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Seraphim Beneath The Christmas Tree	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Ron Views: 8943 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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A/N: Hello! So you wanted him to respond, huh? ;-) Alright
then! Thanks for your reviews:

Onyxsonal �Making Harry feel
better is going to be an interesting one I do intend to deal with!

EvaNone �It might be a while
coming but I promise this will have a happy ending. :)

Kai �hello again ;-) He�s responding.

Sheree �Sex under the Christmas
tree didn�t quite happen then. Give me time *cackle*

Morganabythesea �promise you this
time, happy ending (but you know me, the drama llama� I�m not promising it�ll
be easy!) is guaranteed.

Davinci �glad I could endear you
to Christmas!fic though the
whole thing won�t take place during that. The rats� names have a story �I own
pet rats and they were going to be my next, but we�ve made the decision now to
stop after our last one goes so I gave them to Ron instead. I love rats,
they�re fab pets.

Hairsprayx12 �Okay, seeing as you asked so nicely!

LoveLee �thank you, there�s a lot
of relationship evolving to be done, as well.

Hope you all continue to enjoy this and thank you for
reading. I have done some planning, this will probably be around 10-13 chapters
long, I reckon� I have the plot outlined and am ready to go!

This chapter is mainly transitional, and it involves my
favourite kind of Weasleys �somewhat emotional ones. (I�m cruel I know. I love
them really).

---------

How on earth do I put
this? What do I even want to put?

Severus sat at his desk in the bedroom, hand poised to write
over a blank sheet of paper, Ron�s letter positioned
above it so that he could clearly see what the redhead had written to him. Tea
and biscuits long gone, he had sat for two hours thinking over what had been
said, and the night he had spent with the vision from the past.

He had awoken at ten, it was now midday and the church bells
were ringing out over the village once more. Severus� eyes lingered over Ron�s
words about sending a Patronus, and how if he could not wait to send it before
one.

I am not conjuring my
Patronus. I am never conjuring one again.

With the same determination with which he had wrestled his
curiosity for all the things Ron could have told him, had he only asked, the
night before, Severus pushed the pen he held down onto the paper.

�Ron,

Return when you can. I
would be grateful for your presence. However, I appreciate that it is a long
way to travel. Wait until you have the time.

I apologise for the
length of time this will take to reach you �the muggle postal system is always
hectic around Christmas and never recovers until the New Year. If this does not
make it until then, I hope you have not wasted too much energy moping that I
have not written.

S.�

There was no way in hell Severus was putting his name to
anything. Everything from the night before had shaken him up �from the way the
redhead had stared in shock at seeing him alive to his brutal honesty about the
war, Severus� supposed death and his own heartache, and more than those things
put together, the way the man had caused a fire storm within his chest until he
had thrown him against the bar and given himself up to intimacy like he hadn�t
in years.

Severus stared at what he had written, knowing it would seem
relatively impersonal.

He seemed to enjoy my
personality last night. He called me a bastard several times. Maybe he finds it
attractive.

Lips curling into a wry smirk, Severus turned the pen over
in is fingers.

It would seem he is
unable to make things easy for himself. Bouncing from her to
me.

At that thought the slightly joyful presence on his face
vanished and he looked down at the letter guiltily, as though it held all of
his sins on the paper.

He isn�t in the
position to deal with me and my issues. I should not send this.

His hand moved to grab the sheet and screw it up. He had
things that he should be doing and imposing on an old student was not one of
them. But his fingers stopped short of curling around the paper.

He left me the letter.
He has given me the choice but made it clear he wants to be in contact. If that
is all it is, contact� and sex�

Severus shook his head then at his own stupidity. As if it would stay so. He�s crying out for
someone to teach him how to feel as deeply as he wants to be felt for. That
much was obvious from the way he grabbed me�

Thoughts then threw him back to the evening before, where
sweaty bodies and gasping breaths showed him just how much Ron wanted exactly
that.

And you want that as
well, Severus, don�t you? A voice sounded in his mind which he hated to
admit, even after all those years, sounded very much like Albus Dumbledore. It
was the voice which perked up whenever Severus doubted himself, whenever he
tried to omit whatever had given him happiness in his miserable existence. He was good for you. And you know that. What
it felt like to feel again, feel for something other than the past. To have someone very live in your arms�

He shook his head again, but that time to clear out the
infuriatingly chirpy voice.

Yes, just like bloody
Albus. Severus scowled and picked up the envelope already addressed with
the location Ron had left on the bottom of his letter, a stamp stuck in the
corner.

Why bother dithering? I
will send it. He has already said he is willing to mask my identity.

Whether that would change if their meetings progressed into
something more than sex, Severus didn�t have the mental capacity to consider at
that moment. He picked up the letter, folded it in half and slid it into the
envelope. He licked the seal, closed it and tried to wash away the disgusting
taste of the dried gum from his tongue.

