newest Fling Wide the Whirlwind Chapter
May. 14th, 2006 07:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneAs before, this is vampire!Ron/Harry, NC-17 (though this chapter is primarily plot-driven), etc. etc. Don't read if not interested. The two locations I've explored in this, Timisoara and Buzias, are real places in western Romania and I had a lot of fun learning about them. Oh, a warning for vampiric cannibalism. ;)
Ron paced in the large office space for the Preserve, waiting for Valerica to appear. Charlie had confirmed she was in the greenhouses but would be coming to the office shortly.
"What on Circe’s tits happened at my party?" Charlie asked once Ron appeared, having arrived via a Granian available for Reserve staff.
"Harry and I had a blow-out," Ron said with a pained look. "A really bad one, and I’m still not sure what started it. I don’t want to say much else, really; I need to talk to another Wizard vampire, and the sooner the better."
"I was just asking," Charlie said, his feelings obviously hurt. "Remind me not to care in the future." He focused his attention back on the parchments in front of him, signing his name on multiple lines.
"Bollocks, Charlie, it’s just complicated, okay? I’ll figure out what to do, though. Thank you for being worried. Really."
Charlie looked up, a wan, lopsided smile on his face. "Least an older brother can do. Actually, maybe it’s not." A bit nervously, he tilted his head toward his shoulder. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I don’t really know how you describe what it is you do."
Ron blinked disbelievingly at Charlie, at his thick, muscled neck, the veins seeming to push up against his skin. "I feed. Drink. Feast, whatever. I’d been on the Ministry stuff since—" he paused, censoring himself. "For a few days, but Martin suggested I not do that."
"Who’s Martin?"
"Muggle vampire. Adopted me, sort of. He’s a pretty great bloke."
"Glad you have somebody like that, in addition to Harry, I mean," Charlie said earnestly. "So?" He tapped at his neck.
Ron rubbed above his eyebrows. "Well, I’d be daft to turn you down. I assure you I’ve gotten pretty good at this. It won’t hurt, I won’t drain you, and I’ll heal you afterwards."
"I wasn’t worried," Charlie reassured him, getting up from behind the desk. "Curious, must admit. It’s not just every family that has a famous vampire."
"’M not famous. That’s horrible Charlie, really." Ron could feel the grimace etched on his face. "You can't imagine how isolating it is."
"Come here." Charlie’s comforting embrace caught Ron by surprise, but he realised he hadn’t really spent that much time with his older brother since he’d gone to Romania. Charlie was obviously more effusive with his affections, and Ron allowed himself to gather some warmth from him. "Drink. I bet you’ll feel better. Traveling by flying horse, if you don’t do it that often, can be tiring."
"Things like that don’t tire me, but thanks for saying so. You ready?"
Charlie nodded, shuffling backward a couple of steps so Ron had better access to his neck.
"Oh, um," Ron began, feeling uncomfortable bringing up one of the likely side-effects, "you may find you get…" He thought about Martin, about the centuries he himself had to live, and decided he was through being embarrassed. He looked down slightly so he stared into Charlie's toffee brown eyes. "I don't know why, but being fed on seems to be pretty erotic. Don't be surprised if you get a bit hard. It's not because of me, really."
Shockingly, Charlie flushed. "Oh. That's, well, oh fuck it," he said, planting his feet on the floor and his hands at Ron's hips. "Family's family."
"Thank you," Ron breathed against Charlie's freckled ear. He savoured the scent that hovered just above Charlie's skin, as his fangs became fully exposed. He licked at the warm flesh before gently dragging his teeth until they were aligned with Charlie's most prominent vein. Ron pushed easily into Charlie's neck, sighing softly as the hot liquid shot into his mouth. For perhaps a full minute Ron drank ever so slowly, controlling the pace to make sure Charlie's heart wasn't affected. He'd kept his senses attuned to the ambient noises, however, and held Charlie in a strong grip as a door opened and the two women's voices Ron had heard stopped suddenly. There was a shriek.
"What the fuck?" Kylie's expletive was instantly identifiable.
Ron mouthed at the puncture wounds to seal them, still holding on to Charlie, who appeared to be in a bit of a stupor.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Kylie demanded, storming over to glare at Ron while attempting to pull Charlie out of Ron's embrace. "Fucking pervert," she seethed, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders.
"No, just a vampire," Ron replied coolly, releasing his brother.
"Love, I'm fine," Charlie said, his voice sluggish but stern. "Honestly. And I volunteered," he said, shrugging off her hands so he could stand up straight and put himself to rights.
"You’re fine?"
Kylie glowered at Ron, who then looked at the doorway where Valerica stood, nonplussed.
"Thanks for your post," he said before turning back to Charlie. "And thank you. I do feel much better." Ron had taken more than he would from other people, because he knew Charlie's strength and that he would recover quickly. The vibrant blood danced through him, making him feel warm and at peace.
"Any time." Charlie gave him a big grin, pulling Kylie to him rather against her will. "Kylie, I believe you owe Ron an apology. There's nothing perverse in a vampire drinking blood; it's known as survival."
"He's a Dark Creature," she said through gritted teeth.
"He's my brother."
As thoughtful as the fraternal gesture was, Ron was terribly anxious to get to Marilena. "Kylie, no apology needed. I am what I am, and frankly, I don't care what you think about it. Thanks again, Charlie."
Ron walked to the door where Valerica studied him, her gaze unreadable. "Are you ready to go?" she asked, her slate-coloured eyes seeming to map his face.
"Definitely."
Valerica guided them to the perimeter of the Preserve. "Anti-Apparition wards," she said, though Ron had figured as such. "Having someone somehow accidentally Apparate into a dragon pen could be pretty horrible."
"Has that happened?"
"I don't believe so," she said with a sly smile. "But I've only been here a little over a year. Here we are." She paused on the threshold before linking her arm through Ron's and looking up at him. "I'd like to side-along Apparate. Is that all right with you?"
"Don't see why not. How far away are we going?"
"Not that far. We'll be going near Timisoara, in the west. It's an ancient city, quite beautiful."
Ron nodded. "Better move outside of the barriers first."
"Of course."
With a small, huffed laugh, Valerica stepped forward two steps, bringing Ron with her. The jarring, unpleasant disconnect of Apparition snapped through him; it was far worse when he didn't have the coordinates in his head first. They were in a forest on the edge of a small lake, nowhere near a city that he could tell. An odd smell filled his nose even as a vague, feminine shadow of presence swept through his mind. Ron started in shock, quickly closing his thoughts. He realised he was probably too slow to have disguised his multiple purposes in being there, but also recognised that really, there was no point in being at all coy. Hopefully this was his last stop in finding out what could and should be done, both for his own knowledge and to know what to do about Harry.
"Where are we?" he asked, sniffing into the air.
"Buzias. There are thermal and mineral pools here; Marilena has a fondness for them."
Ron pondered that for a few seconds. "Aren't you going to let her know we're here?" He knew that the other vampire had been aware of their presence as soon as they'd appeared, but he wasn't sure about the petite Romanian's abilities.
"I am sure she already knows."
Even as the few words were emitted into the night air, a faint plashing noise came from the end of the inky waters. To Ron's great discomfort, he watched as a nude woman of medium build and indeterminate age languidly emerged from the depths of the pool. Her mouth remained closed while she methodically drew closer to the shore, her porcelain skin glowing under the light of the moon.
I know of your heart's desire, and I will do what you request.
"What?" Ron cried out, trying valiantly to keep his composure.
You are here for knowledge, but also for Him.
The last word was accompanied by a short staccato of memories. They were obviously of prurient interest to this immortal who had been reaping Ron's trove of erotic moments with Harry.
"Ron, you can't just lie there like that and expect me not to do anything."
"Lie here like what?" A sly grin, post skinny-dipping, sprawled out in the warm shade on his stomach, legs wide apart.
"Like that."
Harry's oiled fingers and hands massaging Ron's shoulders and back before heading toward their intended goal. Harry's thumbs tenderly prising Ron open until Ron had dropped his feet to the tiled ground for purchase, giving him leverage so he could push back against the now-stroking fingers. The slick, squelching sound of Harry slicking his own cock out of Ron's vision making Ron's pulse hammer through his body.
