New George/Remus (and Ron/Draco) fic
Jul. 8th, 2006 04:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneAt some point I mentioned to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfiekins that one of the R/S tropes is Remus or Sirius in a kilt. This was news to him, and he thought it sounded brilliant, and thought it would be even better if it were my Remus/George pairing. I've been writing these drabbles in my R/D Magic Immunity universe and conveniently hadn't really written about Ron and Draco's handfasting, which would be a perfect occasion for Remus to wear his… kilt. And sneak off with George (a parallel pairing with my Cartography of Fire universe) during the reception to put ease of accessability of said kilt to use.
So this is for you, Wolfie.
Oh, and if one didn't have inspiration enough thinking about Remus in a kilt, there's this gorgeous sporran that came up in a google search:
For those on my flist not into slash, you'll want to skip this. Those who are fellow R/D fans, let me know if you think there's enough R/D in this (beyond the fact that it's totally in the MI universe and set at their handfasting) to post in those communities. I just don't know; it's R/D, but it's from George's POV and teh hot is George/Remus. Please share your thoughts with me if you'd care to.
Title: Tripping the Light Plaidtastic
Pairing: George/Remus and Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17 (shocking, I know)
Word Count: 4,100-ish
Summary: The day of Ron and Draco's handfasting, it's raining, Remus is in a kilt, Draco's tired of being snubbed, and George finds he's more open-minded than he thought. About several things.
A/N: Magic Immunity universe, but George's POV and parallels the Cartography of Fire G/R pairing. Dedicated towolfiekins, whose love of the Weasleys nearly rivals my own, and whose email correspondence, writing of a story in my Fling Wide universe and reviews of my many stories has made me feel positively cherished and adored.
Grey, heavy clouds scudded slowly across the sky, herded by the chill breeze. Mist tenaciously clung to the mountains off in the distance, filmy wisps caressing the dark trees. George inhaled the pervasive scent of rain before taking another sip of tea. His gaze roved to the nearby orchard, its fruit plucked clean months ago. He still thought it smelled like apples, a phantom aroma lingering on the air. George really loved this family house of Remus', out away from everything and holding only good memories.
There was a negative clucking sound to his right and George turned to see Remus shaking his head. "Molly's not going to like this," he said sagely, walking forward to lean against the porch railing.
"Somebody'll conjure a tent," George said with a shrug.
"Well, yes, but I'm sure she'd prefer that the weather not be so wet for today's event."
George drank his tea, admiring the view of Remus' legs. "Speaking of, I see you've decided to go all out for this handfasting."
Remus turned his head and gave George a devilish smile. "It's a formal occasion. My kilt is the most formal item of clothing I own."
"Lucky for me," George said, leering. "Not only do I get to think about what you're not wearing underneath it, but I bet it'll drive Malfoy absolutely around the bend."
"You've got to get over your distrust of Draco," Remus said, he voice chastising. "Ron's willingness and desire to be bound to him should be enough to convince you of his sincerity."
George rolled his eyes. "Ron's a bloody idiot. Malfoy," he said disgustedly. "Of all people, why on earth did Ron have to fall for the one person he loathed the most growing up?"
Remus sighed. "People change. Love is blind." He paused, looking fondly at George. "That's still the only explanation I have for how I got fortunate enough to be with you."
"Oh please," George said, pretending to vomit. "Besides, you're the one who's the looker in our pair. Don't you dare get sentimental already. We haven't even left the house."
"Come here," Remus said in a low voice, the wolfish quality brooking no refusal.
George put his teacup on a table and walked the few steps to Remus, who pulled him into his arms.
"I've gone through enough in my life to earn the right to be as sentimental and gushingly romantic as I want," he rumbled into George's ear, sending an unexpected shiver of arousal through him. Remus tightened his grip, breathing hotly against George's very sensitive earlobe before gently nibbling on it. George whimpered, a wordless plea that escaped as Remus pulled their hips together. "Now you be cordial to Draco as he's your brother's beloved. You don't have to like him, but I think you'll discover he's a decent man. And if you're on really good behaviour, I'll sneak you off during the reception and do what I'd wanted to at our own handfasting."
"You're so hot," George moaned against Remus' neck before kissing him ferociously. "Be sure to put some lube in your sporran." He started to grind against Remus, gratified to feel his lover's growing arousal under the heavy wool.
"Only if you behave," Remus said, claiming George's mouth for a deep, slow kiss.
"I will," George promised, though he hoped that the Marauder part of Remus wouldn't mind the couple of pranks he'd already devised. After all, he did have his reputation to consider.
* * * * *
They took the Floo to the Burrow and were immediately ensconced in a throng of family and friends. Eventually George made it outside where the drizzle fell in a gauzy haze. He thought about looking for Ron, but reconsidered. Ron would probably be exceedingly nervous, and George knew he wasn't exactly the one to instill confidence in what Ron was about to do, especially considering with whom he was doing it. He spotted Seamus and Dean and meandered over, and was quickly drawn into an animated conversation about Seamus' newest enterprise, a potent (so he said) beverage he called Bitter Banshee. After a time George noticed a change in Dean and Seamus' expressions, coinciding with a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and found himself face to face with a cool and collected Draco Malfoy. George nodded at him, but didn't smile.
"George. If I could have a word?" Draco's voice didn't seem to harbour any malice, and with a shrug, George concurred, waving to Seamus and Dean.