Eight years and
everything still bloody tastes ten times stronger than it should.

Severus rose and reached for his jacket, pulling it around
his shoulders and zipping it up. A scarf followed it on, old and definitely
having seen better days. Ron had not asked many questions after he truly
accepted Severus� reluctance to speak about what he had been doing for the
missing years. That reluctance sparked from his pride refusing to let him admit
he�d spent eight years in relative poverty, eating very little and living on
the poor balances in the muggle bank accounts he had held even when he was
working in the wizarding world.

How their positions were reversed, it seemed. Severus had
been proud to see the Gryffindor hothead having made something out of his life,
holding such a respected position with good earnings. But it did not take a
genius to see that Ron was hurting.

After eight years and
then being practically spurned at the altar I think I would hurt too.

Severus reached for the letter and turned from the bedroom,
his eyes sliding over the bed which had been the setting for their union the
night before. Images flashed through his mind again of a soft, creamy pliable
body stretched out by his side, the musky aroma of skin wrapping around him
just like, seconds later, Ron�s toned and muscular body had done.

Legs
longer than a bloody gazelle.
None of a gazelle�s grace, though� He smiled thinking of the poor Christmas
tree.

Severus slipped out of the back door of the pub checking the
keys were in his pocket. He made his way through the snow to the centre of the
square to the post box, topped with a thick layer of snow. Without stopping to
dither further, Severus shoved the letter through the rectangular slit, and
then turned away, ramming his hands in his pockets. It would take a good while
to get there, and he had time to think.

***

�I know I�ve only been back a few hours, don�t look at me
like that,� Ron groaned, holding Peaches up in his hands to eye level �the rat
was glaring with accusation. �You know I have to go to Mum�s for dinner.�

The rat made an angry grinding noise and Ron sighed.
�Penny�s not this mad with me. You could at least take a leaf out of her book.�

He placed the rat back inside the impossibly large cage and
closed the door with a quick tickle behind Penny�s ears. �At least you still love
me, Pen.�

He shivered slightly and made his way through to the
bedroom, loosening the towel around his waist. Top half dried naturally by the
cold air of the flat, he searched for the first clean clothes he could find,
which were somewhat creased, but would have to do.

Mum�ll just attack me with an ironing spell
anyway� should save myself the hassle and do it first�

But he left his wand on the bed and enjoyed the freedom of
being able to wear creased up clothes out of the house if he wanted to. As confused,
miserable, cold, lonely and grumpy as he was �there was something to be said
for being single again.

Just need to find
someone to settle the sex issue and then we�ll be well away. Friends
with benefits?

His thoughts flitted back to Severus as he tugged jeans on
and warmth flooded through him, remembering the masterful way his body had been
teased into climax four times by the dark-haired male. And as his hands brushed
against his cock when he did up his zipper, he wasn�t particularly surprised
that the memory was enough to make him hard again.

I�m not going mad. It
was never like that with her. Ever. I never got leg
cramp from clenching with anticipation in eight years� and yet five hours with
him�

Ron slipped into old trainers and grabbed his comb from the
end table cluttered with everything that should have been living on a dressing
table he�d yet to order. He didn�t even have a proper mirror so he just dragged
it through his hair and blow dried it a gentle stream of hot air from his wand.

Jasmine. I wonder why on earth his hair smelt so womanly? I�m not complaining� it was nice�

Ron looked somewhat guiltily at his pillow, beneath which
lay a bottle of perfume which had accidentally slipped into his belongings when
he�d grabbed them from their flat. Hermione hadn�t contacted in three weeks
asking for it back, but as it was her favourite she would most definitely
notice it was missing.

Just for now. I�ll get
rid of it in a few days. I don�t need her if she doesn�t need me. I can get
through this.

He took a determined breath and headed back into the living
room.

***

Curled up on his parents� old, lumpy sofa, legs up by his
side and trainers discarded on the floor, Ron carried on the determined vein.
Open in his lap was a glossy catalogue from the furnishers in Diagon Alley. In
one hand he held a bottle of cider and in his right his wand, with which he was
tapping the images he wanted to select.

�Don�t buy a light sofa,� Charlie said, throwing his arms
over the back of Ron�s seat cushion and resting his chin down on them. �It�ll
just get dirty.�

�Well, I�ll put charms on it,� Ron shrugged. �I want it light. I�m in a
basement flat, remember, it doesn�t get much sun��

�You look like you�re going for some girly beach house
look,� Charlie commented, peering at the other items Ron had selected.

�And if I am?� Ron turned his head and raised a challenging
eyebrow.

Charlie looked back at him with teasing eyes but said
nothing. Ron turned back to the catalogue and ignored the implication of his
apparently feminine furniture choices.

