Ron/Remus story, "Scotch Game"
Nov. 24th, 2008 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneThis was written for the first-ever fest at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
remus_ron_slash. If you join the comm you can read it there; NC-17 fics are locked to protect the mods. I've made the choice not to lock my adult fics, so after making confirming it was okay to post outside of the comm at this juncture, here 'tis!
Title: Scotch Game
Pairing: Ron/Remus
Word Count: 10,175
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Alerts: wanking, explicit slash, a bit of angst, AU, EWE
Written for the inaugural fest atremus_ron_slash. The prompt I took was this:
He took my soul and bound it
with cords of iron wire.
~Lord Alfred Douglas, "Rejected"
Summary: When Ron is invited to referee and instruct at a month-long event in Glasgow hosted by the European Youth Wizarding Chess Federation, he balks. Once there, much to his surprise, he enjoys himself. Even more surprising, however, is seeing Remus Lupin as a volunteer, and an attraction to his former professor that resolutely won't go away. But will Lupin allow himself to leave his past so Ron can be a part of his present?
A/N: Huge thanks to my betas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kymyrra, rickey_a and abigail89. 'Scotch Game' comes from my searching of Wikipedia for a clever chess-oriented title. According to them, here are comments about this particular game opening: "Popular in the 19th century, by 1900 the Scotch had lost favor among top players because it was thought to release the central tension too early and allow Black to equalize without difficulty. More recently the Scotch has regained some popularity…"
Ron kept looking at the letter he'd just received, his eyes going over it one more time just to be sure it said what he'd read aloud.
"You're going to go, of course!" Neville enthused, and Ron looked up at him for affirmation. "Well, aren't you?"
"For a month? A European Youth Wizarding Chess Federation Extravaganza? What the hell kind of title is that?" Ron snorted, rolling his eyes.
"They want you to referee and teach, Ron. It's quite an honour," Neville said earnestly before taking a sip of tea.
"They're barking." Ron tossed the parchment to the table.
"You've been talking about going on holiday for ages."
"I most certainly have not!" Ron exclaimed, heading to the fridge for an ale.
"No, but you've been thinking it awfully loudly."
Ron's lips turned down as he rummaged through a drawer for a bottle top opener. This was one of the inherent problems with continuing to share a flat with your ex-lover: the other person, even if now a close friend, still knew you too bloody well. After a long swig, Ron turned back around. Neville shrugged in apology.
"It's not even in Edinburgh," Ron complained. "It's Glasgow."
"Have you ever been?" A tawny eyebrow was raised.
Ron harrumphed. "No."
With self-ease that had only come after his part in the War nearly a decade years ago, Neville wandered to a nearby plant and stroked the underside of some wilting crimson petals, after which they cheerily unfurled.
"Look. It's set for August, Hogwarts won't be in session, and I'll be gone probably a fortnight. What could possibly keep you here? Not me, certainly."
The last words weren't said maliciously, they were simply fact. Ron and Neville had grown together over several years while co-teaching Herbology, but the passion hadn't lasted even a year. Ron did quite enjoy Neville's company as a person, however, and after a few awkward weeks, they'd settled into new routines, having decided to continue sharing their spacious flat. All at once, part of what Neville had just said snagged Ron's attention.
"You going to see your gran?" he asked, flopping down on the sofa.
A rosy tinge flushed Neville's neck. "Actually, no. Well, yes, for a week. But I've been invited away as well by someone else. Nothing as esteemed as the European Youth Wizarding Federation Chess Extravaganza, though."
He took the seat opposite the couch, crossing his tanned, fit legs. He'd really come into his own after the War, which was what had fueled Ron's desires for him. Apparently someone else had recently found himself under Neville's sway.
"So who's the lucky bloke?" Ron asked, half joking, half not. He wasn't jealous that Neville would move on to someone else, it was more that since he and Neville had split up, Ron hadn't felt anything other than the occasional scorching lust for a guy that faded quickly.
"Oliver Wood."
Ron choked on his ale. "Wood?" he spluttered. "I didn't think you even followed Quidditch!" A green snake of envy began to unfurl in his belly; Wood was both a phenomenal player and the sexiest guy in a kilt Ron had ever had the privilege to see.
"Well," Neville said placatingly, "you've been assistant coaching at Hogwarts for a while, and you know I tried to learn more when we were together. Oliver also happens to share another interest of mine— fishing."
Incredulous, Ron looked at his flatmate, former lover and co-instructor. The pudginess was gone; he was toned, confident, and the passion he'd shared with Ron had been smoulderingly intense for the period it lasted. But fishing? He and Neville had never gone fishing.
"Do I know you?" Ron asked, frustrated at how petulant he sounded.
"Of course you do. Very well," Neville said with a low laugh. "It's just that while you've been content to lounge around the flat and watch Muggle TV or go to the pub with George and Lee, I've been out pursuing my hobbies. That's all." He glanced over at the dining room table. "C'mon, you've been handed a unique opportunity. Don't sulk. If you go to Glasgow, you'll have a pretty high chance of seeing other gorgeous men in kilts."
Ron sank further into the couch, the envious snake only barely subdued. "I'll be surrounded by snotty-nosed, spotty know-it-all witches and wizards from all over Europe, hormones raging, or too young even for that." He shuddered.
"That's only during the day. Doubtless you can spend your evenings as you like." Neville came as close to leering as Ron had seen him attempt, but there was more sympathy in his expression than anything else. "There'll be plenty of places for you to get a drink and see if anyone strikes your fancy. You're a handsome man, you know that."
"Aside from you, I've not exactly had loads of people interested," Ron groused.
"You've been living in a sheltered environment for the past few years."
Ron could tell Neville was losing his patience and, frankly, Ron was a bit sick of himself at the moment. "You're right— okay, I'll go," he said after a long pull on his ale. He barely covered his mouth to cover a belch.
Neville sighed through a smile. "Who knows what kind of contacts you'll make? They wouldn't ask if they didn't value your chess skills and reputation."
"Or if they were desperate," Ron muttered.
Picking up his tea, Neville drained it and walked past him into the kitchen. "I'm not deigning to respond to that remark."
"You just did," Ron said, his lips quirked in a smile as he righted himself on the couch.
"Technicality. Now go and write them a reply."
"I will."
As he took a last swig, Ron tried to imagine Neville and Wood in a boat with fishing rods and tackle, or even wearing waders, fly-fishing. He shook his head at that seeming absurdity, and went clomping off to try and find some parchment and an unbroken quill.
* * * * *
"Ahhhhhhhh." Ron sagged into the comfortable chair, stretching out his legs on the Ottoman and laying his arms on the armrests. The room was brilliant. Due to the length of their stay, the Federation had decided to put the referees and instructors up in a Wizarding bed and breakfast rather than a hotel. The room was done up in rich, dark colours, maroons and pine greens. The owner had even stopped by with a complimentary small glass of aged Scotch, both to welcome Ron to the B&B for the next month as well as to Scotland in general.
"Hope you enjoy yer stay, Mr. Weasley," the wizard proprietor had said with the low, rolling burr of the Scots.
"Me too. This'll help!" Ron had replied, cheered by the re-introduction.
He didn't have any obligations until the next morning; the Federation had left Ron a packet — half a book, it seemed — outlining each day's events, the pacing and evolution of the tournament, slots when Ron could expect to give instruction and mentoring, and the closing banquet at the end of the Extravaganza. He thought about going out, but seeing as how he was expected at the opening ceremony bright-eyed and fully caffeinated by eight o'clock in the morning, he decided against it. Sipping at the potent but smooth liquor, Ron flipped through the packet, glancing over the young participants. Their names, countries of origin and ranking within their age group were listed below each moving photograph. Photos of the referees and instructors were also included; Ron had chafed at first at submitting one, but Neville had helped him find one that was halfway decent. At the back was a listing of volunteers for the event. He skimmed the list until his gaze froze on a name he recognised.
"Lupin?" he said aloud. "Profess— Remus Lupin is a volunteer at this carnival? Merlin."
It had been years since he'd thought about the man, former professor and one of the key contributors to Harry and the Order's ultimate defeat of Voldemort. He must live here, Ron thought. He'd been fond of Lupin, subconsciously relating to him even from their time at Grimmauld Place when he and Harry had figured out that Lupin and Black were more than just friends. Ron hadn't really understood his own leanings at the time, but he knew what it felt like to be different. If nothing else, it'd be nice to have a familiar face in the midst of this well-orchestrated circus. Ron could take him out for drinks, at least.
* * * * *
It wasn't until the fourth day that Ron saw Lupin at the event. Surprising himself, Ron was actually having a decent time. The young chess contenders, with a few exceptions, listened to him in rapt attention, and seemed to look up to him. He found he enjoyed refereeing the matches, practically seeing the cogs spin in the heads of some of the young players. He'd kept an eye out for his former professor, but the second night on his walk home when he admired the full moon on the horizon, it struck him why Lupin had yet to appear.
When he did finally see Lupin, it was from across the room. The older man's expression was comical at first; he was obviously as shocked as Ron had been when he saw that Lupin was volunteering at this event. Ron smiled and Lupin's face relaxed into a smile as well. He looked haggard; it was only two days after the full moon, Ron knew. At lunch he managed to catch Lupin's eye and they walked together with their trays to one of the long tables. Once both trays were down, Ron thrust out his arm in greeting.
"Lupin! I was surprised to see that you're here!" he said, shaking Remus' hand.
Remus seemed a bit at a loss, but covered it up quickly and enclosed their clasped hands with his other hand in a warm gesture. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, which, Ron noticed for seemingly the first time, were an olive colour, flecked with gold. Ron was actually a couple of inches taller than his former professor.
"I could say the same," Lupin quipped before releasing Ron's hand and gesturing at the table where they sat and began to eat. It was a highly enjoyable lunch; Ron filled Lupin in about his own recent years, and how Harry, Hermione and some of the other War survivors were doing.
"And Neville?" Lupin asked, blowing across his tea.
"He's well," Ron said, deciding to plunge ahead with enough information so that Lupin knew his preferences. He wasn't sure why that would matter, but there was something about Remus that seemed to encourage Ron to confide in him. "He and I were together, for a while," Ron said around a forkful of excellent blackcurrant crumble. "We still share a flat, but we're not together together anymore, if that makes sense." He glanced at Lupin through the ginger curtain of his fringe, deciding he needed to get a haircut soon.
Lupin simply nodded, a wistful smile glancing on his lips before it faded. "That's admirable, your still living with him."
"He's a great friend," Ron insisted. "Sometimes it's frustrating because he knows me so well, but it's really not awkward." He paused for a moment, and then cautiously asked, "Not that it's my business, but are you seeing someone?"
Lupin gave him a skeptical look. "No. I'm busy with work, and volunteering, and I do go out on occasion. I have a cat that adores me. But I've not had a relationship in a long time."
Ron winced inwardly at how matter-of-fact Lupin sounded. "Well, I'm here for a month, so I'm going to impose on you, if you don't mind. Let's get drinks somewhere this evening— somewhere you like to go."
Lupin fidgeted with a fraying cuff on his cardigan. It was warmish outside, but the facility where the Federation Extravaganza was in full swing was kept fairly cool. He seemed to be wavering, so Ron blurted out, "Only if you want to, I mean. It's just nice to see you again, and see that you're doing well. You look good. Tired, I mean, but…" Ron realised he was beginning to babble, and managed to shut his mouth.
A warm look of gratitude and faint amusement settled on Lupin's features. "Thank you," he said after taking a sip of tea. "I don't mean to be intentionally standoff-ish; I'm just not all that social anymore. I'd be happy to show you the parts of Glasgow I'm especially fond of—"
"Didn't you say that you have a shop? I'd like to see it," Ron interrupted.
"That's fine. I doubt you'll recognise much of any of the music, though. It's mostly vintage Muggle recordings; the two employees that I have are Muggle. It's just easier that way." He glanced at his watch and to Ron's surprise, he realised that lunch was nearly over.
"I'm staying with the other referees at a B&B called The Frog and Friar. Haven't a clue what it's supposed to mean," he said with a snort. "Anyway, I'm in room 302. Will you firecall later, say around seven? I'm determined to try some of the local brews, and it's pathetic to drink alone."
The smile finally crept into Lupin's eyes, and he nodded his agreement. "I'll be happy to. Thank you for the invitation."
