Confessions · of · A · Turbulent · Wallflower

Walking into the bustling muggle marketplace, Charlie kept a close eye on Draco, who appeared to be attracting quite a bit of attention from the throng of people around them, both male and female. He also seemed quite oblivious to it, staring in awe at everything around him. It only them occurred to Charlie that Draco had most likely never been in, or anywhere near, a muggle market in his life. Not wanting him to get overwhelmed, Charlie grabbed his hand firmly and pulled the slightly bewildered looking Malfoy through the crowd until the stalls and people thinned out, and only a few shop doors carved into the side of buildings remained. Only when Charlie released his grip did Draco come out of his trance, noting the look of amusement on his guide's face. Charlie motioned to a store to the left with a black wooden sign that read "magazin pentru bărbaţi" on it.

"There are fancier shops in the larger markets, but right now you only need the basics and they're a lot further out. No need to get you all tired out before we get you to the reserve, right?"

Draco nodded apprehensively, eyeing the shop. It reminded him a great deal of the kind of stores his father used to frequent, and that in and of itself gave him a severe case of the heebie jeebies. Noting the tension, Charlie wrapped a friendly arm around his shoulder and deftly steered him into the store.

---------------------------

Draco had never seen such a wide variety of patterns and fabrics in his life. Did muggles really wear all this? He wandered aimlessly around the store, picking up random items, feeling them, looking at them, and then putting them back down.

"A putea I ajutor tu?"

Draco turned to the small Romanian man who had just addressed him and held up his hands in what he hoped was a gesture that seemed friendly and also conveyed his lack of understanding. The man narrowed his eyes and repeated his question once again, more slowly. Draco shrugged helplessly, scanning the room for any sign of Charlie. Relieved to hear his melodic baritone from somewhere behind him.

"Noi avem it jos contract , mulţumesc."

The man nodded tensely at Charlie and, throwing another dirty glare Draco's way, disappeared behind a rack of suits.

"What did you say to him?" Draco asked.

"Ah, nothing much. Just told him his mother was a goat. You know, the usual." Charlie said, casually examining his fingernails for dirt.

Draco openly gaped at him, and then smiled.

"That was a joke, wasn't it?"

Charlie smiled roguishly back at him and winked, "Well aren't we the bright one. Let's get you some clothes, yeah? Can't be lolly gagging around here all day like a bunch of women, can we now?"

Charlie spun around and picked up a pair of dress trousers, holding them up against Draco.

"What size are you?"

Draco looked sheepishly down at his trainers and mumbled something unintelligible.

"You're going to have to speak up, haven't the foggiest what you said"

Draco raised his head defiantly.

"I don't know."

Charlie was completely taken aback. "How can you not know what size clothing you wear? How did you get clothes before?"

And then it dawned on him. He has almost forgotten the one small detail: Draco was a Malfoy, one of the richest wizarding families in Great Britain. He had most likely never had to shop for clothing like this before. Knowing Lucius, all of Draco's clothes had most likely been tailor made to fit him. He looked at the very overwhelmed young wizard in front of him, and put his big brother skills to work. He playfully punched Draco on the shoulder.

"Well then, we'll have to get you measured, won't we? Where did that son of a goat go?"

Draco stuck his tongue out in response and spent the next few minutes being measured the muggle way (which he vowed to never have done again), as well as having seemingly endless amounts of clothing piled onto him. Suddenly he dropped the pile of clothes, whooping with excitement and startling everyone else in the store.

Charlie turned around to see Draco triumphantly holding up a pair of light wash muggle blue jeans.

"THESE", Draco started excitedly,"THESE are what I was telling you about, Charlie, See?" He gestured towards them grandly, as if they were made of gold. "They're trousers...and they're blue,"

Under normal circumstances, Charlie would have pointed out that there were many kinds of muggle pants that were blue, but Draco seemed all too pleased with his discovery. it wouldn't kill him to let him win this one round, would it?

"Of course Draco, I should have known that was what you were talking about. I feel quite the dunce." Charlie said, doing his best to fake contrition.

Draco positively beamed.

"Well, no harm done. Found them, didn't I? I think all this should be enough."

They walked out of the store in amicable silence, each clutching a few bags.

"So, do you feel up to swinging by the reserve for a bit? Meet the other blokes?"

Charlie carefully watched Draco's reaction. far be it for him to push the boy over the edge on his first day.

Draco chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Is it going to be bad?"

Charlie winced at the honestly of the question. "It's not going to be fantastic, but I don't think it'll turn out as badly as you think. Most around these parts have never even heard of your father, Draco, and less than half of the handlers are from our neck of the woods...and i'll be there with you."

Draco grimaced, although he felt comforted that Charlie would be there with him. "Like pulling off a plaster, yeah? Might as well get it done with. Can we apparate?"

Charlie nodded, and they disappeared into the the thrumming mass of people.

**author's note: yes, another short chapter, but I'm writing quickly, and as one long scene, this just drug on like a funeral dirge, don't worry, next chapter will be longer, I promise.**

*FINALLY, updates. Sorry to anyone who has been waiting, or had given up on seeing more of me. Sometimes people drop off the face of the earth lol, but I'm back! Short chapter, yes I know, but I'm easing back into it. More in the next few days, while I have nothing but free time :)*

The light slowly filtered through the venetian blinds on Draco's window, casting stripes of light across his face. His eyes sluggishly opened and he was momentarily gripped by panic, unsure of where he was. It took mere moments for his sleep addled mind to settle, however, and remind him of yesterday's event. He didn't remember getting himself to bed, but then again, he had been very tired and things were bound to be forgotten.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up, the scent of what be breakfast wafting into the room, his stomach growling in approval. He languidly slid out of bed, and walked down the hall into the small shower, washing up as quickly and methodically as he could, before bounding back down the hall to his room.

And that's where Charlie found him 40 minutes later, standing in front of his suitcase in a towel, hands on his hips, willing an outfit to appear.

Charlie leaned against the doorframe and smiled, studying Draco as he removed each item of ghastly looking muggle clothing from his bag, sighed, shook his head, and neatly refolded it into the suitcase. If he were honest with himself, Charlie would also admit that he might have been ogling (but only a little bit), Draco's lean muscled form, admiring the play of muscle and sinew in his back as he bent to pick up each item.

Carefully, as not to be noticed, Charlie slipped into his own room, digging out some of his smaller clothes, and then to the kitchen, plating some eggs and toast for Draco, before returning to the doorway and knocking gently.

Startled by the sudden knock, Draco spun around, nearly losing his towel in the process, grabbing it just in time.

Charlie laughed mirthfully and chucked the clothes at Draco, setting the food down on the dresser.

"Thought you could use some clothes that didn't channel my dad's fashion sense."

Draco smiled brightly, hugging the clothes to his chest.

"Thank you Charlie, you didn't need to do that."

Charlie smiled gently at the genuine gratitude in Draco's eyes.

"I left you some breakfast on the dresser there, are you still up for some shopping today?"

Draco nodded distractedly, already halfway into the eggs, and Charlie closed the door behind him, and went to the sitting room to wait.

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Never before had Draco been so in awe of simple items of clothing. He had devoured his breakfast and fixed his hair before even glancing at the clothes Charlie had thrown to him, and was now staring at them laid out on the bed.

Stretched out before him was a red t-shirt ("Ha...Gryffindors", he thought), and a pair of jet black leather pants. Draco slowed extended a hand, stroking the worn leather, his mind unconsciously wondering what they might look on their owner. Shaking away any inappropriate thoughts, he pulled the shirt over his head, surprised at how well it fit, and with a deep breath closed his eyes and wriggled his way into the tight leather pants.

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When Draco walked into the sitting room, Charlie instantly regretted giving the lean blonde those clothes. What had he been thinking? What had looked like a mildly appealing little boy playing dress-up (he was Ron's age, for fucks sake!), now looked positively sinful, the dark red shirt and black leather pants fitting him almost perfectly, their darkness highlighting the ethereal pallor of his skin and the pale blonde of his hair.

