Ginger Lust

Happy (?) Monday, if there is such a thing for many of us in the working world. I hope that this post-War, Ron/Severus vignette makes your day more pleasant.

Author: redsnake05
Title: Unpredictable Terrain
Rating: R
Warnings/Potentially disturbing elements: None
Prompt: If the enemy thinks of the mountains, attack like the sea; and if he thinks of the sea, attack like the mountains.
~Miyamoto Musashi
Word Count: 2180
Pairing: Ron/Severus
Beta: The very lovely tjwritter and stuckinsea
Summary: People change. Firm footholds crumble, and a new approach is needed. Fortunately, Ron is a master of strategy.



A shadow crossed the chessboard as he played old games from memory in the bustling tea garden.

“Ah, I remember that move. Yes, where Potter stood steadfast as the mountains, you ebbed and flowed around him and he never saw the tide coming in.”

Ron’s hands did not falter over the board, and he continued his unhurried movement. “Yet Harry’s legacy remains firm while I drift rootless and battered. Have a seat, Professor. I was expecting you.”

Severus Snape pulled up a chair and sat down. The merest tilt of Ron’s head brought a waitress with a new cup.

“Were you, now?” asked Severus. “That’s interesting. I wasn’t expecting myself until I came.”

Ron glanced up, face glinting with quiet amusement. “No? But it’s the first full moon after the first new moon after six days after your last visit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ron pulled a parchment from his bag and handed it to Severus, before returning his eyes to the chessboard. Severus perused it in haughty silence before crushing it in his fingers. Silence reigned. “You’ve doctored the figures,” he said, at last.

Ron did not reply, but he did abandon his chessboard and lean back in his chair. His eyes surveyed Severus Snape with his ever-present quiet amusement. Severus remembered Albus Dumbledore’s damnable twinkle, and wondered if Ron would appreciate the resemblance. Probably not.

“I suppose, then, that it’s useless of me to express my surprise at seeing you here, in this rather noisy tea garden in an obscure temple in a backwater of central China?” he asked, instead, pleased that his voice came out sounding haughty rather than petulant.

“And it would be equally useless of me to express my wonder at what you could possibly have to say to me. And you know the soft spot I’ve got for Chinese backwaters.”

Severus relaxed his face into a real smile, seeing Ron’s face break into a smile. Severus remembered a time when Ron smiled constantly, but now they were rarities. “Yes, you have spent rather a lot of time in obscure Chinese monasteries,” he agreed, “but I do have something new to say to you this time.”

“If it’s about my mother’s health, I’ve already been to visit her.”

“Believe me, Weasley, the life of a fugitive has not yet reduced me to caring about your misbegotten, ginger family.”

“And if it’s the job at Hogwarts, forget it.”

There was silence.

“You’ve been gone a long time, Ron. Five years.”

“Shall I remind you of your extra year of absence?”

“I have no friends or family who miss me, or who would appreciate my support.”

“True. Yet how would you visit me, regularly, every full moon after every new moon after six days from your last visit, if I were holed up in a castle in Scotland? Besides, they see me at least as often as they see Charlie.”

Severus watched Ron swirl his tea in the bottom of his cup before up ending it and perusing the patterns in the leaves as if a mystery was unfolded there.

“You see, Severus, my old friend, there is no life for me in Britain. Harry is dead. I stood beside him and raised my wand as his second and stood over his body as the end crashed down, and I stayed and cleaned and laboured and served my community. And I was empty. What was I without Harry? Best mate, lover… should I add substitute to that list?”

“You are not empty now.”

“I sit like a blank parchment waiting for the brush,” countered Ron.

“That is demonstrably not true. One of your tattoos is clearly visible under the edge of that shirt.”

Ron laughed softly and Severus smiled at the change it made to his face. He sobered and held his tea leaves out to Severus, offering them to be read. Severus waved it away with an impatient hand and Ron wordlessly swilled them out and poured a new cup.