"Up on your knees, lion." Harry's commanding, lusty voice in Ron's ear.
Ron complying with graceless haste and need, thumping his forehead against the back of his hands and willing himself to relax, incredibly turned on but still wary of the initial burn and stretching, until…
"Ron, gods, so tight, love being inside you."
Push-pull and grunting, and Ron grasping his own aching cock, the scent of Muggle sunscreen mingling joyously with musky sweat and Harry's frenetic thrusts and biting at Ron's shoulder and Harry ramming himself in for all he was worth and Ron's frenzied pistoning on his shaft and—
"Stay out of my memories," Ron growled, the anger at being violated vibrating around him. He'd bared his fangs, every muscle in his body was tensed, and his wand was pointed unwaveringly at the vampire's heart.
You needed to be taught, fledgling, she replied smoothly, her satin voice draping across his thoughts.
"Hades' hackles I do."
"Marilena, please," Valerica pleaded in a small voice, holding out heavy, velvet robes that had come from Merlin only knew where. "Get dressed. Don't torment Ronald, or whatever it is that you're doing."
Marilena elegantly attired herself in the burgundy robes, her noxious attentions on Ron as she dressed. "He is young. He comes to me with thousands of questions, wishes me to bestow the Change on to another, and does not even bring a gift. He must relinquish his perceived sense of power if he wishes to obtain favour from me."
"I don't want your favour, and at this point, bugger the questions," Ron ground out through his clenched teeth. He'd been sure to slam his thoughts shut as in a vise, but he had no idea how much Marilena knew about him. Far more than he'd realised, that was certain. It filled him with rage, though peripherally Ron was aware that anger was sometimes good for him, forcing him to focus. "You'll Make him, you said?"
"I will, though like all things of great value, it comes with a price."
Valerica released a scalding torrent of what Ron assumed to be Romanian.
"I said I would, and I shall," the vampire replied lovingly, her demeanour toward her grand-grand-grand-niece in stark contrast to how she had upbraided Ron. Marilena continued on in Romanian as Ron watched Valerica sullenly study the ground at her feet. In the ensuing silence, Valerica looked up, the hurt in her expression such that Ron felt pity for her, though he had absolutely no idea what the two of them had been discussing.
After a deep sigh, Valerica turned to look at Ron. "I've been asked to leave. I must bid you good night."
Awkwardly Ron sent out his arm, uncertain as to whether or not she would shake his hand, expect a kiss on the cheek, or a hug. Valerica ponderously trod the few steps to Ron's side, melting against him as he caught her in surprise.
"You do not realise what a gift you have," she said moodily against his chest.
"I didn't ask to become like this," Ron said quietly, touching Valerica's back. "I don't even know who did it. I was Obliviated."
Valerica turned her head to focus on Marilena.
"No, child, not I," she said dismissively. "Though the imprint of the one who did is still on him. You must go now, my little one."
Valerica nodded into Ron's ribs and pulled away. "I will see you again," she said, seeming more stalwart than in the moments before.
"Hope so," Ron answered as he watched the diminutive witch walk a few paces away and Apparate.
"So, ginger hair, wild eyes and stampeding thoughts. I will Change your lover, but I shall require a gift." Marilena gazed at Ron, appearing beatific for a few seconds at the moonlight caught her face. She looked distressingly like an attractive, feminine version of Severus Snape, with black hair that cascaded over her shoulders and a striking Roman nose.
"Valerica forgot to tell me about that part," Ron said with no small amount of sarcasm.
"What I have in mind is not for you to give," she continued, turning to look up at the swath of stars suspended far above them. Ron followed her gaze, viewing the pinpricks of light above the tree canopy. "I require something from him. I wish for a piece of his heart."
"A piece of his what?!" Ron shouted, disturbing the frigid calm.
"His heart."
"Why not ask for part of his soul, while you're at it?" Ron spat menacingly.
"I have no need of that, fledgling." She smiled up at the heavens, though there was no warmth in the gesture. Marilena looked inhuman, like the unvanquishable immortal she truly was.
"If I live long enough, I'll end up like that." The irresistible, alien truth sparked through Ron, though he couldn't bear to fathom it for long.
"Our souls are seared wholly into our being when we are Made," Marilena said. "They cannot be separated, not from our bodies, neither into divided parts. The blood and tender flesh of a mortal heart, when given freely, infuses not only additional strength, but also compassion. And that, you who have been a dark child for only the blink of an eye, is something you may find you desperately crave. Especially after you have lived as one of our kind for long decades and centuries."
She lowered her head, and Ron felt the compulsion to look at her as certainly as though she had commanded it aloud. Her obsidian eyes held a weariness he hadn't expected to see.
"I will take enough to satisfy me, no more, though his heart will not regenerate. That is to be the cost. Call him, this reckless one you love. Until he arrives, hunt with me. I have long missed the company of one as rash and youthful as you."
Ron was decidedly of two minds. What Marilena was demanding was barbaric, and he despised her for imposing such a high price. He didn't believe he would ever have even a sliver of affection for Marilena, but she was still the only other magical vampire he knew.
"I have a request," Ron said finally. "Kindly keep out of my mind when I contact him. Stay out of it entirely. Then you can show me how you hunt."
Ron saw her eyes gleam as she regarded him. "I will agree. Even with your inexperience, you know you are able to look into your victim as you drink of him. This means that I will come to know your lover intimately as I Make him. You may be shy around me if you wish, but I will take him to the brink of death and know all of his memories."
"I don't think you realise how horrific some of them may be," Ron said bitterly. "He's not had a life of just sex and school."
"Come, protective bear," Marilena said, holding out her hands. Grudgingly Ron accepted them, her chilled fingers a slender echo of his own. "You shall learn from me until your lover arrives. If he arrives."
"Of course he will." Ron said the words, his knees almost buckling as though his world had literally shifted. Until that second he'd not even considered the possibility that Harry wasn't simply waiting for Ron to make up his mind. For all he knew, Harry had been in such a distressed state he'd gone looking for another vampire — any vampire — to Change him. "Oh fuck," he whispered, his voice edged with panic.
"Come," Marilena insisted, drawing their clasped hands to her prominent collarbones. "We must feed."
Harry, Ron moaned. With the single word, he flung his thoughts, desires, and fear into the vast winter sky, uncertain that he would ever receive a reply.
* * * * *
For three interminably long nights, Ron and Marilena roved around the town of Timisoara and surrounding hamlets. They hunted, Marilena's condescension obvious when Ron insisted he would only select individuals he could tell wanted to die. This included an ancient, gnarled couple on whom Ron practised some of what Marilena had taught him, the skill of consoling and reassuring one's victim so there was little struggle, and how to draw out the delirious profundity of drinking down the life of a mortal. In excruciating detail, she elaborated on what it was like to be Changed, the passing through death to immortality. She refused to let him know where she spent her days, and encouraged him to keep the same from her. Still somewhat optimistic that he would be there only a short time, Ron slept during the day hidden in the dungeons of Ambroze Castle, close to Timisoara and its nearby spa town. She also explained in depth her discoveries about her magical abilities after becoming a vampire, as well as a sweeping overview of the history of vampires. It was both a far more vivid and bleak account than anything Ron remembered from Hogwarts.
Marilena also propounded her views on vampiric behaviour. Each immortal Made changed from the way he or she had been in life, but the manifestation of it was unpredictable and varied tremendously. The older the vampire who enacted the Turning, the more powerful the new vampire, though unfortunately that didn't guarantee any psychological stability for the fledgling. The unequivocal truth was there simply was no way to know how a new vampire would act with his or her new gift. Making it doubly complicated was the interaction of the preternatural attributes of vampiric blood with one's magical abilities. Having been a Healer, Ron knew intimately the complicated matrix involving the life force, ancestral suffusion and ambric topography in which a witch or wizard's magic resided. Just as any witch or wizard's magic was unique to him or herself, with its quirks, strengths and weaknesses providing a personal marking as singular as a fingerprint, so were the capabilities of a new vampire.