Nobody is telling me
how to decorate this flat. It�s mine and mine alone.

�Mum wanted me to say dinner�s not far off,� Charlie pushed
up again and set a gentle hand out to ruffle Ron�s hair.

Ron stayed put, not dodging away as he once would have done.
Rough, calloused fingers messed through his hair and he surprised himself by
almost leaning into the touch.

Way to give yourself
away� what screams �I slept with a bloke last night!� more than suddenly loving
the touch of all of them, even your bloody brothers� oh, ew�

�Don�t buy a light sofa,� his mother commented walking in
from the kitchen, her eyes catching on the catalogue in Ron�s lap.

�I told him that,� Charlie laughed.

Ron closed the catalogue before any more comment could be
passed. �Anyone else coming today Mum?�

�Just you three,� she shot a glance round at Ron and Charlie,
then George, who sat quietly gazing into the fire as though he were trying to
unlock a secret from the flames. �Harry and Ginny are away, Bill and Fleur
wanted the day to themselves with the children and Percy�s with Audrey�s
family.�

�And yet you�ve still cooked enough for the entire lot,�
Arthur appeared in the room.

�Well considering I had the three biggest eaters here it
seemed sensible,� Molly threw her sons a smile and disappeared again when there
was the sound of a pot boiling over from the kitchen.

�Everybody telling you how to decorate
your flat?� Arthur winked at Ron.

�Oh yeah,� Ron rolled his eyes with a wry smirk. �And you can
bet your life if I listen we�ll get three months down
the line and they�ll tell me I should have chosen something else.�

�That�s the way this family works,� George commented, having
snapped out of his musing and rejoining the conversation. �Or had you
forgotten?�

�Welcome back to the land of the living,� Ron smiled at him
and took a mouthful from his bottle, chucking the catalogue down by his side.

�You�re decidedly cheery,� George looked at him with
surprise.

�It�s called determinedly gritting my teeth and ignoring everything,� Ron
grimaced. �Y�know, just because
I�ve done moping for three weeks and I�m sick of it.�

�Does get you down,� George�s eyebrow rose in agreement.

�If you two are going to get all miserable I�m going,�
Charlie announced.

�I�m happy,� Ron said forcedly, and looked down the
bottleneck, missing the sad looks the three other men in the room gave him.
�It�s Christmas, you should be happy at Christmas.�

�Not when you have nothing to be happy about,� George
reasoned.

�Well, then you find something to be happy about,� Ron sighed, and because they
were dangerously close to breaking through the fake wall of happiness, he
jumped off the sofa and headed into the kitchen to see if there was anything he
could help his mum with.

And give them their
chance to talk about me behind my back, like I know they�re dying to� don�t see
why they can�t do it when I�m not here�

�Need any help mum?� he set his bottle down on the table and
stepped over to the cooker, immediately stirring the first spoon he found in a
pan.

�No, nearly done,� she looked at him. �Stop it, phantom
stirrer, I am in complete control.�

�Sorry,� Ron immediately dropped the spoon with a grin,
remembering how his mother hated people interfering with her cooking
preparation. �Smells great.�

She gave him a warm smile and stepped up to put her arms
about his waist. �Such a good lad you are.�

�Who�d have thought it, eh?� Ron rolled his eyes.

�You came from me,� she pulled away with a wink. �How could
you not be?�

Ron snorted at her familiar response and picked up his
drink, ambling slowly to look at the back garden. There was none of the snow
down in the south-west that there had been when he�d left Scotland that
morning, where the flakes had still been falling at four when Severus had
crashed out in his arms and Ron had stayed awake. Even though he had showered,
Ron could still find the jasmine in his nose.

Fucking
bastarding jasmine. Will not go away.

�Are you alright, Ron?� The question floated over to him.
�Would you like to stay here tonight?�

Ron swallowed and stayed facing the garden, hiding the sad
smile on his face. �No, mum. I�m going home. I have to
start treating it as such sometime, right?�

�Christmas night maybe isn�t the best time to do that,
though? You�ve had a rough month��

�I know,� Ron shrugged, watching one of the chickens peck
confusedly at the snow. �But life goes on, mum. I�m not going to let this rule
me.�

He heard the discontented sigh in her throat but was
relieved when she merely said, �Well, it looks like dinner�s just about done.
Can you set the table?�

***

It was odd that their usually large numbers were reduced to
just five. Ron knew that had to do with his and Hermione�s break up.

Why on earth would
anybody want to come and share a fucking table with me?

Harry and Ginny had booked a break away for Christmas with
surprising speed after the failed wedding, and Ron, though he had been hurt,
didn�t particularly blame Harry. He understood the amount of turmoil his best
friend had been through, and that now that he and Hermione had split, Harry was
torn between the two like he had been so many times in their youth.