"Shouldn't you be hidden away or something?" George asked as Draco guided them away to an empty corner underneath a massive tent. "Aren't you about to be giving yourself for better or worse to Ron? There's still time to back out, you know."
Draco gave him a hard look, his lips pressed into a thin line. He put his hands in his jacket pockets. "We based our handfasting on yours and Remus', actually. No hiding of shy, blushing grooms," he said, sarcasm oozing in the words. "I'm the one who asked him to be bound to me. I'm still amazed that he said yes."
George didn't know how to reply to that without being terribly rude. Usually that wouldn't stop him, but he had Remus' admonition ringing in his head. Even though Ron had no taste, George knew that he himself did, and his lover meant everything to him. He wasn't about to piss off Remus today.
"I don't know why you've got it in for me," Draco continued, "but everybody else in your family seems at last to have decided I'm a decent bloke who's not going to break Ron's heart. You and I actually have the most in common, and before I become an official member of your family, I'd like to clear the air."
George regarded the man in front of him. Draco's narrow aristocratic features were so unlike his own, or Remus', or anyone else he knew, and they weren't at all appealing to George's view. He couldn't figure why Ron was so attracted to him. Maybe Draco was really wild in bed. That he most certainly didn't need to contemplate or he'd be heaving up a perfectly good breakfast.
"I don't have anything against you, really," George said, looking at Draco's bluebell and ivy boutonniere. "I don't understand you, but that's neither here nor there. I appreciated the market analysis you did for me for Wheezes," he continued with more enthusiasm.
"Look, I'm going to be your brother-in-law and I'm adopting your nephew. Any chance you might accept me for who I am, beyond our occasional working relationship?"
George knew he wasn't the most open-minded person in the world. Given all that had happened to him since he and Fred had left Hogwarts, it wasn't as though he had much reason to suddenly be all warm and fuzzy about a not-quite Death Eater who was daft enough to fall in love with Ron. He looked at Draco who, despite the implied plea in his question, bore an expression more of weariness than anything else.
"I can try," George said honestly.
A shadow of a smile settled on Draco's lips. "Thanks. Wouldn't ask for anything else."
"Draco!" Ron's voice rang out and Draco turned quickly toward the source of the yell.
"Guess it's time for the ceremony," Remus said, his voice off to George's left. "Congratulations, Draco."
George watched Remus walk up and shake hands with Draco before pulling him into an embrace. George cringed. It just didn't seem right to him, but Ron was an adult and whatever choices he made were up to him.
"So. You and Draco seemed to be getting along," Remus said under his breath, slipping a hand around George's waist.
"Something like," George admitted, tilting his head and breathing in Remus' familiar, musky scent. "Glad I'm with you. Thank you for being my lifemate," he said against Remus' neck.
"The pleasure is mine," Remus rumbled in reply.
* * * * *
Ron and Draco’s ceremony was quite similar to George and Remus’. As George watched the proceedings, he thought back to his own handfasting. The weather had been completely different, a surreal, atypically warm spring day with brilliant blue skies. He’d been determined not to be overly sappy about the whole thing, but he had shed a few tears that morning as he talked to the Fred in their portrait. It was yet another event Fred wouldn’t experience. George had known that despite his happiness, Remus too was mourning his own losses, primarily Sirius. Brought back to the present, George heard Ron and Draco do the same thing Remus and he had, invoking the names of those not present but still very alive in their hearts. Thankfully their lists were short, but hearing Ron speak Harry’s name in a low, measured voice caused a respectful hush to settle on the small crowd.
Neville, as Warlock of the Peace, kept things moving along, however. Troths were pledged, fidelities to one another promised, and rings exchanged. Remus slid his hand into George’s as the powerful and profound words were uttered. He gently squeezed George’s fingers, and George squeezed back. No doubt Remus was also traveling down a road of memories prompted by the emotionally fraught scene in front of them. George had to admit to himself that even though Ron’s face was splotchy and his eyes were red-rimmed, his brother really did appear to be happy. Even Malfoy’s normally guarded expression had warmed, somehow. George still felt that they were an irreconcilable pair who were both delusional, but ultimately that was their decision, and now it was permanent. He did have a question he probably had no business asking, but George decided to sequester Draco and ask him regardless.
He found his opportunity after the hubbub had died down surrounding some guests who unwittingly sampled a new Wheezes' product he'd snuck into a sweets dish: Gibberish Jellies. The effects only lasted a few minutes, and the children in attendance made a mad dash for the table when they found out the jellies made you speak nonsense. Draco had moved away to the periphery of the tent so he could bend over discreetly to tie his shoe.
"Draco, I have a question to ask you," George said, taking a swig of as-of-yet unenhanced punch.
"If it's about our sex life, better go to Ron," Draco drawled as he stood, a mocking leer settling in his gaze.
"Even I'm not that perverse," George shuddered. "Seriously. You seem to make Ron happy, and he obviously believes you're the one for him. So why did you take so long in coming back from America, before, back when Percy was killed? I thought you'd just dumped Ron when this family stuff came up."
"I suspect you mean you'd hoped I'd dumped him."
George eyed him with a calculated look. "Maybe."
Draco gazed back, obviously considering his words. "Ron made a major life-changing decision without even consulting me. It gave me pause, as I'm sure it would you. How would you feel if one day Remus told you he'd sold your house and decided you both were to take up," he gestured vaguely, "fishing or something you'd never considered? Out in the Hebrides or somewhere even further afield?"