More and more, Ron felt it was a fluke that he felt as similar to his pre-immortal self as he did, brought on by the circumstances in which he was Made as well as his deep-rooted beliefs and knowledge about himself. The truths in which he had lived his life since the age of eleven were irrevocably bound up in Harry. This understanding gave him hope that if Harry really did insist on being Made, that he would react as Ron had, due to the elements of themselves that were intermingled.
The fourth night after a quick feeding, Ron made his way up to the mineral springs, thinking about Christmas. It was Christmas, but Ron had never felt less like celebrating. It was snowing, and had been most of the day apparently, as there was half a foot on the ground. He trudged through the trees, using his honed senses to keep himself as invisible as possible, occasionally looking up into the soft, grey-milk sky. As he approached the lake, Ron felt a tremour pass through him and he froze. Slowly he peered around the clearing until a flutter of movement behind a tree drew his attentions into razor-sharp focus. Ron stilled his breathing, staring at the spot until Harry stepped out from behind the large oak.
Harry wore plain black robes, a long black scarf, and a fur hat. If Ron hadn't been so overwhelmed at seeing him, noticing that Harry's nose and cheeks were bright pink from the cold, showing he was still fully human, he would have fallen apart with laughter at the bizarre headwear. As it was, he crossed the clearing in seconds, wrapping Harry in a tight embrace.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Ron said. He murmured the mantra into Harry's hair, the foreign hat having been knocked to the ground in Ron's enthusiasm. "Gods, Harry, missed you. You're really here."
He pulled back so he could see Harry's face, the small smile that graced his lips, and the snowflakes beginning to cluster on his eyelashes behind his glasses.
"I'm here," Harry said, the love and gratitude in his expression nearly palpable in their intensity. "I was so glad to hear from you," he said fervently, raising his hands from Ron's back to cup Ron's chin.
Harry leaned up to press his lips against Ron's but Ron had already tilted downward. They met halfway in a heated, clumsy crashing of lips and sliding tongues as their mouths were reacquainted, both moaning at the contact. For long moments they kissed until Harry drew away, gasping for air. Ron threaded his fingers through Harry's tangle of hair, nosing at the stubbled skin by his ear, nibbling gently at the lobe.
"How long would you have waited?" Ron asked, turning Harry slightly so his back rested against the tree.
"A month. A year. Years. Decades. I don't know," Harry answered, his voice husky. He slid his palms down the front of Ron's long cape, an unintended gift from one of Marilena's victims, parting it so he could run his hands around Ron's waist. He pulled Ron in to him, pushing his hips forward as Ron moved his hands to clasp behind the base of Harry's back.
"Harry, have you changed your mind? I have to ask," Ron said a bit gruffly as the torrent of emotions affected his ability to speak.
"No. Of course not," Harry said vehemently, jerking Ron's groin into his. Ron groaned, feeling Harry's arousal through his wool trousers. "I said you weren't to seek me unless you agreed to it. You didn't get me here under false pretenses, did you?" His breath was hot against Ron's mouth, Harry's green eyes blazing and accusatory.
"No, Harry. But I had hoped." Ron dropped his head to their foreheads rested together. "Merlin, do you really know what you're asking?"
"All I’m asking is to continue to be bound to you."
"Oh Harry." Ron leaned fully against him, getting frustrated at the way their bodies intersected due to their height difference. "Let me be against the tree so I can hold you properly, and then I need to tell you a few things."
They shifted until things were much more to Ron's satisfaction, Harry still in his arms, Ron nuzzling Harry's fragrant hair.
Might be faster this way, Harry said directly to Ron and Ron sighed.
Yeah. Thanks. Missed your presence so much. You should've seen me with Martin; your leaving made me a snivelling basket case. Speaking of, I think there's something you should have back. Easing his hands from the warmth of Harry's back, Ron showed Harry his ring, still on Ron's pinky finger. Ron started to pull it off.
Not yet. Not until the Changing is over.
Harry, you have no idea, Ron mourned, shoving the ring back down the joint. If you insist on going through this, which you seem to, you've got to know a few things. Merlin, this is so fucking hard. I'm pretty sure you're insane.
Harry snuggled closer to Ron, prompting Ron to hold him as tightly as possible. I thought you already knew that.
This isn't funny! Ron's disapproval and anger were enough that Harry pushed himself back so he could look into Ron's eyes.
I know. The expression on Harry's face was serious and uncharacteristically grave. I've never really had a deathwish. I did what I needed to do to survive, and that's what I'm doing now. Do you understand?
The enormity of Harry's unwavering devotion and self-preservation made Ron flash hot to cold and back.
"I do."
Ron sent a flurry of thoughts to Harry from the days since Harry had left. He let him know of Martin's decision not to Make Harry, his experience with Charlie and meeting Marilena, the knowledge she'd shared as well as the cost she had imposed on her agreement.
"A piece of my heart?" Harry asked skeptically, furrowing his brows. "Sounds rather Death Eaterish."
"What do you think a vampire is, if not one who eats, or drinks, death?"
"Holy fuck!" Ron swore in surprise, hurling himself away from the tree. Ron had been so exclusively centered on Harry and their communications that he hadn't attuned himself to anything else and consequently missed Marilena's arrival entirely. Far more slowly than his actions, his mind caught up to him and he realised he was hovering in the air, his left arm clutching Harry to him, his right arm brandishing his wand at the other vampire.
"Protective bear, you impress me." Her droll voice glissandoed up to him. "Come down now so I may properly meet this one who haunts you so."
Slowly Ron returned to the ground, only then noticing that Harry had grabbed him around the waist but he, too, held his wand fast in his grip. "Harry, this is Marilena."
"So I gathered," he said, taking a moment to size up their new companion. He stepped away from Ron, tucking his wand back into a pocket in his robes. "Harry Potter." He held out his hand. "You're the great-great-great-aunt to that herbologist at the Preserve?"
"Yes, I am," she said haughtily, ignoring his outstretched arm. "I know who you are; we may be leagues from your lands, but wizard news travels far, and with speed. I'm surprised that you wish to become a dark child, given the one you conquered."
"If it hadn't happened to Ron, I wouldn't be," he said coldly. "I mean you no disrespect, and to you there's all the time in the world, but I'd like to go ahead and get on with it, now that you're here."
"So hasty." Marilena's gaze roved across his figure before moving to Ron. "And you are ready for this to occur now?"
Ron looked at Harry, whose jaw was resolutely set. "I guess so. You won't hurt him," he demanded, unsure what spells she would use to take a part of his still-beating heart, the thought which horrified him almost more than the Changing itself.
"You are free to use your Healer's skills to dull his nerves," she said, nodding. "The spell is such that the recipient is not in pain."
"Just do it, then," Harry said, unbuttoning his robes.
"You need not get undressed. I will take what I wish and summon it forth."
"Fine."
Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at the inconceivable nightmare taking place right in front of him. The metallic taste of a smattering of his own blood traipsed across his tongue and for a moment, he closed his eyes.
Harry, I love you. I'll always be with you. You don't have to—
Yes I do. I'll pass through this and you'll be there on the other side.
This is so wrong! Ron couldn't conceal his anguish. He wanted to stand in front of Harry to defend him, as though Harry weren't at least twice the wizard Ron was.
There was a low chanting in a language Ron had never heard, lyrical but causing the hairs to rise all over his body. Harry shouted in shock and Ron was at his side in a second. Harry panted and clutched at his chest, staring down at it before jerking his head up to stare at Marilena. She held out her palm so they could both see the small, brownish-red lump that resembled a piece of stew meat. The still-falling snow made the steam rising from it all the more noticeable.
Wide-eyed Ron turned to Harry, who looked strangely composed. "Fuck! Harry! How do you feel?" The words rushed out of Ron as he dropped his head to Harry's chest, nudging Harry's hands out of the way.
"Okay, really," Harry said faintly, his gaze fixated on Marliena's marble-like hand.
"Where was the fucking warning?" Ron yelled, his anger boiling.
"He said he did not want to waste time, so I did not," Marilena said superciliously, stroking the warm flesh in her palm. "Would you like some?"
"Would I what?" Ron's voice shook with rage.
