What Eyes Can See

Chapter 8 - Sleep

"Eat it."

"I don't want to."

"Eat it."

"I don't want to."

"Eat it."

"What part of 'I don't want to' don't you understand?"

"I've been quite suddenly struck deaf. Eat something."

"I. Don't. Want. To." Ron glared. "When can I get out of here anyway?"

"Whenever you eat something," Remus said sweetly.

"Argg!" Ron threw his hands up into the air. Stubborn asshole. "Why are you here anyway? It's not like you care."

Oh fuck. Really bad choice of words. That was pretty much the one thing I should not have said. Can I take that back? Where's that ruddy Timeturner when you need it...

Remus stiffened. "Fine. Since you don't want me here, I'll leave." He stood up and moved toward the door.

"That's not... I didn't mean it like that." Ron said softly. It's just... Hermione and Harry made their perfunctory visit and then went on their merry little way. It's like they don't care so much anymore, Ron thought bitterly. And I'm sorry, but I Saw three people die before my very eyes. It put me in a bad mood. I didn't mean to take it out on you, but quite frankly you're the only one here.

"I'm just... I hate being sick," Ron added. "I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'll eat some ruddy toast, if it'll make you happy."

Remus sighed and moved back towards the bed. It's very difficult to be mad at you when you look at me like that. Do you practice that in front of the mirror? The puppy eyes and the pouting lip?

"It would make me feel better if you ate something, yes." Remus reached out and pushed a piece of wayward hair back behind Ron's ear. "Please eat something."

Score! The puppy eyes work every time. You know, normally, having someone fuss over me is just annoying. But this... I could get used to this. For one, we're talking again. Nothing like near-death and a headache like no other to bring out the best in people.

"Maybe toast and juice?"

"Slave driver."

"Normally you won't stop eating, and now you complain about toast and juice?" They bickered good-naturedly and Ron ended up eating most of what was on his plate before he realized it.

"Hey! You tricked me!"

"I used that one on Sirius all the time. Not with food, but with his homework. It was amazing how much work he could do when he is mind was somewhere else. Of course, his mind usually was somewhere else anyway."

"Hermione certainly doesn't need that kind of encouragement."

"No, Miss Granger needs no encouragement in that area. At all."

"Kind of like Harry with Quidditch."

"And you with food... at least most times."

Yup, the Brain, the Jock, and the Human Disposal. What a group. You can figure out which one provides the comic relief. Slowly, Ron retreated back into himself. Which one of us is the running joke?

"Can I leave now?"

With a level of timing usually reserved for those with psychic abilities, Madame Pomfrey swept into the room, removed Ron's breakfast tray, felt his forehead, and cast a reproachful look at Remus in what seemed like the exact same moment of time.

"You're not warm... though you still look a little sickly. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Honestly, I think I just needed to eat something. And I was a bit short on sleep. Nothing big." I'm getting better at lying through my teeth too.

Clucking her tongue Madame Pomfrey handed him his regular school clothes. "Get dressed then. Off you go now Professor. Let's give the boy some privacy."

Privacy? Sorry, we've shagged. Nothing he hasn't seen before.

Is there some sort of irony in that?

~~~~~~~

You know, maybe I'm not a Seer after all. Maybe I'm just... you know, epileptic. Or not. Maybe I have an overactive imagination (Mum always accused me of it anyway) and I think I see things. I mean, I'm a horny teenager. Imagining Remus and I was nothing out of the ordinary. And any idiot could tell it was going to snow. And imagining Snape glaring at me? That only happens, what, twenty times a day? And the Seerer's dreams... just nightmares. Really bad nightmares, sure, but still nightmares. I'm no Seer. If there's a little girl named Marie on a farm out there somewhere... I'm sure she's fine. Right. And... and it's not as if there is a little girl named Marie anyway. Right. No little girl's named Marie on farms... waiting to die...

Ron shivered and wrapped his robe tighter around him even though it was stifling in the Charms classroom.

~~~~~~~

Ron didn't like to sleep anymore.

Sleeping meant dreams - dreams, not visions - and dreams meant spacing out and voices screaming and scary images flashing on his eyelids. Dreams were not good. Sleeping was not good. So he contented himself with lying next to Remus and watching him sleep. Remus looked younger when he slept. He relaxed and dreamed and muttered softly sometimes. It was almost therapeutic.

He'd watched Remus become hard in his sleep a few times. Watched him and he wanted, oh God he wanted to touch him. He's sleeping, his mind screamed. What would he know? And he looked so gorgeous, so delectable, so beautiful lying there. Softly moving, the whispers of the fabric and his skin driving Ron mad. Remus whimpered in his sleep, and mumbled things unintelligibly. And Ron burned with want and envy. How he wished he was the one Remus dreamed about. He wanted to be the one Remus wanted to touch and kiss and *fuck*. Ron wanted his mate, badly. Once, Remus had rolled up against him and crushed Ron to him. Remus had been hard. Painfully so. And unthinkingly, Ron had pressed up against him. On some nights the thin fabric of the pajamas had seemed like armor. Then it had seemed as insubstantial as air.