Draco laughed, slightly self consciously and hitched his tattered rucksack further onto his back.

"So Weasley, ready to do some shopping?"

A few silent minutes later, they passed through a row of small wooden cottages. Confused, Draco slowed down a bit and his change of pace tugged lightly at Charlie’s hand, causing Charlie to turn and flash him a foolishly lopsided grin.

“I thought it might be best if you didn’t stay with the other trainees and the people on-call on site in the barracks…nothing to do with you personally, I’m sure Draco, it’s just…”

“My father,” Draco grimaced slightly. “My family reputation, I understand, is less than gleaming, trust me, I understand.”

Charlie pursed his lips and nodded. “I thought you might stay with me, in my apartment for the time being. You’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you like, but if you find it…less than to your liking, I can help you find a place of your own.”

Draco smiled brightly at Charlie’s kindness; so few people had shown him that kind of courtesy since the end of the war, choosing to see his family’s name instead of his individual personality. “I’m sure your accommodations will be more than habitable, Mr. Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled and let go of Draco’s hand, the loss of the warmth tingling unpleasantly up Draco’s arm.

“Please, call me Charlie.”

Draco smiled tightly and tensed, and Charlie regarded him with keen eyes for a second before chuckling again and clapping him arm around Draco’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Come on, let’s get you to my place and get some food in you. I hate to sound like my mother, but you look a little peaky.”

Draco pulled up the only mental image of he had of Charlie’s mother, which was Mrs. Weasley fussing over a smudge on Ron’s cheek in Flourish and Blotts and laughed ruefully, before twining his arm around Charlie’s waist and following his lead to the floo grate.

Draco stepped out of a floo grate for the second time that day, dusting his clothes off as best as he could, while scanning the room for Charlie, who appeared to have noticed what he was wearing for the first time.

Draco noticed Charlie gaping at him wide eyed and clearly in shock through a parting in the crowd and sauntered over.

“What? Dirt on my face?”

Charlie closed his mouth and blinked once, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“What in the blue blazes are you wearing?”

Draco looked down appraisingly and surveyed his baggy corduroy pants, beige button up shirt, and tweed jacket with patches on the sleeves. He looked up at Charlie, a look of pure confusion on his face.

“They said to dress myself in muggle attire. As I can recall, both your father and professor Lupin wore this as muggle dress, did they not?”

Charlie tried to quell the laughter, feeling badly at Draco’s lack of knowledge in muggle matters. His father had probably only pointed out the worst muggles to him, and he had most likely thought that the way he was dressed was quite fashionable for muggles, by example.

“Yes, but it’s more suitable for an older man…possibly someone’s poor bachelor uncle.”

Charlie choked back another fit of laughter.

“One who owns several cats.”

Charlie almost exploded with laughter anew when Draco nodded swiftly and took out a notepad to, bless his heart, make a note of what he was saying. Breathing deeply and regaining complete control, Charlie placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder in the most brotherly way possible.

“Perhaps tomorrow we should go shopping for you? We can’t have you wandering around looking like that. How are you going to attract the ladies, eh?”

Draco cringed inwardly, “I don’t think attracting ladies is quite up my alley, but I would like to go shopping if you’d take me. It seems I don’t know much about Muggle fashions.”

Charlie smiled warmly at him, “indeed, we’ll go first thing tomorrow after breakfast.”

Draco nodded enthusiastically as they started off towards Charlie’s flat.

“I want some of those Muggle blue pants.” Draco blurted out.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Blue pants?”

Draco sighed as if talking to a child. “Yes, you know, the ones that are supposed to make your bum look nice. They’re pants. And they’re blue.”

Charlie dissolved into laughter at Draco’s attempt at explantion.
“Well tomorrow we’ll figure out what exactly those are, and we’ll be sure to get a pair, ok?”

Satisfied, Draco nodded, and the rest of their walk was in amicable silence.

Charlie’s flat was modestly sized and very obviously home to a bachelor. A few plain pieces of furniture were strewn about the apartment, but there were no accessories, and no clear design to the room, although, Draco noted, it was quite neat.

Charlie gave Draco a tour of the apartment, taking him through the basics before showing him to his room.

“You’re right next to me, should you need me. I’m going to give you time to unpack and get settled in while I start dinner. I thought we might eat out on the balcony tonight, and I imagine we won’t get too far past that. You’re probably quite tired from all that Floo travel.”

As if on cue, Draco yawned, and began to unshrink and unpack his things, almost finishing before the delicious scent of dinner wafted in through his doorway.

Walking out into the kitchen, Draco peered over Charlie’s shoulder to see what he was making, only to be tapped on the nose with a saucy wooden spoon.

Charlie smiled at the affronted look on Draco’s face as he wiped the sauce off, tasting it.

“If you could get some plates down, they’re in the far left cupboard.”

Draco gladly brought down the plates, his stomach growling, as they took their dinner out to the balcony and sat in adjacent chairs, eating in silence.

Sitting out there, overlooking the city, Draco thought of how lucky he was to be there, and turned to Charlie.

“I don’t believe I’ve thanked you yet for taking a chance on me.”

Charlie smiled warmly over at him. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Draco.”

Draco nodded, and they continued to sit in the comfortable silence until the sun was almost down, and the next time Charlie looked over, Draco was fast asleep, curled up in his chair.

Charlie gently brushed the hair from his forehead and hoisted his lithe body up against his own, and carried him to bed.

“Sleep well, Draco. Today was by far the easiest day.”

all previous parts - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html

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"Into the under grove, twist and turn on a lonely road
In the twilight, the day turns to night and I'm alone
And when the night has left, I'm not sure of my every step
Follow the wind that pushes me west, back to my bed

When the night
feels my song,
I'll be home,
I'll be home."

Bedouin Soundclash- "When the night feels my song"

Neville rolled effortlessly onto his back, pulling Remus with him, and getting lost in his kiss. Remus adjusted himself quickly, eager not to break the kiss as he shifted his position on top of Neville, sliding their bodies together, both groaning at the sensation of rapidly-hardening cocks grinding against each other through the fabric of Neville’s trousers and Remus’ boxers.

Neville ran his palms flatly down Remus’ back, feeling the scars that marred his skin, his fingers dancing over them, as if taking stock. Remus shuddered at the touch, breaking the kiss and burying his face against Neville’s neck, placing hot, wet, opened mouth kisses along it, his tongue sneaking out to taste the sweat starting to form.

Neville moaning, his fingers digging into Remus’ arse, helpless under the barrage of sensations, caught between Remus’ ministrations on his neck and the fully hard cock grinding against him. Instinctively, he tilted his head back, exposing his neck, silently pleading for more, and heard Remus let out a deep, rumbling growl which vibrated through both of their bodies, sending a pleasant chill of excitement shooting up Neville’s spine, causing him to whimper with need.

Inside Remus, the wolf was dying to be let out, aroused by the unconscious display of submission and eager to claim Neville as his mate, and Remus fought for control to hold him back, not wanting to overwhelm Neville with the power of the beast. His body shook slightly with the force of the battle, and he lowered his head to Neville’s chest, resting his forehead against his collarbone, breathing shallowly, the scent of Neville’s arousal doing very little to quell the beast.

Concerned, Neville, gently put his hand against Remus’ face, feeling the stubble there, and gently tilted his face upwards. The question of whether or not Remus was ok or not died on his lips when he saw the wolf, barely restrained in Remus’ eyes. The predatory gleam in his eyes made Neville shudder with anticipation, and he understood why Remus had stopped. He smiled devilishly, and started to undress himself quickly, relaxing once he was only in his boxers and kissed Remus gently, kissing across his jaw and nipping at his earlobe, whispering in it.

“I’m yours.”

Remus swallowed hard, and Neville leaned back against the pillows and thrust his his upwards against Remus’, throwing his head back against the pillow and moaning, baring his entire chest and neck in a very deliberate show of submission, hoping Remus would understand.

