Thrihyrne

My first posted fic in '10 is in the Slave Breakers fandom. Many of you on my flist haven't read this original fiction series, but I highly recommend it. I found myself occupied by a plot bunny suggested by kata_ny over in slavebreakers where this is crossposted: i'd love to read about Andrei being hurt/ill and Lee caring for him.
yes,i'm a sucker for h/c.

Title: A Diffident Confidence
Pairing: Lee/Andrei
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4495
Summary: When Andrei is injured while ice skating, Lee struggles to rise above his self-perceived inadequacies in caring for him.
Author's Notes: self-beta'ed, so if you notice something, please don't hesitate to let me know. As with nearly all of my Lee/Andei stories, this is a bit indulgent and, especially for me, nearly sappy. My thanks as always to maculategiraffe for letting me write in her world and for having come up with the vivid characters and their memorable lives that have enthralled me for over a year now.

( A Diffident Confidence )

I've missed writing Ron/Draco and to remedy that, I wrote a couple of drabbles for the rondracodrabble community. The drabbles are below, both of them set in my Like Wine Through Water universe; both are set within the story before they've actually gotten together.

( two Ron/Draco drabbles )

At the end of July, my dear friend Callum James wrote me this in an email as a fic prompt/idea:

... is to write five linked drabbles of no more than 250 words each charting the developing relationship between Harry and Ron. The drabbles should be titled, 15, 20, 25, 30, and 35 refering to the ages of the characters in each drabble. At least two of the five should be rated NC-17. And here's the kicker... each drabble has to begin with the same line that the previous one ends with and the final line of the last drabble must be the same as the first line of the first. Also, there should be no need for a paragraph of explanation at the beginning... !

Well, I instead wrote 4 vignettes rather than 5, and they're longer than 250 words. The other requirements are still there, which made for interesting development along the way. So without further ado, here 'tis.

Title: This Submerged Sense of Wonder
Pairing: Ron/Harry
Ratings: PG to NC-17, depending
Word count: 5300
Summary: Ron and Harry at four points in their lives. Who can ever, really, explain the simple profundity of lifelong companionship?
A/N: bottomless gratitude to wolfiekins, cim_halfling and auntee_mame for their betas. Suggested by and written for Callum, inspiration and friend. Title from G.K. Chesterton. DH-compliant; ignores the Epilogue.

( This Submerged Sense of Wonder )

I just stood outside for a little bit, watching the snow fall, enjoying the quiet. It just put me at peace, watching the flakes as their patterns shifted around the streetlight. I also have a slab of chocolate generously sent from matildabishop that I've been gnawing on a bit; that's lovely too.

In honor of our unexpected snow, here's just a wee snippet that fits in this wee universe begun here.

( Read more... )

I'm still writing the other Gimlifics, but this one just came to me in drabble form. Since it encompasses a lot in a very few words: this is set after the Ring War; Gimli is back home, presumably after Aragorn's coronation and he and Legolas have seen the Glittering Caves and all that. The Dwarves lost a lot of people in their own battles up north during the mess in Mordor; this takes that into consideration. Vram is Gimli's… companion.

Title: Earth Friend Thee Forever
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: PG for implied deaths and m/m relations.

Gimli endured the feast, the likes of which hadn't been engineered since the successful, but devastating conclusion of the Battle of Five Armies. He'd fought there; tested his metal, in the most visceral way imaginable. He still harboured an otherwise inexplicable, profound satisfaction of the thunking, wet sound of his hacking blade. Goblin, orc, other… he'd battled enough.

His palms itched with memory.

Much later, he sat on his heels in the moonlight, paying homage to his fallen kindred. The fire in his diamond was gone, forever. Gimli thanked Mahal for sheltering Vram until they were reunited again.

He wept.

From the currently popular meme of "here are the first lines to some of my stories- you take one and write a new drabble with it." I took one from snottygrrl, and here 'tis. Warfic. Features a few HP redheads (surprise).


Fraternity

During the darkness, the fear would sometimes catch him unawares.

In the muted light of day, it lay dormant in his shadow, petulant and hidden while Ron stayed busy. He hadn't known how exhausting it could be to stay alive, and yet the nighttime brought no relief, no nourishing sleep. There were only fits and starts, torments of muddled dreams and visions before he would jerk awake again.

Ron was scared to death to die.

Knowing how many familiar others would meet his soul on the other side was no consolation in the freezing nights. George would coax and plead for him to take a potion; Fred would remind him of just how desperately he was needed and with his full faculties, soggy personality aside. Even in the bleakest moments of the War, Fred and George tried to nudge at Ron's spirits, but he was immune despite how close they'd become.

Raw, untamed rage chased away most other emotions, though it was tempered with the constant, insistent drumming of self-preservation. The twins had each other, and he had them, and that was all he was sure of after the Burrow had been Marked and obliterated. No warnings, no bodies, no closure. No updates from Bill and Charlie. George tethered him to sanity, restrained him when he became reckless. How odd, Ron thought as he sat, teeth chattering, that the former experts in doling out mayhem would now bring such comfort.

"It's not over, Ron."
"We're in this together."
"For Mum, and Dad."
"And Ginny, and Hermione."
"Even Percy, on a good day."
"We won't let you die on our watch."

And then, for a little while, Ron would rest, before fear snatched one of them away; an owl from the front lines (please, sweet Merlin not Harry too); a new casualty report (no, no, not Dean- he's too young. I'm too young.)

