What Eyes Can See

Chapter 4 - Minutes

It had been exactly fifty-six minutes since Ron's world crashed down around him. It had been forty-one minutes since he told Harry and Hermione, and he had been lying on his bed for thirty-eight. How many minutes, he wondered idly, until I die? Fifteen? Fifteen thousand? Fifteen million? Well, fifteen million put him at... two hundred fifty hours, nice round number... which made... about... ten thousand days... which was roughly twenty-seven years. That's a long time.

Ron bent over and reached for the pillow he had thrown on the floor. Maybe thinking in minutes wasn't such a good idea.

~~~~~~~

Remus opted for dinner in his room. There was almost no chance that Ron would be in the Great Hall for dinner, so what was the point? He was willing to be neither of them felt like eating anyway.

~~~~~~~

Ron rearranged his blankets for what must have been the sixty-eighth time that night. When did I start counting everything? With a sigh he kicked off every blanket except his sheet, rolling onto his side and began to watch Harry, who was snoring quietly. He was rather grateful towards Harry at the moment. When he had refused to go to dinner Hermione had raised a big stink and probed and prodded him with questions until he felt like snapping. As if she didn't know what was wrong! But Harry had led her to the door and promptly threw her out. Then he'd sat on the bed next to Ron and they'd stayed that way for almost an hour, Ron lying in bed clutching his pillow and Harry staying patiently beside him. Ron thought this was because Harry understood what it was like to be nudged with questions you didn't want to answer because you didn't want to think about it. To be fair, battling with the Dark Lord was probably a bit more disturbing that what Ron had been through, but he thought it was traumatic just the same.

So now Harry was snoring softly and Dean was snoring loudly and Seamus was wheezing and Neville was making no noise at all. Ron stared blankly at the ceiling, as if it had any answers. Sleep was a long time in coming.

~~~~~~~

Sunday morning dawned early and Ron was there to watch it. He had fallen asleep for only an hour or so, which had left a lot of time to think. And think he had. So far, he'd come to exactly two conclusions:

1. He still loved Remus.

Now this was not horribly smart, since Ron didn't think Remus loved him back. In fact, Ron thought this was one of the dumber things about himself. What idiot still loved the person that hurt him? But love is a strange emotion, and not as fickle as one might imagine. So. Ron still loved him.

2. He was hungry.

Hey, he was a growing boy and he'd missed dinner. Ron grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Sunday morning enlightenment. You still have much to learn young grasshopper.

~~~~~~~

Well, he had to eat something. Remus hadn't eaten any of what the house elves had brought to his room last night, as his stomach was accusingly reminding him. Tea and toast. Something.

Must keep my strength up after all.

Remus was half hoping, half-dreading seeing Ron in the Hall. He fairly snuck down the corridors, feeling like someone had hexed a red 'A' on his forehead. Except maybe it was 'R' for rape instead of adultery. Perhaps 'D' for defiler of innocents. Or 'W' for werewolf. No, it must be a 'G'. A big fat 'G' for guilty.

His arrival at the High Table went nearly unnoticed. It was too early in the morning for most students and many of the teachers as well.

There was a small stir at the Gryffindor table.

"He's here."

Hermione smiled gently. She seemed to have gotten the message that no questions was the way to go. Harry didn't seem to be in too much trouble about the whole 'throwing her out' thing. "He has to eat too you know." Surreptitiously she exchanged a look with Harry. "Ron? Are you sure you're all right?"

He turned, neither smiling nor frowning. "I think... I'll be ok. Right now I'm not, but... later I think." He hadn't told them about all the things he'd thought about last night. Like that he still loved Remus, and that Remus didn't love him. How do you explain that to someone? Normally you win someone's love and then sleep with them, not the other way around. Add in the fact they were blood-bound and you got a magical soap opera. Yes, yes he could see it now... 'As the Moon Changes'... or maybe, 'The Moonstruck and the Magical'... hmm. Possibilities.

Ron smiled a little then. Hogwarts certainly had the makings of a soap opera. He had identical twin brothers (a must in any soap), a bad guy (Voldemort), racism (the Slytherins attitude toward Mudbloods), rivalry (House Cup and Quidditch), and loads of gorgeous people around. There was the perfect couple of Harry and Hermione, and the odd couple (sort of couple) of Ron and Remus, ands tons besides them. There were lots of rooms (which meant lots of beds), lots of magic, lots of teenage angst, although there was no well for Timothy to fall into... perhaps someone could get trapped in the Chamber of Secrets? Oh wait, that all ready happened. Ron repressed a sudden shudder. Things were quite dramatic around here weren't they? Like someone was dictating all this for the amusement of an audience...