And it�s not like I
expected him to hang around and wipe my nose for me� Ron picked up his wine
glass.

�Ah ah ah,� Molly scolded.
�You can�t drink before we�ve toasted.�

Ron fought down the urge to roll his eyes and held his drink purposefully.
�What are we toasting?�

The resonance in his voice made it clear he thought there
very little to toast, and he thought of what Severus had said the night before,
about not celebrating Christmas because there was very little to celebrate.
Despite how miserable he felt about Hermione, and how it should have been their turkey sitting in front of him,
Ron felt an urge to leave his family home and let his feet carry him back to Scotland.

No. The firm word
made him blink. His
choice. This has to be his
choice. My name is everywhere, I�m high profile and he needs to think about
this. Even knowing that hadn�t stopped Ron being disappointed when no
Patronus had materialised before he�d left for his parents� house.

�What we usually toast: good health, common sense and not
burning the turkey,� Arthur gave him a gentle smile and Ron laughed his usual
laugh.

He raised his glass into the air, muttered, �cheers� and
drank, not bothering to clink with anybody at the table. He just wanted the
wine. Sparkling, fruity and sweet like it usually was for Christmas Dinner, it
felt right. His stomach gave a gurgle as the scent of the food washed over him.

�Not yet,� George gave him half a smile. �Got
to try these out first.� He pointed to the crackers lying by each plate.
�A new invention.�

�Are they safe?� Charlie asked teasingly.

�Moderately,� George shrugged and picked one up, handing it
to his curly haired brother.

�What do they do?� Molly asked with blatant apprehension.

�Fortune telling Christmas Crackers,� George gave a massive
tug and there was a loud snap, a puff of glitter (most of which landed in the
stuffing) and then a spooky voice emanated across the table.

�Beware the black cat�s scratch; love will come in the form
of a winged messenger�.

Ron burst into sniggers at the cheesiness and said, �So�
which one of you was that for?�

�Charlie has the bigger half, so him,� George waggled his
eyebrows suggestively. �Winged messenger, eh� sly bugger you are, Charlie��

�Your turn,� Charlie nodded at Ron who reluctantly snatched
up his cracker and thrust it to his right to pull it with his mum.

Shifting with the effort whilst pink glitter settled a fine
layer across the top of his wine, Ron came away with the bigger half and he boredly waited for what the voice would come up with for
him.

�Romance beckons with a dark-haired figure; be prepared to
search your soul.�

Ron stared at George. �How accurate are these readings?�

�It predicted I�d spill my tea down myself in the shop the
other day, but then it also told me I�d spend Christmas in Hawaii. Hit and miss?�

�Bet it�s warm in Hawaii,�
Ron rolled his eyes, but inside his heart was fluttering indecently fast.

Dark-haired figure� I�
Oh, it�s just a silly bloody cracker, and of course I�m going to fucking soul
search, I�ve just been dumped.

Ron felt better when the next cracker predicted that Molly
would be buying a wedding hat in the near future. With the rest of her children
married, and the three at the table desperately single, it seemed the cracker
had completely drawn a blank and it made him feel infinitely better about his
own prediction.

Whatever happens with
Severus�? I can�t ever see it leading to �romance�. He�s not the� he doesn�t
seem the kind of bloke to tolerate that. So� snippy.

�Right, can we bloody eat now?� Charlie whined.

�Language,� Molly reminded him.

�Mum, please. The youngest at this table is twenty-six,� he
shot her a doleful look and pointed at Ron.

�You�re just digging deeper,� Ron speared a roast potato on
his fork. �Reminding her of her own age isn�t the way to get your stomach
filled.�

He ducked sideways as his mother reached to clip him on the
ear and they fell to laughing and talking through the meal. Ron ate with unusual
slowness, easing his stomach into what he could tell, from the volume of food
making the table creak, was going to turn into one of �those� lunches where he
ate three rounds willingly and was forced into a fourth and fifth by his mother
and sent home with another two in boxes.

�Excelled yourself this year, mum,�
Charlie sucked up with a wink.

�You say that every year,� she smiled indulgently.

�It�s the truth,� George sighed, setting down his fork. �You just get better
and better��

�Is that all you�re eating?� Molly shot him a glare and looked down at his
plate.

�I�m full,� George muttered, and picked up his drink.

�You can�t be-�

�Molly,� Arthur said quietly from the opposite end of the
table with an authoritative finality.

Ron kept his eyes on his food so he wouldn�t see the worried
look which, as usual, would pass between his parents and the way his
twenty-eight year old brother would blush at the way everyone seemed determined
that they knew best for his welfare.