With that, they both stood up from the table. As Remus took his leave, Ron caught a whiff of his scent and found himself rather shockingly taken back to a day in Slugworth's Potions class. He was assaulted with the memory of the scent that had overpowered his senses and imagination when he'd smelled the Amortentia, supposedly his heart's desire. It had been of books and wool, a combination he'd always associated with Hermione, though that had, unsurprisingly, come to a very civil but decisive end. He found himself staring after Lupin, at his mostly-grey hair waving on his shoulders, his back straight and a surprisingly appealing arse showcased by worn but well-fashioned trousers.
Ron shook his head, quickly doing some vague math and establishing that Remus was easily twenty years his senior. So what? a voice in his mind protested. Nobody said you were going to date him. He was your professor, for Merlin's sake.
Regardless, his libido had been sluggishly awakened by the brief scent of musk and whatever that elusive something was about Lupin. Ron forced his thoughts back to chess and spent another afternoon refereeing and teaching an overview of well-known opening chess moves. He got takeaway fish and chips for dinner, and later found himself restlessly pacing his room, waiting for seven o'clock. He cast a charm on the wood in the fireplace at five minutes before the hour; promptly at seven, Remus' face appeared in Ron's fireplace.
"Hi there! Glad I got the right room," he said cheerfully.
Ron gave him a blazing smile. "Sure did. I'm ready to go. Where to?"
"There's a small pub not far from my house," Remus said through the flames. "It's Muggle, called The Owl's Nest. If you'd like, I can use the Floo network to get to you and then we can side-along to a place near the pub."
He seemed more animated than he had at lunch, which filled Ron with an inordinate amount of pleasure. "Sounds brilliant."
A few minutes later, Remus appeared in Ron's fireplace, only stumbling a bit on the grate Ron had forgotten to remove. Remus brushed himself off as Ron apologised.
"Not to worry," Remus said amicably.
"Where should I get Muggle money?" Ron asked, suddenly realising that all of his currency was from Gringotts'.
"Don't worry about it," Remus reassured him. "I'm not as badly off as I once was. I'm not rich by any means, but I can afford to take us out for a few pints."
"I'll convert some before the next time," Ron promised, his stomach clenching when he saw Lupin's face shutter a bit in response. "Next time we're out, when you're showing me more of Glasgow," he doggedly went on, grateful to see Remus relax again.
"The Nest has an excellent stout," Remus said as he pulled Ron to him to side-along Apparate to the pub.
Ron closed his eyes against the squeezing sensation of Apparition, made worse going side by side. He focussed instead on the scent of sandalwood and faint apple infused in Remus' hair. He was sorry to have to let Remus go in the alley near the pub, but Remus obviously didn't see Ron as anything other than a friend having arrived unexpectedly.
They sampled two stouts and a bitter, Ron, for once, mostly keeping his mouth shut and encouraging Lupin to talk. He bummed a fag off of the Muggle to his right and smoked it, feeling a low burn smoulder to life in his groin as he watched Remus' expressive hands. Yes, Lupin was his former professor. Yes, he could be his father. Yes, they'd fought together during the War and yes— he smelled like sex for reasons Ron really didn't understand. It was like hearing a far-off drumbeat, but the arousal stirred insistently between his legs, keeping him in a state of awareness of the heaviness of his cock without an actual erection. He noticed the lines at the corners of Remus' lips, of the teasing glint of silvery hair at the top of his chest that Ron glimpsed above his button-down shirt.
Remus was talking about Hogwarts, asking Ron about co-teaching Herbology, and he answered, one part of his mind absolutely reeling at the fact that he realised he was smitten with the man at his side. Lupin wasn't Ron's type at all! Not that he had one, really, but Lupin?
Remus was speaking softer now, talking of sacrifice and a quiet life, his elegant fingers drawing a pattern on the surface of his pint glass. Ron imagined those fingers stroking his jaw, running across his chest… Obviously, he was mental. Or the beer was far stronger in Scotland than in England. Lupin would probably be appalled if he had any idea what was going through Ron's mind; he might not be seeing anyone, but if he were going to, it would be a wizard his own age. Ron was barking to think otherwise. He should pour himself into bed and force his bloody fantasy life back into its cage.
At a lull in the conversation, Ron said, "Well, it's an early morning for me, I should get back. Thanks for such a great time. Neville said it would be good for me to get away for a while, and he was right. It's been great to see you, outside of the chess matches. And at the chess stuff," he said, stumbling through the words. "Fuck. Not saying what I mean properly!"
At Lupin's warm smile, Ron had to fight the urge to pull the man off to the gents' and attack his mouth with kisses, to grind against him, drop to his knees and give Remus a hopefully memorable blowjob. Ron hadn't been so far gone as not to pick up on what Lupin didn't say; he'd been burned by the most charismatic lover he'd had from his youth, gotten him back, sort of, and then he'd died. Ron was nothing like Sirius Black — thank Merlin — but he couldn't stop the torrent of erotic images that rained in his mind's eye about Remus. Ron hadn't felt like this since he and Neville had first started making moves on each other, but back then, it had been mutual.
"Are you going to Apparate back?" Remus asked, his breath hot against Ron's ear as he sheltered their conversation from the nearby Muggles at the bar.
Ron nodded vigourously. "Yeah, I'll be fine. We can leave together though, right?"
"Of course."
Lupin drained his pint and paid the bartender. Ron decided he'd ask one of the other judges tomorrow where the nearest Wizarding bank was so he could convert some of his money. Remus spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, and Ron didn't want him to feel that he had to pay for everything. Out in the alley, Ron brazenly gave Remus a hug, holding him tightly to his body, feeling disheartened when he could tell the older man wasn't aroused at all. Still, Ron could smell wool and apple, filtering out the stale cigarette smoke from the bar, and he breathed in deeply before letting him go.
"Are you certain you're okay?" Lupin asked, genuine concern in his voice.
"Yep. I've Apparated when I was loads more pissed than this," Ron reassured him. "See you tomorrow!"
"Um, no," Remus said, running his hand through his hair. "I'm only volunteering two days a week. The other days I need to tend my shop."
"Can I come by this weekend?" Ron asked, not caring if he sounded desperate, or needy. Maybe Lupin would think Ron just wanted to be with the one familiar person he knew in Glasgow, not that he was harbouring all sorts of illicit thoughts that had to do with carefully unbuttoning Lupin's cardigan and then shoving his hands underneath to comb his fingers in that tantalysing chest hair…
"That would be fine," Remus replied. "The shop is open from nine until six on Saturday."
"I'll come by toward the end of the day, and then we can go get dinner or something," Ron suggested.
"If you'd like." Remus gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to a club? I know of some I can suggest to you where there would be younger men of… our inclination."
"I'm really not into that kind of scene. Deafening music, random shags— no thanks," Ron said vehemently. "I like your company. Really."
"Well, I'm flattered. You're sure you can get back to your B&B?"
"Yes. Have a good night. Thanks for the drinks." Ron impetuously gave Remus another hug, memorising his scent, and then stepped away. With a crack! he Apparated back to the Apparition point nearest to the B&B.
Once back in his room, he stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth and crawled into the comfortable bed, thinking he'd drop straight off. Sleep proved elusive, however; he kept imagining Remus' hands as he'd gestured, of the line of his jaw and the potent combination of musk and apple that had fired Ron's imagination. There was nothing for it— a wank was in order. He eased his boxers down past his knees and took his cock in one hand, rolling his heavy bollocks in the other. It didn't take him long, pulling on his shaft and playing with the sensitive slit at the crown for him to be fully hard. He let his thoughts run amok to what could have happened; pressing against Remus in the loo at the pub, grinding and arching against the older man as he kissed Ron ferociously, those elegant fingers grasping Ron's erection, telling him how glad he was that Ron had come to Glasgow, how he was going to take Ron back to his flat and shag Ron senseless…
Ron dragged his fingernails alongside the inside of his thighs, moaning at the friction as he tugged and pulled on his cock. His wet palm pumped up and down as he imagined the noises of Remus slathering lube on his own cock, the blunt head teasing up and down Ron's cleft, his voice low, nearly a growl, threatening him with his werewolf stamina, how he'd take Ron at least three times before the night was over—
The tingles started behind Ron's knees, his sacs drew up and with a shout, Ron's climax shot out of his swollen cock, several waves of release wracking his body as he moaned. His arse muscles clenched around nothing but the wishful sensation of Remus, buried inside of him. Eventually he let his legs flop down and released his sticky, softening erection. Once his heart rate had slowed nearly to normal, he wiped his hand on the sheet before getting his wand from the bedside table and cast a cleansing spell on himself. He was frankly shocked at the intensity of his reaction to Lupin, both in person and in his vivid wank. It had done the trick, though; he was exhausted. He turned on his side, pulled his boxers back up, tugged the covers up to his chin and fell fast asleep.
* * * * *
Saturday came at last. Ron slept in until ten o'clock, took a long, hot shower and had two cups of tea before even thinking about what he wanted to do that day before going to Lupin's small record shop. He consulted with the proprietor of the B&B who gave him some helpful suggestions of places to go in the city. It was a bit colder than it had been during the week, with rain that came and went, but the weather didn't dampen Ron's spirits. He did some sightseeing, managing to use Muggle public transport, a train line the locals called the Clockwork Orange. At five-thirty he made his way to the street where Lupin's shop was located and wandered inside. It was packed with vinyl records and a few rows of smaller discs; music was playing, but as Lupin as implied, Ron didn't recognise it. He saw Remus from the back, arranging some records, and his pulse sped up. Lupin was actually wearing jeans, and while not tight by any means, they, too, showed off a surprisingly shapely arse. When Lupin turned around and smiled, Ron felt a slow, creeping shame in his chest as a flashback to his wank jumped to mind.
"Hi Ron!" he said just as a young man with dark brown dreadlocks walked into the store from a dimly lit back entrance.
"Can I help you?" the young man said before glancing at Remus. "Oh. 's he a friend of yours?"
"Yes. Visiting from London," Lupin said smoothly. "Simon, seeing as how we've only another half-hour and it's been pretty slow, if you'd like to leave early, that's fine."
Simon shrugged. "Suits me. See you Monday, then."
He vanished back into the anterior room as Remus walked forward and gestured around. "Well, this is it," he said, but Ron noted the pride in his voice. "It doesn't make a lot of money, but I do have a set of regular customers who appreciate the variety that I carry, and it feeds my musical obsession quite well."
Ron looked around wide-eyed at all of the records. They were alone in the shop, so he assumed he could speak freely. "I never knew you were so into music. Muggle music, especially," he clarified, flipping through some of the large cardboard record jackets with art that stayed resolutely still.
"We listened to a lot of Muggle music in school," Lupin said, a wistful tone in his voice. "And for the years following. I've spent a lot of my life outside of Wizarding society, as you may imagine."
"Well, I'm glad you're still in it enough to help out the Chess Federation," Ron stated, determined to get Remus back into the moment at hand and try to keep him there. "Before you close, why don't you tell me about a few of your favourite bands? And play a song or two."
"You're really interested?" Lupin asked, leaning back against the counter where an old till sat.
"Look— I'm not here because I'm bored, I'm here because I'm interested in you. Not as my former professor, or even what all you did for Harry, but you as a person. Now, at this point in life. Surely that's not too strange," Ron went on, wishing Lupin didn't look so skeptical and skittish.
Lupin gazed at him, his expressive eyes clouded with an emotion Ron couldn't readily identify. Eventually Remus pushed away from the till counter, seeming to relax a bit into himself.
"I'm surprised, and you'll forgive me, but given our age difference, and the fact that I was your instructor in the past, I do find our being social a bit awkward. Can you appreciate that?"
"Of course. If all I do is make you uncomfortable, I'll just go now then," Ron said, his pride injured and some anger flaring in his belly. He hadn't asked Lupin out on a bloody date — yet — he only wanted to get to know him, adult to adult. Ron was twenty-seven, not sixteen, and he was unwilling to discount the pull of scents from the remembered Amortentia. Maybe Lupin was incapable of seeing beyond their one-time student/teacher dynamic; that would show a lack of open-mindedness that frankly began to piss Ron off.
"No, please don't," Lupin said, placing a hand on Ron's upper arm with a strength Ron found surprising. "I'm sorry I've been so unappreciative. Let me play something for you that I've resonated to since my Marauder days. It's 'London Calling' by a Muggle band called The Clash."
He busied himself at a turntable situated under the counter near the till. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, placated a bit by Lupin's apology, and curious about the music and lyrics he'd picked out. He liked the song; it sounded aggressive, but not overtly angry. Next Lupin played something totally different, a long song called 'Tainted Love' by some Muggle band that had named themselves Soft Cell. From the words, Ron had a keen idea as to why Remus has felt drawn to it when he was out in the Muggle world after one of his best friends had died and he'd believed his lover had betrayed them all.