Whoa, paranoid much Ron? He chuckled. What a silly idea. Well, at least his delusions were making him a bit cheerier. He looked up at Remus boldly. Since he was sitting behind him and up towards the left there was no way to look at him under the pretense of doing something else.

He looked rather tired. Well, Ron knew the feeling. Their eyes met for a split second, and Remus flinched away. Face burning, Ron turned his attention back to his eggs. Yup. Still hates me.

He looks as though he hasn't slept a wink. Wonder why. Probably having nightmares...

About you, a snide voice popped up in Remus's head. Go on, finish the sentence. Nightmares about you. You hurt him! Poor kid's probably afraid to go to sleep. Traumatized him for his whole life. His whole life in which he's stuck with you.

Remus poured himself a cup of tea and drank it slowly, relieved to see his hands weren't shaking overmuch. Nervous habit.

Two people so in love in love with each other, so concerned with their mistakes and their flaws they never considered that the other person might actually love them in return.

~~~~~~~

Ron rubbed his chest for what must have been the sixteenth time that day. There goes that damn counting again! Ohh, but it hurt so... like a kind of ache...

Divination. Is this crap supposed to makes sense? With an exasperated sigh Harry slammed his book shut. "So what's happening to you this month?" Harry and Ron had spent the day in the common room, pretending that nothing new had happened and that nothing had changed. Pretending seemed to be the name of the game these days.

"Oh let's see..." Ron picked up his parchment and began to scan it. "On the 5^th Jupiter is rising and I'll become more in tune with my Inner Eye... on the 17^th Pluto is in it's last house, which signifies an end to a period in my life... on the 18^th, Pluto leaves the house and a new period is established, but it starts off with a great wronging... on the 29^th..." he trailed off, noting Harry's gape mouthed stare. "What?" he asked defensively. "Just because I'm actually doing my homework..."

Harry jumped up and ran over to peer into Ron's eyes. "Hermione, is that you in there?"

He pushed him away. "Cut it out Harry. Divination... I'm actually starting to like it."

"Now I know it's not Hermione. But are you really Ron?"

"Idiot. I'm serious. I think, maybe, I really am good at this."

Harry stopped teasing. "Really? Any of it come true?"

"Welllll... yes... but also not really. I mean, sometimes, I just zone out, and it's like... I don't know. But my star charts are making sense and two months when we were doing Lithomancy- "

"What?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "When we were interpreting the stones, remember?"

"Oh that. Why didn't you say so Ron? You make things so difficult."

That sentence sort of bounced around in Ron's mind. You make things so difficult... Harry noticed the stricken look on his face and sent him a sort of apologetic look, not that he really knew why Ron was all angst-y, but because he guessed it had something to do with Remus. Ron shook his head defiantly. He was not going to think about that right now. Denial is good. Even self-imposed, knowing denial. Now there's an oxymoron.

Ron cleared his throat. "Well, after you predicted I'd be mauled by grindylows, fail a test, receive third degree burns, and fall off my broom twice, I decided to tell my own fortune. And... it worked. Or it seemed to anyway."

Slowly Harry got to his feet and pulled his chair up next to Ron's. "What did you predict?"

Ron laughed, slightly hysterical now. "Well, with the placement of the stones, and their colors, and hell, even their shapes... it was like picture. Like when you look at the constellations, which are really just stars but somehow you see animals or people from them. It was like that... that's the best way I can describe it I guess." It was... it was like looking into a pond and seeing something beneath the surface, but it keeps rippling and moving and you just can't get the entire picture. "What I saw... I saw what Remus and I did in the Shrieking Shack." He blushed. "I thought, God Ron, horny much? But I don't know... it's so strange now." Is that really what I saw? Or my imagination? I don't know. Stop messing with my head. I don't want to See... I don't...

"Do you think you should talk to Dumbledore?"

"No. I don't... I don't wanna talk about it with anyone really. I don't want us to talk about it anymore." And he turned back to his books, leaving a hurt but slightly awed Harry to watch him.

Do you know how many Seers go insane? How many end up killing themselves over what they're Shown? You don't understand Harry. Every wizard child is told the tales of Cassandra, whose visions of disaster were never believed, of Ursula Lumen, who predicted the rising of Mordred and was stoned to death for it, of Mordred himself, who turned to the Dark Magicks to stop the voices. Only these are all real. I could be any of them.

I just want to be Ron Weasley again

~~~~~~~

Remus rubbed his collarbone absently. Whatever this was, it was starting to really hurt. It wasn't really hurting his stomach... it wasn't heartburn or anything so simple. He paused, carefully setting down the stack of essays on his desk. He couldn't think of any curses or hexes an enterprising student might have put on him. He'd never heard of any magic sickness like this. An aftereffect from the Claiming? Frowning, he rose and strode towards the library.