Oh God. Ron had squeezed his eyes shut, tortured tears streaming down his face. Oh God. Fuck. That was stupid. Remus... please... Having him that close, that way, pressed up against him. And when Remus woke up...

He woke up.

It was no more than Ron expected. Remus pushed away, rapidly untangling himself from Ron and the bed sheets and stepped quickly out of bed. He was pale, the muscles in his face taunt and near inscrutable. He was probably more embarrassed than Ron had been at being found weeping.

Except Remus really hadn't been embarrassed. He'd been horrified.

Oh God. What kind of person am I? God... he was crying. Fucking *crying*. It must have brought back... brought back the memories. What was I thinking, sharing a bed with him? I'm a selfish, selfish bastard. For a moment, he thought that he too would cry. Cry for what he had done to Ron. Even the wolf had been uncharacteristically silent.

Ron, trying to hold on to some shred of dignity - and what dignity is really left when you've been turned down again? - had gotten up and walked stiffly out of the room.

And then Remus had sat in a stony silence, feeling dirty and a monster. He was sure he wouldn't see Ron for a long time - not until the pain became unbearable, at the very least. More likely he'd be waiting until hell froze over. But Ron had shown up that night. And the next. And the next. And each one after that. Neither ever spoke of it.

~~~~~~~

"Good morning Mr. Weasley."

And so begins yet another horribly awkward morning.

"You can call me Ron you know." Ack, where did that come from? That was not planned. Ron kicked off the covers and stepped out of bed. "You haven't since... that night. And you can if you want to." You fucked me near senseless, you can call me Ron. Ron started to crack his knuckles. Now, now Ron, positive thoughts.

Remus blinked once. Twice. "I-I'd like that. Ron."

Ron beamed. See? Positive thoughts.

It stunned Remus a bit to see one of Ron's smiles aimed at him. Flushing, he turned back to his papers.

Ok, so he didn't return the smile. Keep trying. I really am a dumb fuck, aren't I? He keeps shooting me down, yet I keep on trying. "So what's that?"

"Pop quiz," Remus said absently. Then his eyes widened. "Shit."

Ron laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Well, maybe Harry and 'Mione.

Remus smiled lopsidedly. "The twins would have owled the whole school by breakfast. They would have been extraordinarily amused."

Ron stepped away from Remus, his good mood ruined. For once, can I not be compared to my family?

"I'm not my brothers," he said softly. As everyone loves to remind me. Trust me, I know. I know they were smarter, funnier, better, whatever. They wouldn't have ever gotten in a situation like this. "I'm not the smartest, I'm not the Quidditch star, I'm not Head Boy and I barely made Prefect. I can't make people laugh like the twins and I'm not incredibly popular. I don't have my own niche as the only Weasley girl like Ginny. I'm just Ron. A little bit of everything and not enough of anything. I'm just... Ron." He sighed a bit, twisting his hands around. "Just Ron, all right?"

Remus felt a surge of anger. Ron wasn't so much talking to Remus as he was talking to himself now. Who had made him feel so inferior?

He grabbed Ron's chin, forcing the boy to look him in the eyes, his anger momentarily making him forget his vow not to get too close to Ron. "You're not 'just' anything. Maybe you don't have as many O.W.L.S. as Percy or you haven't won as many Quidditch matches as Charlie. Maybe you don't see yourself as cool or funny - and I sincerely hope you're not a girl." Ron smiled tremulously. That's better. "But you're Ron, and that's special. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not Malfoy, not your family, not anyone." Remus ran his thumb gently down Ron's cheek. "You are special Ron. Very special."

"You held my face like this before. Remember? That night at the Shrieking Shack."

"I remember." It's not something you forget. "I was trying to tell you to run. I knew it wasn't safe."

"I know that now." Hindsight's always 20/20. "I'm sorry." Sorry you're stuck with me forever.

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault." It's mine. You trusted me, you trusted you'd be safe. And you weren't.

"It's not your fault either." Whoa. Your face is awwwwwfully close to mine. You wouldn't mind me leaning in a little, would you?

Remus sucked in a breath, fingers splayed across Ron's jaw. "Ron..." Just one kiss... I promised... not the first move...

Please please please please...

Their lips met tentatively, each unsure of the other's reaction. So unsure and so very afraid. Who would push away first? In the end, neither did, neither pushed away. Instead they both moved closer. Because it seemed so very right, so very easy for Ron to wrap his hands in Remus's hair, for Remus to place his hand on Ron's back, for them to press their bodies together. It was only natural for Ron to find himself sitting on Remus's lap, perfectly normal for Remus to be busily working on taking off Ron's pajamas. Perfectly normal for heaven to have found it's way to earth.

"Ron..."

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Remus licked his way over the bitemark on Ron's neck.

"Oh God." Do that again. "Please..." Ron decided that that whimpering noise could not have just come from him. He didn't whimper. There was no way he... "Ohhh. Remus..." Ron pushed up against him, groaning. Please, don't stop. "Remus... Remy..."

So now you call me by my nickname? Remus thought, or rather he would have thought if his brain had been capable of working at that point. Having a lapful of squirming Ron was highly distracting. Not in bad way, mind. It just made capable thought impossible.

Then, dimly, dulled by the walls and floors and all the people and things in between, the clock in the Great Hall chimed eight times.

Ok, maybe capable thought wasn't completely impossible. Shit. He briefly considered throwing caution to the winds... surely Dumbledore would understand... and they could tell everyone that Ron had fallen sick again... but no. Remus pulled back from Ron, reaching up to touch his face.

"I-"

"Don't," Ron interrupted. "Just... don't." With a small sigh he lay his head down on Remus's shoulder.

All right. A-all right. A gentle smile crossed Remus's face. They could do this. "It's... we have classes to go to."

Right. Right. Stupid school. Like I'm going to be able to concentrate in class today. "Technically, I have classes, and you get to teach them. I do the homework and you just assign it. You've got it easy."

Remus's smile widened. "What do you say we switch? I've got first year Hufflepuffs in half an hour."

"On second thought, perhaps not."

"That's what I figured."