As the song came to its end, Remus gave Ron a wan smile. "I should probably focus more on the present," he said before going back to the turntable and putting the record in its container. Ron certainly agreed, but he was glad that Remus had been willing to share that part of himself with Ron.
"Let's go get dinner," Ron suggested. "I'd love some Thai— do you happen to know of any inexpensive Thai places where we could go and get something?"
"In fact, I do," Remus said. Just then, Ron's stomach made a low, rumbling sound, and Remus smiled. "And it's not that far away. Let me close everything up and we can head out."
The restaurant was only a mile or so away, and though it was still drizzling, Ron didn't mind it at all. The food wasn't pricey but it was very flavourful, and Ron had a very healthy serving. He filled Remus in on what had happened at the chess matches over the past couple of days, as well as the more touristy things he'd done earlier that day.
"I've come to feel that Glasgow is a true home," Remus said once Ron paused in his commentary to finish his meal. "Obviously I keep a full foot in the Wizarding world, and I'd be miserable indeed if Draco hadn't taken it upon himself to learn how to brew Wolfsbane."
"He did?"
Ron was gobsmacked; he'd not thought about his former nemesis since the final battle. Of all people, Blaise Zabini from Slytherin had applied for and become the new Potions instructor at Hogwarts. Ron didn't like his attitude from what he'd seen of him at the staff meetings he'd attended, but he seemed to be a fair enough instructor. He'd just assumed that Zabini had been the one who'd brewed Remus' Wolfsbane.
"Yes. I know that Mr. Zabini is teaching Potions now, but Draco has more skill when it comes to particularly challenging potions. He's in business for himself, but he agreed to brew this for me. I think it appeals to his pride since it's such a difficult potion to do well."
Ron watched as Remus dabbed at the corner of his lips with his napkin, captivated again by his long fingers and how inherently elegant Remus' movements were. He couldn't figure out why he was so drawn to the older man, but then the scent of musk drifted over, and he knew he'd end up back at his B&B, having another wank. Ron was frustrated at himself; if he'd been out at a bar he'd have made a more direct move on Remus, but as it was, he was being cautious to the point of absurdity. A part of him, however, thought that he'd know when the right moment was to let Remus know just how enticing he was, and it wasn't right now.
"I was looking in The Herald and saw that there are some new films out," Ron said, scraping the last of his khao pad gai from his plate and polishing it off. "Would you like to go to one?"
Remus seemed intrigued, taking a long drink of water before he answered. "I'd be delighted. I don't tend to see movies when they first come out, but if you could tell me about one or two of them that caught your attention, I could probably be convinced."
Ron gave him a summary of two that had seemed interesting, both thrillers which appeared to pique Lupin's interest. They paid for their respective meals and then headed back out into the city. Thankfully the rain had abated, and Remus guided them to the proper Muggle bus to get them to the cinema. The movie itself was engaging, and all too soon Ron found himself saying he needed to get back to his temporary home.
"Thanks for a wonderful evening," he said, giving Remus a warm embrace before they parted out on the footpath. "You'll be back on Wednesday?" he asked, not really caring that he sounded so enthusiastic about their next meeting.
"Yes, I will. Thank you again for coming by my shop and for a very pleasant outing." Remus paused, unspoken words, or desires, seeming to clamour briefly under his calm veneer, but they remained known only to him. "See you next week."
Ron found himself standing, rooted in place as Remus walked away, his hands in the pocket of his cardigan. "You're worse than a fucking girl," he muttered under his breath, scrubbing at his face before striding off in the other direction to find the Muggle bus back to his part of town.
Later, brushing his teeth, he continued his one-sided conversation. "Neville was unexpected, but he didn't put up so much resistance," he said to himself in the mirror. "He also wasn't your former teacher. But who cares?" he exclaimed, exasperated. He rinsed out his mouth and spat before jabbing at the mirror with his toothbrush. "He needs to get over this age thing. Remus is sexy and he smells right, for Merlin's sake, and it's just not possible that our seeing each other at this month-long chess event is coincidence! Why the hell is he being so closed-minded about me? I'm attractive, sort of."
Ron scanned himself quickly in the mirror. His upper body wasn't bad, but he was getting a bit soft around the middle due to a lack of regular exercise and admitted fondness for frequent pints. "You need a haircut," he said, running his fingers through the shaggy hair falling over his eyes and down onto his shoulders. "You need to be able to show him you're an adult, and a decent lover…"
As he crawled into bed and turned out the lights, the other, perhaps more deep-seated and insidious reason why Lupin was keeping such a distance while at the same time finding it a struggle to keep all of his walls up, hit Ron with the force of a Bludger.
"It's his past," he murmured and aggravation flooded his sensibilities. Old memories began to surface from that turbulent year spent at Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts. "I can't compete with the fucking ghost of Sirius Black. But I'm alive, and I won't go psycho on him. You'd think that'd be remotely appealing."
Shut up and go to sleep, an inner voice spoke up, and with a last set of disgruntled mumblings, he did just that.
* * * * *
Too lazy to look for a hairdresser and feeling rebellious in the light of day, Ron took to pulling his hair back in a ponytail, sticking the fringey bits behind his ears. By the time Wednesday came, he was at the week and a half mark of the chess Extravaganza, enjoying his role as mentor and colleague with the other invited coaches. He even had a couple of Austrian protégés who reminded Ron a bit of groupies, except that he was no rock star and his followers were aged twelve and thirteen. He was so engrossed in telling them the story of his most memorable chess match during his first year that he forgot to keep an eye out for Remus. Ron was scheduled to take the second-round winners on a field trip to the British Museum using the Floo network, going to look at some historical chess sets and to let those players who'd never before left the Continent see a bit more of the United Kingdom outside of Scotland.
After morning tea, he and two other instructors took the set of ten players off to London. Ron was careful to remind them that they'd be in a Muggle environment all day and to try to keep any conversation to do with the Wizarding world to a minimum, or spoken in their native languages. The museum trip was a grand success, as was their late lunch of fish and chips from a takeaway vendor. They returned after four o'clock. A few of them, including Ron, sported sunburns, but they were all in high spirits. Ron was chatting with Pavel, a chaperone from the Ukraine, about their excursion when he felt he was being watched. A surreptitious glance revealed Lupin, looking at him with an expression of surprise and, Ron realised with a frisson of desire that shot to his groin, hunger. He smiled at the older man and excused himself from the conversation with Pavel. Remus was pouring a cup of tea from a refreshments table when Ron got to his side.
"Tea?" Remus offered, his body language far more approachable than it had been the last time they'd seen each other.
"Sure."
Ron took the cup and saucer, his skin prickling a bit as he saw Remus give him a thorough and appreciative — but still subtle — going-over as he did so.
"You look a bit different today," Remus murmured as he poured himself a cuppa.
"Just in shorts," Ron said, shrugging. "Took some of the current challengers to London. Weather was glorious." He downplayed his comments, but it was obvious that Remus was responding positively. Maybe nonchalance was the avenue to take, but Ron didn't have the luxury of months to dance around Lupin's stubborn defenses.
"You enjoyed yourself."
It was a statement, not a question.
"Very much." Ron took a sip of tea. He waited for a few moments to see if Lupin would take the next volley in the conversation. With a sour feeling of frustration, he turned to go.
"There's some live theatre out at Pollock Country Park, where the Burrell Collection is located, this coming Saturday," Lupin said quietly. "Would you like to go?"
Ron turned back around, his lips quirking to the side. "Sounds good! Care to join me for a dram or two of Scotland's finest beforehand? There's a pub just down the block from my B&B. I could meet you there."
"I'd like that." Remus' gold-green eyes flashed with delight.
Ron couldn't believe it. "Great! I guess I can get details from you tomorrow? I need to get over to a match to referee."
Remus gave him an apologetic look. "I'm actually going out of town to visit a great-uncle for a few days. His health isn't the best and he's one of my last remaining living relatives."
"I understand family obligations," Ron said ruefully. "Well, the pub is The Wild Boar. When's the play?"
"Seven o'clock. Shall I meet you at five-thirty? We can get something to eat on the way to the park and have it there, picnic style."
"Fingers crossed for good weather, then. All right, I've got to go, I'm being summoned." In his peripheral vision, Ron had noted one of the players waving at him. He nodded his head at Remus, hoping the low burn of pleasure at this seeming turn of events didn't show up too much on his face. Though it was true he still wore his heart on his sleeve, he'd learned how to keep some of his emotions to himself.
That evening he stopped at a tourist shop and bought a couple of postcards. After Lupin's comment about seeing family, Ron felt the pressure to send something to his mum. Next he wrote Neville, figuring the owl post would get it to him whether at his gran's or at the flat… or fishing with Oliver Wood. He decided it would be best not to be too personal with what he wrote to his former lover, though doubtless Neville would be nothing but supportive in Ron's pursuit of nearly anyone. This might come as a shock even to him, however.
Ron chewed on his Muggle biro, trying to think of what word to use. He wasn't a walking thesaurus.
He re-read both postcards, addressed them both to the best of his knowledge, and wandered downstairs to the front desk. "Do you send owl post?" he asked the concierge, a bored-looking wizard reading the newest novel by Astrid Astrolabe.
"Yes." He thrust out his hand and with a bit of misapprehension, Ron gave him the two postcards. "They'll go out tomorrow."
"Thanks."
Back in his room, Ron toyed with the idea of fire-calling Lupin out of the blue. After a couple of wild fantasies blazed through his mind, he shook his head at his own crazy flights of fancy. He settled in with the Muggle TV in his room until he found he'd dozed off in the chair, and then put himself to bed.
* * * * *
The drinks and theatre were fun, and with growing certainty, Ron believed he was witnessing Remus' struggle with feeling bound to his past, and wanting to let himself free with Ron. Nothing happened during their outing aside from a few lingering touches when Remus handed Ron their various takeaway boxes, and the hug Ron was determined to get from Remus at the end of the night. He wanked a couple of times that week, thinking of Lupin, though he ended up being irritated and angry, along with his physical release.
The days flew by, and soon it was the evening of the final banquet. Ron realised, to his surprise, he was going to miss his young chess players. He warned his protégés and a few others he'd become fond of that he was a pretty poor correspondent, but he gladly gave them his address. His own chess game had improved as well; he'd had plenty of opportunities to play with the other instructors and referees. It sharpened his own reflexes as well as picking up on some slightly trendy strategies. Even in Wizarding chess, many people relied on the more classic opening moves and later-game strategies.
At early evening Ron Apparated near the Wizarding restaurant where the feast was to be held. He was sporting his one pair of dressy trousers that Neville had always said flattered both his arse and his bits in front, when he was slightly aroused. Not that Ron had any intention of finding himself in an embarrassing state like that at the banquet itself, but there was nothing Lupin could do or say that evening to deter Ron from his mission of at least having a proper snog and grope, though he hoped for much more.
When Remus walked into the restaurant wearing older, but not threadbare Highland gear, including a kilt, Ron's mouth actually watered. "Fucking hell," he murmured under his breath.
Countless images began jostling for attention in his head: himself kneeling, taking Remus' cock in his mouth since, of course, he'd not be wearing pants of any kind; Ron taking Remus from behind, the kilt pushed up over his thin but well-shaped arse. It took a lot of energy, but Ron forced temporary mental chains on his imagination and shoved it in a closet in his head. It was a definite challenge: Remus had trimmed his hair and, to Ron's eyes, was sex on two legs. Unfortunately the volunteers were situated together at a different table from the instructors and young witches and wizards, but Ron was able to catch Lupin's eye a few times, giving him what he hoped were obviously appreciative looks without staring outright.
Eventually the speeches and toasts were over and everyone was free to mingle. A dram of single malt in his hand, Ron made a beeline for the object of his ever-growing obsession.
"You look bloody fantastic," he said to Remus, clinking his glass against the older man's. "I'd no idea you had a kilt. I nearly embarrassed myself at my table," he confided.
Remus seemed flattered, but troubled, as always. "Thank you. I'll admit I did wonder what you'd think of seeing my knobby knees."
Something in Ron snapped. He tossed back the fiery liquor, glancing around and placing it on the mantle of an unused fireplace. "This isn't the place to talk," he said, his voice already raspy with the desire and frustration beginning to roil deep in his belly. "But Remus, we need to talk. We can go to my room at the B&B, or your place, but it's going to be one or the other and it's going to be now. I know I seem pushy, but I'm going back to England soon, and I'm not leaving until we talk. About us."