With a nod to Madame Pince he entered the Restricted Section. He looked up 'werewolves' but there were far too many books. Cross-referencing with 'blood-bonds' he still came up with more than forty. Sighing, he wrote them down and prepared himself for a long night.

"... little is known about blood-bonds among werewolves..."

"... blood-bonding is an ancient and revered tradition. The exact origins are unknown, and the magic behind it is still mostly unresearched..."

"... spirit magic and heart magic seem to be at the basis, though many insist body magic is the binding force..."

"... the lifemate and the werewolf need to have physical contact from time to time, as much as the body needs air or water..."

"... blood-binding can result in increased speed and strength..."

"... lifemates often share pain..." Does this mean Ron is in pain, and I'm feeling a sort of echo of it?

"... weaknesses as well as strengths may be passed on..."

"... unsuccessful blood-binding ceremonies often end in death..."

"... bitemarks are said to ache or hurt depending upon the lifemate's emotions, physical condition, or a range of other factors..." Because of the bitemark then...?

With a growl filled with pure frustration Remus stood. It could be anything or nothing. He was so worried he didn't notice that he had again begun to rub his collarbone.

~~~~~~~

Ron dug himself deeper into the mattress. Two nights of insomnia in a row. A rather disturbing trend for a boy that slept like the dead, and often. Damn ache. It had been steadily building ever since Saturday morning. Ever since the Claiming.

Ron scowled into his pillow. Why did everything have to go so wrong? He'd been in a nice spot before that mess, wrapped up in Remus's arms... He grumbled into his pillow. A very nice place. Unbidden, his fingers began to move down his body, tracing his ribs before moving lower, over his hipbones and under his pajama pants to where he was all ready hard.

He imaged Remus the way he had been, wild and completely unashamed. His eyes had shone a bright gold and his bronzed body had glowed in the early morning light. And his body... his body had been all planes and angles, not overly muscular, but hard and well developed. And well, Hermione had been right. That brown hair with flecks of gray... sexy. Very sexy. He remembered how Remus had crushed him to his chest, grabbed his wrists and kissed him near senseless. And when he bit him... God, that was where the trouble started. But it was so erotic, so sensual. Remus had broken the skin cleanly, and there was a clear, biting pain through the cloud of pleasure. Such a contrast, like Remus himself. Gentle and kind, yet savage and capable of going after what he wanted. And what he wanted then was Ron.

Ron remembered the look on Remus's face when he'd scraped his hands down his back, the noise he made when he came, how it felt when he'd entered him. How everything broke and put itself back together again, but in a way that made everything look different. Ron's breathing became heavier. He remembered how he wanted to tell Remus he loved him, how he wished he'd done it. How right now he wanted to be where Remus was, to be in Remus's arms, to be in Remus to have Remus in him Remus -

Ron didn't think in metaphors. He wasn't thinking that Remus had made his bones melt and his spine crunch up and his toes curl in pleasure. He didn't think that Remus was so perfect as to be a sculpture, a masterpiece of sun and sand and life. He didn't think that alone he would die like a flower without sunlight or a wizard without magic or a wolf without space to run. No, Ron decided that tonight he wouldn't think at all, he wouldn't know what words meant. He was lost in a place of scents and sensations, a place of remembrance and how things felt.

The ache in his chest had lessened for a moment, but it was back now. Increasing and growing heavier, it sat like a stone in his chest. He rolled to the other side of the bed. He was going to sleep, and dream. Dreaming was good for now. Good enough for the moment.

Why...?

But then he remembered that he wasn't going to think. And he wasn't. Thinking was too difficult.

~~~~~~~

Remus woke up slowly, his movements stilted and slow. What is this? If it didn't lessen soon, he'd go see Poppy, despite his better judgement. That would mean covering for the scratches on his body, and there was really no way to casually bring up the side effects of a werewolf claiming in a conversation now was there?

But the really important thing about today was The Plan. The Plan was the result of his nightlong thinking. First, cold hard facts: He was bound to Ron for his whole life. He could never love anyone but Ron. Ron could never love anyone but him. Then, the truths: He loved Ron. Ron didn't love him. Now then, class, what is the only available option? Right. Get Ron to love him. Trust him again. Not be afraid of him. And probably not in that order either.

So. Guidelines. Don't crowd him. Don't get impatient. Don't even get near him on full moons. Don't make any sudden movements, he thought wryly. Wait for him to make the first move. Just don't... don't push. Don't get in the position to hurt him again.

This was going to take a really long time.

But if it worked... if it worked, it'd be worth it. Ron was worth it.