"He is a part of you already," Marilena said matter-of-factly. "Until recently it is he on whom you fed. He enjoyed it."
"You're perverse," Ron whispered as Harry put his arm around Ron's waist.
"I am a vampire," she replied in a mocking echo of Ron's exchange with Kylie. Elegantly she plucked the glistening plum of muscle from her hand and popped it into her mouth. She chewed with refined exuberance and swallowed. Ron felt Harry's grip tighten on his hip as Marilena's delicate adam's apple bobbed up and down.
I want this to be over soon, Harry said in a carefully measured tone.
Me too.
"That was your price," Ron said caustically. "Now will you Make him?"
"Yes, youngling," Marilena said, a flicker of compassion in her eyes. "Though you could at least thank me for all I have taught you before this Harry arrived. I will not linger after the Change."
"I am grateful," Ron admitted.
"Do you know what will happen?" Marilena asked Harry, gliding over until she stood before them, placing her finger under his prickly chin.
"Yes."
"Protective one, do you wish for your lover to have this on his face for eternity?" she asked with a smile, rubbing at the shadow of beard on Harry's face.
"Of all the stupid details," Harry muttered. He cast a shaving spell and stood defiantly, waiting for the inevitable. "Here." He pulled open the lapels of his coat and shirt so his neck was exposed, tilting his head to allow her the easiest access possible.
"Watch," Marilena commanded Ron.
The next few minutes were an excruciating dystopia. Ron had seen Marilena feed, but his emotions hadn't been a factor before. Ron knew every nuance of the flavour of Harry's blood, and had to gaze on helplessly as she drained him to the edge of death. Thank Merlin her eyes were closed. Ron sank to his knees, unable to keep standing as he imagined the rich torrent of Harry's lifetime of memories and experiences flooding her, intermingled with his blood. She took it all, leeching the vibrant life from him, and Harry had demanded it.
Harry. Ron willed him to reply, but his entreaty vanished, swallowed up in the void of Harry's consciousness.
Marilena murmured something to Harry in Romanian. He had collapsed against her, head lolling like a broken doll. She spoke again, more insistently and Harry struggled to raise his head. "You must feed," she said in a syrupy voice, lush with the blood roaring through her. "Now."
Harry's mouth opened and Ron caught the first faint glimmer of his elongated teeth before they sank into Marilena's neck. Ron closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands. He listened to the cooing, contented sounds Harry made as he drank, greedily feasting on Marilena's old blood.
"Enough," Marilena said hoarsely at last.
Ron was up like a bolt of lightning, grabbing at Harry, pulling him into his chest and down to the ground. He babbled nonsense about how things would be okay, how he would hold him while Harry's mortal body perished.
"Never alone, Harry, we'll never be alone again," Ron choked out through a haze of shameless tears.
So strange, Ron, Harry said weakly. Like… I don't know. Ron, it hurts, oh Merlin, like I'm turning inside-out, fuck. Harry convulsed against Ron, who in desperation ripped at his wrist with his fangs.
Drink, Harry, drink some more, he begged, his panic subsiding as Harry did so. I've got you. Take some of my strength, oh fuck, this won't last forever, I promise.
Harry lifted his head to look unfocusedly up at Ron, his glasses askew and blood smearing his lips. I'm dying, Ron. I can feel it.
It'll pass, Merlin, come here, come here.
Ron rolled them over so he was on his back. He clutched Harry to him, lying prone above Ron and covered with Ron's cape.
Good-bye, fiery one. Be wary of this fledgling, who may or may not be yours anymore.
Ron jerked his head up from the ground, but he and Harry were alone. With a shuddering sob he held Harry, his mind open for Harry's dizzying thoughts as his body reacted to the vampiric blood. Ron felt and saw Harry's magic crackle around them as it, too, metamorphosed. Sparks like fireflies sizzled and vanished as Harry's ambric energy adapted to the immortal elements taking root in him. There was a faint stench and Ron recognised that Harry's body had expelled the last of its human remains. Harry stared wild-eyed at him, pushing his hands on Ron's chest.
Dead? he asked frantically, wiping at his mouth. Merlin, clean me, please.
Ron evoked his most powerful wandless magic to cast the strongest Scourgify he could. Harry had calmed down, allowing Ron to stroke his back. They lay there for a long time, Ron experiencing Harry's turbulent thoughts as he continued to Change. After an hour or so had passed, Ron could tell it was complete.
Harry? he asked, nosing into Harry's hair. He was heartbroken when he realised Harry's woodsy, musky smell had disappeared with his mortality.
Sorry, Ron, Harry apologised a bit petulantly. Maybe I should start wearing cologne.
Don't be ridiculous. Can you stand up?
Harry nodded. Once upright, Ron looked at Harry, transformed, and Ron was filled with a calamity of conflicted feelings. Harry was as handsome as ever, and his eyes now held the inhuman glow that he knew shimmered in his own depths, and those of all vampires. Harry looked indomitable, untethered to mortality and more compelling and dangerous to Ron than ever before. Through their shared thoughts Ron knew Harry was exploring his new self in subtle, cautious ways.
"I should feed," Harry said suddenly.
Ron held out his wrist.
"No, not on you," Harry said indignantly.
"What, I'm not good enough?" Ron felt as though he'd taken a blow directly to the heart. "But you used to want me only to drink from you."
"That was before," Harry insisted. Suddenly he realised how devastated Ron had been by his comment. "It's not that you're not good enough," he said in a voice far more suited for their bedroom than the empty Romanian woods in which they were standing. "You'll always taste best, I'm sure. But Marilena told me it's not healthy for vampires to feed off each other for very long. We're meant to drink from mortals."
Ron knew that to be true; it hadn't stopped him from harbouring a sickly romantic idea that he and Harry could be exclusively together in all aspects. "You're right. We'll need to go down to the city and then find a place to sleep before sunrise. I'll take you where I've been. I really want to get home, but I think you should have a chance to rest first."
Ron. Come here. Please.
Ron did, only too glad to feel Harry's hands on the small of his back.
Kiss me. Harry's desire seemed genuine. Ron desperately hoped it was; he was incapable of contemplating the alternative.
Just a minute. I need to do something first, Ron said, reaching behind him to bring Harry's hands around to the front. Ron pulled Harry's bonding band up off of his pinky before taking Harry's right hand and holding it reverently in his hands.
"Will you, Harry James Potter, be handfasted to me to the end of our days, however brief or long they be, to the exclusion of all others?" Ron asked, repeating the question from their ceremony years prior.
"I will," Harry said passionately as Ron slid the ring down Harry's finger. Harry's eyes shone and adoration radiated from his inhumanly pale features. Ron was overcome with relief, though an indescribable sorrow blanketed him as his thoughts drifted back to their original ceremony, so filled with life and light. Harry looked down at his hand, and then back up at Ron. With infinite tenderness he held Ron's face and kissed him. Ron pressed his lips against Harry's, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. Silent tears made briny tracks down Ron's cheeks as he realised just how enduringly divided they were from everyone else they'd ever loved.
I'll never leave you again, never, Harry promised, placing a soft kiss on Ron's cheekbone. Let's go feed. I want to watch you, and learn from you. Then I want to kiss you, to taste the hot blood in your mouth, and drink from my first mortal. And before we sleep, I want to feel you so deep inside of me, to be joined to you, both of us like this.
Harry’s enthusiasm for his new life was unsettling, not to mention his gyrating moods which currently resembled a Snitch trapped in a cage. However, Ron couldn’t deny the frisson of excited bloodlust that instinctively rose in him at Harry’s words. Perhaps after a year or so he would stop being surprised that the idea of drinking blood and choosing and claiming victims came naturally to him, seeing as how he was a vampire. Ron could already tell that Harry didn’t appear to suffer the same moral issues Ron had; then again, Harry had demanded that this be done to him.
"Ron. You’re thinking too much. How long do we have until sunrise?"
"Probably four hours. Enough time."
"For everything I said?" Harry licked his lips and stared lustfully at Ron.
"I'll make sure."
Into the deeps of the dark night, Ron led Harry down to Timisoara, Harry’s hand clasped in his.