Remus nervously licked his lips, but then seemed to steel himself and nodded. "My house. You're not allergic to cats, are you?"
"I'd go anyway," Ron said urgently. "I'll side-along with you."
"You're really not going to be deterred, are you?" Remus said, his voice and visage marked with wonderment.
"No. Let's go."
Lupin let out a long, shaky breath, finished his Scotch, and then gestured to the door. Ron had to make a few last good-byes, but soon they were at the Apparition point. He put his arm around Remus' waist, sliding his fingers just barely under the waistband of his kilt. He closed his eyes and turned his body partway into Remus', breathing deeply of the apple scent in his hair and the warm musk from behind his ear.
"Ready?" Remus' voice was steady now, but there was an undercurrent of hoarseness Ron knew had nothing to do with the small bit of pipe smoke from the banquet.
There was the smashing disorientation of Apparition, and then Ron's feet were on solid ground again, his fingers clenched on Remus' hip, Remus' arm around his shoulder. Before Lupin could pull away, Ron stepped in front of him, placed his hands on Remus' jaw, and leaned in to kiss him. He pressed his lips insistently to Lupin's, sending out his tongue to lick at the seam of his closed lips. With a moan that turned into a needy howl, Remus opened his mouth and Ron's questing tongue sought Remus'. They kissed passionately with a fierceness borne from weeks of pent-up desire.
Remus pulled back, breathing heavily, looking at Ron as though he were starving and Ron was a cornucopia of delights. Ron ran his fingers back to cradle Remus' scalp as Remus struggled within himself, reinstating his mask of apology and futility.
"No!" Ron growled, shaking his head. "No! Don't you dare put those walls back up."
"It's no use," Remus insisted, his voice heavy with regret.
"I know what's holding you back," Ron said, resolutely putting his hands on Remus' shoulders. "At first it was the former teacher thing, but we're both adults now. It's Sirius. You've got to let it go."
Remus shook his head, the anguish at last coming out in words. "Ron, I appreciate that you're fond of me, and even find me attractive. It's terribly flattering, but it's as though my soul, my very essence was ironbound with him."
"Then you'll have to consider me to be a pair of very sharp wire cutters," Ron said thickly. "This isn't a one-off. I smelled… years ago. Amortentia. You know its qualities?"
"Of course."
"Wool and books. That's what I smelled. Thought at first, for a few years, anyway, that it was Hermione, her uniform and her studies. But it's YOU."
Ron kissed Remus on the lips, hard at first, then easing his mouth open so their tongues could slide gently against each other. Once Ron had plundered Remus' mouth for several minutes, long enough to feel Remus relax against him, he eased back, looking to see what expression was in his hopeful-lover's face.
"I've not allowed myself—" Remus said, hesitating before claiming Ron's mouth for a kiss and then resting his forehead against Ron's. "I'm a bit out of practise, but if you really mean it…"
"I'll be back," Ron said hoarsely, dropping to his knees, gratefully noting they were standing on a carpet. He slowly moved his hands up the back of Remus' lean but muscled thighs, giving Remus a heated look as his fingers reached his bare arse. "Just as I'd hoped. I've wanted to do this since you walked into the restaurant. No, since we saw that movie."
He ducked under the edge of the kilt, relishing the waves of musky heat. Ron nosed and kissed up the inside of Remus' inner thighs until he reached his prize. He could hear Remus' moans and near-animal growls as he fondled the heavy sacs before taking Remus' long, wide cock in his mouth, swallowing as much as he could.
"Gods! Ron, that's incredible," Lupin said, and then his words became just rumbling sounds of pleasure as he spread his legs to allow Ron greater access.
Ron had always loved sucking cock, but this was almost overwhelming, hearing Remus chant his name and other one-syllabled cries of pleasure. He licked and sucked the crown, teasing under the foreskin, tasting the vinegar-salty taste of fluid at the slit before bobbing his head up and down. As though it were the most succulent lolly he'd ever had in his mouth, Ron bobbed his head up and down, sucking and feasting on the hard shaft. He massaged Remus' lightly furred arsecheeks, his own erection chafing against his boxers. Ron didn't know if he'd ever been so hard, at least not since he was much younger with consistently raging hormones.
With a last kiss to the rosy head, Ron sat back on his heels and leaned back, gasping at the cooler air out from under the kilt. His hair was already sweaty and sticking to his forehead. Remus' chest rose and fell quickly, one hand grasping the back of a nearby sofa.
"So you're going to give us a try? Really let me care about you without holding back?" Ron asked, one knee cracking as he stood, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist and pressing their groins together.
Remus rocked against him, apparently enjoying the friction as much as Ron. "There's a lot for you to cut through. And that small matter of me being a werewolf. I just don't want you to be naïve—"
"Just stop," Ron pleaded. "You're going to tell me there's lube in that sporran, or you'll Accio some, and then you're going to fuck me with that amazing werewolf cock of yours." Remus made a possessive, growling sound that shot more heat between Ron's legs, and he took a shuddering breath. "I'm coming up on thirty in not too long, and I've been in a couple of relationships. I'm not asking you to forget Black, but I'm here so you can cut him loose. I want you, Remus, want to see how things go with us for a long time. Now fuck me," he groaned, tugging on Remus' arse so their hips bumped together and pressed, hard.
"Accio lubricant," Remus barked, taking one hand away from Ron's back to hold it out for the tube to smack into his palm. "Bedroom?"
"No, here, now, oh fuck," Ron said, moving back so he could undo his trousers, shoving them down past his knees. His cock sprang free, jutting upright from the dark auburn thatch at his groin. He murmured a cleansing spell on himself, then kissed Remus, wanting a reminder of the flavour of his new lover's mouth. He watched avidly as Remus twisted his sporran to the side and tucked the front of his kilt to his waist, holding it with his elbow to liberally coat his erection. When he started to pour some of the slick on his fingers, Ron shook his head.
"Just go a bit slow, but I only want your cock," he said vehemently, tilting his head to allow Remus to kiss his neck.
"Can't wait to slide inside you," Remus breathed hotly into Ron's ear, and Ron groaned at the reality of it all.
No doubt he'd be sore the next day; Neville had been talented, but he was nowhere as well endowed as Remus. Ron, however, was so ready to enjoy that kind of ache from being thoroughly ploughed. Especially now that it really was Remus. He turned around and gripped the back of the sofa, and realised he wanted to be able to stand with his legs apart.
"Just a sec," he said hoarsely. He quickly leaned over to untie his dress shoes, pulled them and his socks off and kicked away his trousers and sticky-fronted boxers.
"You're magnificent," Remus murmured against the back of his neck once Ron had righted himself. With one hand Remus ran his fingers across Ron's chest before sliding down the button placket to grasp the base of Ron's erection.
"Oh fuck," Ron moaned, feeling the blunt head of Remus' shaft slide up and down his cleft before lining up to his clenching entrance.
"You want me," Remus growled, pushing into the right ring of muscle, slowly and inexorably as Ron's body felt the burn of the wide shaft.
"Mmmmmph," was all Ron could manage. He was being split by it, by him… and then Remus shifted the weight on his feet, hitting Ron's deep nerves, and he groaned at the contact. "Fuck, Remus, yes."
It was as though nothing existed outside of the animal noises Remus made, tempered with the slapping sound of skin on skin and the stretching burn that filled Ron from the inside with a dull ache.
"You're a furnace," Remus choked out, both hands now clenched to Ron's hips with the strength of vises as his thrusts sped up, his hips snapping as he drove into Ron's arse.
Ron finally peeled a hand off of the sofa to take his own erection in hand; he'd not dared at first, since the tingling throb had already begun its sparks in his balls once Remus had delved fully into him. He'd not wanted to come so soon, but now he was ready to wind himself up, to let his spit-slicked palm and thumb slide up and down as Remus fucked him. Ron heard his lover's voice raise in pitch as his own orgasm neared.
"Ron!" Remus gasped. "I can't hold off!"
"Don't! Let go," Ron panted, shoving back to meet the frantic thrusts as Remus made desperate, almost panicked sounds. Ron felt Remus' tension as he gripped his hipbones and stilled, then Remus made a broken cry and Ron felt the pulsing shaft deep within his thoroughly used arse. He pulled up and down on his cock, towering on his own precipice as his nerves howled; the heat rose and rose before it jolted out over his fingers, warm liquid jettisoning onto the burgundy weave of the sofa in creamy, haphazard stripes. Ron chanted Remus' name, shuddering through the waves of release.
As his breath slowed, Ron looked at the mess he'd made on Remus' furniture. He sighed, leaning back as Remus wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head on Ron's shoulder.
"Sorry about the, um," Ron began.
"A quick Terego and it'll be fine. Well worth it," Remus rumbled near Ron's ear. "That was incredible. I hope I didn't hurt you."
"No," Ron reassured him as Remus carefully let his spent cock slide out of Ron's body. "Might be a bit sore," he acknowledged, letting his gaze travel down to Remus' still-heavy shaft, glistening with lubricant and come. "You were pretty fierce."
"I think it's fair to say you inspire me," Remus said, his kilt covering him again as he went to fetch his wand from the table and cleaned them up.
Ron was still wearing his dress shirt and nothing else, his trousers, boxers, shoes and socks strewn on the floor in a messy trail.
"I'd like you—" "I hope this—"
Remus and Ron spoke at the same time before stopping. Ron huffed a laugh. "You first. But I'll just put on my boxers, if you don't mind."
"Fair enough."
Remus gestured to the sofa and once Ron had pulled on his boxers, they sat side by side. Ron's heart thudded in his chest; he hoped to Merlin that Remus wasn't already having second thoughts.
"I know you're at the B&B," Remus said, running his hands through his greying hair before easing sideways and crossing his ankle on his knee, looking directly at Ron. "I'd like to propose that you stay here for a few days, or a week, unless you have other obligations. I'd like to get to know you better, spend time with you. You came at me with a lot, and I'd like to explore the possibilities."
He seemed terribly vulnerable, and Ron recognised that this might well be the first time since those days in Grimmauld Place that Remus had truly let down his guard. Ron's throat tightened a bit, but he managed to get his words out.
"I'm not needed at Hogwarts for a few weeks yet," he confirmed, feeling himself grin lop-sidedly despite himself. "Thank you," he went on, taking one of Remus' hands in his. "For the invitation, for the bone-melting shag, and for giving me a chance. It can't be easy."
Remus gazed at him, his expression betraying a raw hope Ron honestly hadn't been sure he'd ever witness. "It isn't," he admitted. "I'm still fully dressed, but I feel totally exposed. I'm willing to trust you, for whatever reason," he said with a rueful laugh. "It's time for me to think about making some changes in my life. You've been quite persuasive."
Ron squeezed his hand. "I can be, but I'm only human. Merlin knows I've got my own baggage, but you know that. Here, let me get dressed and use your Floo connection to get my things and check out of the Frog and Friar. I'll be back within the hour. 'S that all right?"
Remus nodded, and released Ron's hand. "I'll make tea when you get back, or maybe we can do a bit more exploring," he said meaningfully, letting his fingers drift to the hem of Ron's boxers. "There's a lot to you I haven't seen yet."
Low fires rekindled in Ron's groin. "Reckon I could be up for that," he said before he realised his own double entendre. "Merlin, that was terrible," he groaned.
Remus chuckled. "Floo powder's in that jar on the mantle."
Back at the B&B, Ron found Neville had sent a short note. He and Oliver were having a grand time, catching lots of fish, and really enjoying each other's company. I'm intrigued by this mystery man, he wrote. Any chance you'll spare more details?
With a grin, Ron penned a quick reply.
Hey Nev— glad your holiday's going well. Things here have taken an unexpected turn for the better. I'll be staying an extra week. With Remus Lupin. Yes, you read that properly. Forgive the awful chess pun, but I've been captured. In a good way.
More soon,
Fondly,
Ron
With a light heart, Ron set to packing his bags, grateful that he had no desire to ponder his next move.
remus_ron_slash. If you join the comm you can read it there; NC-17 fics are locked to protect the mods. I've made the choice not to lock my adult fics, so after making confirming it was okay to post outside of the comm at this juncture, here 'tis!Title: Scotch Game
Pairing: Ron/Remus
Word Count: 10,175
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Alerts: wanking, explicit slash, a bit of angst, AU, EWE
Written for the inaugural fest at
remus_ron_slash. The prompt I took was this:He took my soul and bound it
with cords of iron wire.
