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28 December 2005 @ 05:12 pm
FIC: Salve, Ron/Snape, NC-17  
Title: Salve
Author: rose_whispers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ron/Snape
Word Count: 5082
Summary: Snape wasn't expecting the person with the singed off hair to be the youngest Weasley male
A/N: Written for tarie's Illustrated Ficcish Wish Fulfillment Swap, based on cnary_crem_dght's absolutely gorgeous Ron/Snape image

"This," said Severus Snape to himself, "is the worst sort of humiliation."

"I believe that is the point, dear," his mirror replied. He glared at his own reflection. No one, animate or otherwise, had called him "dear" in a very long time. If ever.

Snape rolled his eyes, gave his reflection his most practiced sneer, and nodded. They could force him to do this, but it didn't mean he had to be nice about it. He'd gotten through two decades in a school full of miscreants and idiots without once being kind. He could manage this.

He thundered out of the empty staff room and down the corridor, robes billowing about him. Excellent. He'd worried that he'd lost the ability to make his robes billow. He shot his deepest glower at every person he passed, taking morbid satisfaction at the way he could make men and women all around him tremble. Severus Snape, traitor (according to popular opinion), spy for the light (depending on who you talked to), Death Eater (ex- or otherwise), murderer (certainly)— he'd become something of a legend, and he wondered if it wasn't that legendary status that made them quiver just as much as his frown and his robes. He could probably skip down the hallway dressed as a baroque cherub complete with wings and harp and he wouldn't inspire any more or any less fear. They might just think him mad, though. Madder.

Still, Snape reflected as he glanced at the clipboard before him and found the appropriate door, flinging it open without bothering to knock, if he wasn't mad yet, chances were he never would be. If he could live for years in the service of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord both, if he could face class after class of dungheaded nitwits, if he could put up with Potter, Granger, and every Weasley in the world for the duration of their stay at Hogwarts, well, he could survive anything.

The man in the room was facing away from the door, looking down at something. He was nude but for threadbare gray pajama bottoms and a thin sheen of translucent white goop on his bald, blackened skull. Burn victim, Severus read on the man's file. Though there was certainly nothing wrong with his back, and Severus allowed himself exactly seven seconds to appreciate the way his muscles rippled as he shifted from foot to foot. It was a strong, masculine back, and Severus hadn't had the chance to admire anyone's naked torso in longer than he cared to remember. He reined himself in and cleared his throat loudly. The man dropped his book onto the bed and turned around. He was a grotesquely amusing parody of what a healthy person should look like, his freckled skin flawless but for scalp, chest, arms, and eyebrows, which were singed black, the destroyed skin beginning to peel sickeningly.

"If you're here to change the salve, I..." he trailed off, staring. "Professor Snape."

Snape nearly choked. "Mr Weasley. I had always thought that a peaceful end to war would mean never seeing you or any of your friends or family again."

Ron crossed the room in three quick strides, standing toe to toe with his former professor, matching him glare for glare. "You don’t deserve a peaceful end to anything," he spat.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Is this the portion of the day devoted to witty repartee, Weasley? Because if it is, you're failing. I suppose you're used to that, given your dismal performance in my classes." It was odd that the young degenerate was nearly as tall as Snape himself.

Ron poked him in the chest with his index finger. "You killed Dumbledore. Harry saw you."

"That was more than a half dozen years ago, boy," Snape said dismissively. "If you haven't any new grievances to air, I suggest you step back and allow me to do what I've come here for."

Ron poked him in the chest a second time. "If you think-"

"Kindly refrain from touching me again," Snape said, his voice dropping low and dangerous, "or your finger will end up a potions ingredient." He itched to reach for his wand. Swish and flick and he could have this boy begging for mercy. Begging for it.

"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be rotting in Azkaban?"

"A pleasure to see you as well," he drawled, flipping Weasley's file closed. Pity he hadn't bothered to read the name on its cover before he'd entered room 402. "Really, it's been too long."

"Snape," he growled.