“Why don’t you go home, Ron?”

“Why don’t you, Severus?”

“You are not wanted for the death of your mentor, a man respected and admired throughout the wizarding world.”

”Nor are you wanted for a figurehead, as a prop, support and symbol, as a substitute for your dead lover.”

“I would argue that my scenario is worse.”

“You may see it that way.”

Ron sipped his fresh tea thoughtfully.

“Shall I go home, Severus? I could settle down, teach, marry, breed. I could be respected and held up as a hero anywhere in the Isles. I could turn my hand to something more useful than this contracting I do now. But will I find more substance there than I have found on my wanderings?”

“It would please me to think that you had found roots.”

“Severus, I have my roots. When I close my eyes I see them, the long line of the dead, the short of the living.”

Severus was silent and his hand shook a little as he reached for his cup. Ron leaned forward swiftly and his hand covered Severus’s. Blue eyes locked with dark.

“You are part of that tangle now, Severus. Did you not know that?”

Severus shook his head and Ron sighed. Severus was never quite sure how Ron flanked him each time, until the maneuver was complete and Severus was left floundering on the flats as the tide ran out.

“Let’s go.”

Ron stood up and paid the waitress, his translation charms honed by so much practice that his Chinese came out smoothly. He led Severus from the bustling tea garden and toward the exit. Heads turned excitedly at the two foreigners – so tall and slim, such a contrast in colouring, since foreigners were rarely seen here

“Apparition?”

Ron shook his head decisively.

“We’ll take a taxi. This place is pretty crowded.”

They sat pressed thigh to thigh in the confines of the taxi. Ron paid and headed inside a nondescript hotel. He took Severus to the counter and embarked on an animated dialogue with the receptionist. Accustomed to this, Severus tried to smile and look pleasant, signing the piece of paper thrust at him and wondering how Ron managed to update his fake Muggle passport so well, and when exactly he had become such a fixture that Ron had a fake Muggle passport for him.

Ron led the way to his room. Ron’s voice jolted Severus from his musings.

“I got a suite this time. It seemed more decadent somehow. Besides, this was the only way I could get a double bed, and it has a bath, which is a rare commodity in these parts.”

Severus could feel feral anticipation wash over him and risked a glance at Ron, whose face mirrored it. Severus could nearly taste Ron on his tongue already. Ron opened the door and allowed Severus in.

“Do you remember the first time you brought me to your hotel room, Ron?”

“Of course. How could I forget? We managed to fight so loud we broke the silencing charm.”

“What on earth made us think that talking in private would be a good idea?”

“It worked in the end.”

Ron stalked forward from his place by the door and captured Severus’s face in his hands, leaning in for a hungry kiss.

Severus kissed back, hands automatically going to Ron’s hips to pull their bodies together.

They shed clothes in a haphazard pile on their path to the double bed. Severus pushed Ron backwards onto it and followed eagerly, stretching over Ron’s body and reaching in for another kiss. Ron’s hands wrapped around Severus’s back, sliding down and cupping Severus’s arse.

“Slow down,” groaned Severus, burying his face in Ron’s neck and thrusting down sharply. Ron hissed in satisfaction at the friction. Severus rolled off Ron and aligned their bodies side by side. He cupped Ron’s face in one hand and kissed him slowly.

“Make it last,” he murmured. Ron pressed closer.

“I don’t think I can,” he moaned. “Severus, I want you so badly.”

“Wait for me, Ron. Let me make this good for you.”

“Always good with you.”

Severus looked into his face, now open and flushed with want. Severus felt a shiver of achievement at bringing that look to Ron’s face. Ron was so controlled and self-assured these days; Severus always felt a surge of triumph when his control unravelled. He felt the same surge when his own control disappeared and Ron took the lead. Their times together were always explosive.

Severus gripped Ron’s hands and moved them up to grasp the headboard. Then he moved down Ron’s body and explored it with the heady sound of Ron’s moans in his ears.