~Lord Alfred Douglas, "Rejected"
Summary: When Ron is invited to referee and instruct at a month-long event in Glasgow hosted by the European Youth Wizarding Chess Federation, he balks. Once there, much to his surprise, he enjoys himself. Even more surprising, however, is seeing Remus Lupin as a volunteer, and an attraction to his former professor that resolutely won't go away. But will Lupin allow himself to leave his past so Ron can be a part of his present?
A/N: Huge thanks to my betas,
kymyrra, rickey_a and abigail89. 'Scotch Game' comes from my searching of Wikipedia for a clever chess-oriented title. According to them, here are comments about this particular game opening: "Popular in the 19th century, by 1900 the Scotch had lost favor among top players because it was thought to release the central tension too early and allow Black to equalize without difficulty. More recently the Scotch has regained some popularity…"Ron kept looking at the letter he'd just received, his eyes going over it one more time just to be sure it said what he'd read aloud.
"You're going to go, of course!" Neville enthused, and Ron looked up at him for affirmation. "Well, aren't you?"
"For a month? A European Youth Wizarding Chess Federation Extravaganza? What the hell kind of title is that?" Ron snorted, rolling his eyes.
"They want you to referee and teach, Ron. It's quite an honour," Neville said earnestly before taking a sip of tea.
"They're barking." Ron tossed the parchment to the table.
"You've been talking about going on holiday for ages."
"I most certainly have not!" Ron exclaimed, heading to the fridge for an ale.
"No, but you've been thinking it awfully loudly."
Ron's lips turned down as he rummaged through a drawer for a bottle top opener. This was one of the inherent problems with continuing to share a flat with your ex-lover: the other person, even if now a close friend, still knew you too bloody well. After a long swig, Ron turned back around. Neville shrugged in apology.
"It's not even in Edinburgh," Ron complained. "It's Glasgow."
"Have you ever been?" A tawny eyebrow was raised.
Ron harrumphed. "No."
With self-ease that had only come after his part in the War nearly a decade years ago, Neville wandered to a nearby plant and stroked the underside of some wilting crimson petals, after which they cheerily unfurled.
"Look. It's set for August, Hogwarts won't be in session, and I'll be gone probably a fortnight. What could possibly keep you here? Not me, certainly."
The last words weren't said maliciously, they were simply fact. Ron and Neville had grown together over several years while co-teaching Herbology, but the passion hadn't lasted even a year. Ron did quite enjoy Neville's company as a person, however, and after a few awkward weeks, they'd settled into new routines, having decided to continue sharing their spacious flat. All at once, part of what Neville had just said snagged Ron's attention.
"You going to see your gran?" he asked, flopping down on the sofa.
A rosy tinge flushed Neville's neck. "Actually, no. Well, yes, for a week. But I've been invited away as well by someone else. Nothing as esteemed as the European Youth Wizarding Federation Chess Extravaganza, though."
He took the seat opposite the couch, crossing his tanned, fit legs. He'd really come into his own after the War, which was what had fueled Ron's desires for him. Apparently someone else had recently found himself under Neville's sway.
"So who's the lucky bloke?" Ron asked, half joking, half not. He wasn't jealous that Neville would move on to someone else, it was more that since he and Neville had split up, Ron hadn't felt anything other than the occasional scorching lust for a guy that faded quickly.
"Oliver Wood."
Ron choked on his ale. "Wood?" he spluttered. "I didn't think you even followed Quidditch!" A green snake of envy began to unfurl in his belly; Wood was both a phenomenal player and the sexiest guy in a kilt Ron had ever had the privilege to see.
"Well," Neville said placatingly, "you've been assistant coaching at Hogwarts for a while, and you know I tried to learn more when we were together. Oliver also happens to share another interest of mine— fishing."
Incredulous, Ron looked at his flatmate, former lover and co-instructor. The pudginess was gone; he was toned, confident, and the passion he'd shared with Ron had been smoulderingly intense for the period it lasted. But fishing? He and Neville had never gone fishing.
"Do I know you?" Ron asked, frustrated at how petulant he sounded.
"Of course you do. Very well," Neville said with a low laugh. "It's just that while you've been content to lounge around the flat and watch Muggle TV or go to the pub with George and Lee, I've been out pursuing my hobbies. That's all." He glanced over at the dining room table. "C'mon, you've been handed a unique opportunity. Don't sulk. If you go to Glasgow, you'll have a pretty high chance of seeing other gorgeous men in kilts."
Ron sank further into the couch, the envious snake only barely subdued. "I'll be surrounded by snotty-nosed, spotty know-it-all witches and wizards from all over Europe, hormones raging, or too young even for that." He shuddered.
"That's only during the day. Doubtless you can spend your evenings as you like." Neville came as close to leering as Ron had seen him attempt, but there was more sympathy in his expression than anything else. "There'll be plenty of places for you to get a drink and see if anyone strikes your fancy. You're a handsome man, you know that."
"Aside from you, I've not exactly had loads of people interested," Ron groused.
"You've been living in a sheltered environment for the past few years."
Ron could tell Neville was losing his patience and, frankly, Ron was a bit sick of himself at the moment. "You're right— okay, I'll go," he said after a long pull on his ale. He barely covered his mouth to cover a belch.
Neville sighed through a smile. "Who knows what kind of contacts you'll make? They wouldn't ask if they didn't value your chess skills and reputation."
"Or if they were desperate," Ron muttered.
Picking up his tea, Neville drained it and walked past him into the kitchen. "I'm not deigning to respond to that remark."
"You just did," Ron said, his lips quirked in a smile as he righted himself on the couch.
"Technicality. Now go and write them a reply."
"I will."
As he took a last swig, Ron tried to imagine Neville and Wood in a boat with fishing rods and tackle, or even wearing waders, fly-fishing. He shook his head at that seeming absurdity, and went clomping off to try and find some parchment and an unbroken quill.
* * * * *
"Ahhhhhhhh." Ron sagged into the comfortable chair, stretching out his legs on the Ottoman and laying his arms on the armrests. The room was brilliant. Due to the length of their stay, the Federation had decided to put the referees and instructors up in a Wizarding bed and breakfast rather than a hotel. The room was done up in rich, dark colours, maroons and pine greens. The owner had even stopped by with a complimentary small glass of aged Scotch, both to welcome Ron to the B&B for the next month as well as to Scotland in general.
"Hope you enjoy yer stay, Mr. Weasley," the wizard proprietor had said with the low, rolling burr of the Scots.
"Me too. This'll help!" Ron had replied, cheered by the re-introduction.
He didn't have any obligations until the next morning; the Federation had left Ron a packet — half a book, it seemed — outlining each day's events, the pacing and evolution of the tournament, slots when Ron could expect to give instruction and mentoring, and the closing banquet at the end of the Extravaganza. He thought about going out, but seeing as how he was expected at the opening ceremony bright-eyed and fully caffeinated by eight o'clock in the morning, he decided against it. Sipping at the potent but smooth liquor, Ron flipped through the packet, glancing over the young participants. Their names, countries of origin and ranking within their age group were listed below each moving photograph. Photos of the referees and instructors were also included; Ron had chafed at first at submitting one, but Neville had helped him find one that was halfway decent. At the back was a listing of volunteers for the event. He skimmed the list until his gaze froze on a name he recognised.
"Lupin?" he said aloud. "Profess— Remus Lupin is a volunteer at this carnival? Merlin."
It had been years since he'd thought about the man, former professor and one of the key contributors to Harry and the Order's ultimate defeat of Voldemort. He must live here, Ron thought. He'd been fond of Lupin, subconsciously relating to him even from their time at Grimmauld Place when he and Harry had figured out that Lupin and Black were more than just friends. Ron hadn't really understood his own leanings at the time, but he knew what it felt like to be different. If nothing else, it'd be nice to have a familiar face in the midst of this well-orchestrated circus. Ron could take him out for drinks, at least.
* * * * *
It wasn't until the fourth day that Ron saw Lupin at the event. Surprising himself, Ron was actually having a decent time. The young chess contenders, with a few exceptions, listened to him in rapt attention, and seemed to look up to him. He found he enjoyed refereeing the matches, practically seeing the cogs spin in the heads of some of the young players. He'd kept an eye out for his former professor, but the second night on his walk home when he admired the full moon on the horizon, it struck him why Lupin had yet to appear.
When he did finally see Lupin, it was from across the room. The older man's expression was comical at first; he was obviously as shocked as Ron had been when he saw that Lupin was volunteering at this event. Ron smiled and Lupin's face relaxed into a smile as well. He looked haggard; it was only two days after the full moon, Ron knew. At lunch he managed to catch Lupin's eye and they walked together with their trays to one of the long tables. Once both trays were down, Ron thrust out his arm in greeting.
"Lupin! I was surprised to see that you're here!" he said, shaking Remus' hand.
Remus seemed a bit at a loss, but covered it up quickly and enclosed their clasped hands with his other hand in a warm gesture. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, which, Ron noticed for seemingly the first time, were an olive colour, flecked with gold. Ron was actually a couple of inches taller than his former professor.
"I could say the same," Lupin quipped before releasing Ron's hand and gesturing at the table where they sat and began to eat. It was a highly enjoyable lunch; Ron filled Lupin in about his own recent years, and how Harry, Hermione and some of the other War survivors were doing.
"And Neville?" Lupin asked, blowing across his tea.
"He's well," Ron said, deciding to plunge ahead with enough information so that Lupin knew his preferences. He wasn't sure why that would matter, but there was something about Remus that seemed to encourage Ron to confide in him. "He and I were together, for a while," Ron said around a forkful of excellent blackcurrant crumble. "We still share a flat, but we're not together together anymore, if that makes sense." He glanced at Lupin through the ginger curtain of his fringe, deciding he needed to get a haircut soon.
Lupin simply nodded, a wistful smile glancing on his lips before it faded. "That's admirable, your still living with him."
"He's a great friend," Ron insisted. "Sometimes it's frustrating because he knows me so well, but it's really not awkward." He paused for a moment, and then cautiously asked, "Not that it's my business, but are you seeing someone?"
Lupin gave him a skeptical look. "No. I'm busy with work, and volunteering, and I do go out on occasion. I have a cat that adores me. But I've not had a relationship in a long time."
Ron winced inwardly at how matter-of-fact Lupin sounded. "Well, I'm here for a month, so I'm going to impose on you, if you don't mind. Let's get drinks somewhere this evening— somewhere you like to go."
Lupin fidgeted with a fraying cuff on his cardigan. It was warmish outside, but the facility where the Federation Extravaganza was in full swing was kept fairly cool. He seemed to be wavering, so Ron blurted out, "Only if you want to, I mean. It's just nice to see you again, and see that you're doing well. You look good. Tired, I mean, but…" Ron realised he was beginning to babble, and managed to shut his mouth.
A warm look of gratitude and faint amusement settled on Lupin's features. "Thank you," he said after taking a sip of tea. "I don't mean to be intentionally standoff-ish; I'm just not all that social anymore. I'd be happy to show you the parts of Glasgow I'm especially fond of—"
"Didn't you say that you have a shop? I'd like to see it," Ron interrupted.
"That's fine. I doubt you'll recognise much of any of the music, though. It's mostly vintage Muggle recordings; the two employees that I have are Muggle. It's just easier that way." He glanced at his watch and to Ron's surprise, he realised that lunch was nearly over.
"I'm staying with the other referees at a B&B called The Frog and Friar. Haven't a clue what it's supposed to mean," he said with a snort. "Anyway, I'm in room 302. Will you firecall later, say around seven? I'm determined to try some of the local brews, and it's pathetic to drink alone."
The smile finally crept into Lupin's eyes, and he nodded his agreement. "I'll be happy to. Thank you for the invitation."
With that, they both stood up from the table. As Remus took his leave, Ron caught a whiff of his scent and found himself rather shockingly taken back to a day in Slugworth's Potions class. He was assaulted with the memory of the scent that had overpowered his senses and imagination when he'd smelled the Amortentia, supposedly his heart's desire. It had been of books and wool, a combination he'd always associated with Hermione, though that had, unsurprisingly, come to a very civil but decisive end. He found himself staring after Lupin, at his mostly-grey hair waving on his shoulders, his back straight and a surprisingly appealing arse showcased by worn but well-fashioned trousers.
Ron shook his head, quickly doing some vague math and establishing that Remus was easily twenty years his senior. So what? a voice in his mind protested. Nobody said you were going to date him. He was your professor, for Merlin's sake.