Not for the first time that day Ron felt a hurtful pang in
his chest for his missing twin brother who would be screaming bloody murder if
he could see the wreck his twin had been reduced to. Thinner than ever, George
could have passed for anorexic. He kept assuring everybody he wasn�t, and he did eat. It just never seemed to provide
him with any kind of nourishment. His skin always had an unhealthy pallor and
his eyes were darkened by the loss made worse by the cursed hole on the side of
his head. Ron had helped him the best he could, in terms of the joke shop, but
when it came to his soul and heart, it just seemed everyone was steadily giving
up the longer time went on.

Which
is fucking horrible. He�s one
of us and yet none of us can do anything to help him. Ron felt ill thinking
it over, and he had to pause on his intake to let his stomach settle.

�Alright?� Charlie looked at him worriedly across the
table. �Don�t tell me you as well�� his eyes looked at Ron�s plate. �I�m a big
bloke but I can�t manage this all by myself��

�Pacing myself,� Ron smiled, hopefully convincingly, and
continued eating.

***

Collapsed, stuffed to the brim and unable to move, Ron
groaned at the ceiling of the living room.

�If I ever see another potato��

�You�d save it and eat it when this lot�s gone down,� George
snorted.

�Ah you sod. You know me too well.�

�Mm,� George agreed, where he was looking back into the fire
again.

�You�re going to make yourself blind if you keep that up,�
Ron told him, thinking the continual glare couldn�t be good for George�s eyes.

Not bothering to stifle his yawn, George turned away from
the fire and looked at Ron. �You look like shite.�

�Didn�t get any sleep,� Ron murmured, and let his eyes close
as he shifted his head on the back of the sofa.

�Why not?�

The question hung in the air as Ron thought on how to answer
it. �Just couldn�t get off.�

�Sleeping draughts are a beautiful creation.�

�And get addicted to them like you?� Ron cracked open an eye warily.

�Shh!� George hissed, his pale
face growing angry as he snapped his head round to check their mother was
nowhere near. �You tell anybody and I swear to God, Ron-�

�Keep your pants on,� Ron sighed. �You know I�ve kept bigger
secrets than that.�

Like the dirty great
collection of scars on your arms. Ron shut his eye again and listened to
the fire crackling.

There were a multitude of things he kept from his mother�s
knowledge concerning George. He knew it was wrong, but it was what his brother
wanted. And they didn�t keep it from his therapist who counted.

She would rip my balls
off if she knew.

�Ron?� George�s quiet voice cut across the living room.

�Yeah?�

�Can I go home with you tonight?�

�Thought you were staying here��

�I was.�

�You can come if you want but I haven�t got anywhere for you
to sleep.�

�Floor�s fine.�

�It is not,� Ron protested half-heartedly.

�I�ll do a cushioning charm if it makes you happy.�

Silence fell again and Ron thought how much good it would do
George to find a place of his own �it wasn�t as though he didn�t have enough
money. But he kept to the poky flat above the shop, or his and Fred�s old
bedroom at The Burrow �and neither place did him any good at all.

Ron thought of his own new flat and the clean break it awarded him and wished
he could convince George to make the same jump. And pigs might fly�

If my clean break is
his too, then fine.

***

�Wow, you really don�t
have any furniture, do you?� George looked around the flat.

�Nope,� Ron breathed, carting the food his mother had
despatched them with into the kitchen. �I told you, it�s minimalistic.�

�It�s bloody miserable,� George rolled his eyes. �Hey, Ron,
what�s this stuff in the corner?�

�What stuff?� Ron frowned, closing the door of the fridge
and appearing in the open doorway from the small kitchen.

George was pointing at box which was by the fire, which
they�d both ignored on stepping through the Floo in favour of divesting
themselves of everything Molly had packed them off with.

�No idea,� Ron walked up to it and bent down for the note
attached to the top, which he pulled off.

He unfolded the parchment and his heart shuddered. He was
looking at the neat, loopy, undoubtedly girly handwriting he had known since he
was eleven, and seen scribbled over a thousand pieces of homework, on loving
notes stuck to the fridge, on love letters sent by owl even though there was no
point as they�d see each other face to face the next hour...

Looking down at Hermione�s handwriting made him want to sick
up everything he�d eaten, but he held onto it, at least thinking he should read
what she�d said first.

�Ron,

Merry
Christmas. I know that�s not
the right thing to say. For once I�m at a loss of what to say. I hope you are
alright. I�ve sent these back to you because they are your favourites and you
bought them; they should be rightfully returned to you.

Hermione.�

�What does she have to say for herself?� George asked in a
quiet voice.

Ron chucked the note at him and dropped onto his knees to
open the box, though he already knew what it contained.

Hermione had condensed their muggle television, DVD player
and several of his films and sent them back to him. He wasn�t sure whether he
was glad or not. Wetness pricked in his eyes but he blinked it away, determined
he was going to be strong, at least whilst George was there. He got to his feet
and pulled out his wand, sending the television to free stand on the floor as
he had nothing to rest it on, and put the player on top. He enlarged it to the
correct size and plugged them both into the wall of the muggle and therefore
electrically fitted flat.