"I guess I hadn't thought about it like that," George conceded. "Ron just seemed abandoned and miserable. But Xavier's family. Someone needed to take care of him, and Ron made the most sense."
"And I'm privileged to do so," Draco insisted. "It was the manner in which I was informed rather than asked about, that made me re-evaluate Ron and what we were heading toward."
George nodded. "Well, Ron and I haven't ever been that close, but you're bound to him now. I won't take kindly to you treating him poorly."
Draco released a heavy breath and rubbed at his temple. "George, I do occasionally cause him grief, as he does me. He comes with quite a temper, you know. But I assure you that it is my highest priority to be the person who's the most devoted to him and his happiness for as long as I live." The last words were said with near-ferocity; fervour gleamed in his grey eyes. "Ron is my life partner. I intend to do right by him."
"No one here today could have any doubt of that." Remus' voice sounded behind George. "George, I think there are some other guests who'd like to talk with Draco. I trust you're only monopolising him to congratulate him." Remus' words were light, but his golden eyes held a warning.
"George and I just needed to work out an understanding," Draco said graciously. "I believe we've come to one?" He raised an eyebrow in question.
George nodded, relaxing back into Remus' arm, now placed securely on his shoulder blade. "Believe so."
A bird flew past them, settling in a nearby tree limb, twittering as a shower of raindrops pelted the tent.
"It was a beautiful ceremony," Remus said. "Brought back fond memories of ours." He turned and smiled at George.
"Thank you," Draco said earnestly. "It's a bit overwhelming. Given the occasion, I would've liked to have had more," he paused, "family. I didn't have many true friends."
"Cassandra seems delightful, and I know she was looking for you not long ago," Remus said, his expression open and kind. "May you and Ron have years of happiness. Be gentle and patient with each other. It helps," he said with a wink.
Draco thanked him again and went off in search of his black-haired cousin.
"Will you help me get some brandy out of the cellar?" Remus asked, steering George circuitously toward the Burrow. "Arthur requested it, and I'd rather not risk levitating the bottles in the crowd."
"Sure."
They made their way toward the ramshackle house unnoticed by the other revelers. Once inside and down the creaking stairs, Remus shut and locked the door, his gaze hungry and adoring.
"What?" George remained baffled for a few seconds, then realised how naïvely he'd been taken in.
"You," Remus said, his voice husky as he slid his sporran toward his hip and took George in his arms. "I was glad to see you giving Draco a chance. And while the guests are busy, I want to enjoy you as only I have the privilege, being your bondmate."
"Merlin, yes," George moaned as Remus traced his lips with his tongue before delving into George's mouth. The kiss went on and on, George's arousal level simmering into volcanic heat as Remus rubbed their hips together. Remus rocked against him, his strong, slender fingers massaging George's arsecheeks. Remus' erection under the tartan was insistent and George wanted nothing more than to see his lover's cock, the silvery-brown curls around it, the erotic, musky smell all bound together in one intimate package. It was all there, just under the layer of wool with no additional barrier— except that George was standing up, and the kilt went to Remus' knees.
"Want your cock," George gasped, pulling back from Remus' plunging tongue.
"Oh, you'll have it," Remus growled, grasping George's arse nearly painfully.
"No, I want to suck you," George said, fingers pulling at Remus' v-neck jumper. He wished Remus was in one of his trademark cardigans so he could unbutton it and have easy access to his hairy chest.
"If you insist," Remus said with a sultry smile, his smoky voice sending pulses of desire to George's aching erection. "But there's another, deep, hot place I want to put my cock, and we can't be gone for too long."
"Nnnngh, Remus, so fucking sexy," George murmured, giving his lover a last passing kiss before dropping to his knees.
The room was soon full of Remus' intentionally subdued praise as George licked and sucked around his prize. With his tongue and fingers he brought Remus' shaft to full hardness; it took a little while to get there, but his stamina was unreal. George was rapturous, his face in the heat of Remus' groin, the kilt draped over the back of his head, his fingers caressing the heavy, furred ball sacs. The fact that they could get caught made the experience all the more titillating. George encouraged Remus to thrust as far as he could into his mouth, George's slurping, devouring noises muffled by the heavy fabric.
"George, you're incredible, but I really want to fuck you. And I haven't even gotten to touch you yet."
George was definitely stiff, his hard erection trapped by his trim dress pants. He let his tongue flicker in the slit at the top of Remus' cockhead and gave a final, thorough suck before emerging from the curtain of plaid.
"Your face matches your hair," Remus said with a smile, kissing George deeply. It was one of many unexpected sexual traits George had been initially fascinated to discover that this seemingly mild-mannered man possessed; he liked tasting himself on George's tongue, and he often had a filthy ongoing monologue during sex that turned George on like almost nothing else.
"It's hot under there!" George said with prurient lick around his mouth.
"I'm going to get you even hotter," Remus promised, undoing George's belt, button and flies.
"Fuck yes; fuck me," George said raggedly, arching into Remus' hand with a moan.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do." Remus teased George's cock with loose strokes, his other hand digging around in his sporran until he produced a small tube with a flourish. "We're going to need to find something for you to brace against."
The thought of what they were about to do while everybody else was standing around making small talk made George's cock twitch. "Wall's good," he said, breathless.
"Hmmmmm." Remus eyed the far earthen wall. He pulled out his wand from a discreet holster and muttered a spell at some small shelves. Seconds later they were transfigured into a set of wide, chest-height wooden handles.