Snape opened the satchel they'd forced upon him and rummaged through its magically enlarged innards until he found the correct salve. "When did you grow a spine?" he asked, sounding bored. "The last time I saw you, you wouldn't have dared call me by my surname to my face."

"The last time I saw you, you weren't a murdering bastard."

Snape smirked. "Would you care to place a wager on that?"

He ignored Ron's spluttering, uncorking the bottle and dabbing some of its contents liberally onto his palm. He placed the bottle onto the bed, rubbed his hands together, and said, "Sit down."

"Who the hell do you-"

"Sit down, Mr Weasley. I won't ask you again."

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed, muttering, "Didn't sound like you were asking in the first place."

"Very good," Snape said, and he smeared the salve across Ron's head without ceremony, massaging thoroughly and efficiently until his scalp was coated anew. "Hands out," he commanded. He dumped more of the salve into Ron's startled but upturned hands. "Massage wherever it's needed."

"Isn't that your job?" Ron asked, a malicious twinkle in his eyes.

"Hardly," Snape said. "I am to facilitate your healing. Delinquent, heal thyself." And without another word, he dropped the bottle back into his satchel and marched out of the room.


At least his robes were black, he thought as he made his rounds for yet another day. Everyone else in this infernal place wore starched, lime green uniforms, some with ridiculous wimples. If there were any variations, they were into other hideously bright colours. But no one had told him that he was required to wear lime green in order to fulfill the conditions of his sentence. Thank whatever god that might listen to the prayers of a semi-reformed killer and outcast for small favours, he supposed.

He checked on the rest of the people in his pile of folders. The woman who had grown an extra head- fouled-mouthed thing it was, too!- the man whose broken bones refused to mend. He left room 402 until the end, saving the worst for last. If pressed about why he chose to do so, he would probably explain with a sardonic twist of his lips that this was the ultimate punishment for himself. No one could tell Snape that he was not a most excellent masochist.

"Weasley," he muttered, gliding into the room, salve in hand.

Ron shot him a cursory glare and went back to his magazine without a word. Snape nodded to himself. He liked it better this way. He had no use for words around Ron Weasley unless he was allowed to insult him, and his superior had already reprimanded him twice about being rude to the gomers. Curiously, none of the complaints had come from this particular patient.

His fingers worked over Ron's scalp methodically, no sound in the room but Ron's laboured breathing. He hadn't noticed that before. The smell of the salve made his eyes sting, a pungently bitter concoction that was no doubt mass-produced with little thought to actual performance.

"Your hair isn't growing back," he snapped, for all the world as if it was Ron's fault.

"Imagine my disappointment," Ron sniped back. "Here I was, counting on all of your tender and supportive help being the key to the whole thing."

"My, my, that nearly had bite."

"Bite me."

Snape rolled his eyes. So much for repartee indeed. "And then you prove that you are who you are once more. Tell me, Weasley, you're not a werewolf, are you?"

Ron's head cracked around so quickly that Snape was surprised he wouldn’t have to start treating the man for whiplash as well. "What the fuck are you implying?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "You've not been bitten by a rabid werewolf?" he pressed. "You have no allergy to silver?"

"If this is about Bill-"

Ah. "It is not about Bill. It is merely academic curiosity."

The young man clearly possessed no academic curiosity of his own, Snape thought, because he settled back against his pillows and didn't ask any further questions. He gave his most put upon sigh, though Ron didn't react to it. "I'll take that as a no, then."

"Do that."

He finished with the salve, poured the next allotment into Ron's already outstretched hands, and walked briskly out of the room. He nearly missed Ron saying sweetly, "Aren't you supposed to fluff my pillow, too?"


"Why are you here, Snape?" Ron asked.

"Here? On this planet? Going through this crazy thing we call life?" Snape asked drolly, his tone absolutely deadpan.

"Don't get philosophical," Ron muttered. "Why are you here? In my ward? Helping me?"

The former Potions master scowled. "What business is it of yours if I choose to heal the infirm?"

The redheaded menace had the audacity to burst out laughing. Snape waited, tapping his foot impatiently on the stone floor. When Ron could speak properly again, he gasped, "Your name isn't the first to spring to mind when you think about the healers of St. Mungo's."