�Not bad, this electricity lark, is it?� George looked at
him.

�No,� Ron agreed. �Got no idea what the bill is going to be
like though.�

�So what are we watching then?� George fell onto his knees
and rummaged around the box.

�You choose,� Ron nibbled on his lip. �Back in a sec. Just got to get the girls some dinner.�

Peaches and Penelope were splatted
against the side of their cage, bellies roughing against the bars, watching
them both.

�Do they miss Hermione?� George asked, looking at them thoughtfully.

�Funnily enough, I think they�re glad she�s gone,� Ron
smiled at them slightly. �She would never let them play like they wanted.�

�Well I�m glad you have them,� George said, looking at the
DVD box. �What about this one?�

�Ah, that�s kind of� well. Relationships and stuff,� Ron
looked at him pleadingly.

�But it�s got �hate� in the title. How can you call a film
�10 Things I Hate About You� and have it be about
love?�

�It�s a good film, I just�� Watched it with her, all the time, thought about her, loved her� �Fine,
you set it up and try not to break anything. I�ll be back in a bit.�

***

�Do you think you could make a list yet?� George asked
quietly as Ron clicked off the television with an aching chest.

�I don�t hate her,� Ron muttered miserably.

�Most people would��

�I�m not going to hate her just because she fell out of love
with me,� Ron looked at him. �I wish she�d told me earlier-�

�As in, before you�d put your dress robes on��

�Well yeah,� Ron gave him a grin. �But� no, I don�t hate her, George.�

�I hate her for you,� his brother muttered darkly.

�I�m not up for a slanging session,� Ron groaned, rubbing
his hands hard over his face.

�There must be something that you could put to paper to make
yourself feel better for being rid of her?�

Ron heaved a sigh from his position on the floor, wrapped in
a huge hoodie with a rat in each of his sleeves. �I
already� well. Lets just say I�m realising things were off for a long time. I
notice things I can do now which she always bitched about, little things, like
chewing my lip� Didn�t realise quite how whipped I was, to be honest.�

�She was always really bossy� you did mellow her, though. At the beginning.�

Ron looked at him questioningly.

�Well, I guess like you� now it�s over we all look back and
see what signs we missed that it was going awry.�

�What did you miss?�

�How quiet you�d become,� George answered instantly, turning
his head to look at Ron. He was lying on his back, body stretched out in front
of the television. �You�ve talked more these last few weeks than you have in
years� and you�ve been miserable. When you�re back on form you�ll be Ron again,
not that any of us could really tell he�d gone. I�m sorry, Ron.�

�I know you are, but I don�t know why,� Ron gave him a bemused glance. �It was
nothing to do with you.�

�Really?� George raised a miserable
eyebrow, and looked away. �I�m� not so sure. I�m sorry, Ron, even if I was the
tiniest reason for it.�

�She� well. One of her parting stings was that at times it
felt like there were three people in our relationship; me, her and you. But
that was bollocks, from my point of view. It�s not like you ever fucking curled
up in bed with us.�

�But I was best friends with your sofa,� George sighed, and then, as so many
times before, Ron saw him disappear behind his arm.

Just
like I did last night with Severus. Huh. Must be a family hiding trait.

�George,� he sighed softly. �Please God don�t find something
else to blame yourself for.� Ron got to his feet and extracted Peaches from his
sleeve, pushing her back into the cage with a quick kiss. Penelope followed and
Ron shut the cage door, whispering, �Woo, well done, nobody peed on me!�

Then he turned back to George on the floor and sat down next
to him, giving his brother a nudge in the side. �You
alright?�

�Are you?� George�s tone was slightly strangled.

�Better than I thought,� Ron murmured back.

�Good for you,� George obviously meant it but his upset
clouded the words.

�Look, are we going to waste time on that whole hiding
thing? We both know you want a bloody hug so why don�t you just sit up, have
it, and then we can go to bed?�

Ron had long since stopped asking himself if it were normal
to spend as much time as he did hugging his nearly thirty-year-old brother.
There was no point in bucking the trend when it was obvious that George was
very ill and hurt, and eight years on it was likely he would always be.

She thought it was
weird too. And she hated how close we got.

Anger flared through Ron that Hermione had been angry with
him for spending time and trying to help George heal.

�Alright, I�m fine,� George insisted after a minute and
pulled away, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

�You�re not fine,� Ron rolled his eyes and got to his feet.

�Well no, I�m not, but I�ve had my instructions from mum��

�What?� Ron asked, walking to the bedroom to drag out a blanket and a pillow.