"That works, too," George said, rutting against Remus' pelvis. "Let's go." He held up his trousers as he quickly walked the few steps across the room. Using one of the temporary handles for balance, he began to toe off his dress shoes.
"No time. Let me," Remus insisted. He placed George's hand on the other handle so he faced the wall before pulling down George's trousers and boxers, squatting behind him.
"Remus," George pleaded. They'd been together several years; he and Remus had routines, rituals, and otherwise unremarkable but still shatteringly satisfying sex. Then Remus, just for today, had turned into a Kilt-Wearing Sex God and George wanted nothing more than to be brazenly fucked by him, holding onto a random set of bracings while in his parent's cellar.
"Your arse is indecent," Remus said before gnawing on George's flesh.
Two slick fingers pressed into him and George released a frustrated sigh. It was a start, but George was so horny he really just needed Remus' long cock and now.
"So do something about it," George said stridently, his movement hindered by his trousers and pants clustered at his ankles. He melted against the wall as he heard the squelching sound of Remus liberally coating his erection. The blunt head was placed securely at George's entrance and was forced in with one long, familiar thrust. George leaned his head against the cool earthen wall. His body absorbed the usual fullness and burning pain sensation before it dissipated up his spine and down his thighs as it transformed to pleasure.
"Love. You. So. Fucking. Tight. George. Xanadu. Weasley. Love." Remus expelled each word as he relentlessly slid into George's body, pulling out partway, battering George's channel with an arsenal of strokes.
George drowned in sensation: the aural smacking of Remus' body beating a relentless tattoo as George clenched the handles; the dense wool rubbing against his hips; one of Remus' oiled hands fisting George's throbbing shaft as the other hand gripped a wall handle, Remus' fingers interwoven with George's own. It was an overwhelming, and yet George didn't want it to end. Violently he snapped his hips back to crash into Remus', relishing the sparking heat deep inside himself as his lover repeatedly hit his prostate. Pushing against the wall, George dropped his head back, his whole body vibrating with tumultuous, crescendoing tension.
"Fuck!" he yelled. "Coming, Remus, oh gods, harder!" he begged as Remus did exactly that, grunting and tugging on George's shaft on the upsweep just so. The orgasm shot out of him, fountaining over Remus' hand as Remus continued his panted adorations about George's body, pounding into it until he came as well. George's chest was heaving. He began to catch his breath as aftershocks from his intense release pulsed tepidly through his softening cock. Remus' exhales drifted into the nape of George's neck with hot puffs until he, too, returned to a state of calm. Rolling his head so he could look at Remus' profile, George gave his lover a wide smile. "That was amazing."
"I'll say," Remus said, affection infused in the words. He twisted his head to plant a kiss on George's lips before nudging George to straighten up. Remus slid out of George with care and George gingerly squeezed his arsecheeks. He'd probably be in the market for a healing charm in a few hours, but for now, the ghostly memory of fullness was brilliant. Remus cast thorough cleansing spells on them before George leaned down to pull up his boxers and trousers, wincing as he did. He'd definitely be asking for Remus to rub a little salve on him later.
Moments later they looked much as they had upon entering the room. "Your hair's a bit wild," Remus commented.
"And you look far more relaxed than most wedding guests would," George retorted. "You hide it better than I do, but to a trained eye, it's obvious you've shagged yourself rotten."
"Yes I did." Remus slid a finger across George's jaw and leaned in for a deep, but closed-mouth kiss. "We'd better get back."
"Don't forget the handles," George reminded him. "Reckon we could try something like that again, though."
Remus nodded as their wall bracings returned to usual shelf form. George looked around for the brandy. "Where's the bottles to take to dad?"
Remus chuckled. "That must've been more convincing than I realised. I really just wanted to hide us away for a few minutes so I could have my way with you."
"Nice of you to be so generous," George said, smirking. He walked up the stairs and into the kitchen, glancing out the windows to the group on the lawn. "Still raining," he noted.
"I think that's supposed to be good luck."
George snorted at that. They made their way across the grass, managing to rejoin the festivities without any questions about their absence. There was music playing, and after a time, space was made under the middle of the large tent for Ron and Draco to dance together. Remus stood behind George, his arms clasped around his waist. Normally they weren't all that demonstrative in public, but given their earlier activities, George knew that Remus would be more physically affectionate, and if anybody had a problem with it, they could just piss off.
"Hope Ron knows what he's gotten himself in for," George said so only Remus could hear. "I can't imagine wanting to live with Malfoy." Despite their recent truce, George still found Draco unattractive on many levels.
"Chances are he wondered about you, going off with a man not quite twenty years your senior, and a werewolf as well," Remus reminded him.
"Maybe, but I have more common sense."
"You two are very different. Rather than debate, let's dance," Remus said, nuzzling under George's ear.
"Okay."
Arthur and Molly had paired up, as well as Ginny and Neville and some others. George looked into Remus' face, the smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and the ever-increasing silver that now dominated his tawny hair. They had their arguments, and Remus' near-inability to splurge on anything made George go spare, but he had to admit that he'd been right to trust his instincts about a life together with the older man.
"Tha gaol agam ort," Remus said quietly, the Scottish flowing off his tongue.
"Ort-fhèin," George replied, rubbing his cheek against the side of Remus' face. His gaze glanced over and he caught Draco's eye. Draco looked at him and nodded slightly, smoothing his hand on Ron's back and sharing a small, secretive smile.
Maybe George needed to give Ronniekins a bit more credit; perhaps he knew what he was doing after all.
