sit by the fire."



Ron collapsed on one side of a couch while Martin draped his cape over a chair and sat next to
Ron. "I have been a vampire for a very long time, but I shall never forget my years as a mortal,"
Martin said gravely. "I married, and had children, though they all died before me. I spent time in
Spain, even serving as ambassador and acting as an English agent. For a decade I was able to keep
my Making a secret from those around me, even the Jesuits of Valladolid with whom I had residence
before staging my death."



Ron looked at him, at this unassuming, Muggle vampire with somewhat crooked teeth and thick,
grey-laced brown hair, and marveled that he'd been Changed as well. "How have you kept from going
batty after all this time, if you were alone?"



"Did I ever say that I'd spent three hundred and sixty-six years alone?" Martin's blue eyes
gleamed in the flickering light of the fire.



"No, but you hadn't mentioned anybody. Look, I am really interested in your life; it's been much
longer than mine. Even without this, though, Wizards live longer than Muggles. I might've lived to
be 300 or so, depending."



"Tell me, Ronald. Your Harry. He's different from you somehow, am I correct?"



Ron's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? We're both Wizards, both fancy blokes obviously. Hey-
why doesn't that bother you? Especially if you were born back in the 1500s."



A gentle smile traversed Martin's lined face. "Vampires are usually sensual creatures, though
there are exceptions, of course. The actual intimate acts, and consequently the gender of mortals
with whom one might decide to do such, have less and less importance as the years and decades go
on." He looked knowingly at Ron. "Even back in my time I knew of men who engaged in pederasty. Two
men, two women, a roomful of both kinds, all together— they are all mortals, they will all die.
What they do with each other is not my business and certainly does not require judgment on my
part."



He reached out to take Ron's hand, the gesture paternal more than anything else. "I do worry for
you, though I must admit my motives are not purely altruistic. You're endowed with an indomitable
spirit, and you and I and the others of our kind will need to share these Islands. Back to Harry,"
he said, squeezing Ron's hand. "He is powerful, you say, yet his energies are different."



"He's very power…" Ron's voice tailed off. "Oh. He's a half-blood. That's what you meant by
different. How on earth would you be able to tell that? Even Wizards can't tell by looking."



"Vampires view the world differently on many levels from mortals, and your kind, albeit long-lived
and magical, are still mortal. Your auras have a different sheen, if you will. I've known your
thoughts at times, but I cannot see through your eyes. This leaves me doubly uncertain as to how
to counsel you. I've lived for a very long time, but even the wise don't have all the answers. Why
do you think your Harry is acting so rashly?"



"I don't know." Ron slumped into the couch, listlessly holding on to Martin's hand. "He took my
Turning really well at first, and then things switched. I was doing all right with it, and he
wasn't. It's not jealousy, I know that. We can choose to hear each other's thoughts— you witnessed
that that first night you showed up."



Ron lolled his head to look over at Martin. "I don't think it matters," he said with a heavy sigh.
"Even if I could stalk Harry somehow, and Merlin knows it'd be all too easy for me to want to try
it, he's so bloody willful he'll make our lives hell until he gets what he wants. But he doesn't
really want this, any more than I did."



Ron paused in his tirade, trying to organise his thoughts so they stopped resembling a Cannons'
game plan. "I mean, he can't. He's seen what it's like. No more sunlight, ostracized by most
people, surviving on blood, for Merlin's sake, no job. Well, he quit his anyway. Still! It's
forever, or until you go raving and burn yourself," he said, shuddering. "And you were the one who
told me that being Turned can bring out the absolute worst in a person. What if I made him a
vampire and he became really jaded, and stopped seeing the value in life? He could be another
Vol—" Ron cleared his throat. "Be like Voldemort. He might drink to survive but also drain his
victims for the fun of it. I'd kill him if that happened." Ron's voice was steely.



"Now I think you see why I said your Harry doesn't truly know what he's asking of you. Come here,
fledgling." Martin's expression was one of both patience and pity, and Ron felt himself drawn to
the comfort of the older vampire. He sprawled across the couch, resting his head in Martin's lap
as though he were a child. Security and serenity emanated from Martin, allowing Ron to continue
releasing the torrent of thoughts that had been plaguing him for days.



"I don't want to live without him, but something in me just knows it's not right for me to be the
one to Turn him, if anyone does. Can you do it?" He twisted his neck, looking balefully up at
Martin. "Would you? I'm not completely sure how it's done, seeing as how I was Obliviated. But
you're not a Wizard," he said more to himself than Martin, lowering his head. "What if it didn't
work? What if Harry turned into some horrible half-vampire? What if he became a Squib? What if
there's some slew of spells that go along with this you don't know about, because you're a Muggle?
What if Harry ends up hating me no matter what?"