If Remus didn’t, the wolf inside him most certainly did, and he growled fiercely as he covered Neville’s body with his own, biting and worrying at the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He bit down hard and Neville yelped, but then moaned as the bite was laved with broad strokes of Remus’ tongue, and he made a noise halfway between a growl and a purr in Neville’s ear.

“Mine.”

He canted his hips forwards against Neville’s and reached down with one swift motion and ripped Neville’s boxers off.

Neville could only moan in response, more excited than he could ever remember being, his hand buried in Remus’ hair at the back of his head, pushing him down, encouraging him.

“Yours, Remus, all yours. Please mark me as yours.”

Remus let out a primitive sounding moan and bit down hard at the juncture between neck and shoulder, making Neville cry out in both pleasure and pain as coppery blood spilled onto Remus’ tongue, licking the wound clean. While he was marking him, Neville had enough sense of mind to grab his wand, muttering a few spells against his own hip. Yanking off Remus’ boxers, they groaned loudly in unison at the sensation of their bare cocks sliding together, the wolf desperate to rut against him, reveling in the delicious friction.

Neville tried to keep his head about him, and pushed Remus off a bit, the wolf whimpering in protest before realizing that Neville was canting his hips upwards, offering himself to be claimed.

“Please, take me, I need you Remus.” Neville moaned, thrusting his hips lewdly against the air, practically begging for release.

That was all Remus needed. Burrowing his face affectionately against Neville’s shoulder, he thrust into him with as much control as he could muster, trying to go slowly as not to hurt him. He continued for a few shallow thrusts at this pace, before Neville decided to take matters into his own hands, rolling his hips sharply upwards and impaling himself roughly on Remus’ cock, moaning as it hit his prostate.

The wolf rose again in Remus’ eyes, and Neville knew he had won out. There would be plenty of time for making love later, for now all Neville wanted was to be claimed and taken, by both Remus and the wolf.

Bracing himself on either side of Neville, Remus’ thrusts rapidly grew both faster and harder, pounding mercilessly against Neville’s prostate, turning Neville into a puddle of begging incoherence.

“Please, Remy, need to come…need you to come with me…all yours, please fuck me”

At the affirmation yet again of Remus’ claim over Neville, he bit down again over the previous bite, at the same time hitting Neville’s prostate with incredible force, sending Neville over the edge, unable to make any noise save for a few small noises as his back arched off the bed, his eyes rolling back in his head.

The sight and feeling of Neville’s orgasm was enough to push Remus’ orgasm as well, holding himself tightly against Neville’s body as his hips jerked involuntarily, a low rumbling moan reverberating against Neville’s chest.

They both collapsed and lay in the same position for what felt like an eternity, before Remus rolled heavily off of Neville and grabbed his wand, casting a quick cleaning spell over both of them, before snuggling up next to Neville.

“Did I hurt you?” Remus asked, his voice edged with uncertainty.

Neville turned towards him and smiled, satiated.

“Not in any way I didn’t enjoy.” He kissed Remus lightly on the nose and tousled his hair, causing Remus to chuckle lightly.

“Remind me to make you orgasm more often, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this calm”

Neville stuck his tongue out at Remus, pillowing his head against his shoulder and tracing patterns across his chest.

“I think a nap is in order, hm?” Neville yawned, and Remus nodded sleepily.

“There’s an eclipse tonight, you know.” Remus added, remembering what Charlie had told him., stroking Neville’s hair affectionately.

“mmm, I like the moon.” Neville answered, half asleep.

Remus looked down at him and smiled fondly. “And why is that?”

Neville snuggled further against Remus’ chest and whispered his answer, barely audible even to Remus’ lupine hearing.

“Because every time I see the moon, it brings me closer to you.”

Remus’ heart surged at the admission and his leaned down and kissed Neville’s temple, stroking his hair until his breathing became soft and even with sleep.

“Perhaps”, Remus thought to himself, staring down at his young lover, “nighttime will be much less scary from now on.”

Satiated, the wolf inside him agreed.

all previous parts: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html

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"When you left I lost a part of me
it's still so so hard to believe,
come back baby please, cuz
we belong together"

"We Belong Together" by Mariah Carey

At first light, Charlie walked Remus over to the main building where the floo network grate was located, giving him a reassuring hug as Remus breathed in deeply and stepped into the grate, calling out his destination.

Remus quietly opened the door to number 12 Grimmauld Place, moving carefully towards the sitting room where Molly told him he would hopefully still find Neville. Entering the room, it didn’t take him long to spot Neville, still curled up against the wall, fast asleep, a blanket loosely draped over him.

Remus grimaced at the puffy, weary look of Neville’s face. He couldn’t bear to think that he had caused Neville all of that pain. He gently picked Neville up, careful not to wake him, and carried the smaller man up the stairs to his room, not wanting to enter Neville’s room because of the previous day’s events. Nudging the sheets on his bed downwards, he lowered Neville to the bed, letting him roll fluidly onto the mattress, but as he let go of Neville’s body, he felt hands gripping the front of his shirt in obvious distress. Remus pulled back a bit, and found Neville to be still sleeping, his brow furrowed with displeasure as he gripped Remus’ shirt and nuzzled against his neck. Remus smiled wistfully, wishing Neville were awake and making those delightful sighing noises against his neck, and, seeing no other option, crawled onto the bed next to Neville, letting him curl against him in a childlike display of comfort.

Remus kissed him on the forehead and, feeling the weight of previous day come upon him, he too drifted off to sleep, hoping that when Neville awoke, everything would work out alright.

As the daylight gradually filtered in the foggy window, Neville opened his eyes blearily, rubbing them with the back of his hand, taking a moment to take in his surroundings. He knew for sure that this was definitely not his room, yet still Grimmauld Place. He also was keenly aware of being pressed against another body, a heavy arm slung across his waist with casual familiarity.

“But it doesn’t feel like George,” Neville mused to himself, breathing in deeply and smelling Remus’ cologne.

Startled slightly, he pulled back a bit to confirm his suspicions that he was indeed pressed against his former professor. Smiling lightly, Neville took in Remus’ sleeping form, making note of the quiet snuffling noises he made as he breathed, and the delicate yet strong curve of his lightly stubbled jaw. He kissed the side of Remus’ jaw before trailing his fingertips down the side of his body, frowning slightly at the still too thin feeling of his ribs, despite no longer being impoverished, and reveling in how soft the older werewolf’s skin really was, pale from all the time Remus had spent avoiding the outside world. Neville made a mental note that he needed to get Remus to eat something substantial that morning, a thought that made him chuckle to himself, feeling slightly like Mrs. Weasley, who even tried to force feed the likes of him when he visited.

He leaned over Remus’ body to check the clock on the nightstand, which proudly pronounced it to be 10 o’clock in the morning. Neville stretched languidly, and proceeded to strip and cover Remus with the blanket, aiming to wash his clothes, before heading to the shower, and then down to make the kind of breakfast Mrs. Weasley would approve of.

Remus awoke at 11:30, feeling much better rested than he had in years, and reached over to where Neville’s body should have been. Coming up empty handed, he felt a wave of nausea inducing panic grip his insides. Had Neville left? Charlie had seemed so sure but still, maybe he was wrong.

And then the second wave of panicked awareness hit him. Where were his clothes? He sat up and scanned the room feverishly for any sign of his clothing, but apparently not only had his clothes he had been wearing disappeared, but the clothes customarily scattering the floor seemed to be gone as well. He sat there gaping at the spotless room for what felt like an eternity, until he was pulled out of his reverie by a throat being cleared by the doorway. He slowly turned his head, mouth still open in an expression of slack bemusement.

Neville was leaning against the doorframe, amusement clearly written across his face, his lips upturned in a coy half-smile, and one eyebrow delicately arched.

“Surely you can’t be so panicked about a clean room, Remy? I didn’t know it had been that long since you’d seen the floor, but honestly, carpet is your friend.”, Neville teased, walking over to the bed and setting down a wooden tray, practically groaning with the weight of the food piled on it.

His mouth snapping shut, Remus quickly gathered the covers against his body, acutely aware of his nakedness.