- Dear Ronald-
I’d be happy to introduce you to Marilena. In truth, I am glad that you contacted me. There have been one or two Seers in our family, and while I do not believe I have the ability with any great strength, there have been occasions when I have had visions of the future that have come to pass. When I saw you, I believed that I would see you again, and I felt that Marilena would have a part to play in your future.
I will look for you at the Preserve on December 21st. I regret that I cannot make it sooner as you sounded rushed in your letter; there are some temperamental plants which require my focused attentions at nearly all hours until then.
My kind regards,
Valerica
Ron paced in the large office space for the Preserve, waiting for Valerica to appear. Charlie had confirmed she was in the greenhouses but would be coming to the office shortly.
"What on Circe’s tits happened at my party?" Charlie asked once Ron appeared, having arrived via a Granian available for Reserve staff.
"Harry and I had a blow-out," Ron said with a pained look. "A really bad one, and I’m still not sure what started it. I don’t want to say much else, really; I need to talk to another Wizard vampire, and the sooner the better."
"I was just asking," Charlie said, his feelings obviously hurt. "Remind me not to care in the future." He focused his attention back on the parchments in front of him, signing his name on multiple lines.
"Bollocks, Charlie, it’s just complicated, okay? I’ll figure out what to do, though. Thank you for being worried. Really."
Charlie looked up, a wan, lopsided smile on his face. "Least an older brother can do. Actually, maybe it’s not." A bit nervously, he tilted his head toward his shoulder. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I don’t really know how you describe what it is you do."
Ron blinked disbelievingly at Charlie, at his thick, muscled neck, the veins seeming to push up against his skin. "I feed. Drink. Feast, whatever. I’d been on the Ministry stuff since—" he paused, censoring himself. "For a few days, but Martin suggested I not do that."
"Who’s Martin?"
"Muggle vampire. Adopted me, sort of. He’s a pretty great bloke."
"Glad you have somebody like that, in addition to Harry, I mean," Charlie said earnestly. "So?" He tapped at his neck.
Ron rubbed above his eyebrows. "Well, I’d be daft to turn you down. I assure you I’ve gotten pretty good at this. It won’t hurt, I won’t drain you, and I’ll heal you afterwards."
"I wasn’t worried," Charlie reassured him, getting up from behind the desk. "Curious, must admit. It’s not just every family that has a famous vampire."
"’M not famous. That’s horrible Charlie, really." Ron could feel the grimace etched on his face. "You can't imagine how isolating it is."
"Come here." Charlie’s comforting embrace caught Ron by surprise, but he realised he hadn’t really spent that much time with his older brother since he’d gone to Romania. Charlie was obviously more effusive with his affections, and Ron allowed himself to gather some warmth from him. "Drink. I bet you’ll feel better. Traveling by flying horse, if you don’t do it that often, can be tiring."
"Things like that don’t tire me, but thanks for saying so. You ready?"
Charlie nodded, shuffling backward a couple of steps so Ron had better access to his neck.
"Oh, um," Ron began, feeling uncomfortable bringing up one of the likely side-effects, "you may find you get…" He thought about Martin, about the centuries he himself had to live, and decided he was through being embarrassed. He looked down slightly so he stared into Charlie's toffee brown eyes. "I don't know why, but being fed on seems to be pretty erotic. Don't be surprised if you get a bit hard. It's not because of me, really."
Shockingly, Charlie flushed. "Oh. That's, well, oh fuck it," he said, planting his feet on the floor and his hands at Ron's hips. "Family's family."
"Thank you," Ron breathed against Charlie's freckled ear. He savoured the scent that hovered just above Charlie's skin, as his fangs became fully exposed. He licked at the warm flesh before gently dragging his teeth until they were aligned with Charlie's most prominent vein. Ron pushed easily into Charlie's neck, sighing softly as the hot liquid shot into his mouth. For perhaps a full minute Ron drank ever so slowly, controlling the pace to make sure Charlie's heart wasn't affected. He'd kept his senses attuned to the ambient noises, however, and held Charlie in a strong grip as a door opened and the two women's voices Ron had heard stopped suddenly. There was a shriek.
"What the fuck?" Kylie's expletive was instantly identifiable.
Ron mouthed at the puncture wounds to seal them, still holding on to Charlie, who appeared to be in a bit of a stupor.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Kylie demanded, storming over to glare at Ron while attempting to pull Charlie out of Ron's embrace. "Fucking pervert," she seethed, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders.
"No, just a vampire," Ron replied coolly, releasing his brother.
"Love, I'm fine," Charlie said, his voice sluggish but stern. "Honestly. And I volunteered," he said, shrugging off her hands so he could stand up straight and put himself to rights.
"You’re fine?"
Kylie glowered at Ron, who then looked at the doorway where Valerica stood, nonplussed.
"Thanks for your post," he said before turning back to Charlie. "And thank you. I do feel much better." Ron had taken more than he would from other people, because he knew Charlie's strength and that he would recover quickly. The vibrant blood danced through him, making him feel warm and at peace.
"Any time." Charlie gave him a big grin, pulling Kylie to him rather against her will. "Kylie, I believe you owe Ron an apology. There's nothing perverse in a vampire drinking blood; it's known as survival."
"He's a Dark Creature," she said through gritted teeth.
"He's my brother."
As thoughtful as the fraternal gesture was, Ron was terribly anxious to get to Marilena. "Kylie, no apology needed. I am what I am, and frankly, I don't care what you think about it. Thanks again, Charlie."
Ron walked to the door where Valerica studied him, her gaze unreadable. "Are you ready to go?" she asked, her slate-coloured eyes seeming to map his face.
"Definitely."
Valerica guided them to the perimeter of the Preserve. "Anti-Apparition wards," she said, though Ron had figured as such. "Having someone somehow accidentally Apparate into a dragon pen could be pretty horrible."
"Has that happened?"
"I don't believe so," she said with a sly smile. "But I've only been here a little over a year. Here we are." She paused on the threshold before linking her arm through Ron's and looking up at him. "I'd like to side-along Apparate. Is that all right with you?"
"Don't see why not. How far away are we going?"
"Not that far. We'll be going near Timisoara, in the west. It's an ancient city, quite beautiful."
Ron nodded. "Better move outside of the barriers first."
"Of course."
With a small, huffed laugh, Valerica stepped forward two steps, bringing Ron with her. The jarring, unpleasant disconnect of Apparition snapped through him; it was far worse when he didn't have the coordinates in his head first. They were in a forest on the edge of a small lake, nowhere near a city that he could tell. An odd smell filled his nose even as a vague, feminine shadow of presence swept through his mind. Ron started in shock, quickly closing his thoughts. He realised he was probably too slow to have disguised his multiple purposes in being there, but also recognised that really, there was no point in being at all coy. Hopefully this was his last stop in finding out what could and should be done, both for his own knowledge and to know what to do about Harry.
"Where are we?" he asked, sniffing into the air.
"Buzias. There are thermal and mineral pools here; Marilena has a fondness for them."
Ron pondered that for a few seconds. "Aren't you going to let her know we're here?" He knew that the other vampire had been aware of their presence as soon as they'd appeared, but he wasn't sure about the petite Romanian's abilities.
"I am sure she already knows."
Even as the few words were emitted into the night air, a faint plashing noise came from the end of the inky waters. To Ron's great discomfort, he watched as a nude woman of medium build and indeterminate age languidly emerged from the depths of the pool. Her mouth remained closed while she methodically drew closer to the shore, her porcelain skin glowing under the light of the moon.
I know of your heart's desire, and I will do what you request.
"What?" Ron cried out, trying valiantly to keep his composure.
You are here for knowledge, but also for Him.
The last word was accompanied by a short staccato of memories. They were obviously of prurient interest to this immortal who had been reaping Ron's trove of erotic moments with Harry.
"Ron, you can't just lie there like that and expect me not to do anything."
"Lie here like what?" A sly grin, post skinny-dipping, sprawled out in the warm shade on his stomach, legs wide apart.
"Like that."
Harry's oiled fingers and hands massaging Ron's shoulders and back before heading toward their intended goal. Harry's thumbs tenderly prising Ron open until Ron had dropped his feet to the tiled ground for purchase, giving him leverage so he could push back against the now-stroking fingers. The slick, squelching sound of Harry slicking his own cock out of Ron's vision making Ron's pulse hammer through his body.