The last sentence was a whisper, unwilling to leave Ron's throat though he had to say it. Ron
needed to get some bollocks, and now. No matter if he never saw Harry again, if all he had from
this point on was his handfasting band… Ron's hand trailed up to the chain and he held the cold
metal in his palm. He wasn't going to go build a fucking pyre out on this bloody island and burn
himself to death because Harry was being a childish, self-centered, out of his sodding gourd of a
head idiot.



He watched the cheerful flames in silence. With his preternatural vision, Ron pondered the depths
of yellow, even intense blue where the fire was at its hottest. All at once he recognised that
he'd closed most of his mind to Martin, which hadn't been his intent. He pictured the filmy
covering dissolving, allowing Martin to hear his higher level thoughts.



It's all right, Ronald. You are probably right to protect yourself. You've been expressing
yourself quite clearly, and for that I am grateful.



Will you? Would you?



Will I Make your Harry one of our kind?



Yes.



The silence thickened as Martin struggled with his thoughts. They were mostly shut off from Ron,
though he knew innately that the older vampire was very troubled. Ron hadn't beat around the bush;
he'd demanded a yes or no answer to what was a nefariously complicated question. He turned onto
his back so he could look into Martin's face.



"Do you love me?" Ron asked, suddenly insecure.



Of course, youngling. As I've said before, you're not Made by me, which perhaps is for the
best. Oftentimes those whom we Make become closed to us. We can no longer hear them directly, as
you and I can, and you and your Harry, when he's not shut himself off from you.



"I'm disinclined to say yes to your request," Martin continued aloud, rubbing at his temple in an
endearingly mortal gesture, "for myriad reasons. I've known of your kind for at least two
centuries, but have been quite content to dwell in my Muggle realms, as you would call them.
Frankly, Making another is astonishingly easy. You drink from the other until he is on the brink
of death, then you offer your blood; three cycles is enough. Intent and desire for the beloved is
usually the motivating factor. With your kind, however, I simply don't know." He shook his head.
Looking down at Ron, he lowered his hand to pull the handfasting ring from Ron's hand, rubbing it
between his thumb and forefingers. "Is your past joining worth the risk of creating a potentially
miserable, quite powerful immortal, who may or may not turn on you once it's done?"



Through blurred vision, Ron looked at the ring, a narrower version of his own. "I don't know," he
croaked. "I need to go out. Go walk about a bit, think through things."



Martin nodded sagely, releasing the band. Ron tucked it back under his jumper and t-shirt.



I will not Make him.



Ron sought any reprieve in Martin's eyes, but all of the older vampire's concerns had to do with
Ron, not Harry. A lament pulsed through Ron's veins, a threnody to a life that now seemed so
distant as to have never happened.



We've been best mates since I was eleven years old. I can't bear this.



Ron wrenched himself up to a standing position, feeling his all-too-accessible anger flooding him.
He made himself stand there, breathing deeply, focusing on Martin's eyes, as blue as the deepest
lake and hiding as much mystery. Martin was chastising him, though his demeanour would have
appeared unchanged to anyone but another immortal.



"You're right," Ron said miserably. "I can bear it. And I will, if I have to. But I've got
to think through this. D'you mind?" Ron crashed to the floor on his knees, penitent and fragile.
"You came all this way, for me, and now I'm rushing off. Fuck. I do need you, but you don't
understand all of it, and—"



Go, Martin's erudite voice sounded in Ron's mind. Be back at least an hour before
sunrise. Promise me that.



I will. Ron knocked his forehead against Martin's shins. I will, I will.



Gingerly he got back to a standing position and walked to the door. He looked at his broom,
leaning in the corner, and picked it up. Maybe flying would be better than a stroll. He'd done
some good thinking in the past on his Skyrunner. Once outside, he straddled his broom and pushed
off from the ground. It was a clear night; the clouds that had been chased by the wind had all
blown off. He'd just have to chance it. Up and around he flew, waiting to see how his frantic
thoughts would distill themselves.



He leaned into the broom, his torso nearly parallel to the wood before pulling up, slowing his
speed as a memory resolutely came to the forefront of his conscious. It had been a Saturday much
like any other at that point in their lives: sleeping in to a ridiculous hour, Harry making a
massive breakfast that Ron would relish, running errands, either separately or alone, Harry fire
calling Remus for his weekly check-in, Ron doing the same with his mum. This particular Saturday
Harry had set his heart on an adventure, and Ron obligingly had gone along, even though it had
been harder and harder for Harry to pull him away from the book he'd been reading. Hermione had
given him a Muggle book that could have easily functioned as a doorstop, The Lord of the Rings.
The first several chapters hadn't been the best, but once this Boromir fellow had shown up, and
Gimli and Legolas, he'd been hard pressed to put the book down.