Neville chuckled and rolled his eyes, sliding onto the bed next to Remus, the tray in between them.

“You need to eat something, mate, or I’m going to tell Mrs. Weasley you’re underfed, and then you’ll have her shoving treacle down your throat.” Neville said, as he spooned large amounts of food onto a plate.

Remus shuddered at the mental image that created, and took the proffered plate from Neville’s hand, calming down a bit and thanking him before digging in.

They ate together more of less in silence, both resting their backs against the headboard, legs splayed out in front of them.
Finished his plate, Remus shot a wary glance over at Neville, who appeared to be long since finished and staring at him.

“Something I can help you with, Neville?”

Neville took his plate as well as Remus’ and set them and the tray gently on the floor, an then rolled back over towards Remus, lying on his side next to him.

Neville wrung his hands nervously, “you trust me, right?

Remus nodded tersely, staring at his own hands. “of course.”

Neville took a deep breath, “and we’re close friends, yeah?”

Remus looked at Neville and raised an eyebrow, “yes, you could say so.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the tension crackling brightly, highly tangible to both men. Remus spoke first.

“If you’re trying to tell me about you and George, I already know.”

Neville scoffed, “yeah, I know.”

There was another pause, but Remus let it be this time, watching Neville try to say whatever it is he felt he needed to.

“Why did you leave, before? I mean, I thought you of all people would understand me being gay…understand what it meant to be different.”

Remus tenderly cupped Neville’s cheek, and ran a rough thumb across his cheek, feeling the slight dampness of tears there.

“I don’t have a problem with you being gay, Neville. In fact, I support it wholeheartedly. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

Neville pulled back suddenly, his eyes meeting Remus’, brimming with tears.

“Then why did you leave? You haven’t been out of the house in ages, Remus, and something yesterday made you leave TWICE. I spent all day blaming myself, so I think I have the right to know.” Neville shook violently, the timbre of his voice echoing in the spacious room, his emotions threatening to overflow.

Remus tried to back off the bed, unsure of himself now. He couldn’t stand to cause Neville any more pain.

“I can’t tell you why I left, suffice it to say that it was not by any fault of yours.”

Neville roughly grabbed his forearm, holding him in place, next to him, his face reddening.

“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH. TELL ME WHY YOU LEFT!”

Remus struggled against Neville’s grip, but it held firm and he turned to face him.

“I CAN’T!”

“TELL ME!”

“NO!”

“BLOODY TELL ME ALREADY!”

At that, Remus’ thin hold over his control snapped, and he lunged forwards, pressing his mouth against Neville’s firmly for a few seconds before pulling back.

“I LEFT BECAUSE I SODDING LOVE YOU AND I COULDN’T STAND THE IDEA OF HIM HAVING YOU, ALRIGHT?”

There was an almost silence in the room, save for the sound of laboured breathing coming from both men. Their eyes locked in mutual surprise.

This time Neville was the first to break the silence.

“Oh.”

Remus exhaled quickly.

“Is that all you have to say about it?”

Neville fidgeted with his hands again, “No”.

Remus gawked at the younger man, “are you going to say whatever else it is that you’re thinking?”

Neville looked up sheepishly, “Only if you’ll kiss me again.”

Remus’ heart leapt from his chest, unable to contain himself upon hearing that, but attempting to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

“That might be doable.”

Neville smiled brightly back at him, his cheeks flushing slightly, “oh, well in that case, I love you too.”

Remus swiftly grabbed the younger man and pulled him against his body, kissing him properly this time, and thought, as Neville twined his arms around his neck, that a day like this was worth all the bad ones that came before it.

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Part 11 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/6267.html

all previous parts: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html
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"I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know I'll be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away"

"Overkill" by Colin Hay

Remus couldn't quite remember how it happened.

He remembered waiting for any word from Molly for about half an hour, and then Charlie offering him a drink.

Actually, quite a few drinks by the throbbing in his head.

He vaguely remembered someone firecalling, and him telling that person that Charlie had been eaten by a rhinocerous.

Oh, and he remembered the kissing, but not how it had started or who had started it. But the rest of the afternoon, and a better part of the evening, he guessed as he looked outside into a pitch black night, was a complete blur, ending with him waking up naked next to a very naked Charlie Weasley.

Seeing as there was no chance he could floo home at whatever hour this was (he could never find the building in this darkness, and it was probably closed anyways), Remus put his hands over his eyes and willed away the throbbing behind them.

Ah yes, now it was coming back to him.

There had been lots of talk about Neville, and Charlie's most recently conquests, (a varied bunch of witches and wizards all looking to bag a dragon trainer, including one woman Charlie aptly described as a "bucket of yuck"), and there had most certainly been plenty of booze.

And then there had been Charlie, egging him on, saying that he had probably never even kissed a man before, at least not properly, and in Remus' alcohol infused mind, that had seemed like a challenge he couldn't possibly lose. Remus remembered leaning over the table and kissing Charlie full on the lips, which tasted like firewhiskey and cinnamon (not at all like he imagined Neville to taste like), and then there was a gap in his memory.

His memory picked back up with him and Charlie on the bed, naked, and he assumed he probably had some part in the disrobing process despite his loss of memory.

And then there had been Charlie sucking his cock, and oh, it had been so long since anyone had done anything like that to him. Charlie had licked every inch of his cock, tracing over it with his tongue, before swallowing it whole, letting Remus fuck his throat ruthlessly until he came, screaming someone's name, but even if it wasn't his name (which Remus suspected it wasn't), Charlie hadn't minded and had proceeded to fuck him senseless, ramming up against his prostate, coaxing him hard again, until both of them came and had passed out on the bed.

Well, Remus supposed Charlie hadn't quite passed out as quickly as him, as Remus was completely cleaned off; all physical evidence of their tryst gone.

He walked over to the window and looked out at the stars and the barely crescent moon, wrapped up in thought as two strong, freckled arms wrapped around his waist.

"You know there's going to be a total eclipse of the moon tomorrow night.", Charlie noted casually, his chin resting on Remus' shoulder.

Remus twisted in Charlie's arms, almost facing him. "Listen Charlie, about what happened..."

Charlie motioned for him to be silent.

"You know it will be the darkest night of the year. They say when the moon eclipses, that when the light side of the moon comes back the next night, the darkness takes away all the bad things you've done, or that have been done to you, and as the light slowly comes back, the dark fades and takes them with it."

Remus nodded, staring at the sky.

"You belong with Neville, Remus. And by the time the moon is back to being full, what happened between us will be nothing but a distant memory, gone with the darkness."

Remus turned to look at Charlie, who gave him a small unreadable smile and pecked him on the lips before setting about making tea. Remus leaned back against the window sill, and looked out once more at the stars before turning to help Charlie.

Maybe tomorrow night, in the pure and unabating blackness of the eclipse, the stars would finally come into alignment for him and his Neville.

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Part 10: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/6132.html

Author's note: Sorry, short chapter, but yet again the tension builds, and in chapter 10, Remus goes home to see his Nevy! *squee*

all previous parts: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jamie is over
and where can I turn?
Covered with scars
I've done nothing to earn.
Maybe theres somewhere
a lesson to learn,

but i'm still hurting."

"Still Hurting" from The Last 5 Years

When she was upset, Molly Weasley's presence was like a hurricane, destroying everything not firmly bolted down. That was what it felt like when she had reached number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Without knocking, Molly entered and surveyed the first floor room by room, until she came upon a sleeping Neville, curled up in a corner of the sitting room. She shook her head at the sight, cleaning up the broken bottle of firewhiskey with a gesture of her wand and covering Neville with a blanket before setting her mouth into a determined line and heading for the stairs, fire in her eyes.

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After more than a decade of living at the Burrow devising prank products with his twin brother, George Weasley had a sort of sixth sense for when his mother was approaching, it having undoubtedly developed over the years as a means of self preservation.

When George woke up abruptly that afternoon, he immediately knew three things: he was alone, he wasn't at his flat, and his mother was very close by. In fact, as his sleep addled mind started to focus, he honed in on the sound of what he was certain was his mother opening and slamming doors, the sound getting louder with each progressive slam.