* * * * *
The Scottish phrases are 'I love you' and (loosely) 'you, too'
wolfiekins that one of the R/S tropes is Remus or Sirius in a kilt. This was news to him, and he thought it sounded brilliant, and thought it would be even better if it were my Remus/George pairing. I've been writing these drabbles in my R/D Magic Immunity universe and conveniently hadn't really written about Ron and Draco's handfasting, which would be a perfect occasion for Remus to wear his… kilt. And sneak off with George (a parallel pairing with my Cartography of Fire universe) during the reception to put ease of accessability of said kilt to use.So this is for you, Wolfie.
Oh, and if one didn't have inspiration enough thinking about Remus in a kilt, there's this gorgeous sporran that came up in a google search:
For those on my flist not into slash, you'll want to skip this. Those who are fellow R/D fans, let me know if you think there's enough R/D in this (beyond the fact that it's totally in the MI universe and set at their handfasting) to post in those communities. I just don't know; it's R/D, but it's from George's POV and teh hot is George/Remus. Please share your thoughts with me if you'd care to.
Title: Tripping the Light Plaidtastic
Pairing: George/Remus and Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17 (shocking, I know)
Word Count: 4,100-ish
Summary: The day of Ron and Draco's handfasting, it's raining, Remus is in a kilt, Draco's tired of being snubbed, and George finds he's more open-minded than he thought. About several things.
A/N: Magic Immunity universe, but George's POV and parallels the Cartography of Fire G/R pairing. Dedicated to
wolfiekins, whose love of the Weasleys nearly rivals my own, and whose email correspondence, writing of a story in my Fling Wide universe and reviews of my many stories has made me feel positively cherished and adored.Grey, heavy clouds scudded slowly across the sky, herded by the chill breeze. Mist tenaciously clung to the mountains off in the distance, filmy wisps caressing the dark trees. George inhaled the pervasive scent of rain before taking another sip of tea. His gaze roved to the nearby orchard, its fruit plucked clean months ago. He still thought it smelled like apples, a phantom aroma lingering on the air. George really loved this family house of Remus', out away from everything and holding only good memories.
There was a negative clucking sound to his right and George turned to see Remus shaking his head. "Molly's not going to like this," he said sagely, walking forward to lean against the porch railing.
"Somebody'll conjure a tent," George said with a shrug.
"Well, yes, but I'm sure she'd prefer that the weather not be so wet for today's event."
George drank his tea, admiring the view of Remus' legs. "Speaking of, I see you've decided to go all out for this handfasting."
Remus turned his head and gave George a devilish smile. "It's a formal occasion. My kilt is the most formal item of clothing I own."
"Lucky for me," George said, leering. "Not only do I get to think about what you're not wearing underneath it, but I bet it'll drive Malfoy absolutely around the bend."
"You've got to get over your distrust of Draco," Remus said, he voice chastising. "Ron's willingness and desire to be bound to him should be enough to convince you of his sincerity."
George rolled his eyes. "Ron's a bloody idiot. Malfoy," he said disgustedly. "Of all people, why on earth did Ron have to fall for the one person he loathed the most growing up?"
Remus sighed. "People change. Love is blind." He paused, looking fondly at George. "That's still the only explanation I have for how I got fortunate enough to be with you."
"Oh please," George said, pretending to vomit. "Besides, you're the one who's the looker in our pair. Don't you dare get sentimental already. We haven't even left the house."
"Come here," Remus said in a low voice, the wolfish quality brooking no refusal.
George put his teacup on a table and walked the few steps to Remus, who pulled him into his arms.
"I've gone through enough in my life to earn the right to be as sentimental and gushingly romantic as I want," he rumbled into George's ear, sending an unexpected shiver of arousal through him. Remus tightened his grip, breathing hotly against George's very sensitive earlobe before gently nibbling on it. George whimpered, a wordless plea that escaped as Remus pulled their hips together. "Now you be cordial to Draco as he's your brother's beloved. You don't have to like him, but I think you'll discover he's a decent man. And if you're on really good behaviour, I'll sneak you off during the reception and do what I'd wanted to at our own handfasting."
"You're so hot," George moaned against Remus' neck before kissing him ferociously. "Be sure to put some lube in your sporran." He started to grind against Remus, gratified to feel his lover's growing arousal under the heavy wool.
"Only if you behave," Remus said, claiming George's mouth for a deep, slow kiss.
"I will," George promised, though he hoped that the Marauder part of Remus wouldn't mind the couple of pranks he'd already devised. After all, he did have his reputation to consider.
* * * * *
They took the Floo to the Burrow and were immediately ensconced in a throng of family and friends. Eventually George made it outside where the drizzle fell in a gauzy haze. He thought about looking for Ron, but reconsidered. Ron would probably be exceedingly nervous, and George knew he wasn't exactly the one to instill confidence in what Ron was about to do, especially considering with whom he was doing it. He spotted Seamus and Dean and meandered over, and was quickly drawn into an animated conversation about Seamus' newest enterprise, a potent (so he said) beverage he called Bitter Banshee. After a time George noticed a change in Dean and Seamus' expressions, coinciding with a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and found himself face to face with a cool and collected Draco Malfoy. George nodded at him, but didn't smile.
"George. If I could have a word?" Draco's voice didn't seem to harbour any malice, and with a shrug, George concurred, waving to Seamus and Dean.
"Shouldn't you be hidden away or something?" George asked as Draco guided them away to an empty corner underneath a massive tent. "Aren't you about to be giving yourself for better or worse to Ron? There's still time to back out, you know."