�I�m not to depress you any further than you�re already
depressed.�

�Did she actually say that?� Ron reached into a pile of
stuff in the corner for the blanket.

�It�s what she meant,� George called back.

Ron had lost count of the amount of times George had fallen
out with his mother. Whereas George had always been the quieter twin, on Fred�s
death it seemed he had ingested some of his fiery spirit and spent around
eighty-five percent of his time picking a fight with his mother. They both just
wanted the best for each other, but were liable to explode at any minute,
seemingly embroiled in a �no, I�m mourning him more� fight which had spanned
the years and never faded out.

Swallowing the lump in his throat Ron grabbed one of the two
pillows off his bed and chucked it with the blanket at George as he walked back
into the living room.

His flat was interestingly laid out. It was a basement flat
and was reached by steps downward off the street, where there was a tiny little
paved area with left over pots belonging to the last resident. His front door
was beneath the steps leading to the flats above. The door opened straight into
the moderately sized living room, and the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom led off
it. The kitchen was as big as the living room and held the back door to the
shared garden. The bathroom served its purpose and his bedroom was just big
enough for his double bed, then a wardrobe and a dresser when he eventually got
round to buying them. It was enough for him despite its poky nature.

When I get off my
backside and buy some paint I�m sure it�ll look a lot better.

�Can you do me a favour?� Ron asked suddenly.

�Want me to go and hex her?� George sighed dramatically.

�No. Save that for the anger phase of healing,� Ron advised.
�I�m sure I�ll take you up on it then. No, I was thinking. Can you take the
girls for me tomorrow?� He jerked his head at the rats. �I�ve got the time
between now and New Year off. Was thinking I could get this place decorated before
the furniture comes, and I don�t want them inhaling paint fumes. They�re only �ickle.�

�You�re entirely too protective of them,� George made a face.

�They�re my babies,� Ron scowled. �Will you take them or
not? And no feeding them shit again no matter how much they beg for cheese and
onion crisps.�

�I�ll take them,� George rolled his eyes.

�Thanks. Well. Night. If you get
bored with the floor at least try and give me some warning before clambering
into bed with me.�

�No chance, you kicked then you were
three, I don�t fancy contending with the twenty-six year old Auror upgraded
version.�

Snorting, Ron gave him a wave and turned back into the
bedroom, gently closing the door and then he rested his forehead against the
closed wood, shutting his eyes with his fingers still touching the handle.

Okay. So. It sort of worked.

He pulled off the door and turned to his bed, sitting down
on the edge whilst he kicked off his trainers and looked at the clock.

11:57. What was I doing this time last night at 11:57? Being
royally fucked up the arse� Godric�

His crotch sprang to life as he thought it over, but then
out of the corner of his eye he saw the perfume bottle sitting there, uncovered
by the fact he�d taken the pillow for George. A lump instantly sprang up in his
throat and he reached out for it, pulling off the overly decorated bottle cap
and raising the spray to his nose.

The sweet scent curled into his senses, surprisingly girly
for everything else about Hermione that had not been. He had bought her it for
her birthday, knowing it was her favourite �a point hammered home by the fact
it was December and that had only been four months before and a quarter of the
bottle was already gone.

11:58. He looked
at the clock and focussed on the glowing red display, trying not to let the
digits blur.

A shiver passed over him and he hugged his arms to his
chest, one hand keeping the bottle near his face so the smell wouldn�t leave
him.

Why does it smell
good? Why does it smell like everything I remember? Shouldn�t it smell like
poison now she�s left me? Shouldn�t I hate it; shouldn�t I hate being reminded
of her? Fuck�

11:59.

He looked at the spray, feeling pathetic for the way he
thought that she would have touched that part the most; that her hands, so
slight and feminine, had held the bottle so many times she had to be imprinted
on it.

I�m just tormenting
myself. This has to go down the sink before I drive myself insane. I have to
get rid of it.

12:00. Thank fuck for
that.

And with that Ron gave up holding back the misery which had
been trying to get out of his chest since reading Hermione�s note on top of the
items she�d sent, and fell backwards on the bed, tears spilling randomly over
his face.

Well, I didn�t cry on
Christmas Day, I at least stayed true to that.� Ron hated to admit that he was crying at all,
and it was with a particularly rough wipe that he reached up to swat his tears
away. Why, why am I crying over someone
who clearly doesn�t want me?

He kept his hand over his face and closed his eyes.

Because you can�t just
get over eight years in four orgasms with another man, he told himself
sternly, thinking back to what he had written in his letter to Severus.

And he didn�t send his
Patronus. Maybe he really did just want a one night thing. I shouldn�t set my
hopes on him.

Ron felt even more ridiculous �by that point he was not only
crying because Hermione had left him, but because a man very obviously dealing
with his own issues had not responded to one of the two ways Ron had suggested
he make contact.