He had just barely gotten his pants on when there was a gentle knock at the door, followed by the door swinging open, to reveal a clearly very upset incarnation of his mother.

Molly calmly stepped into the room, shut the door, and cast a silencing charm over the room before levelling her eyes at her son.

"What in merlin's beard do you think you're playing at, young man?" She hissed angrily, as if they could be overheard.

George had never seen his mother act quite like this, and shrugged, unsure of the correct answer to the question, and too afraid to put his shirt on for fear of losing eye contact with her, and what she might do while he couldn't see.

"you wouldn't listen before, and I let it go, because merlin knows you needed something in your life, and I selfishly liked seeing you smile again, but I will not tolerate this, am I understood?"

George nodded quickly, and then shook his head, not quite sure if he understood what she was talking about or not.

"Can I put my shirt on without being hexed, or is that a stupid question?", he asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit, but Molly went on, unabated, although a bit softened.

"I know things have been hard for you since the war, dear. They've been hard on all of us. But you're not the only one who is hurting, and you are most certainly not the only person who has lost someone extremely close to them. I know it probably feels right at the moment, but you and I both know that you don't really care about Neville in that way. Do you really want to rob him of his chance for happiness because you're miserable?"

George looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes, tears gathering on his eyelashes as he blinked, "misery loves company, you know."

Molly put her hand on his shoulder soothingly. "I know dear, now put your shirt on and we'll go on home and I'll make you a nice cup of tea, how does that sound?"

George half smiled at her and nodded, grabbing his mothers hand and giving her a hug, wiping furtively at his eyes.

Molly pulled back from the hug and gave her son a once over.

"I think some sandwiches too. Really dear, do none of you boys eat anything?"

George laughed as he put on his shirt and did up his shoes and then walked with his mother down the steep staircase, briefly pausing and looking around once they reached the first floor landing.

Molly shook her head gently at him and squeezed his hand. "Best if you don't say goodbye, dear. He'll be fine."

George nodded and followed his mother out of the house, hoping with all his heart that she was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 9 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/5778.html

That night, Draco Malfoy lay awake in bed, his muscles twitching nervously under his skin, unable to sleep.

When the ministry had announced his pardon, Draco had hardly hoped that they would find a place for him. At most, he had thought that they would give him something remedial to do, like rolling scrolls for the rest of his life. To be honest, he would have been happy to even have gotten that...but a dragon handler? His mind was swimming with the possibilities. In the wake of the war, most of his previous friends had either been found dead, or he suspected were in hiding with their death eater parents, running from the aurors. With an internship like this, he had a real shot at a new life, and a new reputation, separate from his father's identity.

In an effort to help said reputation in the wake of the war, being the sole Malfoy to have survived it, Draco turned over Malfoy Manor and its contents to the ministry, and the library alone had been of great use to them for breaking dark curses. All he'd kept of the Malfoy fortunes was enough to put himself in a small London flat and keep himself alive, the rest had gone to various charities.

He turned over and cast a lumos, squinting at the tiny clock on the opposite wall. He sighed and turned back over, it was 6 am, he might as well get up now. After all, he wanted to make certain he was completely packed, and needed to shower, eat, and make himself look presentable before going to see the minister. Draco sat up and rubbed his eyes, breathing deeply, and began to ready himself for a new day, and a new life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into the Ministry of Magic for the first time since he'd been to see his father sentenced proved to be much more daunting than Draco expected. The large, cavernous entraceway seemed emptier than before, the ministry only keeping a skeleton crew, freeing others to help out with the restoration of their homes and towns. It took him much longer than he expected to find the minister's office, having to reroute around the rebuilding and without the aid of the portraits, who had all since been relocated until the ministry was fully restored to normal.

Climbing up what he hoped was the last flight of stairs, Draco entered into a large open waiting area, empty save for a small, harried looking woman sitting at a desk that was so large it made her seem childlike. Draco stood awkwardly in the center of the room watching her shuffle around the papers on her desk, mumbling to herself for a few minutes, before deciding to make his presence known. He took a few steps forward and coughed slightly, flashing his most friendly smile at the woman.

She looked up abruptly, clearly startled and agitated by his presence. Her scowl softened a bit when she caught his smile and she jerked her head towards a large wooden door.

"Minister's in and expecting you, go on inside Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded politely and fought the urge to bound over to the door, his excitement thrumming in his veins as he took a deep breath and knocked.

A deep, familiar voice boomed out for him to enter.

He leaned against the heavy door and it creaked open slowly, belying its age, and he was no sooner in the door than he found himself being clapped a little to strongly on the back.

"Mr. Malfoy, dare I say it has been far too long?"

Draco smiled hesitantly, "It's good to see they have someone sane running the ministry, Professor Moody"

Moody laughed sharply, "boy, I haven't been your professor in ages...plus, it's Minister Moody now, no need to skimp on the formalities."

Draco laughed heartily, the tension draining from his bones with every passing second. Maybe this was going to be great.

"So, Minister, if you could fill me in on my placement that would be helpful, the messenger didn't tell me much."

Moody motioned for Draco to sit, and sat himself down behind his desk in a large, tattered old chair that Draco recognized with a pang of guilt must have come from the remains of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

Moody opened a folder, scanned its contents and then shut it again, clearing his throat.

"You'll be going to Romania, and apprenticing a dragon handler, as you no doubt already know. I don't know much about the place save for the fact that most of the wizards employed there are from England, and they will be providing you with food as well as lodgings. Now, a regular apprenticeship is a year, but to be frank, I had a hell of a time finding anyone to take you, boy, so this apprenticeship will last as long as your supervisor deems fitting. If you have any concerns while you're there, please send them along through my secretary and I will deal with them personally."

Draco expelled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, smiled falteringly in an attempt to calm his nerves, and nodded. It hadn't occured to him that most of the wizards there would probably already knew who he was, and mostly through his father as well.

Moody leaned back in his chair, "It might not be much comfort to you boy, but I know the one that chose to take you on as an apprentice personally, and he's a good man. If anyone will give you a fair chance, he'd be it."

Draco nodded absently, and shook his head clear of disparaging thoughts. He would be fine.

Moody shuffled him over towards the floo grate, grabbing his bag.

"We'll be sending someone along to check on you in a week or two, Malfoy. Try not to get up to too much mischief."

Draco smiled determinedly and stepped into the grate as Moody bellowed out the name of the dragon reserve.
A few minutes later, Draco landed rather unceremoniously on his bottom in Romania and tried to stand, dusting off his robes.

Unfortunately, the floo network had a habit of making him quite dizzy, and he found standing a much more arduous task than normal.

As he struggled to get up he heard a low, rumbling chuckle from above him, and a hand appeared in front of his face to help him up. He hesitated for a second, and the voice the hand belonged to seemed to be amused by this.

"I don't bite, you know."

Draco shrugged and gratefully took the rough and calloused hand, feeling it hoist him upwards. He grabbed his bag and looked up to speak.

The thank you he was preparing to say died on his tongue and his mouth fell open, gaping like a stunned house-elf.

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?"

It took Draco a second to realize that it was he who had said it, and he blushed furiously.

Charlie just laughed loudly and stuck out his hand. "That obvious, is it? I'm Charlie Weasley, i'll be training you."

Draco grabbed his hand firmly and, regaining a bit of his senses, shook it. "Draco Malfoy, thank you for taking me as an apprentice."

Charlie smiled brightly, and turned around, still holding Draco's hand. "Come on, I'll show you where we live, and then introduce you to the rest of the guys."

The firm hold Charlie had on his hand shot small sparks up Draco's arm, and he tuned out anything else Charlie might have said. It wasn't common knowledge that Draco Malfoy's sexual preferences ran in a less than straight direction, and he allowed himself to be led to the barracks, revelling in the feeling of Charlie's strong hand on his more delicate one.

This could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened.