Draco gave him a hard look, his lips pressed into a thin line. He put his hands in his jacket pockets. "We based our handfasting on yours and Remus', actually. No hiding of shy, blushing grooms," he said, sarcasm oozing in the words. "I'm the one who asked him to be bound to me. I'm still amazed that he said yes."
George didn't know how to reply to that without being terribly rude. Usually that wouldn't stop him, but he had Remus' admonition ringing in his head. Even though Ron had no taste, George knew that he himself did, and his lover meant everything to him. He wasn't about to piss off Remus today.
"I don't know why you've got it in for me," Draco continued, "but everybody else in your family seems at last to have decided I'm a decent bloke who's not going to break Ron's heart. You and I actually have the most in common, and before I become an official member of your family, I'd like to clear the air."
George regarded the man in front of him. Draco's narrow aristocratic features were so unlike his own, or Remus', or anyone else he knew, and they weren't at all appealing to George's view. He couldn't figure why Ron was so attracted to him. Maybe Draco was really wild in bed. That he most certainly didn't need to contemplate or he'd be heaving up a perfectly good breakfast.
"I don't have anything against you, really," George said, looking at Draco's bluebell and ivy boutonniere. "I don't understand you, but that's neither here nor there. I appreciated the market analysis you did for me for Wheezes," he continued with more enthusiasm.
"Look, I'm going to be your brother-in-law and I'm adopting your nephew. Any chance you might accept me for who I am, beyond our occasional working relationship?"
George knew he wasn't the most open-minded person in the world. Given all that had happened to him since he and Fred had left Hogwarts, it wasn't as though he had much reason to suddenly be all warm and fuzzy about a not-quite Death Eater who was daft enough to fall in love with Ron. He looked at Draco who, despite the implied plea in his question, bore an expression more of weariness than anything else.
"I can try," George said honestly.
A shadow of a smile settled on Draco's lips. "Thanks. Wouldn't ask for anything else."
"Draco!" Ron's voice rang out and Draco turned quickly toward the source of the yell.
"Guess it's time for the ceremony," Remus said, his voice off to George's left. "Congratulations, Draco."
George watched Remus walk up and shake hands with Draco before pulling him into an embrace. George cringed. It just didn't seem right to him, but Ron was an adult and whatever choices he made were up to him.
"So. You and Draco seemed to be getting along," Remus said under his breath, slipping a hand around George's waist.
"Something like," George admitted, tilting his head and breathing in Remus' familiar, musky scent. "Glad I'm with you. Thank you for being my lifemate," he said against Remus' neck.
"The pleasure is mine," Remus rumbled in reply.
* * * * *
Ron and Draco’s ceremony was quite similar to George and Remus’. As George watched the proceedings, he thought back to his own handfasting. The weather had been completely different, a surreal, atypically warm spring day with brilliant blue skies. He’d been determined not to be overly sappy about the whole thing, but he had shed a few tears that morning as he talked to the Fred in their portrait. It was yet another event Fred wouldn’t experience. George had known that despite his happiness, Remus too was mourning his own losses, primarily Sirius. Brought back to the present, George heard Ron and Draco do the same thing Remus and he had, invoking the names of those not present but still very alive in their hearts. Thankfully their lists were short, but hearing Ron speak Harry’s name in a low, measured voice caused a respectful hush to settle on the small crowd.
Neville, as Warlock of the Peace, kept things moving along, however. Troths were pledged, fidelities to one another promised, and rings exchanged. Remus slid his hand into George’s as the powerful and profound words were uttered. He gently squeezed George’s fingers, and George squeezed back. No doubt Remus was also traveling down a road of memories prompted by the emotionally fraught scene in front of them. George had to admit to himself that even though Ron’s face was splotchy and his eyes were red-rimmed, his brother really did appear to be happy. Even Malfoy’s normally guarded expression had warmed, somehow. George still felt that they were an irreconcilable pair who were both delusional, but ultimately that was their decision, and now it was permanent. He did have a question he probably had no business asking, but George decided to sequester Draco and ask him regardless.
He found his opportunity after the hubbub had died down surrounding some guests who unwittingly sampled a new Wheezes' product he'd snuck into a sweets dish: Gibberish Jellies. The effects only lasted a few minutes, and the children in attendance made a mad dash for the table when they found out the jellies made you speak nonsense. Draco had moved away to the periphery of the tent so he could bend over discreetly to tie his shoe.
"Draco, I have a question to ask you," George said, taking a swig of as-of-yet unenhanced punch.
"If it's about our sex life, better go to Ron," Draco drawled as he stood, a mocking leer settling in his gaze.
"Even I'm not that perverse," George shuddered. "Seriously. You seem to make Ron happy, and he obviously believes you're the one for him. So why did you take so long in coming back from America, before, back when Percy was killed? I thought you'd just dumped Ron when this family stuff came up."
"I suspect you mean you'd hoped I'd dumped him."
George eyed him with a calculated look. "Maybe."
Draco gazed back, obviously considering his words. "Ron made a major life-changing decision without even consulting me. It gave me pause, as I'm sure it would you. How would you feel if one day Remus told you he'd sold your house and decided you both were to take up," he gestured vaguely, "fishing or something you'd never considered? Out in the Hebrides or somewhere even further afield?"
"I guess I hadn't thought about it like that," George conceded. "Ron just seemed abandoned and miserable. But Xavier's family. Someone needed to take care of him, and Ron made the most sense."