Over time, Ron sank into surrender. Sheltered by chaos and twilight he made his way to the perimeter of the camp, a small mirror in hand. He propped the disc against a tree and pointed his wand unwaveringly at it, heady with the words of the killing curse as they crouched, waiting on his tongue.

"Ron!"

The voice was oddly singular.

"RON!" The dirty red mane of hair shook around his face as the figure ran and approached him, gasping.

Ron stared into bloodshot brown eyes.

"No, Ron," Fred choked, and pulled Ron's wand from his hand. "No. Not on my watch."

As he looked at Fred's filthy, tear-streaked face, Ron suddenly knew the fear was forever banished. He clasped Fred around the waist, supporting him as they slowly walked back to the camp.

...but from Remus' POV, and first person present tense, which makes me crazy if I read it for too long, but I wanted this to be fairly different since it is from his perspective. The last G/R story didn't actually have a lot of Remus in it (no beta takers yet, everyone must be busy writing their own stuff!!), so I wrote this vignette which will bridge from "All Men Make Faults" to the next one.

Because yes, I am George/Remus obsessed, and have already started on the third story.

~~~Interlude~~~

“Wouldn’t you agree, Remus? Nothing against you, of course,” she says, hastily.

In contradiction to her personality, her fiery hair has faded, the grey noticeably beginning its inevitable annexation of red locks. Molly looks to me for support about this issue, obviously unaware of her son’s nature. I place my cup of tea on its saucer, feeling more and more as though she knows me less and less. The time we all spent together at Sirius’ family home was many years ago now. She’s always seen me as an Order member, but not really as a man. This won’t be pretty.

“Well, Molly, George has come into his own, and I think-”

“Yes, mum, I am a success, and thank you for noticing.” George interrupts. He is wearing the same resolutely determined expression I’ve seen when he stays up late, grading assignments. “But as for spending less time gallivanting with Remus, as you put it, and more time with girls my age, well, that’s not going to happen.”

He takes a swig of butterbeer, then turns to look directly at her. “I’m not interested in girls. I mean, they’re great, but not in a settle down kind of way. Not for me. I’ve settled down with Remus.”

Her blue eyes widen as she stares at him, then purses her lips and turns her attentions to me. After a few moments, she jerks her gaze back to George. “If this is some kind of joke, George Xanadu Weasley, it is absolutely the worst that you have ever come up with.”

My parents had died before really knowing about me. I wonder if my mother would have been as traumatised as Molly seems?

“Not a joke.” He drums his freckled fingers on the table, those strong, skilled fingers that have caressed my body, inside and out.

She pales. “All these times you’ve visited - together - and you’ve never told me? You could have owled, even, you know. I am your mother.”

“Exactly.”

I open my mouth to say something, but Molly raises her hand. “Remus. Don’t say anything. Yet.” She shakes her head, myriad expressions on it, most of which I knew well at one time: shock, confusion, hurt, anger. “It was one thing for you to be involved like that with Black. I didn’t understand it, but at least you two were the same age.”

“Age has nothing to do with attraction,” George interjects.

I wonder what images have leapt to her mind. She looks decidedly uncomfortable, even more so when George takes my hand. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, but I thought you should know. Even Fred came around after a while.”

“Fred is dead.”

“You know what I mean.”

Molly sighs, then looks at me, then George, at our intertwined fingers. “This is a bit of a shock, you do realise,” she says, resolving herself to something, though I’m not sure what. Even if she does accept it, doing so this quickly would not be like her. “I’ll need to tell your father, George.”

“I can do it,” he insists, but she shakes her head forcefully. “You don’t understand. If it’s possible, he wants grandchildren even more than I do.”

George laughs, a barking sound. “That’s what’s bothering you?” His expression is incredulous. “You’ve got Charlie, Percy, Ron and Ginny for that. And you’ve already got three as it is!”

“This is not funny,” she fumes. “Each of you is unique. Even you and Fred.”

“Well, I’d always failed in your eyes anyway.”

“Never,” she says, eyes flashing. “You disappointed me sometimes, but that was ages ago. Surely you don’t still hold that against me, after all our family has been through.”

Dour silence hangs in the air, tangy on my silenced tongue.

“No, mum, I don’t,” George acquiesces, letting go of my hand as he gets up from the table to go and stand behind her. He enfolds her in his arms and she grasps them to her. George closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of his mother’s hair. “But if you love me, you need to accept this.”

Molly’s eyes shut. This is too personal. I shouldn’t be here, but George had asked me to join him.

“I do love you, George,” she whispers.

***

“Well! That wasn’t too bad, now was it?” George has his arms clasped around my waist, back in his flat.

I roll my eyes. “If that wasn’t bad, what is?”

“Ron will be horrified. Won’t want to talk about it, but Hermione will make him, and she’ll drag both of them over here in a matter of hours. Now that will be awkward.”

He disengages himself and pads off to the kitchen. “Pint?” he offers from the other room. “And then a celebratory shag is in order. No more hiding about stuff.”

He comes back with two beers, hands one to me and clinks the bottlenecks together. “Here’s to us,” he says. We both take deep swallows, then he pulls me by the hand to his bedroom.

“I never told my parents,” I tell him, and he turns around, steps close to me, sniffs at my neck and closes his eyes, smiling.

“I know.”

I look down slightly at his face, expressive eyes, and talented lips, which are forming some of my favourite words: “Want you. Now.”

My body is already responding to him when a crashing sound comes from the fireplace behind me.

“Bloody hell!” George exclaims. “Um, Remus, there’ll have to be a raincheck.”

“Calm down, Ron!” Hermione’s voice carries from the corner.

“Welcome to the family,” George says and kisses me.