After the war, the ministry had been surprisingly lenient with the children of death eaters that had survived the final battle, claiming that mere children couldn't be held responsible for their parent's sins. Under this philosophy, a new order of tolerance was ushered into the Wizarding World, and to show their total commitment to that ideology, letters were sent to employers all over the globe, seeking apprenticeships for those children, death eater or otherwise, who due to the war had been denied their culmination of their education. Very few corners of the wizarding world remained in tact after all was said and done, and much to the ministry's chagrin, owl after owl came in either refusing to take on new apprentices until more rebuilding had been done, or refusing to take any children who had been, by choice or not, marked by Lord Voldemort.

Despite these dissapointments, slowly but surely, placements were found for most of the children, save for a few whose parents had quite notably been involved with Lord Voldemort.

When the new Minister of Magic sent his personal letters out to find places in the new world for these unwanted refugees of the war, he had expected nothing but refusals to grace his desk. He had sent out packets, with the names and notable skills of each child, along with a personal letter of reccomendation.

He found himself not to be dissapointed. Letter after letter came streaming across his desk bearing apologies and the politest refusals. He then set about finding ministry internships for what he had come to refer to as "the outcasts", and had found positions for a great deal of them.

9 days after the last letter of refusal had crossed his desk, a decidedly haggard looking owl was brought into his office, by his equally haggard looking secretary, brandishing his legs like a weapon, a letter tied to it. Wearily, the minister untied the letter, the bird perching anxiously on the edge of his desk. He unrolled the scroll and read the letter out loud to his secretary, thinking it to be another spectacular refusal, dissapointment already fixed on both of their visages.

Dear Minister;

Forgive the tardiness of our response, but it takes an exceptionally long time for a single owl to fly back and forth between England and Romania and we thought we'd give your owl a bit of rest before sending it back.

With regards to the contents of your letter, I have discussed it with my dragon handlers, and although their response was not one of great enthusiasm, as you might expect, one of our handlers has agreed to take on Mr. Malfoy as his apprentice. Please firecall me with the details of his arrival (I don't think your owl could take another full trip), and we will have accomodations ready for him when he arrives.

Sincerely,

Alex Markin

Senior Dragon Handler

Effingham Dragon Reserve, Romania.

The minister nearly jumped out of his skin with excitement at the prospect. Imagine someone offering to take the one child that most letters had told him they specifically didn't want. He turned back to his secretary, still standing where she had been before, blinking with disbelief.

"Well, set up a firecall at once, and please do send someone to inform Mr. Malfoy to pack his things. We'll send him off in the morning."

Shaken out of her stupor, his secretary nodded, and scurried out of the room to make the arrangements.

The minister sat down at his desk, shaking his head in wonderment and speaking out loud to himself.

"I wonder who volunteered to take him on?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The minister's secretary came bustling back into his office an hour later, looking more disheveled than she had before.

"I've been informed that Mr. Malfoy has packed those things he wishes to take with him, and Mr. Markin will be firecalling in about 2 minutes."

The minister sat up and straightened his tie, smoothing down the front of his wrinkled suit jacket and moving to the chair in front of the fire to wait for the call.

Less than a minute later, the fire hissed and popped, and the weatherbeaten face of Mr. Markin appeared in the flames.

"Minister, glad to see the owl got back to you safely".

The minister grinned, "yes, well they've gotten used to longer trips these days. But that's of little concern. I'd like to personally thank you for taking on young Mr. Malfoy. I daresay I was having quite the trouble finding him a placement, with his father being who he was."

Alex Markin nodded grimly through the flames, "well, it won't be me taking him on, minister, although I assure you he will be in very capable hands."

The minister leaned in towards the fire, as if preparing to share a secret, "ah yes, I have been wondering you see, exactly who will we be sending our Mr. Malfoy off to?"

Markin beamed proudly at him from the fire, "Charlie Weasley, sir. One of the best handlers we have, and an all around stand up guy. So minister, all things accounted for, when can we be expecting the lad?"

The minister smiled easily, "does tomorrow morning suit you? Say around 11, we'll send him by floo to your main office. No way he'll get lost that way."

Markin nodded briefly, "tomorrow at 11 it is, I'll be sure someone is in the office to receive him. Best of luck with finding place for the others, Minister."

The fire popped, made a sizzling sound, and Markin's face dissapeared from sight, leaving the Minister with his thoughts. He called his secretary back in.

"Please send someone to inform Mr. Malfoy that he will be leaving from my office in the morning for Romania."

His secretary exhaled slowly, and nodded.

"I hope this Weasley boy knows what he's getting himself into."

all previous parts: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html

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"The pornography made me do it
So those drugs that got us high
Was the thoughts of revolution
They've been poisoning my mind
So I'm walking down to the water
You keep coming up for air
All those people, they don't give a damn
They just stood around and stare
And I say,
Love will save the day."

"Love Will Save the Day" by David Usher

Remus stumbled out of the floo grate in Romania for the second time that day, the alcohol causing his head to spin awkwardly when combined with such a long floo trip. He turned in a circle, looking for the set of doors he and Charlie had exited earlier that day. He caught the eye of the girl at the front desk and she smiled politely, pointing out the set of doors to him. He nodded a quick thanks and nearly sprinted out the doors and towards the cabin he recognized as Charlie's.

Remus pounded on the door, trying to collect himself, and found he was breathing so hard that he barely heard the yelled invitation in.

He opened the door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ready to send a tirade Charlie's way, when a voice interrupted him.

"Oh Remus, how lovely to see you out and about dear."

Remus' eyes shot open, and he found himself face to face with Molly Weasley.

"Molly, long time since i've seen you last...", Remus fidgeted uncomfortably with the insides of his pockets.

"Yes dear, now sit down and i'll get you a cup of tea", she gave him an appraising look, "and something to eat, have you eaten at all lately? You look rather peaky to me."

Remus thought back to his interrupted lunch and his stomach growled. "I suppose I could do with some food, Molly, thank you."

Molly set herself about bustling around the kitchen and Remus for the first time since he'd entered noticed Charlie, sitting at the table with a concerned expression on his face.

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but his mother cut him off, and his mouth snapped shut.

"So dear, I suppose you've come to talk about Neville, hmm?" She said wisely, setting a plate of delicious looking sandwiches on the table.

Remus gaped at her, before looking scaldingly at Charlie.

"Oh, he knows too then, does he? Come now, Remus, if I had to rely on Charlie to inform me of everything, I wouldn't know much about the lives of my sons now would I?"

She levelled her eyes with him and smiled brightly. "Now sit, eat, and we'll talk it over."

When she turned around again to face the counter, Remus sat, and attempted vainly, through hand signals, to ask if Molly knew of George's involvement. Charlie shrugged and tilted his head. There was never any telling just how much Molly Weasley knew.

As if reading their minds, Molly turned around and, brushing her hands off, sat down and proceeded to pile sandwiches on Remus' plate.

"I can't imagine Hannah is causing all this fuss, so am I right to assume that it must be my George making you make that face?" Molly looked pointedly at the untouched sandwiches on the plate, then at Remus, and then back to the sandwiches. Remus grudgingly picked up a chicken sandwich and took a bite, nodding sheepishly as he chewed it.

Molly shook her head knowingly at Charlie, "I knew that would end badly for someone dear, but god help your brother, he never listens, does he?".

Charlie chuckled, chewing thoughtfully at his sandwich and shook his head, before turning to Remus.

"I suppose he was still there when you got back?"

Remus assented, looking miserably at the next sandwich he'd picked up. He opened his mouth to further elaborate, but Molly held her hands up in front of her for silence.

"No need to share the gory details, dear. Eat up, both of you, and then we'll get it all sorted."

Remus tried to protest, but found his mouth suddenly full of sandwich, and decided it was best to just let Molly do what she can. After all, if there is anyone that both Neville and George would listen to, it's her, and if they were right, then maybe he still had a chance with Neville.

He polished off about half of the sandwiches Molly had piled on his plate, which seemed to satisfy her, and watched her with unabated curiosity as she stood up and announced that she would return shortly.

"Where are you going, mum?" Charlie asked, seemingly as clueless as Remus.