"Up on your knees, lion." Harry's commanding, lusty voice in Ron's ear.
Ron complying with graceless haste and need, thumping his forehead against the back of his hands and willing himself to relax, incredibly turned on but still wary of the initial burn and stretching, until…
"Ron, gods, so tight, love being inside you."
Push-pull and grunting, and Ron grasping his own aching cock, the scent of Muggle sunscreen mingling joyously with musky sweat and Harry's frenetic thrusts and biting at Ron's shoulder and Harry ramming himself in for all he was worth and Ron's frenzied pistoning on his shaft and—
"Stay out of my memories," Ron growled, the anger at being violated vibrating around him. He'd bared his fangs, every muscle in his body was tensed, and his wand was pointed unwaveringly at the vampire's heart.
You needed to be taught, fledgling, she replied smoothly, her satin voice draping across his thoughts.
"Hades' hackles I do."
"Marilena, please," Valerica pleaded in a small voice, holding out heavy, velvet robes that had come from Merlin only knew where. "Get dressed. Don't torment Ronald, or whatever it is that you're doing."
Marilena elegantly attired herself in the burgundy robes, her noxious attentions on Ron as she dressed. "He is young. He comes to me with thousands of questions, wishes me to bestow the Change on to another, and does not even bring a gift. He must relinquish his perceived sense of power if he wishes to obtain favour from me."
"I don't want your favour, and at this point, bugger the questions," Ron ground out through his clenched teeth. He'd been sure to slam his thoughts shut as in a vise, but he had no idea how much Marilena knew about him. Far more than he'd realised, that was certain. It filled him with rage, though peripherally Ron was aware that anger was sometimes good for him, forcing him to focus. "You'll Make him, you said?"
"I will, though like all things of great value, it comes with a price."
Valerica released a scalding torrent of what Ron assumed to be Romanian.
"I said I would, and I shall," the vampire replied lovingly, her demeanour toward her grand-grand-grand-niece in stark contrast to how she had upbraided Ron. Marilena continued on in Romanian as Ron watched Valerica sullenly study the ground at her feet. In the ensuing silence, Valerica looked up, the hurt in her expression such that Ron felt pity for her, though he had absolutely no idea what the two of them had been discussing.
After a deep sigh, Valerica turned to look at Ron. "I've been asked to leave. I must bid you good night."
Awkwardly Ron sent out his arm, uncertain as to whether or not she would shake his hand, expect a kiss on the cheek, or a hug. Valerica ponderously trod the few steps to Ron's side, melting against him as he caught her in surprise.
"You do not realise what a gift you have," she said moodily against his chest.
"I didn't ask to become like this," Ron said quietly, touching Valerica's back. "I don't even know who did it. I was Obliviated."
Valerica turned her head to focus on Marilena.
"No, child, not I," she said dismissively. "Though the imprint of the one who did is still on him. You must go now, my little one."
Valerica nodded into Ron's ribs and pulled away. "I will see you again," she said, seeming more stalwart than in the moments before.
"Hope so," Ron answered as he watched the diminutive witch walk a few paces away and Apparate.
"So, ginger hair, wild eyes and stampeding thoughts. I will Change your lover, but I shall require a gift." Marilena gazed at Ron, appearing beatific for a few seconds at the moonlight caught her face. She looked distressingly like an attractive, feminine version of Severus Snape, with black hair that cascaded over her shoulders and a striking Roman nose.
"Valerica forgot to tell me about that part," Ron said with no small amount of sarcasm.
"What I have in mind is not for you to give," she continued, turning to look up at the swath of stars suspended far above them. Ron followed her gaze, viewing the pinpricks of light above the tree canopy. "I require something from him. I wish for a piece of his heart."
"A piece of his what?!" Ron shouted, disturbing the frigid calm.
"His heart."
"Why not ask for part of his soul, while you're at it?" Ron spat menacingly.
"I have no need of that, fledgling." She smiled up at the heavens, though there was no warmth in the gesture. Marilena looked inhuman, like the unvanquishable immortal she truly was.
"If I live long enough, I'll end up like that." The irresistible, alien truth sparked through Ron, though he couldn't bear to fathom it for long.
"Our souls are seared wholly into our being when we are Made," Marilena said. "They cannot be separated, not from our bodies, neither into divided parts. The blood and tender flesh of a mortal heart, when given freely, infuses not only additional strength, but also compassion. And that, you who have been a dark child for only the blink of an eye, is something you may find you desperately crave. Especially after you have lived as one of our kind for long decades and centuries."
She lowered her head, and Ron felt the compulsion to look at her as certainly as though she had commanded it aloud. Her obsidian eyes held a weariness he hadn't expected to see.
"I will take enough to satisfy me, no more, though his heart will not regenerate. That is to be the cost. Call him, this reckless one you love. Until he arrives, hunt with me. I have long missed the company of one as rash and youthful as you."
Ron was decidedly of two minds. What Marilena was demanding was barbaric, and he despised her for imposing such a high price. He didn't believe he would ever have even a sliver of affection for Marilena, but she was still the only other magical vampire he knew.
"I have a request," Ron said finally. "Kindly keep out of my mind when I contact him. Stay out of it entirely. Then you can show me how you hunt."
Ron saw her eyes gleam as she regarded him. "I will agree. Even with your inexperience, you know you are able to look into your victim as you drink of him. This means that I will come to know your lover intimately as I Make him. You may be shy around me if you wish, but I will take him to the brink of death and know all of his memories."
"I don't think you realise how horrific some of them may be," Ron said bitterly. "He's not had a life of just sex and school."
"Come, protective bear," Marilena said, holding out her hands. Grudgingly Ron accepted them, her chilled fingers a slender echo of his own. "You shall learn from me until your lover arrives. If he arrives."
"Of course he will." Ron said the words, his knees almost buckling as though his world had literally shifted. Until that second he'd not even considered the possibility that Harry wasn't simply waiting for Ron to make up his mind. For all he knew, Harry had been in such a distressed state he'd gone looking for another vampire — any vampire — to Change him. "Oh fuck," he whispered, his voice edged with panic.
"Come," Marilena insisted, drawing their clasped hands to her prominent collarbones. "We must feed."
Harry, Ron moaned. With the single word, he flung his thoughts, desires, and fear into the vast winter sky, uncertain that he would ever receive a reply.
* * * * *
For three interminably long nights, Ron and Marilena roved around the town of Timisoara and surrounding hamlets. They hunted, Marilena's condescension obvious when Ron insisted he would only select individuals he could tell wanted to die. This included an ancient, gnarled couple on whom Ron practised some of what Marilena had taught him, the skill of consoling and reassuring one's victim so there was little struggle, and how to draw out the delirious profundity of drinking down the life of a mortal. In excruciating detail, she elaborated on what it was like to be Changed, the passing through death to immortality. She refused to let him know where she spent her days, and encouraged him to keep the same from her. Still somewhat optimistic that he would be there only a short time, Ron slept during the day hidden in the dungeons of Ambroze Castle, close to Timisoara and its nearby spa town. She also explained in depth her discoveries about her magical abilities after becoming a vampire, as well as a sweeping overview of the history of vampires. It was both a far more vivid and bleak account than anything Ron remembered from Hogwarts.
Marilena also propounded her views on vampiric behaviour. Each immortal Made changed from the way he or she had been in life, but the manifestation of it was unpredictable and varied tremendously. The older the vampire who enacted the Turning, the more powerful the new vampire, though unfortunately that didn't guarantee any psychological stability for the fledgling. The unequivocal truth was there simply was no way to know how a new vampire would act with his or her new gift. Making it doubly complicated was the interaction of the preternatural attributes of vampiric blood with one's magical abilities. Having been a Healer, Ron knew intimately the complicated matrix involving the life force, ancestral suffusion and ambric topography in which a witch or wizard's magic resided. Just as any witch or wizard's magic was unique to him or herself, with its quirks, strengths and weaknesses providing a personal marking as singular as a fingerprint, so were the capabilities of a new vampire.