"C'mon Ron— let's go see Nessie."



"Harry." Ron had moaned. "You know that's just some overgrown, bored selkie up in that Loch."



"So what? It'll be fun. I'll pack some food, and there's an Apparating point not far away. Please?
We've not done anything like this in a while."



Oftentimes 'anything like this' involved not-quite-public sex, of which Ron already had fond
memories.



"Okay."



They'd Apparated about a half mile from the Loch with its famous aquatic monster and wandered
around, mingling with the Muggle tourists. Harry had even transfigured a few sickles into pound
notes so they could take a tour around part of the lake by boat, getting the full effect of the
mysterious and shy creature in its cold, deep home. The day had been unseasonably sunny and warm,
and after their short cruise, they wandered up one of the tree-covered hills until they found a
small open area. They ate the sandwiches Harry'd brought and drank a couple of butterbeers apiece.



"Merlin, I want a nap," Ron had said, collapsing on the blanket he'd engorged to regular size.



"You sleep more than anyone I know, you lazy git," Harry had joked, poking Ron in the ribs.



"You're one to talk!" Ron had insisted, throwing his arm over his face to block out the sun.



"I've got something I'd like to do before you drift off," Harry had said suggestively, running his
hand along the inside of Ron's thigh.



"Do you, now?" Ron hadn't been able to suppress his smirk, nor control his intently interested
cock.



"Yes," Harry had said lustfully, slowly running his hand over the first evidence of Ron's arousal.



"Harry, you're quite the exhibitionist," Ron had said, groaning softly as Harry had continued
kneading Ron's growing erection.



"What— do you only want to have sex at home, on the bed? How boring," Harry had said, rolling his
eyes.



"We've christened every one of those rooms, most multiple times," Ron had reminded him, lifting
his hips to allow Harry to pull down his denims and y-fronts.



"Too right." Harry had a wicked grin as he removed his own khakis and boxers.



"Come here, you," Ron had growled, pulling Harry on top of him.



They'd kissed leisurely, become more passionate as Harry had rocked his groin against Ron's. Ron
had looked up into the robin's egg blue sky as Harry had sucked along his neck, Ron groping
Harry's arse. It had been a perfect afternoon, the warm sun beaming down on them, their pale skin
bared to the fair breeze.



"Want to taste you," Ron had begged, and Harry had happily rolled over onto his back.



"Who am I to say no?" Harry'd said, shimmying his hips so his cock waved in the sunlight.



Ron had feasted on Harry, consciously being as slow and thorough as he could. He'd relished
Harry's moans and sighs, and 'Ron, so good's until at last Harry's hands had tugged in
Ron's hair.



"Gods, Ron," Harry had panted, his orgasm pulsing into Ron's mouth.



Ron had swallowed the briny, musky fluid, for the thousandth time confirming it was one of the
most delicious flavours he'd ever tasted. With a thoughtful smile, Ron had sat back on his heels
as Harry caught his breath. Ron snuck his finger down to wipe away the stray drops of pearly
liquid as he saw them, licking it off as Harry had raised up on his elbows.



"Good thing I know where you got to be so brilliant at that or I'd be insanely jealous," he'd said
with a sated grin.



"I'm sure there's always room for improvement," Ron had said, waggling his eyebrows.



"Your turn."



"Oh yes." Ron had lain on his back, equally effusive in his comments to Harry as Harry's skilled
tongue and lips brought Ron closer and closer to coming. He'd been so close, the prickling seizing
in his sacs just hovering on the edge when Harry had released his throbbing cock. Ron had groaned
at the injustice.



"Ron."



Ron had scrabbled up to his elbows, suddenly worried that they'd been seen.



"Ron, I want to be able to do this with you forever," Harry had said, gently stroking Ron's
erection with his hand. "For our whole lives. I've researched the Wizarding laws and we can't get
married, exactly, but there's no prohibition to handfasting ceremonies, and it's practically the
same thing. Sorry for the timing of the question, but will you be bound to me, Ron?"



Ron had found it hard to swallow. He'd just assumed they'd live together, and be HarryandRon as
they had been since that first day on the Hogwarts Express. Harry actually wanted them to be
sacramentally joined. Ron hadn't been able to help it, but tears had risen in his eyes and he'd
nodded slowly.



"Of course. I love you, Harry. I've always wanted to be with you."