Regardless, his libido had been sluggishly awakened by the brief scent of musk and whatever that elusive something was about Lupin. Ron forced his thoughts back to chess and spent another afternoon refereeing and teaching an overview of well-known opening chess moves. He got takeaway fish and chips for dinner, and later found himself restlessly pacing his room, waiting for seven o'clock. He cast a charm on the wood in the fireplace at five minutes before the hour; promptly at seven, Remus' face appeared in Ron's fireplace.
"Hi there! Glad I got the right room," he said cheerfully.
Ron gave him a blazing smile. "Sure did. I'm ready to go. Where to?"
"There's a small pub not far from my house," Remus said through the flames. "It's Muggle, called The Owl's Nest. If you'd like, I can use the Floo network to get to you and then we can side-along to a place near the pub."
He seemed more animated than he had at lunch, which filled Ron with an inordinate amount of pleasure. "Sounds brilliant."
A few minutes later, Remus appeared in Ron's fireplace, only stumbling a bit on the grate Ron had forgotten to remove. Remus brushed himself off as Ron apologised.
"Not to worry," Remus said amicably.
"Where should I get Muggle money?" Ron asked, suddenly realising that all of his currency was from Gringotts'.
"Don't worry about it," Remus reassured him. "I'm not as badly off as I once was. I'm not rich by any means, but I can afford to take us out for a few pints."
"I'll convert some before the next time," Ron promised, his stomach clenching when he saw Lupin's face shutter a bit in response. "Next time we're out, when you're showing me more of Glasgow," he doggedly went on, grateful to see Remus relax again.
"The Nest has an excellent stout," Remus said as he pulled Ron to him to side-along Apparate to the pub.
Ron closed his eyes against the squeezing sensation of Apparition, made worse going side by side. He focussed instead on the scent of sandalwood and faint apple infused in Remus' hair. He was sorry to have to let Remus go in the alley near the pub, but Remus obviously didn't see Ron as anything other than a friend having arrived unexpectedly.
They sampled two stouts and a bitter, Ron, for once, mostly keeping his mouth shut and encouraging Lupin to talk. He bummed a fag off of the Muggle to his right and smoked it, feeling a low burn smoulder to life in his groin as he watched Remus' expressive hands. Yes, Lupin was his former professor. Yes, he could be his father. Yes, they'd fought together during the War and yes— he smelled like sex for reasons Ron really didn't understand. It was like hearing a far-off drumbeat, but the arousal stirred insistently between his legs, keeping him in a state of awareness of the heaviness of his cock without an actual erection. He noticed the lines at the corners of Remus' lips, of the teasing glint of silvery hair at the top of his chest that Ron glimpsed above his button-down shirt.
Remus was talking about Hogwarts, asking Ron about co-teaching Herbology, and he answered, one part of his mind absolutely reeling at the fact that he realised he was smitten with the man at his side. Lupin wasn't Ron's type at all! Not that he had one, really, but Lupin?
Remus was speaking softer now, talking of sacrifice and a quiet life, his elegant fingers drawing a pattern on the surface of his pint glass. Ron imagined those fingers stroking his jaw, running across his chest… Obviously, he was mental. Or the beer was far stronger in Scotland than in England. Lupin would probably be appalled if he had any idea what was going through Ron's mind; he might not be seeing anyone, but if he were going to, it would be a wizard his own age. Ron was barking to think otherwise. He should pour himself into bed and force his bloody fantasy life back into its cage.
At a lull in the conversation, Ron said, "Well, it's an early morning for me, I should get back. Thanks for such a great time. Neville said it would be good for me to get away for a while, and he was right. It's been great to see you, outside of the chess matches. And at the chess stuff," he said, stumbling through the words. "Fuck. Not saying what I mean properly!"
At Lupin's warm smile, Ron had to fight the urge to pull the man off to the gents' and attack his mouth with kisses, to grind against him, drop to his knees and give Remus a hopefully memorable blowjob. Ron hadn't been so far gone as not to pick up on what Lupin didn't say; he'd been burned by the most charismatic lover he'd had from his youth, gotten him back, sort of, and then he'd died. Ron was nothing like Sirius Black — thank Merlin — but he couldn't stop the torrent of erotic images that rained in his mind's eye about Remus. Ron hadn't felt like this since he and Neville had first started making moves on each other, but back then, it had been mutual.
"Are you going to Apparate back?" Remus asked, his breath hot against Ron's ear as he sheltered their conversation from the nearby Muggles at the bar.
Ron nodded vigourously. "Yeah, I'll be fine. We can leave together though, right?"
"Of course."
Lupin drained his pint and paid the bartender. Ron decided he'd ask one of the other judges tomorrow where the nearest Wizarding bank was so he could convert some of his money. Remus spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, and Ron didn't want him to feel that he had to pay for everything. Out in the alley, Ron brazenly gave Remus a hug, holding him tightly to his body, feeling disheartened when he could tell the older man wasn't aroused at all. Still, Ron could smell wool and apple, filtering out the stale cigarette smoke from the bar, and he breathed in deeply before letting him go.
"Are you certain you're okay?" Lupin asked, genuine concern in his voice.
"Yep. I've Apparated when I was loads more pissed than this," Ron reassured him. "See you tomorrow!"
"Um, no," Remus said, running his hand through his hair. "I'm only volunteering two days a week. The other days I need to tend my shop."
"Can I come by this weekend?" Ron asked, not caring if he sounded desperate, or needy. Maybe Lupin would think Ron just wanted to be with the one familiar person he knew in Glasgow, not that he was harbouring all sorts of illicit thoughts that had to do with carefully unbuttoning Lupin's cardigan and then shoving his hands underneath to comb his fingers in that tantalysing chest hair…
"That would be fine," Remus replied. "The shop is open from nine until six on Saturday."
"I'll come by toward the end of the day, and then we can go get dinner or something," Ron suggested.
"If you'd like." Remus gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to a club? I know of some I can suggest to you where there would be younger men of… our inclination."
"I'm really not into that kind of scene. Deafening music, random shags— no thanks," Ron said vehemently. "I like your company. Really."
"Well, I'm flattered. You're sure you can get back to your B&B?"
"Yes. Have a good night. Thanks for the drinks." Ron impetuously gave Remus another hug, memorising his scent, and then stepped away. With a crack! he Apparated back to the Apparition point nearest to the B&B.
Once back in his room, he stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth and crawled into the comfortable bed, thinking he'd drop straight off. Sleep proved elusive, however; he kept imagining Remus' hands as he'd gestured, of the line of his jaw and the potent combination of musk and apple that had fired Ron's imagination. There was nothing for it— a wank was in order. He eased his boxers down past his knees and took his cock in one hand, rolling his heavy bollocks in the other. It didn't take him long, pulling on his shaft and playing with the sensitive slit at the crown for him to be fully hard. He let his thoughts run amok to what could have happened; pressing against Remus in the loo at the pub, grinding and arching against the older man as he kissed Ron ferociously, those elegant fingers grasping Ron's erection, telling him how glad he was that Ron had come to Glasgow, how he was going to take Ron back to his flat and shag Ron senseless…
Ron dragged his fingernails alongside the inside of his thighs, moaning at the friction as he tugged and pulled on his cock. His wet palm pumped up and down as he imagined the noises of Remus slathering lube on his own cock, the blunt head teasing up and down Ron's cleft, his voice low, nearly a growl, threatening him with his werewolf stamina, how he'd take Ron at least three times before the night was over—
The tingles started behind Ron's knees, his sacs drew up and with a shout, Ron's climax shot out of his swollen cock, several waves of release wracking his body as he moaned. His arse muscles clenched around nothing but the wishful sensation of Remus, buried inside of him. Eventually he let his legs flop down and released his sticky, softening erection. Once his heart rate had slowed nearly to normal, he wiped his hand on the sheet before getting his wand from the bedside table and cast a cleansing spell on himself. He was frankly shocked at the intensity of his reaction to Lupin, both in person and in his vivid wank. It had done the trick, though; he was exhausted. He turned on his side, pulled his boxers back up, tugged the covers up to his chin and fell fast asleep.
* * * * *
Saturday came at last. Ron slept in until ten o'clock, took a long, hot shower and had two cups of tea before even thinking about what he wanted to do that day before going to Lupin's small record shop. He consulted with the proprietor of the B&B who gave him some helpful suggestions of places to go in the city. It was a bit colder than it had been during the week, with rain that came and went, but the weather didn't dampen Ron's spirits. He did some sightseeing, managing to use Muggle public transport, a train line the locals called the Clockwork Orange. At five-thirty he made his way to the street where Lupin's shop was located and wandered inside. It was packed with vinyl records and a few rows of smaller discs; music was playing, but as Lupin as implied, Ron didn't recognise it. He saw Remus from the back, arranging some records, and his pulse sped up. Lupin was actually wearing jeans, and while not tight by any means, they, too, showed off a surprisingly shapely arse. When Lupin turned around and smiled, Ron felt a slow, creeping shame in his chest as a flashback to his wank jumped to mind.
"Hi Ron!" he said just as a young man with dark brown dreadlocks walked into the store from a dimly lit back entrance.
"Can I help you?" the young man said before glancing at Remus. "Oh. 's he a friend of yours?"
"Yes. Visiting from London," Lupin said smoothly. "Simon, seeing as how we've only another half-hour and it's been pretty slow, if you'd like to leave early, that's fine."
Simon shrugged. "Suits me. See you Monday, then."
He vanished back into the anterior room as Remus walked forward and gestured around. "Well, this is it," he said, but Ron noted the pride in his voice. "It doesn't make a lot of money, but I do have a set of regular customers who appreciate the variety that I carry, and it feeds my musical obsession quite well."
Ron looked around wide-eyed at all of the records. They were alone in the shop, so he assumed he could speak freely. "I never knew you were so into music. Muggle music, especially," he clarified, flipping through some of the large cardboard record jackets with art that stayed resolutely still.
"We listened to a lot of Muggle music in school," Lupin said, a wistful tone in his voice. "And for the years following. I've spent a lot of my life outside of Wizarding society, as you may imagine."
"Well, I'm glad you're still in it enough to help out the Chess Federation," Ron stated, determined to get Remus back into the moment at hand and try to keep him there. "Before you close, why don't you tell me about a few of your favourite bands? And play a song or two."
"You're really interested?" Lupin asked, leaning back against the counter where an old till sat.
"Look— I'm not here because I'm bored, I'm here because I'm interested in you. Not as my former professor, or even what all you did for Harry, but you as a person. Now, at this point in life. Surely that's not too strange," Ron went on, wishing Lupin didn't look so skeptical and skittish.
Lupin gazed at him, his expressive eyes clouded with an emotion Ron couldn't readily identify. Eventually Remus pushed away from the till counter, seeming to relax a bit into himself.
"I'm surprised, and you'll forgive me, but given our age difference, and the fact that I was your instructor in the past, I do find our being social a bit awkward. Can you appreciate that?"
"Of course. If all I do is make you uncomfortable, I'll just go now then," Ron said, his pride injured and some anger flaring in his belly. He hadn't asked Lupin out on a bloody date — yet — he only wanted to get to know him, adult to adult. Ron was twenty-seven, not sixteen, and he was unwilling to discount the pull of scents from the remembered Amortentia. Maybe Lupin was incapable of seeing beyond their one-time student/teacher dynamic; that would show a lack of open-mindedness that frankly began to piss Ron off.
"No, please don't," Lupin said, placing a hand on Ron's upper arm with a strength Ron found surprising. "I'm sorry I've been so unappreciative. Let me play something for you that I've resonated to since my Marauder days. It's 'London Calling' by a Muggle band called The Clash."
He busied himself at a turntable situated under the counter near the till. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, placated a bit by Lupin's apology, and curious about the music and lyrics he'd picked out. He liked the song; it sounded aggressive, but not overtly angry. Next Lupin played something totally different, a long song called 'Tainted Love' by some Muggle band that had named themselves Soft Cell. From the words, Ron had a keen idea as to why Remus has felt drawn to it when he was out in the Muggle world after one of his best friends had died and he'd believed his lover had betrayed them all.
As the song came to its end, Remus gave Ron a wan smile. "I should probably focus more on the present," he said before going back to the turntable and putting the record in its container. Ron certainly agreed, but he was glad that Remus had been willing to share that part of himself with Ron.
"Let's go get dinner," Ron suggested. "I'd love some Thai— do you happen to know of any inexpensive Thai places where we could go and get something?"