More and more, Ron felt it was a fluke that he felt as similar to his pre-immortal self as he did, brought on by the circumstances in which he was Made as well as his deep-rooted beliefs and knowledge about himself. The truths in which he had lived his life since the age of eleven were irrevocably bound up in Harry. This understanding gave him hope that if Harry really did insist on being Made, that he would react as Ron had, due to the elements of themselves that were intermingled.
The fourth night after a quick feeding, Ron made his way up to the mineral springs, thinking about Christmas. It was Christmas, but Ron had never felt less like celebrating. It was snowing, and had been most of the day apparently, as there was half a foot on the ground. He trudged through the trees, using his honed senses to keep himself as invisible as possible, occasionally looking up into the soft, grey-milk sky. As he approached the lake, Ron felt a tremour pass through him and he froze. Slowly he peered around the clearing until a flutter of movement behind a tree drew his attentions into razor-sharp focus. Ron stilled his breathing, staring at the spot until Harry stepped out from behind the large oak.
Harry wore plain black robes, a long black scarf, and a fur hat. If Ron hadn't been so overwhelmed at seeing him, noticing that Harry's nose and cheeks were bright pink from the cold, showing he was still fully human, he would have fallen apart with laughter at the bizarre headwear. As it was, he crossed the clearing in seconds, wrapping Harry in a tight embrace.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Ron said. He murmured the mantra into Harry's hair, the foreign hat having been knocked to the ground in Ron's enthusiasm. "Gods, Harry, missed you. You're really here."
He pulled back so he could see Harry's face, the small smile that graced his lips, and the snowflakes beginning to cluster on his eyelashes behind his glasses.
"I'm here," Harry said, the love and gratitude in his expression nearly palpable in their intensity. "I was so glad to hear from you," he said fervently, raising his hands from Ron's back to cup Ron's chin.
Harry leaned up to press his lips against Ron's but Ron had already tilted downward. They met halfway in a heated, clumsy crashing of lips and sliding tongues as their mouths were reacquainted, both moaning at the contact. For long moments they kissed until Harry drew away, gasping for air. Ron threaded his fingers through Harry's tangle of hair, nosing at the stubbled skin by his ear, nibbling gently at the lobe.
"How long would you have waited?" Ron asked, turning Harry slightly so his back rested against the tree.
"A month. A year. Years. Decades. I don't know," Harry answered, his voice husky. He slid his palms down the front of Ron's long cape, an unintended gift from one of Marilena's victims, parting it so he could run his hands around Ron's waist. He pulled Ron in to him, pushing his hips forward as Ron moved his hands to clasp behind the base of Harry's back.
"Harry, have you changed your mind? I have to ask," Ron said a bit gruffly as the torrent of emotions affected his ability to speak.
"No. Of course not," Harry said vehemently, jerking Ron's groin into his. Ron groaned, feeling Harry's arousal through his wool trousers. "I said you weren't to seek me unless you agreed to it. You didn't get me here under false pretenses, did you?" His breath was hot against Ron's mouth, Harry's green eyes blazing and accusatory.
"No, Harry. But I had hoped." Ron dropped his head to their foreheads rested together. "Merlin, do you really know what you're asking?"
"All I’m asking is to continue to be bound to you."
"Oh Harry." Ron leaned fully against him, getting frustrated at the way their bodies intersected due to their height difference. "Let me be against the tree so I can hold you properly, and then I need to tell you a few things."
They shifted until things were much more to Ron's satisfaction, Harry still in his arms, Ron nuzzling Harry's fragrant hair.
Might be faster this way, Harry said directly to Ron and Ron sighed.
Yeah. Thanks. Missed your presence so much. You should've seen me with Martin; your leaving made me a snivelling basket case. Speaking of, I think there's something you should have back. Easing his hands from the warmth of Harry's back, Ron showed Harry his ring, still on Ron's pinky finger. Ron started to pull it off.
Not yet. Not until the Changing is over.
Harry, you have no idea, Ron mourned, shoving the ring back down the joint. If you insist on going through this, which you seem to, you've got to know a few things. Merlin, this is so fucking hard. I'm pretty sure you're insane.
Harry snuggled closer to Ron, prompting Ron to hold him as tightly as possible. I thought you already knew that.
This isn't funny! Ron's disapproval and anger were enough that Harry pushed himself back so he could look into Ron's eyes.
I know. The expression on Harry's face was serious and uncharacteristically grave. I've never really had a deathwish. I did what I needed to do to survive, and that's what I'm doing now. Do you understand?
The enormity of Harry's unwavering devotion and self-preservation made Ron flash hot to cold and back.
"I do."
Ron sent a flurry of thoughts to Harry from the days since Harry had left. He let him know of Martin's decision not to Make Harry, his experience with Charlie and meeting Marilena, the knowledge she'd shared as well as the cost she had imposed on her agreement.
"A piece of my heart?" Harry asked skeptically, furrowing his brows. "Sounds rather Death Eaterish."
"What do you think a vampire is, if not one who eats, or drinks, death?"
"Holy fuck!" Ron swore in surprise, hurling himself away from the tree. Ron had been so exclusively centered on Harry and their communications that he hadn't attuned himself to anything else and consequently missed Marilena's arrival entirely. Far more slowly than his actions, his mind caught up to him and he realised he was hovering in the air, his left arm clutching Harry to him, his right arm brandishing his wand at the other vampire.
"Protective bear, you impress me." Her droll voice glissandoed up to him. "Come down now so I may properly meet this one who haunts you so."
Slowly Ron returned to the ground, only then noticing that Harry had grabbed him around the waist but he, too, held his wand fast in his grip. "Harry, this is Marilena."
"So I gathered," he said, taking a moment to size up their new companion. He stepped away from Ron, tucking his wand back into a pocket in his robes. "Harry Potter." He held out his hand. "You're the great-great-great-aunt to that herbologist at the Preserve?"
"Yes, I am," she said haughtily, ignoring his outstretched arm. "I know who you are; we may be leagues from your lands, but wizard news travels far, and with speed. I'm surprised that you wish to become a dark child, given the one you conquered."
"If it hadn't happened to Ron, I wouldn't be," he said coldly. "I mean you no disrespect, and to you there's all the time in the world, but I'd like to go ahead and get on with it, now that you're here."
"So hasty." Marilena's gaze roved across his figure before moving to Ron. "And you are ready for this to occur now?"
Ron looked at Harry, whose jaw was resolutely set. "I guess so. You won't hurt him," he demanded, unsure what spells she would use to take a part of his still-beating heart, the thought which horrified him almost more than the Changing itself.
"You are free to use your Healer's skills to dull his nerves," she said, nodding. "The spell is such that the recipient is not in pain."
"Just do it, then," Harry said, unbuttoning his robes.
"You need not get undressed. I will take what I wish and summon it forth."
"Fine."
Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at the inconceivable nightmare taking place right in front of him. The metallic taste of a smattering of his own blood traipsed across his tongue and for a moment, he closed his eyes.
Harry, I love you. I'll always be with you. You don't have to—
Yes I do. I'll pass through this and you'll be there on the other side.
This is so wrong! Ron couldn't conceal his anguish. He wanted to stand in front of Harry to defend him, as though Harry weren't at least twice the wizard Ron was.
There was a low chanting in a language Ron had never heard, lyrical but causing the hairs to rise all over his body. Harry shouted in shock and Ron was at his side in a second. Harry panted and clutched at his chest, staring down at it before jerking his head up to stare at Marilena. She held out her palm so they could both see the small, brownish-red lump that resembled a piece of stew meat. The still-falling snow made the steam rising from it all the more noticeable.
Wide-eyed Ron turned to Harry, who looked strangely composed. "Fuck! Harry! How do you feel?" The words rushed out of Ron as he dropped his head to Harry's chest, nudging Harry's hands out of the way.
"Okay, really," Harry said faintly, his gaze fixated on Marliena's marble-like hand.
"Where was the fucking warning?" Ron yelled, his anger boiling.
"He said he did not want to waste time, so I did not," Marilena said superciliously, stroking the warm flesh in her palm. "Would you like some?"
"Would I what?" Ron's voice shook with rage.