"I am not one of the healers of St. Mungo's," Snape sniffed. "Hold still."

He produced a small, dark brown phial from his pocket and Ron sat up straighter. "What's that?"

"Poison," he said immediately, pouring it directly onto Ron's blistered head, ignoring the yelp and the complaint that it was too cold. He massaged it in, nodding to himself with satisfaction. This combination, aloe and horsetail, goldenseal and primrose, salamander heart and colloidal silver, was much more pleasing to the senses, though it left a greenish tinge instead of its usual translucent white. "Lie back."

"Excuse me?"

"Lie back," he said crossly. "Must I always repeat myself? Are you still unable to follow even the simplest instructions?"

Ron fell backward dramatically. "Better?" he snarled.

"Much." Snape poured more of the mixture onto Ron's chest. "Breathe."

Ron blinked. "I... you... what?"

Snape spread his salve across Ron's burned, hairless chest, listening to the way the younger man's laboured breath hitched, and Snape nodded clinically to himself, filing the symptom away. He rubbed the substance into Ron's ruined skin, over his pectorals and nipples and toward his stomach. "Hand," he said.

Ron looked up at him, somewhat dazedly. "Huh?"

"Hand," Snape repeated, snatching Ron's left wrist and dropping three phials into his hand. "Do the rest. I will be away for a week- make note of the differences between this and what I was using before. Tell me everything when I return."


"Well?" he asked as he strode into the room the next Monday, though upon a quick onceover of the younger man, he could tell that it had already taken effect. The skin beneath the greenish salve was no longer charred but a bright, too-robust pink.

"The first night was agony," Ron said accusingly.

"The dead skin peeled away?" Snape demanded, sitting down on the bedside, already rubbing some of the salve between his palms.

"All at once."

"And are you still in pain?"

Ron considered. "Less than I was," he said at last.

Snape began the process of smoothing the green goo over Ron's pink scalp. The new skin was offensively shiny and he coated it quickly. "Good. You should have been healed and out of here weeks ago, instead of taking up bed space and doing nothing."

Ron stiffened. "Don't you think I want to be doing something? Harry and Hermione are helping with clean up and I'm stuck here with you."

Snape recoiled as though struck. "Clean up?" he said, voice dripping with malice. "Cleaning up the dirt that remains after a war? Sweeping the rest of the Death Eaters under the carpets of Azkaban where the rest of the saintly populace won't have to worry about them anymore?"

Ron looked abashed. "That isn't what I-"

"Of course it's what you meant," Snape snarled. "All the Death Eaters except the one haunting the vaunted halls of St. Mungo's, regenerating you new skin as if you were a bloody snake."

"You're calling me a snake?" Ron gasped, springing to the offensive. "You slimy, disgusting, murdering bastard!"

"And isn't it easy for you to languish in your sickbed and call me names while the rest of the world continues on?"

"It's not easy! I'm stuck her against my bloody will being looked after by a traitorous old vulture who should have died in Dumbledore's place!"

"Do you think I wouldn't have, had I had the choice?" Snape shrieked. "Do you think I knocked back a brandy that night and congratulated myself on a job well done while Albus' corpse cooled on the lawns?"

"I don't know what you fucking did! You were the evil potions professor and you were our spy and then you were their spy instead and you killed Dumbledore and you tried to kill Harry! And now here you are, seven years later, and you're supposed to be all right again but you're swooping around St. Mungo's like a great black bat ready to suck someone's blood and you're giving me salves and you don't seem any different to me but you are different and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK!"

Snape watched the young man's chest heave, not quite looking up into his clear eyes. It was amazing what growing up and living through a war could do for a man's personality. He had no memory of Weasley being quite so upfront as a teenager. "Are you quite through with your temper tantrum?"

Silence descended, punctuated only by Ron's heavy breaths. "I don't know," the younger man answered at last.

Reaching into his pocket, Snape pulled out the day's phial. "Do it your own sodding self," he growled, throwing it onto the bed by Ron's blanket-covered thigh. "Next time I see someone using a generic potion with no effect, I'll leave well enough alone." And he stormed out of the room.