What had followed had been one of the most intensely emotional orgasms Harry had ever wrung from
him. Or it had been until Ron had been Turned; their sexual acts since then had been
overwhelmingly intimate on levels Ron couldn't have fathomed before. The sublime happiness on
Harry's face on that memorable day faded into other expressions in Ron's cache of memories:
frantic, grimaced in pain, proud, rapturous, relaxed in sleep.



With a thump, Ron landed a ways from the small house, coming back to the present. He wanted to
stretch his legs prior to shutting himself away for the day. He knew he had a little more than an
hour before sunrise, enough time to get back to the Black house and keep his promise to Martin. As
Ron strode along the sandy path, his broom slung over his shoulders, he knew that he'd come to a
decision. What the ultimate outcome would be, he couldn't hazard to guess, but in this immediate
course of action, Ron was resolved.



Martin stood in the doorway, his cape on and a serious expression on his face. If he'd had a pipe
in his mouth, he would have looked like the detective in a collection of Muggle stories Harry had,
though the character's name escaped Ron. Martin opened his arms as Ron approached. Ron allowed the
vampire to hold him as he spoke his thoughts slowly.



I'm unwilling to lose Harry like this. There's a Wizard vampire in Romania— I haven't met her,
but somebody who works with my brother Charlie offered to introduce us. I'll go and find out what
all she can tell me, and ask her if she'll Make Harry. If not, I'll do it.



A low sigh passed from Martin's mouth. "Then it shall be." He stood back, hands placed on Ron's
shoulders, his face grave. Feed properly, he stated firmly. No matter what, you must be
at full strength.



"I'll have my wand," Ron said defensively. "I'm all but an Auror. Like a special agent, I
suppose."



One major fight with your Harry and you'd let yourself become weak, Martin reminded him a
bit testily. Don't overestimate yourself, especially against others like us, whether your kind
or not.



I promise.



If you find yourself in peril, contact me immediately. I'll do what I can.



I will, Martin. Thank you, for everything.



In a surprisingly European manner, Martin kissed both of Ron's cheeks. He gave Ron a parting
reassuring look before striding so quickly to the Muggle car it appeared as though he'd glided
across the grass. The engine roared to life, Martin turned the car around, and drove away. In the
ensuing quiet Ron bolted the door. He sat in front of the fire until the telltale prickling of
sunrise began to affect him, making his limbs and eyelids heavy. He put out the fire, waved a
Nox to extinguish the remaining lights, and undid his necklace. Harry and Ron had both worn
their rings on their middle right fingers, but Harry's fingers were smaller than Ron's. Ron found
that it fit on his left pinky. With the band in its new home, he redid the wards around the house
and put himself into his temporary hideaway, hoping desperately that he would have a dreamless
sleep.

Comments

[celandineb.livejournal.com]

I'm still very worried about this whole idea of Harry becoming a vampire... there may be no other choice, but that doesn't make it a GOOD choice. *sighs* But a good chapter!

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Cel! I'm struggling with the story now, as I'm not sure what I want to have happen, nor how it should, and Harry's not being cooperative. Ron and Martin are no problem. :P So glad you enjoyed it!

[stuckinsea.livejournal.com]

Wow. Just wow. Why is it when you write smut, you make me blush and get a fluttery feeling in my stomach...you're amazing at this.

Martin's whole story, was brilliant. You're an amazing writer. I'm with Ron, what if Harry does get all crazy on him, can he really kill him? I have total faith in you, I know this will work out. Can't wait for the next installment.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Why is it when you write smut, you make me blush and get a fluttery feeling in my stomach...you're amazing at this.

Thank you!! Well, I suppose I think that if someone else reads the smut and *doesn't* get fluttery, and/or flushed, and/or want to spend time alone or with someone else getting some pleasure out of it- then it's not good smut!

I'm with Ron, what if Harry does get all crazy on him, can he really kill him? I have total faith in you, I know this will work out.

Good questions! Now if only my Muse would come back in regards to this story; I think maybe she needed a break. I not quite sure how I want it to go; more action, less talking in the next chapter, though. And more smut! But I have to find Harry for that to happen- unless Marilena has ideas…

[matildabishop.livejournal.com]

Don't mind me, I'm just here for the h/r. Don't know why I always think I'll have more time when the S.O. is gone. I just end up more scattered. This was the work week that didn't work and I ended up making a lot of posts about British breakfasts because I couldn't concentrate. Though black pudding is squickily fascinating. Any hoo, I'm here to print vamp story for saturday a.m. reading with coffee. Sound good?

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Sounds great! Now there's an additional chapter, too. :D Some British breakfasts are a bit squicky. I love their food on the whole, though.