"And I'm privileged to do so," Draco insisted. "It was the manner in which I was informed rather than asked about, that made me re-evaluate Ron and what we were heading toward."
George nodded. "Well, Ron and I haven't ever been that close, but you're bound to him now. I won't take kindly to you treating him poorly."
Draco released a heavy breath and rubbed at his temple. "George, I do occasionally cause him grief, as he does me. He comes with quite a temper, you know. But I assure you that it is my highest priority to be the person who's the most devoted to him and his happiness for as long as I live." The last words were said with near-ferocity; fervour gleamed in his grey eyes. "Ron is my life partner. I intend to do right by him."
"No one here today could have any doubt of that." Remus' voice sounded behind George. "George, I think there are some other guests who'd like to talk with Draco. I trust you're only monopolising him to congratulate him." Remus' words were light, but his golden eyes held a warning.
"George and I just needed to work out an understanding," Draco said graciously. "I believe we've come to one?" He raised an eyebrow in question.
George nodded, relaxing back into Remus' arm, now placed securely on his shoulder blade. "Believe so."
A bird flew past them, settling in a nearby tree limb, twittering as a shower of raindrops pelted the tent.
"It was a beautiful ceremony," Remus said. "Brought back fond memories of ours." He turned and smiled at George.
"Thank you," Draco said earnestly. "It's a bit overwhelming. Given the occasion, I would've liked to have had more," he paused, "family. I didn't have many true friends."
"Cassandra seems delightful, and I know she was looking for you not long ago," Remus said, his expression open and kind. "May you and Ron have years of happiness. Be gentle and patient with each other. It helps," he said with a wink.
Draco thanked him again and went off in search of his black-haired cousin.
"Will you help me get some brandy out of the cellar?" Remus asked, steering George circuitously toward the Burrow. "Arthur requested it, and I'd rather not risk levitating the bottles in the crowd."
"Sure."
They made their way toward the ramshackle house unnoticed by the other revelers. Once inside and down the creaking stairs, Remus shut and locked the door, his gaze hungry and adoring.
"What?" George remained baffled for a few seconds, then realised how naïvely he'd been taken in.
"You," Remus said, his voice husky as he slid his sporran toward his hip and took George in his arms. "I was glad to see you giving Draco a chance. And while the guests are busy, I want to enjoy you as only I have the privilege, being your bondmate."
"Merlin, yes," George moaned as Remus traced his lips with his tongue before delving into George's mouth. The kiss went on and on, George's arousal level simmering into volcanic heat as Remus rubbed their hips together. Remus rocked against him, his strong, slender fingers massaging George's arsecheeks. Remus' erection under the tartan was insistent and George wanted nothing more than to see his lover's cock, the silvery-brown curls around it, the erotic, musky smell all bound together in one intimate package. It was all there, just under the layer of wool with no additional barrier— except that George was standing up, and the kilt went to Remus' knees.
"Want your cock," George gasped, pulling back from Remus' plunging tongue.
"Oh, you'll have it," Remus growled, grasping George's arse nearly painfully.
"No, I want to suck you," George said, fingers pulling at Remus' v-neck jumper. He wished Remus was in one of his trademark cardigans so he could unbutton it and have easy access to his hairy chest.
"If you insist," Remus said with a sultry smile, his smoky voice sending pulses of desire to George's aching erection. "But there's another, deep, hot place I want to put my cock, and we can't be gone for too long."
"Nnnngh, Remus, so fucking sexy," George murmured, giving his lover a last passing kiss before dropping to his knees.
The room was soon full of Remus' intentionally subdued praise as George licked and sucked around his prize. With his tongue and fingers he brought Remus' shaft to full hardness; it took a little while to get there, but his stamina was unreal. George was rapturous, his face in the heat of Remus' groin, the kilt draped over the back of his head, his fingers caressing the heavy, furred ball sacs. The fact that they could get caught made the experience all the more titillating. George encouraged Remus to thrust as far as he could into his mouth, George's slurping, devouring noises muffled by the heavy fabric.
"George, you're incredible, but I really want to fuck you. And I haven't even gotten to touch you yet."
George was definitely stiff, his hard erection trapped by his trim dress pants. He let his tongue flicker in the slit at the top of Remus' cockhead and gave a final, thorough suck before emerging from the curtain of plaid.
"Your face matches your hair," Remus said with a smile, kissing George deeply. It was one of many unexpected sexual traits George had been initially fascinated to discover that this seemingly mild-mannered man possessed; he liked tasting himself on George's tongue, and he often had a filthy ongoing monologue during sex that turned George on like almost nothing else.
"It's hot under there!" George said with prurient lick around his mouth.
"I'm going to get you even hotter," Remus promised, undoing George's belt, button and flies.
"Fuck yes; fuck me," George said raggedly, arching into Remus' hand with a moan.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do." Remus teased George's cock with loose strokes, his other hand digging around in his sporran until he produced a small tube with a flourish. "We're going to need to find something for you to brace against."
The thought of what they were about to do while everybody else was standing around making small talk made George's cock twitch. "Wall's good," he said, breathless.
"Hmmmmm." Remus eyed the far earthen wall. He pulled out his wand from a discreet holster and muttered a spell at some small shelves. Seconds later they were transfigured into a set of wide, chest-height wooden handles.
"That works, too," George said, rutting against Remus' pelvis. "Let's go." He held up his trousers as he quickly walked the few steps across the room. Using one of the temporary handles for balance, he began to toe off his dress shoes.