Molly turned to look at them, her face set in a determined look.

"To have a chat with my son."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flashback to 6.5)

"You could come stay with me, you know...no reason for you to stay in this dingy old house."

Neville nodded tersely, his brows knitted together, the mention of his living arrangement bringing back vidid images of Remus behind his eyelids.

"We'll see, George."

Apparently that was enough of an answer to satisfy George for the time being and he laid back down, both of them drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes, George's sleep peaceful and sated, and Neville's deeply troubled, peppered with memories of happier times with his Remy.

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Part 8 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/5517.html

All previous parts can be found here - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3705.html

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"Ah don't ask don't tell
Dominate me with your smell
Perfume powder treachery
Loaded guns and sodomy
Soak me down with your desire
In the shower under fire
Wave the white flag keep it clean
Call me G.I. Josephine"

"G.I. Josephine" by Boy George

Neville and George stumbled up the stairs together, every few steps punctuated with chaste kisses and hurried groping.

With great effort, they managed to make it up to Neville's room, still scattered with unpacked clothes. Once they breached the doorway, George violently shoved Neville up against the wall beside the door, pinning him there, nipping and kissing his neck.

George whispered into his ear, "you know, when you got all angry today...I've never seen you like that. So in control, so fucking hot."

Neville's head lolled back against the wall, as George punctuated his sentence with hard thrusts, driving their covered cocks together. They both moaned loudly at the sensation, Neville thrusting back against George before processing what George had just said. If it was dominant he wanted, dominant is what he'd get.

Neville slid his hands down George's arms, fingers tracing the light dusting of freckles that coated them, before reaching his target. Without warning, Neville grabbed George's wrists, twisting them above his head, and holding them there with one hand. He pulled back slowly until the only part of his body making contact with George's were his hands. He gave George a once over, grinning wolfishly at him. For his part, George closed his eyes, not accustomed to being so on display, but not about to complain.

Neville leaned in and kissed him gently on the neck. "Trust me, ok? Keep your eyes closed."

George nodded obediently, and felt himself being led over to the bed.

"Lay down, arms together over your head, legs apart. Do not make me repeat myself." Neville growled deeply.

George obeyed immediately, the unfamiliar tone of Neville's voice sending shockwaves directly to his cock, already hard and begging for attention.

As soon as George had laid down, Neville started undressing him slowly, taking time to kiss each newly exposed inch of skin, ordering him to lay still. Once his shirt was off, George felt something soft sliding around his wrists, anchoring them firmly to the bed. Neville chuckled at the perplexed expression on George's face.

"It's every-purpose rope, George", Neville muttered against his ear, making him shiver. "You of all people should be able to recognize a Triple W product in action." He bit down gently on his ear, and set about making long work of George's pants, torturing him with every kiss and swipe of the tongue.

In short time, George was naked and panting on the bed, harder than he ever remembered being before. Why had they never tried this before.

Neville was enjoying the distracting effect of his power over George running his hand lazily over George's cock, watching it jerk and twitch in response, begging for more attention. Neville smiled and reached up to roll one of George's nipples between his fingers, seeing George arch into his hand and moan in response. Encouraged, and convinced that George wanted this, he hovered over his body and took the other nipple into his mouth. George moaned loudly and arched against his mouth, struggling at his restraints.

"Please Neville, more", came the broken sob from George's mouth. He could hardly stand more of this torture. It had been weeks since the last time he had been with Neville.

Neville smirked against his chest and proceeded to mercilessly bite, kiss, and lick every inch of skin between his nipples and his cock, avoiding it for now, and trailing hot kisses down the inside of his thigh.

George squirmed uncomfortably, eyes screwed shut, subtley grinding his hips upwards. "Please Nev, just touch me, i'll do bloody anything you want."

"Anything?" Neville grinned devilishly

George groaned and thrust upwards, "bloody hell, yes, anything, just please!"

"Then open your eyes and look at me."

George's eyes slid heavily open just time to meet Neville's eyes as he ran his tongue deftly along the underside of his cock.

George's eyes reflexively closed again as his body trembled and arched off the bed. Taking his reaction as absolute permission, Neville swallowed his cock to the hilt, the head hitting the back of his throat. He allowed George to continue to fuck his mouth while he grabbed his wand and wordlessly performed a series of charms.

George temporarily lost his rhythm, sliding out of Neville's mouth and whimpering at the feeling of being stretched and lubricated. Neville slid gracefully up his body, kissing him firmly on the mouth and gently petting his overheated cheek soothingly.

Neville hadn't realized until now how worked up all of this had gotten him, and found himself breathing hard and overheated. He arched and eyebrow and threw George a lopsided grin.

"You ready baby?"

George snorted, "I was born ready, and if anyone is the baby, dear, its you."

Neville's ground his teeth with irritation and thrust into George with abandon, not bothering to give him time to adjust to being so filled.

George, however, didn't seem to mind, and easily allowed Neville to plunder him ruthlessly, bending his legs backwards. Neville thrust at several different angles until he found what he was looking for, and proceeded to pound the blunt tip of his cock ruthlessly against George's prostate.

George moaned and writhed beneath him, mumbling obscenities and begging Neville to go both harder and faster, to which Neville was more than happy to oblige. George was so hot and tight, Neville knew he wouldn't last long, so he leaned down, starting a punishing pace, and bit down on George's neck, marking him.

Neville snaked a hand between their bodies and deftly began to fist George's cock in time with his thrusts, murmuring into his ear.

"are you going to cum for me, baby? I want you to cum for me while I shoot inside you...mmm look at you, taking my cock like the little whore you are...tell me Georgie, whose whore are you?"

Neville's words drove George's overstimulated body over the edge, moaning Neville's name as he came in hot spurts between their sweat slicked bodies.

The sound of his name being moaned, as well as George clenching down around his cock set off Neville's orgasm, bursting like fireworks behind his eyelids as he buried his face in the crook of George's neck and moaned lowly.

What felt like an eternity passed while both men tried to calm their breathing before Neville rolled off of George and onto his side, grabbing his hastily discarded wand and casting a scourgifying charm over both of them before slumping against the bed.

George leaned over Neville and kissed him on the forehead gently.

"You could come stay with me, you know...no reason for you to stay in this dingy old house."

Neville nodded tersely, his brows knitted together, the mention of his living arrangement bringing back vidid images of Remus behind his eyelids.

"We'll see, George."

Apparently that was enough of an answer to satisfy George for the time being and he laid back down, both of them drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes, George's sleep peaceful and sated, and Neville's deeply troubled, peppered with memories of happier times with his Remy.

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Part 7 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/4273.html

Author's note: the song reference for this chapter is not meant to be homophobic in any way, it is meant to be decidedly the opposite, and to highlight the no-nonsense approach to sex these two are taking. if you're offended, take it up with Boy George.

Title: A Song for the Lonely (multipart fic, in progress)
Author: Balianblue
Pairings: Remus/Neville, one chapter of Neville/George
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Warnings: implied character death, homosexual sex
Disclaimer: the characters belong to the almighty Rowling, the love belongs to me.
Author's Notes: this will (soon, i promise) be a multi-part fic. Feel free to friend me if you want to keep updated.

Summary: A world destroyed takes thousands of people to rebuild, but it only takes one person to fix a broken man.

Part 1 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/1607.html (PG-13)
Part 2 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2180.html (PG-13)
Part 3 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2780.html (PG-13)
Part 4 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3007.html (PG-13)
Part 5 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3216.html (PG-13)
Part 6 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3516.html (PG-13)
Part 6.5 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/4086.html (NC-17)
Part 7 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/4273.html (PG-13)
Part 8 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/5517.html (PG-13)
Part 9 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/5778.html (NC-17)
Part 10 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/6132.html (PG-13)
Part 11 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/6267.html (NC-17)

Part 1 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/1607.html
Part 2 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2180.html
Part 3 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2780.html
Part 4 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3007.html
Part 5 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3216.html

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"Baby, do you understand me now
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But don't you know that no one alive
Can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad
But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood"

"Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" by The Animals

George smiled sweetly at Neville, attempting to diffuse his anger a bit.