Provided, of course, it works.

~~~~~~~

"Ron? Are you ok?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." If fine is feeling like I have a Quaffle under my ribcage. What is up with this? The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Remus is near...

Now how he knew that he couldn't tell you. But he knew it, he just did. And it was true. Remus had just entered the Great Hall.

Ron... there he is. Involuntarily, he took a step towards the Gryffindor table. Then another. Another...

What am I doing? he thought frantically. Get your ass back up to the High Table! Hurriedly he turned and sat at his normal place. He flushed, his hands shaking as he poured his tea. What was I thinking?

I miss Remus. The thought came to Ron out of no where. He frowned, but realized there was really no arguing with your inner voices. Yeah. I do miss him.

"C'mon Harry, Hermione," he said dully. "Time for Potions." Belatedly, he realized he hadn't done any of his homework. He considered explaining to Professor Snape that since he'd been shagging Remus he hadn't had time to do his homework but ultimately decided having two teachers drop dead from heart attacks wouldn't be good for Hogwarts reputation.

Harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Surprised, Ron turned towards him, realizing his thoughts must have transferred to his facial expressions. "I'm all right Harry. Really." Except now there's two Quaffles in my chest...

~~~~~~~

Goddamn ache. Remus impatiently scratched at his neck.

The Ravenclaws he was teaching watched him intensely, bright-eyed and much too quiet. He hadn't felt particularly good-spirited when he'd begun the day and his Slytherin class had certainly not improved on that curses. And the damn ache! Suffice it to say Remus was not in one of his better moods.

He glanced at the hourglass on his desk. Class was past over. Too bad. He still had to give them their homework. Then he could go and... kill something. Or someone. He'd never liked that Malfoy boy... Snape perhaps...

"For next class I want seven inches on the variations of the Hallitis curse. Define their uses, time of discovery, and any laws or restrictions on their uses or teachings."

The door flew open.

Ron? What is he doing here.

"Class dismissed."

The Ravenclaws filed out, as neat and orderly as always. They watched calmly as Ron walked in past them, no doubt storing the information away for their own purposes.

Remus felt his heart lighten at seeing him again. God... I just want to touch him! He drew a steadying breath. Don't make the first move.

When the last student was gone Ron finally looked at Remus.

"Remus..." Ron gasped breathlessly. God, the pain was horrible. He launched into Remus's arms, almost immediately feeling a lessening of the ache inside his stomach. He didn't know how or why... ok he knew why (Stupid Claiming!), but he wasn't sure of the whole having-to-touch-Remus thing. Only one way to find out...

"I have to touch you, don't I?" he asked softly.

"Yes." Remus was surprised at the steadiness of his voice. "It's... required."

Ron relaxed against him. So he'd have this at least. Even if it was clandestine and Remus barely seemed to tolerate it. He was unyielding in Ron's arms. Sighing, feeling the pain that had built in him slowly replaced with a new kind, the emotional kind, Ron turned his face from Remus quickly. Shit. He was getting all depressed again.

Why? he wanted to cry. Why can't you just love me? I'm sorry, all right? So fucking sorry...

Remus shifted his footing awkwardly. Gradual letting of the pain aside, holding Ron was... nice. Too nice. He could feel his body's reaction and was desperate not to scare Ron off completely.

So, they were required to touch? A lot, it seemed, for it had been barely two days and the pain was excruciating. If Ron could grow to accept this... maybe...

Albus may have had a point after all, he thought ruefully.

The pain was gone. And if it was gone for him, it should be gone for Remus too. Ron took a step back. Surely Remus wouldn't want him to clinging any longer than necessary.

"I'm fine now," he said quietly, by way of explanation.

"Me too." Remus regretted that Ron had let go so quickly. He must really fear him. Not that he blamed him. He'd had no control, nothing. Ron must look at him and see only a monster.

"I... I suppose we... have to do this... daily?" The ache would return soon. Were they going to be joined at the hip for the rest of their lives?

"It seems so. The books I've read haven't been very specific. They just mention physical contact is required." Lovely. I've never sounded more clinical in my life.

Daily. I could live with that. Or with more. Ron straightened the edge of his robes. "I'll... I'll come down every day then. Is after class all right?" He was rather surprised at himself. Only one stutter. Moving up in the world.

He's so nervous around me. Scared. Fuck.

"How about after dinner? I give students extra help after the classes end for the day."

Quidditch practice is before dinner, so... yeah, could do that.

"All right. After dinner."

Ron stood there for a second, bending and unbending his toes inside his shoes. Guess... I'll just go now... He turned to leave.

"Mr. Weasley!"

Can't call him Ron anymore. Don't deserve too.

Can't call me Ron anymore. Don't deserve it.

"After dinner, I'm in my rooms. In the third hallway, statue of Kylar the Conqueror and Rosalyn the Seer. The password's 'Zion'."

Remus's rooms... no, there are to be no thoughts there. None whatsoever.

With one last glance Ron left the room.

The only place I want to be is where I just left.