~~~~~~~

"You're in a good mood."

"Mhmm. But if you take it any farther than that, you're in for a world of hurt."

"So..." Harry trailed off.

Ron sighed. If a 'so' could be a sentence, than that 'so' was a paragraph of questions. "No. We didn't do anything. Well, I mean, we did something, but not *that*. And before you ask, no, I am not being more specific."

Harry grinned. "Ohh, you're psychic as well as prophetic!"

Ron shook his head. "Nope. I am one of the un-Seeing. I am the anti-Christ of Seers. And I'm as psychic as Professor Trelawney."

Now Harry shook his head. "Whatever Ron. If you're not a Seer, than... than Professor Trelawney is," he added lamely as he strode into Charms. "And God knows she's not." Harry pushed his way into the classroom.

"But I'm not a Seer either," Ron murmured helplessly. "I'm not..."

Ron crumpled slowly to the floor.

~~~~~~~

A picture frozen in time, a desperate scene. A woman leans against the wall, her face ashen. There is a tall figure, cloaked and dark and forbidding. He ///yes, a man\ is jovial, in a good mood. The woman wants to yell, wants to cry, to scream, but her fear will not let her. She would plead for her life if she could. But her fear holds her captive. She waits, waits for what will come.

Do you know the best part of killing?

Wide eyes, teeth chattering.

Watching. There is nothing like watching the life pour out of someone. Magically. Or just observing the blood as it spills. That's not for you though. No, I'll torture you first.

He speaks as though he talks of the weather.

Violent shudders.

Death is such a beautiful thing. I will watch you die. And it will bring me pleasure for many nights to come.

F-freak...

Freak? If anyone is the 'freak' here, it is you. Someone of a wizarding family, yet without an ounce of magic within them! You are the freak.

He draws his wand.

Crucio.

There is no screaming this time. No blood. Just silent spasms as the woman kicks and thrashes her way across the room. The quiet laughter of the Death Eater is echoing. Echoing in her ears and in her mind. She breaks her own bones as she throws herself against the furniture. She tries to scratch out her throat. And all he does it laugh. Laugh like a child at a carnival. He is still laughing as he Disapparates.

And still she shakes. She's dead, but still she convulses, still she moves in a mockery of real motion, real life. She's not stopping. Is she ever going to stop? Stop, stop, stop-

"Stop! Stop it! I hate you. I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you Ihateyouihateyouihateyou..."

God. I can't. I can't I can't. I can't take these people in my head. I can't... I can't See what happens. I'm not there. I'm not the person doing it. I'm not the person dying! I can't. I can't. It hurts. It hurts too fucking much. Like a heartbreak in my head, like... like I'm the one dying but I don't feel it right.

"Incendio!"

Hiss.

And that was it, that most beautiful, beautiful sound. The fire crackling over his leg, blistering the skin and tainting it's perfection with a sanguine redness. That sharp burst of pain that took over everything in his mind, a blessed nirvana achieved through agony, a clarity of the mind that can only be found in the darkness of torment. The pain tells you one simple truth: You are still alive.

Ron clutched his leg in pure suffering, and was grateful.

~~~~~~~

He stopped touching Remus.

There more it hurt, the less he thought. The less he ate, the less he slept, the more clarity he could find. His kind of clarity.

Harry and Hermione had 'a talk' with him. (Didn't it seem like they were doing that a lot lately?) 'You need to eat' blah blah blah. 'You should sleep more' blah blah blah. So he faked it. Did you know the more you cut up your food, the less it looks like? And most things are quite receptive to the 'Reducto' spell. A whole plate of food to seeming crumbs in seconds! And sleep... who needs sleep? Sleep means dreams, and dreams are bad. Been down that road before. Right. It only makes sense.

Pain was his salvation. Pain was everything now. The physical was more powerful than the mental, and whatever kept the visions at bay, even another kind of pain entirely, was a price he was more than willing to pay.

((( I know, I know... the deep pits of angst and pain and general not-goodness. But only one more chapter, and everything will be all happy go lucky, loosey goosey, who gives a good goddamn happily ever after, all right??!?!?? Are you happy now!?!?!?

*Breathe... just breathe*)))