"Hey Nev, how's it going?"

Neville stalked over to the table, and sat down roughly in the seat Remus had left.

"What did you do, George? Keep in mind, I don't like to ask questions more than once."

George fidgeted nervously with the edge of the table. "I, uh, I told him about...us?"

Neville stood as quickly and violently as he had sat down.

"What EXACTLY did you tell him?" Neville's face flushed red, with the kind of anger George had never seen him muster.

George looked up uncertainly, cowering slightly under Neville's blazing glare. "I told him that we were...together...and that I wanted us to be...together...again?"

Neville's gaze softened a bit and he sat back down, "and he just, walked out at that?"

George nodded sullenly. "He looked kind of upset. I wouldn't have pegged him to be so homophobic."

Neville smiled gently on the outside, but on the inside, his heart was shattered. Remus thought he was disgusting. Remus hated him for being gay.

"Wait...did you just say you wanted to be with me?"

George smiled conspiratorially, "well, yeah. I mean, we had something, right? No reason to throw that away now that you're single."

Neville plastered on a bright smile. If he couldn't have Remus, at least he could have someone. George may not stack up to his werewolf, but he was something, right?

Neville slid his hand over George's on the table, "no, it isn't any reason to ruin what we have."

George gave Neville a sweet smile and leaned over the table, kissing him sweetly on the lips and tugging his hand, pulling him over into his lap.

Neville laughed and straddled George, leaning into the protective circle of his arms. Now this was what he needed to clear his mind of Remus. He leaned in further and kissed George passionately.
"I missed this"

George kissed his way down his neck, nipping lightly. "Do you want to take this upstairs, or would you rather do it here in the kitchen?"

Hit bit down lightly on Neville's earlobe, and Neville hissed his next breath and thrust against him, "ugh, upstairs, now."

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An hour later, Remus strode confidently into Grimmauld Place, looking for Neville. He scoured the whole first floor excitedly, before bounding up the stairs, and entering Neville's room without knocking. As he took in the sight before him, his stomach turned awkwardly, unsure of what to do with itself amidst such a barrage of emotions.

Neville was curled up, asleep and very much naked, next to an equally disrobed George Weasley. His mind working in overdrive, Remus turned on heel and ran down the stairs, bitter tears streaking down his face.

Charlie had been wrong. There was no way Neville loved him.

Remus struggled with the lock on the liquor cabinet for a few moments, his hands shaking, before he finally threw it open and pulled out a fresh emergency bottle of Firewhiskey. Twisting off the cap, Remus tilted back the bottle and drank from it like it was oxygen, letting the alcohol course through his system, purging him of Neville. Halfway through the bottle he sat down, smearing his tears across his face with his sleeve.

He needed to go back and see Charlie. He needed something to make sense.

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Neville awoke, hearing the door slam violently for the second time that day, his mind drifting painfully back to the days earlier events.

Wanting to talk to Remus alone, he shrugged on a pair of boxers and a shirt and gingerly walked downstairs, his sore muscles protesting.

Neville searched every room of the first floor, before entering the room in which he had found Remus, slumped against the wall several days before. All he found was a broken bottle of firewhiskey in the middle of the floor.

Neville leaned against the same wall and slid down it, letting the tears flow freely. Remus was gone.

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Author's Note: When it's done, there will be a link to the Neville/George sex scene here:

Part 6.5 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/4086.html

Additional note: all plot important, but non slashy bits of 6.5 will be recapped at the beginning of 7, so don't feel compelled to read to keep up, Neville/George is incredibly awkward to write without Fred there as a buffer :P

Feel free to go directly on to Part 7 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/4273.html

Part 1 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/1607.html
Part 2 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2180.html
Part 3 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/2780.html
Part 4 - http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3007.html

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"and when we try to think of the life inside,
we found ourselves looking at the world through our eyes.
what can now be said?
oh, little one on the other side.
dance until the band stops playing,
sing with all your might.
mistakes we knew we were making."

"Mistakes we knew we were making" by Mae

After leaving the house in rage, Remus wandered aimlessly through the streets of London in a vain attempt to calm down.

He couldn't really blame Neville. After all, George was a very attractive and available young man. Remus had turned him out, and George had been open and accepting, and Remus had no one to blame but himself. Still, Remus was enraged at how George had spoken of Neville. How could he not see in Neville what Remus saw? To Remus, he was the most gorgeous creature to ever grace this planet, with his shaggy, curly, brown hair, his soft brown eyes, and his lightly muscled, albeit slightly rounded figure. Remus sat down on a nearby bench and closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift to how Neville smelled of soap and freshly turned earth, and how whenever he was working particularly hard at something, his brow furrowed and the slightest tip of pink tongue poked out from between his lips.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. No, letting George hurt an angel like Neville simply wouldn't do, but he needed to talk to someone about it first.

Without a second thought, Remus marched over to the nearest floo station, threw in some of the noxiously green powder, and barked out "Errigton Dragon Reserve, Romania".

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To his credit, Charlie Weasley seemed distinctly less surprized to see Remus than he would've expected. Unsure exactly where Charlie lived, Remus had flooed to the main building of the dragon reserve Charlie worked at, hoping to find someone who spoke english to give him directions.

Charlie had been standing next to the front desk, chatting up the cute girl who worked there part-time when Remus stepped through the grate. Remus scarcely had time to take a breath before Charlie had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Lupin! It's been too long, man, too bloody long!" Charlie exclaimed gleefully, flirtation forgotten.

Remus couldn't help but smile at the genuine affection. "I really should visit more often, I always forget what a great place Romania is."

Charlie lifted an eyebrow and smirked, "although I suppose you're probably not here for simply a social call, are you?

Remus shook his head sheepishly, embarassed at having been called out so early on in the conversation.

Charlie leaned back a moment, studying Remus. "Something to do with a certain herbologist, I suppose then?"

Remus' head snapped up, a look of awe on his face. "How did you..."

Charlie chuckled and slapped Remus on the back. "How did I know, mate? How couldn't I? Spent enough time with both of you during the war, yeah?" He gently guided Remus out the front doors to a set of cabins along the outskirts of the reserve. "Come on in, and we'll have a butterbeer and talk it over, alright?"

Remus nodded dumbly and followed him inside.

Charlie led him into the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the stove.

Remus surveyed his surrounding.

"You know, I'm really starting to become anti-kitchen."

Charlie laughed and shot him a confused look, "should I know what that means?"

Remus grinned lopsidedly "I suppose not."

The water boiled and Charlie deftly scooped up the pot and poured two cups of tea.

"So, what's your damage, mate? Finally come to terms with perving after our little Neville?"

Remus tossed him a good natured scowl, "its slightly more complicated than all that, Charles."

"Oo, full naming me now, must be serious, now spill, I want all the juicy details."

Remus took a sip of his tea, and recounted his day.

"I'm in love with Neville, who now lives with me after divorcing his wife, after having an affair of significant proportion to break up said marriage with your brother George, who dropped by today to announce that he thinks Neville is in love with him, but he doesn't really like Neville, he just thinks he's ok, and Neville deserves better, and so I left."

Charlie leaned back in his chair, raising both eyebrows and exhaling slowly, fingers tapping at his cup of tea.
"Well, that does seem like quite the situation."

Remus nodded silently.

Charlie leaned forward across the table, arching an eyebrow. "I'm going to tell you two things, and then I'm going to walk you back to the floo point, ok?"

"Number one, Neville isn't in love with George. For as long as i've known him, he's been after you. Number two, and I may be wrong, but I gather the one person you haven't consulted in all of this is Neville, which, were I him, and had been left alone with George for the last while, would seem slightly callous, don't you think?"

Remus gaped for a second, swallowed, and made an uncomfortable noise in his throat.

Charlie clapped him on the shoulder and flashed him a friendly smile. "Let's get you back home then, yeah?"

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Part 6: http://balianblue.livejournal.com/3516.html