"In fact, I do," Remus said. Just then, Ron's stomach made a low, rumbling sound, and Remus smiled. "And it's not that far away. Let me close everything up and we can head out."
The restaurant was only a mile or so away, and though it was still drizzling, Ron didn't mind it at all. The food wasn't pricey but it was very flavourful, and Ron had a very healthy serving. He filled Remus in on what had happened at the chess matches over the past couple of days, as well as the more touristy things he'd done earlier that day.
"I've come to feel that Glasgow is a true home," Remus said once Ron paused in his commentary to finish his meal. "Obviously I keep a full foot in the Wizarding world, and I'd be miserable indeed if Draco hadn't taken it upon himself to learn how to brew Wolfsbane."
"He did?"
Ron was gobsmacked; he'd not thought about his former nemesis since the final battle. Of all people, Blaise Zabini from Slytherin had applied for and become the new Potions instructor at Hogwarts. Ron didn't like his attitude from what he'd seen of him at the staff meetings he'd attended, but he seemed to be a fair enough instructor. He'd just assumed that Zabini had been the one who'd brewed Remus' Wolfsbane.
"Yes. I know that Mr. Zabini is teaching Potions now, but Draco has more skill when it comes to particularly challenging potions. He's in business for himself, but he agreed to brew this for me. I think it appeals to his pride since it's such a difficult potion to do well."
Ron watched as Remus dabbed at the corner of his lips with his napkin, captivated again by his long fingers and how inherently elegant Remus' movements were. He couldn't figure out why he was so drawn to the older man, but then the scent of musk drifted over, and he knew he'd end up back at his B&B, having another wank. Ron was frustrated at himself; if he'd been out at a bar he'd have made a more direct move on Remus, but as it was, he was being cautious to the point of absurdity. A part of him, however, thought that he'd know when the right moment was to let Remus know just how enticing he was, and it wasn't right now.
"I was looking in The Herald and saw that there are some new films out," Ron said, scraping the last of his khao pad gai from his plate and polishing it off. "Would you like to go to one?"
Remus seemed intrigued, taking a long drink of water before he answered. "I'd be delighted. I don't tend to see movies when they first come out, but if you could tell me about one or two of them that caught your attention, I could probably be convinced."
Ron gave him a summary of two that had seemed interesting, both thrillers which appeared to pique Lupin's interest. They paid for their respective meals and then headed back out into the city. Thankfully the rain had abated, and Remus guided them to the proper Muggle bus to get them to the cinema. The movie itself was engaging, and all too soon Ron found himself saying he needed to get back to his temporary home.
"Thanks for a wonderful evening," he said, giving Remus a warm embrace before they parted out on the footpath. "You'll be back on Wednesday?" he asked, not really caring that he sounded so enthusiastic about their next meeting.
"Yes, I will. Thank you again for coming by my shop and for a very pleasant outing." Remus paused, unspoken words, or desires, seeming to clamour briefly under his calm veneer, but they remained known only to him. "See you next week."
Ron found himself standing, rooted in place as Remus walked away, his hands in the pocket of his cardigan. "You're worse than a fucking girl," he muttered under his breath, scrubbing at his face before striding off in the other direction to find the Muggle bus back to his part of town.
Later, brushing his teeth, he continued his one-sided conversation. "Neville was unexpected, but he didn't put up so much resistance," he said to himself in the mirror. "He also wasn't your former teacher. But who cares?" he exclaimed, exasperated. He rinsed out his mouth and spat before jabbing at the mirror with his toothbrush. "He needs to get over this age thing. Remus is sexy and he smells right, for Merlin's sake, and it's just not possible that our seeing each other at this month-long chess event is coincidence! Why the hell is he being so closed-minded about me? I'm attractive, sort of."
Ron scanned himself quickly in the mirror. His upper body wasn't bad, but he was getting a bit soft around the middle due to a lack of regular exercise and admitted fondness for frequent pints. "You need a haircut," he said, running his fingers through the shaggy hair falling over his eyes and down onto his shoulders. "You need to be able to show him you're an adult, and a decent lover…"
As he crawled into bed and turned out the lights, the other, perhaps more deep-seated and insidious reason why Lupin was keeping such a distance while at the same time finding it a struggle to keep all of his walls up, hit Ron with the force of a Bludger.
"It's his past," he murmured and aggravation flooded his sensibilities. Old memories began to surface from that turbulent year spent at Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts. "I can't compete with the fucking ghost of Sirius Black. But I'm alive, and I won't go psycho on him. You'd think that'd be remotely appealing."
Shut up and go to sleep, an inner voice spoke up, and with a last set of disgruntled mumblings, he did just that.
* * * * *
Too lazy to look for a hairdresser and feeling rebellious in the light of day, Ron took to pulling his hair back in a ponytail, sticking the fringey bits behind his ears. By the time Wednesday came, he was at the week and a half mark of the chess Extravaganza, enjoying his role as mentor and colleague with the other invited coaches. He even had a couple of Austrian protégés who reminded Ron a bit of groupies, except that he was no rock star and his followers were aged twelve and thirteen. He was so engrossed in telling them the story of his most memorable chess match during his first year that he forgot to keep an eye out for Remus. Ron was scheduled to take the second-round winners on a field trip to the British Museum using the Floo network, going to look at some historical chess sets and to let those players who'd never before left the Continent see a bit more of the United Kingdom outside of Scotland.
After morning tea, he and two other instructors took the set of ten players off to London. Ron was careful to remind them that they'd be in a Muggle environment all day and to try to keep any conversation to do with the Wizarding world to a minimum, or spoken in their native languages. The museum trip was a grand success, as was their late lunch of fish and chips from a takeaway vendor. They returned after four o'clock. A few of them, including Ron, sported sunburns, but they were all in high spirits. Ron was chatting with Pavel, a chaperone from the Ukraine, about their excursion when he felt he was being watched. A surreptitious glance revealed Lupin, looking at him with an expression of surprise and, Ron realised with a frisson of desire that shot to his groin, hunger. He smiled at the older man and excused himself from the conversation with Pavel. Remus was pouring a cup of tea from a refreshments table when Ron got to his side.
"Tea?" Remus offered, his body language far more approachable than it had been the last time they'd seen each other.
"Sure."
Ron took the cup and saucer, his skin prickling a bit as he saw Remus give him a thorough and appreciative — but still subtle — going-over as he did so.
"You look a bit different today," Remus murmured as he poured himself a cuppa.
"Just in shorts," Ron said, shrugging. "Took some of the current challengers to London. Weather was glorious." He downplayed his comments, but it was obvious that Remus was responding positively. Maybe nonchalance was the avenue to take, but Ron didn't have the luxury of months to dance around Lupin's stubborn defenses.
"You enjoyed yourself."
It was a statement, not a question.
"Very much." Ron took a sip of tea. He waited for a few moments to see if Lupin would take the next volley in the conversation. With a sour feeling of frustration, he turned to go.
"There's some live theatre out at Pollock Country Park, where the Burrell Collection is located, this coming Saturday," Lupin said quietly. "Would you like to go?"
Ron turned back around, his lips quirking to the side. "Sounds good! Care to join me for a dram or two of Scotland's finest beforehand? There's a pub just down the block from my B&B. I could meet you there."
"I'd like that." Remus' gold-green eyes flashed with delight.
Ron couldn't believe it. "Great! I guess I can get details from you tomorrow? I need to get over to a match to referee."
Remus gave him an apologetic look. "I'm actually going out of town to visit a great-uncle for a few days. His health isn't the best and he's one of my last remaining living relatives."
"I understand family obligations," Ron said ruefully. "Well, the pub is The Wild Boar. When's the play?"
"Seven o'clock. Shall I meet you at five-thirty? We can get something to eat on the way to the park and have it there, picnic style."
"Fingers crossed for good weather, then. All right, I've got to go, I'm being summoned." In his peripheral vision, Ron had noted one of the players waving at him. He nodded his head at Remus, hoping the low burn of pleasure at this seeming turn of events didn't show up too much on his face. Though it was true he still wore his heart on his sleeve, he'd learned how to keep some of his emotions to himself.
That evening he stopped at a tourist shop and bought a couple of postcards. After Lupin's comment about seeing family, Ron felt the pressure to send something to his mum. Next he wrote Neville, figuring the owl post would get it to him whether at his gran's or at the flat… or fishing with Oliver Wood. He decided it would be best not to be too personal with what he wrote to his former lover, though doubtless Neville would be nothing but supportive in Ron's pursuit of nearly anyone. This might come as a shock even to him, however.
- Dear Neville—
You were right to encourage me to participate with the Chess Federation here in Glasgow. I'm actually having a good time, both with the young players and in the city itself. I've been out a couple of times, the same bloke. It's a bit of an odd situation. I'll fill you in once I get back if anything comes of it. I hope it does, but there are some things about him that make it
Ron chewed on his Muggle biro, trying to think of what word to use. He wasn't a walking thesaurus.
- challenging. Hope you're enjoying your own travels.
~Ron
He re-read both postcards, addressed them both to the best of his knowledge, and wandered downstairs to the front desk. "Do you send owl post?" he asked the concierge, a bored-looking wizard reading the newest novel by Astrid Astrolabe.
"Yes." He thrust out his hand and with a bit of misapprehension, Ron gave him the two postcards. "They'll go out tomorrow."
"Thanks."
Back in his room, Ron toyed with the idea of fire-calling Lupin out of the blue. After a couple of wild fantasies blazed through his mind, he shook his head at his own crazy flights of fancy. He settled in with the Muggle TV in his room until he found he'd dozed off in the chair, and then put himself to bed.
* * * * *
The drinks and theatre were fun, and with growing certainty, Ron believed he was witnessing Remus' struggle with feeling bound to his past, and wanting to let himself free with Ron. Nothing happened during their outing aside from a few lingering touches when Remus handed Ron their various takeaway boxes, and the hug Ron was determined to get from Remus at the end of the night. He wanked a couple of times that week, thinking of Lupin, though he ended up being irritated and angry, along with his physical release.
The days flew by, and soon it was the evening of the final banquet. Ron realised, to his surprise, he was going to miss his young chess players. He warned his protégés and a few others he'd become fond of that he was a pretty poor correspondent, but he gladly gave them his address. His own chess game had improved as well; he'd had plenty of opportunities to play with the other instructors and referees. It sharpened his own reflexes as well as picking up on some slightly trendy strategies. Even in Wizarding chess, many people relied on the more classic opening moves and later-game strategies.
At early evening Ron Apparated near the Wizarding restaurant where the feast was to be held. He was sporting his one pair of dressy trousers that Neville had always said flattered both his arse and his bits in front, when he was slightly aroused. Not that Ron had any intention of finding himself in an embarrassing state like that at the banquet itself, but there was nothing Lupin could do or say that evening to deter Ron from his mission of at least having a proper snog and grope, though he hoped for much more.
When Remus walked into the restaurant wearing older, but not threadbare Highland gear, including a kilt, Ron's mouth actually watered. "Fucking hell," he murmured under his breath.
Countless images began jostling for attention in his head: himself kneeling, taking Remus' cock in his mouth since, of course, he'd not be wearing pants of any kind; Ron taking Remus from behind, the kilt pushed up over his thin but well-shaped arse. It took a lot of energy, but Ron forced temporary mental chains on his imagination and shoved it in a closet in his head. It was a definite challenge: Remus had trimmed his hair and, to Ron's eyes, was sex on two legs. Unfortunately the volunteers were situated together at a different table from the instructors and young witches and wizards, but Ron was able to catch Lupin's eye a few times, giving him what he hoped were obviously appreciative looks without staring outright.
Eventually the speeches and toasts were over and everyone was free to mingle. A dram of single malt in his hand, Ron made a beeline for the object of his ever-growing obsession.
"You look bloody fantastic," he said to Remus, clinking his glass against the older man's. "I'd no idea you had a kilt. I nearly embarrassed myself at my table," he confided.
Remus seemed flattered, but troubled, as always. "Thank you. I'll admit I did wonder what you'd think of seeing my knobby knees."
Something in Ron snapped. He tossed back the fiery liquor, glancing around and placing it on the mantle of an unused fireplace. "This isn't the place to talk," he said, his voice already raspy with the desire and frustration beginning to roil deep in his belly. "But Remus, we need to talk. We can go to my room at the B&B, or your place, but it's going to be one or the other and it's going to be now. I know I seem pushy, but I'm going back to England soon, and I'm not leaving until we talk. About us."