"He is a part of you already," Marilena said matter-of-factly. "Until recently it is he on whom you fed. He enjoyed it."
"You're perverse," Ron whispered as Harry put his arm around Ron's waist.
"I am a vampire," she replied in a mocking echo of Ron's exchange with Kylie. Elegantly she plucked the glistening plum of muscle from her hand and popped it into her mouth. She chewed with refined exuberance and swallowed. Ron felt Harry's grip tighten on his hip as Marilena's delicate adam's apple bobbed up and down.
I want this to be over soon, Harry said in a carefully measured tone.
Me too.
"That was your price," Ron said caustically. "Now will you Make him?"
"Yes, youngling," Marilena said, a flicker of compassion in her eyes. "Though you could at least thank me for all I have taught you before this Harry arrived. I will not linger after the Change."
"I am grateful," Ron admitted.
"Do you know what will happen?" Marilena asked Harry, gliding over until she stood before them, placing her finger under his prickly chin.
"Yes."
"Protective one, do you wish for your lover to have this on his face for eternity?" she asked with a smile, rubbing at the shadow of beard on Harry's face.
"Of all the stupid details," Harry muttered. He cast a shaving spell and stood defiantly, waiting for the inevitable. "Here." He pulled open the lapels of his coat and shirt so his neck was exposed, tilting his head to allow her the easiest access possible.
"Watch," Marilena commanded Ron.
The next few minutes were an excruciating dystopia. Ron had seen Marilena feed, but his emotions hadn't been a factor before. Ron knew every nuance of the flavour of Harry's blood, and had to gaze on helplessly as she drained him to the edge of death. Thank Merlin her eyes were closed. Ron sank to his knees, unable to keep standing as he imagined the rich torrent of Harry's lifetime of memories and experiences flooding her, intermingled with his blood. She took it all, leeching the vibrant life from him, and Harry had demanded it.
Harry. Ron willed him to reply, but his entreaty vanished, swallowed up in the void of Harry's consciousness.
Marilena murmured something to Harry in Romanian. He had collapsed against her, head lolling like a broken doll. She spoke again, more insistently and Harry struggled to raise his head. "You must feed," she said in a syrupy voice, lush with the blood roaring through her. "Now."
Harry's mouth opened and Ron caught the first faint glimmer of his elongated teeth before they sank into Marilena's neck. Ron closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands. He listened to the cooing, contented sounds Harry made as he drank, greedily feasting on Marilena's old blood.
"Enough," Marilena said hoarsely at last.
Ron was up like a bolt of lightning, grabbing at Harry, pulling him into his chest and down to the ground. He babbled nonsense about how things would be okay, how he would hold him while Harry's mortal body perished.
"Never alone, Harry, we'll never be alone again," Ron choked out through a haze of shameless tears.
So strange, Ron, Harry said weakly. Like… I don't know. Ron, it hurts, oh Merlin, like I'm turning inside-out, fuck. Harry convulsed against Ron, who in desperation ripped at his wrist with his fangs.
Drink, Harry, drink some more, he begged, his panic subsiding as Harry did so. I've got you. Take some of my strength, oh fuck, this won't last forever, I promise.
Harry lifted his head to look unfocusedly up at Ron, his glasses askew and blood smearing his lips. I'm dying, Ron. I can feel it.
It'll pass, Merlin, come here, come here.
Ron rolled them over so he was on his back. He clutched Harry to him, lying prone above Ron and covered with Ron's cape.
Good-bye, fiery one. Be wary of this fledgling, who may or may not be yours anymore.
Ron jerked his head up from the ground, but he and Harry were alone. With a shuddering sob he held Harry, his mind open for Harry's dizzying thoughts as his body reacted to the vampiric blood. Ron felt and saw Harry's magic crackle around them as it, too, metamorphosed. Sparks like fireflies sizzled and vanished as Harry's ambric energy adapted to the immortal elements taking root in him. There was a faint stench and Ron recognised that Harry's body had expelled the last of its human remains. Harry stared wild-eyed at him, pushing his hands on Ron's chest.
Dead? he asked frantically, wiping at his mouth. Merlin, clean me, please.
Ron evoked his most powerful wandless magic to cast the strongest Scourgify he could. Harry had calmed down, allowing Ron to stroke his back. They lay there for a long time, Ron experiencing Harry's turbulent thoughts as he continued to Change. After an hour or so had passed, Ron could tell it was complete.
Harry? he asked, nosing into Harry's hair. He was heartbroken when he realised Harry's woodsy, musky smell had disappeared with his mortality.
Sorry, Ron, Harry apologised a bit petulantly. Maybe I should start wearing cologne.
Don't be ridiculous. Can you stand up?
Harry nodded. Once upright, Ron looked at Harry, transformed, and Ron was filled with a calamity of conflicted feelings. Harry was as handsome as ever, and his eyes now held the inhuman glow that he knew shimmered in his own depths, and those of all vampires. Harry looked indomitable, untethered to mortality and more compelling and dangerous to Ron than ever before. Through their shared thoughts Ron knew Harry was exploring his new self in subtle, cautious ways.
"I should feed," Harry said suddenly.
Ron held out his wrist.
"No, not on you," Harry said indignantly.
"What, I'm not good enough?" Ron felt as though he'd taken a blow directly to the heart. "But you used to want me only to drink from you."
"That was before," Harry insisted. Suddenly he realised how devastated Ron had been by his comment. "It's not that you're not good enough," he said in a voice far more suited for their bedroom than the empty Romanian woods in which they were standing. "You'll always taste best, I'm sure. But Marilena told me it's not healthy for vampires to feed off each other for very long. We're meant to drink from mortals."
Ron knew that to be true; it hadn't stopped him from harbouring a sickly romantic idea that he and Harry could be exclusively together in all aspects. "You're right. We'll need to go down to the city and then find a place to sleep before sunrise. I'll take you where I've been. I really want to get home, but I think you should have a chance to rest first."
Ron. Come here. Please.
Ron did, only too glad to feel Harry's hands on the small of his back.
Kiss me. Harry's desire seemed genuine. Ron desperately hoped it was; he was incapable of contemplating the alternative.
Just a minute. I need to do something first, Ron said, reaching behind him to bring Harry's hands around to the front. Ron pulled Harry's bonding band up off of his pinky before taking Harry's right hand and holding it reverently in his hands.
"Will you, Harry James Potter, be handfasted to me to the end of our days, however brief or long they be, to the exclusion of all others?" Ron asked, repeating the question from their ceremony years prior.
"I will," Harry said passionately as Ron slid the ring down Harry's finger. Harry's eyes shone and adoration radiated from his inhumanly pale features. Ron was overcome with relief, though an indescribable sorrow blanketed him as his thoughts drifted back to their original ceremony, so filled with life and light. Harry looked down at his hand, and then back up at Ron. With infinite tenderness he held Ron's face and kissed him. Ron pressed his lips against Harry's, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. Silent tears made briny tracks down Ron's cheeks as he realised just how enduringly divided they were from everyone else they'd ever loved.
I'll never leave you again, never, Harry promised, placing a soft kiss on Ron's cheekbone. Let's go feed. I want to watch you, and learn from you. Then I want to kiss you, to taste the hot blood in your mouth, and drink from my first mortal. And before we sleep, I want to feel you so deep inside of me, to be joined to you, both of us like this.
Harry’s enthusiasm for his new life was unsettling, not to mention his gyrating moods which currently resembled a Snitch trapped in a cage. However, Ron couldn’t deny the frisson of excited bloodlust that instinctively rose in him at Harry’s words. Perhaps after a year or so he would stop being surprised that the idea of drinking blood and choosing and claiming victims came naturally to him, seeing as how he was a vampire. Ron could already tell that Harry didn’t appear to suffer the same moral issues Ron had; then again, Harry had demanded that this be done to him.
"Ron. You’re thinking too much. How long do we have until sunrise?"
"Probably four hours. Enough time."
"For everything I said?" Harry licked his lips and stared lustfully at Ron.
"I'll make sure."
Into the deeps of the dark night, Ron led Harry down to Timisoara, Harry’s hand clasped in his.