His control started to slip, so he quickly prepared Ron and slid inside as slowly as he could, making the most of the delicious tightness. They thrust together, kisses sliding roughly over necks and ears, whispered pleas and a few muffled endearments passing between them.

Ron shuddered deeply and came with a low moan, Severus following close behind him. Severus slid down onto Ron’s chest and their breathing slowed. Severus slipped free of Ron’s body and Ron waved a wordless spell and cleaned them both.

They drifted happily together.

They lay in a sleepy tangle of long, pale limbs; Severus sprawled on top of Ron, one finger idly stroking his chest, one of Ron’s broad hands splayed across Severus’s shoulder blade.

Severus trailed his finger down and over the tattoo he had commented on earlier. The phoenix ruffled his feathers and eyed Severus beadily.

“This is new.”

“I found a great wizarding tattoo artist in Shanghai.”

“Why a phoenix?”

Ron shrugged as best he could with Severus on top of him.

“I realised, a few weeks ago, that I have forgiven them all. Voldemort. Dumbledore, that conniving old schemer. Even Harry. All of them. And a phoenix is not just the symbol of that struggle. Not anymore.”

“But you still won’t go home.”

“No.”

They lay together quietly. Severus could hear Ron’s pulse drumming a shade too fast and wondered what was coming.

“I have a question for you,” said Ron, quietly.

“Go ahead.”

“The first time. Was it an accident?”

Severus looked up to see Ron’s eyes fixed on him intently. Not a time for evasion. “No. I had been looking for you for some months,” he said. “I’m guessing you’d now like to ask the logical follow-up to that answer – why was I looking?”

“Actually, I expected you to ask me a question first.”

“There’ll be one.”

Severus’s hand slipped from Ron’s side to his stomach and he moved slightly, so he could see more of Ron’s face. “You know Dumbledore asked me to watch and protect Draco and Harry.”

Ron wondered when Harry had stopped being Potter in Severus’s mind, but didn’t ask, instead offering a light response:

“Professor Dumbledore, Severus,” he intoned in an uncanny impersonation of Dumbledore’s gently reproving tone.

Severus snorted into Ron’s collarbone and continued. “Yes, him. Well, I did that. You know what it cost me. You know, better than any, to what degree I was successful. Yet, as I wandered and had time to think, I realised that you were always part of that equation too.”

“So you hunted me down out of a misguided sense of duty?”

“At first,” replied Severus, in a gentle voice.

Ron considered this and smiled. It was a cheeky, almost arrogant smile, and Severus lifted his head from Ron’s shoulder, propping himself on one elbow, the better to take it in.

“Your question,” said Ron.

“Why didn’t you turn me in to the Aurors?”

“By the time you found me, I had been wandering for a while. Like you, I had time to think. I had time to pull apart every last sticky thread of the web Dumbledore and Voldemort wove. I had learnt some valuable lessons from unconventional teachers.”

Ron shifted and Severus was dislodged so they lay side by side, looking full at each other.

“There are worse punishments than a Dementor’s Kiss, but the Kiss is one that no one deserves.”

“So it was a misguided sense of pity then.”

“No doubt you consider a misguided sense of duty a more noble foundation on which to build a relationship.”

“Relationship?” echoed Severus. His eyes flew swiftly to Ron’s face, which was alight with pure devilry. He grinned reluctantly.

“Why do you think England holds no allure when I could be shagging you?” Ron asked, voice light and teasing, but eyes very intent.

Severus relaxed onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know,” he said, “I think I like this mature, grown up Ron Weasley.”

“Well, while you’re feeling sentimental, let’s negotiate a shorter interval between your booty calls.”

“Booty calls?”

“Yeah — these visits you make for us to shag each other senseless and declare our mutual admiration.”

Severus looked up at Ron in surprise and laughed. He pulled Ron to him for a bruising kiss.

Ron kissed back with abandon. Severus could never tell if he was the mountains or the sea to Ron’s attack, but he was content to be captured.