Ron sat up in bed when he returned the next day. "I didn't think you'd be back," he said warily.

"I don't have a choice," Snape said diffidently, his shoulder slumping a little.

"Snape, what are you doing here?" Ron asked again, sounding more bewildered than anything.

"Use your head, Weasley," the older man muttered as he dumped salve onto said head. "Your hair is starting to grow back."

"It itches," Ron agreed, reaching up absently to touch the fuzz covering his skull. His fingers bumped into Snape's and he pulled back quickly, wiping the salve onto his chest. The hair was starting to grow back there, too, Snape noted.

"You're not here by choice," Ron reasoned at last when it was clear that the older man wasn't going to say anything more. "You have to come here."

"Take a half a point for Gryffindor." Fingers smoothed over the place where Ron's eyebrows should have been.

"Generous of you," Ron said. "So what, are you under arrest or something?"

"I believe the exact term they used was 'a show of good faith'"," Snape muttered, coating his hands with more salve and spreading it meticulously over Ron's broad chest. "Should I wish to live like the rest of the free wizarding populace, I must work in this godforsaken place, healing those who were harmed during the war. I don't suppose it's escaped you that you are currently residing in the Dumbledore Ward, has it?"

"It hasn't," Ron said quietly, staring fixedly downward at Snape's hands on his chest. "You, er."

"I never er."

Ron blushed. "You made this salve for me yourself."

"I'd give you another half point, but that would be a whole point to Gryffindor in one day and that goes against everything I stand for." He wiped his hands on Ron's shoulders and handed him the phial.

"As Hogwarts no longer exists, I think you're safe," the redhead pointed out. "I... about what I said yesterday-"

"Do not apologize," Snape said immediately as he stalked back toward the door. "I doubt my heart could take hearing such a thing from a Weasley."

He'd just about closed the door behind him when he heard Ron call out, "Thank you." He wasn't sure if it was for the lack of apology or the salve.


"Why do you have difficulty breathing?"

Ron blinked, looking up at Snape with a glazed expression. His hair was nearly grown back, his skin healthy once more. Snape had stopped applying the salve to his head at all. "Huh?"

"Articulate as always, I see. I've noticed that you have difficulty breathing. Is that why you're still here?"


Snape sighed. "Look, I know you were hit with a Hair-Razing Hex. That's why only the portions of your body with hair were burned. I imagine what's below the blanket has been regenerated as nicely as what's above now." Ron blushed deeply, and Snape found his own cheeks a bit warm. He hadn't meant nicely in any particularly suggestive way.

"Everything's in working order," Ron said, blushing even more hotly, his skin nearly the shade it had been after the blackened layer had peeled away.

"Your breath," Snape said, doggedly going back to the original subject. Why in hell was he still warm-cheeked at the thought of Weasley having everything in 'working order'? "What causes you to have difficulty breathing?"

"I wasn't aware that I had a problem," Ron said, his tone strangely tight.

"You're nearly healed. Another day or two and you should be able to walk out of here without cause for concern that your skin will become infected."

Ron grinned. "What will you do without me to look after, Snape?"

"Slit my wrists immediately," Snape said, rolling his eyes.

"I thought so."


Ron looked up at him as he handed over yet another brown phial. "Yes?"

"Finish up, and start making plans to go home to sickening reunions and 'welcome back' banners."

Ron nodded. "They've... they've wanted to keep me this long because they were worried about infection. As you said."

"You haven't been in any real danger for at least a week."

Ron looked down at his hands miserably. "I know. It's more... a visual problem."

Ah. "Come now, if you haven't hexed away the red mop or the freckles, then you cannot truly be so vain that you didn't want to be seen as you were, Weasley," Snape said with a glare.

Ron returned the glare. "What's wrong with my freckles?"

Snape snorted. "You look like you have the bloody Milky Way tattooed in red on your back. "

Ron twisted around, looking over his shoulder. "Does not." He stuck his tongue out at Snape, then his eyes grew wide. "I can't believe I just did that."