"No time. Let me," Remus insisted. He placed George's hand on the other handle so he faced the wall before pulling down George's trousers and boxers, squatting behind him.
"Remus," George pleaded. They'd been together several years; he and Remus had routines, rituals, and otherwise unremarkable but still shatteringly satisfying sex. Then Remus, just for today, had turned into a Kilt-Wearing Sex God and George wanted nothing more than to be brazenly fucked by him, holding onto a random set of bracings while in his parent's cellar.
"Your arse is indecent," Remus said before gnawing on George's flesh.
Two slick fingers pressed into him and George released a frustrated sigh. It was a start, but George was so horny he really just needed Remus' long cock and now.
"So do something about it," George said stridently, his movement hindered by his trousers and pants clustered at his ankles. He melted against the wall as he heard the squelching sound of Remus liberally coating his erection. The blunt head was placed securely at George's entrance and was forced in with one long, familiar thrust. George leaned his head against the cool earthen wall. His body absorbed the usual fullness and burning pain sensation before it dissipated up his spine and down his thighs as it transformed to pleasure.
"Love. You. So. Fucking. Tight. George. Xanadu. Weasley. Love." Remus expelled each word as he relentlessly slid into George's body, pulling out partway, battering George's channel with an arsenal of strokes.
George drowned in sensation: the aural smacking of Remus' body beating a relentless tattoo as George clenched the handles; the dense wool rubbing against his hips; one of Remus' oiled hands fisting George's throbbing shaft as the other hand gripped a wall handle, Remus' fingers interwoven with George's own. It was an overwhelming, and yet George didn't want it to end. Violently he snapped his hips back to crash into Remus', relishing the sparking heat deep inside himself as his lover repeatedly hit his prostate. Pushing against the wall, George dropped his head back, his whole body vibrating with tumultuous, crescendoing tension.
"Fuck!" he yelled. "Coming, Remus, oh gods, harder!" he begged as Remus did exactly that, grunting and tugging on George's shaft on the upsweep just so. The orgasm shot out of him, fountaining over Remus' hand as Remus continued his panted adorations about George's body, pounding into it until he came as well. George's chest was heaving. He began to catch his breath as aftershocks from his intense release pulsed tepidly through his softening cock. Remus' exhales drifted into the nape of George's neck with hot puffs until he, too, returned to a state of calm. Rolling his head so he could look at Remus' profile, George gave his lover a wide smile. "That was amazing."
"I'll say," Remus said, affection infused in the words. He twisted his head to plant a kiss on George's lips before nudging George to straighten up. Remus slid out of George with care and George gingerly squeezed his arsecheeks. He'd probably be in the market for a healing charm in a few hours, but for now, the ghostly memory of fullness was brilliant. Remus cast thorough cleansing spells on them before George leaned down to pull up his boxers and trousers, wincing as he did. He'd definitely be asking for Remus to rub a little salve on him later.
Moments later they looked much as they had upon entering the room. "Your hair's a bit wild," Remus commented.
"And you look far more relaxed than most wedding guests would," George retorted. "You hide it better than I do, but to a trained eye, it's obvious you've shagged yourself rotten."
"Yes I did." Remus slid a finger across George's jaw and leaned in for a deep, but closed-mouth kiss. "We'd better get back."
"Don't forget the handles," George reminded him. "Reckon we could try something like that again, though."
Remus nodded as their wall bracings returned to usual shelf form. George looked around for the brandy. "Where's the bottles to take to dad?"
Remus chuckled. "That must've been more convincing than I realised. I really just wanted to hide us away for a few minutes so I could have my way with you."
"Nice of you to be so generous," George said, smirking. He walked up the stairs and into the kitchen, glancing out the windows to the group on the lawn. "Still raining," he noted.
"I think that's supposed to be good luck."
George snorted at that. They made their way across the grass, managing to rejoin the festivities without any questions about their absence. There was music playing, and after a time, space was made under the middle of the large tent for Ron and Draco to dance together. Remus stood behind George, his arms clasped around his waist. Normally they weren't all that demonstrative in public, but given their earlier activities, George knew that Remus would be more physically affectionate, and if anybody had a problem with it, they could just piss off.
"Hope Ron knows what he's gotten himself in for," George said so only Remus could hear. "I can't imagine wanting to live with Malfoy." Despite their recent truce, George still found Draco unattractive on many levels.
"Chances are he wondered about you, going off with a man not quite twenty years your senior, and a werewolf as well," Remus reminded him.
"Maybe, but I have more common sense."
"You two are very different. Rather than debate, let's dance," Remus said, nuzzling under George's ear.
"Okay."
Arthur and Molly had paired up, as well as Ginny and Neville and some others. George looked into Remus' face, the smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and the ever-increasing silver that now dominated his tawny hair. They had their arguments, and Remus' near-inability to splurge on anything made George go spare, but he had to admit that he'd been right to trust his instincts about a life together with the older man.
"Tha gaol agam ort," Remus said quietly, the Scottish flowing off his tongue.
"Ort-fhèin," George replied, rubbing his cheek against the side of Remus' face. His gaze glanced over and he caught Draco's eye. Draco looked at him and nodded slightly, smoothing his hand on Ron's back and sharing a small, secretive smile.
Maybe George needed to give Ronniekins a bit more credit; perhaps he knew what he was doing after all.
* * * * *
The Scottish phrases are 'I love you' and (loosely) 'you, too'