Remus nervously licked his lips, but then seemed to steel himself and nodded. "My house. You're not allergic to cats, are you?"
"I'd go anyway," Ron said urgently. "I'll side-along with you."
"You're really not going to be deterred, are you?" Remus said, his voice and visage marked with wonderment.
"No. Let's go."
Lupin let out a long, shaky breath, finished his Scotch, and then gestured to the door. Ron had to make a few last good-byes, but soon they were at the Apparition point. He put his arm around Remus' waist, sliding his fingers just barely under the waistband of his kilt. He closed his eyes and turned his body partway into Remus', breathing deeply of the apple scent in his hair and the warm musk from behind his ear.
"Ready?" Remus' voice was steady now, but there was an undercurrent of hoarseness Ron knew had nothing to do with the small bit of pipe smoke from the banquet.
There was the smashing disorientation of Apparition, and then Ron's feet were on solid ground again, his fingers clenched on Remus' hip, Remus' arm around his shoulder. Before Lupin could pull away, Ron stepped in front of him, placed his hands on Remus' jaw, and leaned in to kiss him. He pressed his lips insistently to Lupin's, sending out his tongue to lick at the seam of his closed lips. With a moan that turned into a needy howl, Remus opened his mouth and Ron's questing tongue sought Remus'. They kissed passionately with a fierceness borne from weeks of pent-up desire.
Remus pulled back, breathing heavily, looking at Ron as though he were starving and Ron was a cornucopia of delights. Ron ran his fingers back to cradle Remus' scalp as Remus struggled within himself, reinstating his mask of apology and futility.
"No!" Ron growled, shaking his head. "No! Don't you dare put those walls back up."
"It's no use," Remus insisted, his voice heavy with regret.
"I know what's holding you back," Ron said, resolutely putting his hands on Remus' shoulders. "At first it was the former teacher thing, but we're both adults now. It's Sirius. You've got to let it go."
Remus shook his head, the anguish at last coming out in words. "Ron, I appreciate that you're fond of me, and even find me attractive. It's terribly flattering, but it's as though my soul, my very essence was ironbound with him."
"Then you'll have to consider me to be a pair of very sharp wire cutters," Ron said thickly. "This isn't a one-off. I smelled… years ago. Amortentia. You know its qualities?"
"Of course."
"Wool and books. That's what I smelled. Thought at first, for a few years, anyway, that it was Hermione, her uniform and her studies. But it's YOU."
Ron kissed Remus on the lips, hard at first, then easing his mouth open so their tongues could slide gently against each other. Once Ron had plundered Remus' mouth for several minutes, long enough to feel Remus relax against him, he eased back, looking to see what expression was in his hopeful-lover's face.
"I've not allowed myself—" Remus said, hesitating before claiming Ron's mouth for a kiss and then resting his forehead against Ron's. "I'm a bit out of practise, but if you really mean it…"
"I'll be back," Ron said hoarsely, dropping to his knees, gratefully noting they were standing on a carpet. He slowly moved his hands up the back of Remus' lean but muscled thighs, giving Remus a heated look as his fingers reached his bare arse. "Just as I'd hoped. I've wanted to do this since you walked into the restaurant. No, since we saw that movie."
He ducked under the edge of the kilt, relishing the waves of musky heat. Ron nosed and kissed up the inside of Remus' inner thighs until he reached his prize. He could hear Remus' moans and near-animal growls as he fondled the heavy sacs before taking Remus' long, wide cock in his mouth, swallowing as much as he could.
"Gods! Ron, that's incredible," Lupin said, and then his words became just rumbling sounds of pleasure as he spread his legs to allow Ron greater access.
Ron had always loved sucking cock, but this was almost overwhelming, hearing Remus chant his name and other one-syllabled cries of pleasure. He licked and sucked the crown, teasing under the foreskin, tasting the vinegar-salty taste of fluid at the slit before bobbing his head up and down. As though it were the most succulent lolly he'd ever had in his mouth, Ron bobbed his head up and down, sucking and feasting on the hard shaft. He massaged Remus' lightly furred arsecheeks, his own erection chafing against his boxers. Ron didn't know if he'd ever been so hard, at least not since he was much younger with consistently raging hormones.
With a last kiss to the rosy head, Ron sat back on his heels and leaned back, gasping at the cooler air out from under the kilt. His hair was already sweaty and sticking to his forehead. Remus' chest rose and fell quickly, one hand grasping the back of a nearby sofa.
"So you're going to give us a try? Really let me care about you without holding back?" Ron asked, one knee cracking as he stood, wrapping his arms around Remus' waist and pressing their groins together.
Remus rocked against him, apparently enjoying the friction as much as Ron. "There's a lot for you to cut through. And that small matter of me being a werewolf. I just don't want you to be naïve—"
"Just stop," Ron pleaded. "You're going to tell me there's lube in that sporran, or you'll Accio some, and then you're going to fuck me with that amazing werewolf cock of yours." Remus made a possessive, growling sound that shot more heat between Ron's legs, and he took a shuddering breath. "I'm coming up on thirty in not too long, and I've been in a couple of relationships. I'm not asking you to forget Black, but I'm here so you can cut him loose. I want you, Remus, want to see how things go with us for a long time. Now fuck me," he groaned, tugging on Remus' arse so their hips bumped together and pressed, hard.
"Accio lubricant," Remus barked, taking one hand away from Ron's back to hold it out for the tube to smack into his palm. "Bedroom?"
"No, here, now, oh fuck," Ron said, moving back so he could undo his trousers, shoving them down past his knees. His cock sprang free, jutting upright from the dark auburn thatch at his groin. He murmured a cleansing spell on himself, then kissed Remus, wanting a reminder of the flavour of his new lover's mouth. He watched avidly as Remus twisted his sporran to the side and tucked the front of his kilt to his waist, holding it with his elbow to liberally coat his erection. When he started to pour some of the slick on his fingers, Ron shook his head.
"Just go a bit slow, but I only want your cock," he said vehemently, tilting his head to allow Remus to kiss his neck.
"Can't wait to slide inside you," Remus breathed hotly into Ron's ear, and Ron groaned at the reality of it all.
No doubt he'd be sore the next day; Neville had been talented, but he was nowhere as well endowed as Remus. Ron, however, was so ready to enjoy that kind of ache from being thoroughly ploughed. Especially now that it really was Remus. He turned around and gripped the back of the sofa, and realised he wanted to be able to stand with his legs apart.
"Just a sec," he said hoarsely. He quickly leaned over to untie his dress shoes, pulled them and his socks off and kicked away his trousers and sticky-fronted boxers.
"You're magnificent," Remus murmured against the back of his neck once Ron had righted himself. With one hand Remus ran his fingers across Ron's chest before sliding down the button placket to grasp the base of Ron's erection.
"Oh fuck," Ron moaned, feeling the blunt head of Remus' shaft slide up and down his cleft before lining up to his clenching entrance.
"You want me," Remus growled, pushing into the right ring of muscle, slowly and inexorably as Ron's body felt the burn of the wide shaft.
"Mmmmmph," was all Ron could manage. He was being split by it, by him… and then Remus shifted the weight on his feet, hitting Ron's deep nerves, and he groaned at the contact. "Fuck, Remus, yes."
It was as though nothing existed outside of the animal noises Remus made, tempered with the slapping sound of skin on skin and the stretching burn that filled Ron from the inside with a dull ache.
"You're a furnace," Remus choked out, both hands now clenched to Ron's hips with the strength of vises as his thrusts sped up, his hips snapping as he drove into Ron's arse.
Ron finally peeled a hand off of the sofa to take his own erection in hand; he'd not dared at first, since the tingling throb had already begun its sparks in his balls once Remus had delved fully into him. He'd not wanted to come so soon, but now he was ready to wind himself up, to let his spit-slicked palm and thumb slide up and down as Remus fucked him. Ron heard his lover's voice raise in pitch as his own orgasm neared.
"Ron!" Remus gasped. "I can't hold off!"
"Don't! Let go," Ron panted, shoving back to meet the frantic thrusts as Remus made desperate, almost panicked sounds. Ron felt Remus' tension as he gripped his hipbones and stilled, then Remus made a broken cry and Ron felt the pulsing shaft deep within his thoroughly used arse. He pulled up and down on his cock, towering on his own precipice as his nerves howled; the heat rose and rose before it jolted out over his fingers, warm liquid jettisoning onto the burgundy weave of the sofa in creamy, haphazard stripes. Ron chanted Remus' name, shuddering through the waves of release.
As his breath slowed, Ron looked at the mess he'd made on Remus' furniture. He sighed, leaning back as Remus wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head on Ron's shoulder.
"Sorry about the, um," Ron began.
"A quick Terego and it'll be fine. Well worth it," Remus rumbled near Ron's ear. "That was incredible. I hope I didn't hurt you."
"No," Ron reassured him as Remus carefully let his spent cock slide out of Ron's body. "Might be a bit sore," he acknowledged, letting his gaze travel down to Remus' still-heavy shaft, glistening with lubricant and come. "You were pretty fierce."
"I think it's fair to say you inspire me," Remus said, his kilt covering him again as he went to fetch his wand from the table and cleaned them up.
Ron was still wearing his dress shirt and nothing else, his trousers, boxers, shoes and socks strewn on the floor in a messy trail.
"I'd like you—" "I hope this—"
Remus and Ron spoke at the same time before stopping. Ron huffed a laugh. "You first. But I'll just put on my boxers, if you don't mind."
"Fair enough."
Remus gestured to the sofa and once Ron had pulled on his boxers, they sat side by side. Ron's heart thudded in his chest; he hoped to Merlin that Remus wasn't already having second thoughts.
"I know you're at the B&B," Remus said, running his hands through his greying hair before easing sideways and crossing his ankle on his knee, looking directly at Ron. "I'd like to propose that you stay here for a few days, or a week, unless you have other obligations. I'd like to get to know you better, spend time with you. You came at me with a lot, and I'd like to explore the possibilities."
He seemed terribly vulnerable, and Ron recognised that this might well be the first time since those days in Grimmauld Place that Remus had truly let down his guard. Ron's throat tightened a bit, but he managed to get his words out.
"I'm not needed at Hogwarts for a few weeks yet," he confirmed, feeling himself grin lop-sidedly despite himself. "Thank you," he went on, taking one of Remus' hands in his. "For the invitation, for the bone-melting shag, and for giving me a chance. It can't be easy."
Remus gazed at him, his expression betraying a raw hope Ron honestly hadn't been sure he'd ever witness. "It isn't," he admitted. "I'm still fully dressed, but I feel totally exposed. I'm willing to trust you, for whatever reason," he said with a rueful laugh. "It's time for me to think about making some changes in my life. You've been quite persuasive."
Ron squeezed his hand. "I can be, but I'm only human. Merlin knows I've got my own baggage, but you know that. Here, let me get dressed and use your Floo connection to get my things and check out of the Frog and Friar. I'll be back within the hour. 'S that all right?"
Remus nodded, and released Ron's hand. "I'll make tea when you get back, or maybe we can do a bit more exploring," he said meaningfully, letting his fingers drift to the hem of Ron's boxers. "There's a lot to you I haven't seen yet."
Low fires rekindled in Ron's groin. "Reckon I could be up for that," he said before he realised his own double entendre. "Merlin, that was terrible," he groaned.
Remus chuckled. "Floo powder's in that jar on the mantle."
Back at the B&B, Ron found Neville had sent a short note. He and Oliver were having a grand time, catching lots of fish, and really enjoying each other's company. I'm intrigued by this mystery man, he wrote. Any chance you'll spare more details?
With a grin, Ron penned a quick reply.
Hey Nev— glad your holiday's going well. Things here have taken an unexpected turn for the better. I'll be staying an extra week. With Remus Lupin. Yes, you read that properly. Forgive the awful chess pun, but I've been captured. In a good way.
More soon,
Fondly,
Ron
With a light heart, Ron set to packing his bags, grateful that he had no desire to ponder his next move.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-25 10:56 am (UTC):is puddle of slick goo:
(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-25 09:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-02 05:21 am (UTC)You always write a fantastic Ron. And your Remus is just perfect.
Loved it!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-02 06:29 am (UTC)Scotch Game
Date: 2008-12-07 05:39 pm (UTC)Although it is almost heart breaking that he's been so sad for so long, it is wonderful how isolated you make him sound. And who better to knock down those walls, than Ron.
Bravo!
Re: Scotch Game
Date: 2009-01-16 06:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-15 01:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-16 06:54 am (UTC)