"You're lucky that I don't think hexing your arse is worth being sent to Azkaban for," the older man snapped. "Stop changing the subject. Why haven't you been discharged yet?"

He watched as Ron poured the salve into his palm absently and began to spread it across his own chest. He moved sloppily, missing patches, before he said, "The Ministry didn't want the world seeing a battered war hero. We're supposed to be the golden ones who helped get rid of You-Know-Who. They didn't want anyone to see what a single hex had done to me."

"And you let them?"

"You let them force you to work here," Ron pointed out.

Snape shook his head. "I'll see that they discharge you as soon as possible. You shouldn't be stuck here." With me. The thought arose unbidden and he squelched it sharply. What the hell was wrong with him?

"I... could use a few more days," Ron said. "The trouble breathing."

"You do have a problem then," Snape said, eyes narrowing.

Ron shrugged. "No idea what, though. We should really figure that out."

"Tomorrow, then," Snape said.

"Tomorrow," Ron echoed.


"When did it start? The difficulty breathing?" Snape asked as he threw the door open the next morning.

Ron shrugged. "I've been here for six months. I'd say the last four."

Snape arched an eyebrow. He himself had been here nearly four months now, salving up the youngest Weasley male every damned day. "Why isn't your bushy-haired girlfriend here?" he said abruptly, pouring the concoction onto his fingers.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Hermione?"

"No, Olympe Maxime. Of course Miss Granger."

"We haven't been together in years," Ron said. "Turned out she really wasn't my type."

"Imagine my surprise."

"I don't think you have any idea-" Ron said, voice oddly tight again. Snape had the impression that he'd cut himself off from saying something more.

"And they don't visit? Your little friends?" he pressed, fingers trailing across Ron's collarbone.

"They do. Just not when you're around," Ron said.

"I see. Only you must be forced to endure your former professor's presence."

"That isn't what I said."

"It's what you meant."

Ron grabbed his wrist, stilling his movements. "Stop presuming to know what it is that I meant," he ground out. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Let go, Mr Weasley."

Ron released him, and Snape noticed that he was breathing shallowly again. "Your eyes are dilated too," he noted to himself.


"More symptoms."

"Oh. Right."

"You get this strange look on your face as well," he continued, putting the pieces together. "It's almost as if..." Oh. Oh. No, it couldn't be. Could it? He did say that Granger hadn't been his type. And he only noticed the breathing differences when he was close to Ron, touching him. What if he-? No. But shouldn't the thought of an aroused Weasley repulse him?

"What is it?"

Snape shook his head. He was being ridiculous. "Nothing. I shall have to do some research."

"Oh." Ron's eyes half-closed as Snape continued to work over his chest. Why're you doing that?"

"What, that which I've done every damned day for interminable weeks? I have no idea."

"No, I mean," Ron bit his lip. "You had me do it yesterday."

"You did it wrong."

"I did not."

"You did. You missed sections."

"No I didn't!"

Snape rolled his eyes and took Ron by the shoulders, turning him around. "Hold still."

"What're you-"

He wrapped his arms around Ron's torso, pressing the younger man's body against him. "Hold still," he muttered again, breath ghosting over Ron's ear. "We'll get two fwoopers with one freezing hex."


"I want to feel the way you breathe, and I need to apply the salve properly." Snape sat down on the bed, hands spreading salve the way a child finger paints. He could feel Ron's heart galloping wildly, his chest rising and falling. He was about to comment on the alarming tachycardia when a strange noise escaped the redhead's throat. It sounded like a whimper.

Snape blinked. He ran his fingers over Ron's nipples, lingering longer than necessary. Ron made the noise again, his head falling back against Snape's shoulder. Snape's own breathing was coming out quicker than usual. He scooted further onto the bed, sliding a leg around either side of Ron's body.

"Snape! I-"

He immediately ran a hand over Ron's stomach and dipped it beneath the sheets, closing over the cotton-covered hardness he found below. Oh hell, it was good to be right. Ron moaned and seemed to mold himself against Snape's body. The older man's arms circled Ron, pinning his own arms to his sides, gliding beneath Ron's bedding to pull his pajama bottoms down, Ron lifting his hips to help. He skated his fingers across the younger man's thighs, feeling coarse, masculine hair wherever he touched. "You've been using the salve correctly here, I see," he hissed into Ron's ear.