I�m such a fucking
idiot. Everything�s a mess and somehow it has to be my fault�they�re saying
it�s not, all of them, but I have to have something fucking wrong with me.

Ron didn�t really understand how it could be otherwise. He
seemed to get everything wrong so why was his relationship ending not his
fault, too? And Severus� lack of reply would point to something being wrong, as
well.

�Oh God,� he muttered desperately aloud, pushing his fringe
away so it wouldn�t stick to his wet face.

�I know what you�re thinking!� George�s voice shouted through the door. �And
it�s not your fault. So stop crying and go to bed,� there was a thump on the
wood as something was thrown at it. �Loser,� George tacked on affectionately
and Ron choked on his laughter.

�I�m going,� he sniffed hard and dried his face on the first
thing he reached for, which was his t-shirt from the day before which had been
left screwed up on the bed.

But as he lifted it up to swipe at his cheeks, his nose sunk
into the fabric and he was swamped with the scent he�d been trying to forget
all day.

Fucking hell it gets
everywhere. I can�t have been against him in this for more than twenty minutes�
and yet it stinks of fucking jasmine.

Stink was the wrong sentiment for the comfort it offered him
as he sat there, nose pressed into the material, which along with jasmine was
also infused with the smell of whiskey, where he had spilt it, and another
earthier scent which must have come from the rooms above the pub, but he had
not noticed it at the time.

Taking a deep inhale Ron set the shirt down and got up to
undress, keeping his eyes on the crumpled material lest it run off whilst he
wasn�t looking. Somehow it was better than the perfume.

Well this is the
healthiest thing you could do� not. He slipped into the bed in his
underwear, leaving his clothes where they fell and kicking off the jeans on the
bed, but grabbing hold of his t-shirt. The perfume bottle jabbed him in the
hip. The shirt shifted on his knee.

Bollocks and fuck to
this. He never has to know I slept with a t-shirt that smelt of him and she
never has to know I�m sleeping with a stolen bottle of perfume. Whatever helps�

He reached out and turned off the light and settled down in
to the dark.

Fuck. This is lonely.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the fact that at a ratio of
eight years to one night, he didn�t know which of them he missed the most.

***

Severus finally turned off the light and settled into his
bed, cold from the way the fire in the living room had burnt out too quickly
and the way the sheets seemed starkly lonely compared to the night before.

Yes� last night where
you didn�t fall asleep until four in the morning because of the person
occupying them.

Foolishly he turned his head on the pillow, looking at the
side that the redhead had adopted as his own in the one night he had laid in
the bed, and found himself wishing that he was there once more.

This is ridiculous.
One night and he has you drooling for more. Get a bloody hold of yourself�

Grumpily rolling onto his side, Severus wasn�t even sure why
he was surprised that the first person he had allowed through his emotional
barriers in years had stayed behind them. Throughout the day he had felt a
sensation building in his fingertips, the sensation of almost being able to feel
Ron beneath them if he imagined it hard enough.

And he also couldn�t help, as he forced his eyes shut,
wondering where the redhead was and what he was doing so early on Boxing Day.

Which
tells you how dangerous this is.... You have always been a possessive idiot, one night of sex and you�re
wondering where he is and what he�s doing and who he is doing it with. Which is, as you bloody well know, none of your business.

He yelled at himself mentally and groaned. A headache had
been threatening to come on since the early afternoon and he didn�t have the
patience to deal with it. He had forgotten just how quickly headache potion
chased off the crashing pain, when he�d taken some the night before. It had
been beautiful and easy and made his chest ache for the world of magic he�d
deprived himself of for eight years.

There was no doubt that he missed it �he would have been a
fool to have denied that he did. The wave of a wand and everything was at one�s
finger tips; an ease he had forced himself to withdraw from in the name of his
privacy.

Sanity, he
reasoned mentally.

Privacy, the
annoying voice argued.

He squeezed his eyes shut. When it came to it, maybe they
were one and the same where he was concerned. Severus threw himself onto his
back, making the bed rock and squeak, which sent his mind back to Ron again and
the way the redhead had so willingly bent for him, grabbed the headboard and
submitted to every touch Severus had wished to place on his body.

In my day they called
that desperate� but I don�t think it was that� he just craved to be touched.
Craving affection does not make you desperate�

He looked up at the ceiling, maddened that sleep was evading
him. His hand moved into the pyjama bottoms without him really considering his
actions. His fingers caressed his shaft with delicate softness. Most definitely
experienced in the art of masturbation in inducing slumber, the only change
that night would be in who he thought of as he touched himself.

He winced as a filthy image of just how far Ron�s legs might
be able to spread crossed his mind.

When they then wrapped around his waist and he felt hot lips
on his, he gave himself over to fantasy.
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Seraphim Beneath The Christmas Tree