"Oh fuck, Snape. Fuck, I-"

"Shut up, Weasley." Snape secured one arm around the younger man's waist and pulled him snugly between his thighs, pressing Ron's hard, fit body against Snape's own rock hard arousal. He gasped as Ron rocked backward against him, his head falling back again, resting against Snape's shoulder. Snape pressed his cool cheek against Ron's hot one and at last closed his hands over Ron's cock. He began to stroke, his palm still covered is salve, twisting his wrist at the head before sliding back down again to start the process anew.

Ron moaned, giving himself over to the sensations, babbling a stream of words that Snape didn't pay attention to, losing himself instead in the river of sound they created as a counterpoint to the rhythm of his hand on Ron's cock and Ron's arse rubbing against his own erection. He held Ron tighter as his languid pace began to pick up, his other hand resting on Ron's hips, urging the younger man to rub backward against him.

The slow burn was making him delirious, sensation coiling through his body as he bucked against Ron, the younger man's words and whimpers shooting straight to his groin and spreading through him like wildfire. He sped up his pace yet again, a punishing rhythm that had Ron twitching and shuddering and at last screaming his release. One, two, three strokes and Snape came with a moan, biting Ron's shoulder to smother it, gathering the sagging man in his arms and collapsing backward against the wall.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, as they lay entwined, breathing heavily, Snape's hand still on Ron's quiescent cock. "Fuck," Ron said at last.

"Indeed, Mr Weasley."


"I believe we've gotten to the bottom of your breathing difficulties."

Ron snickered and ground his bottom against Snape's pelvis. "Indeed," he intoned in a dead on impression of the older man.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Sure it wasn't."

Snape was about to respond when the door handle jiggled. The instincts of two decades of espionage kicked in and Snape bolted out of the bed and across the room in half a second, Ron pulling the blanket up around him, looking flustered.

A healer popped her head in and looked at them both nervously. "I heard a scream," she said in a thick Scottish brogue.

"Weasley is excellent at dramatics," Snape huffed. "He didn't like the changes to the salve I made."

"You aren't supposed to be using your own potions," she said. "We told you that."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, well. My methods have certainly made him feel better than yours." He ignored the snicker from the bed. "Good day."

He left the room and the red-faced, panting Ron Weasley without a backward glance.


The man with the parrot growing out of his back would live, Snape thought, though not particularly comfortably. It would take the healers hours of sustained charms work to remove it. He slammed the door of room 402 closed, annoyed that its new occupant was such a complete moron. Not that its earlier resident wasn't a halfwit in his own right, but...

Snape shook his head, turning to go back to the staff room, sign out, and call it another meaningless, repetitive day. Exactly when had seeing Ronald sodding Weasley been enough to make his days go by just that much more easily? When he'd lost his mind, he told himself firmly.

He breezed into the staff room, threw down the files for someone else to clean up, and spun around. He very nearly missed the man standing by the window, but when he did see him, he didn't know what to say.

"Snape," Ron said at last, breaking the silence.

"Weasley. I had you discharged a week ago. Did you get lost?"

Ron took a few steps toward him and faltered. "I came back."

"Obviously. Why?"

"Are you being an idiot deliberately or was that really just a mutual toss-off in there with no further implications?" Ron was watching him closely, his face ridiculously easy to read. So much hope in that face. So much passion. Snape had never expected to see either of those directed at himself. He hadn't had any desire to see such a thing.

When he didn't immediately respond, Ron closed the distance between them, standing toe to toe with him just as he'd done on that first day. "Tell me to fuck off and I will," he said.

"Fuck off," Snape replied.

Ron chuckled and reached out, framing Snape's face in his hands. "Not good enough," he said before leaning up and kissing the older man for the first time. Snape shuddered, not sure he could recall the last time he'd been kissed like this. With a strangled kind of moan, he wrapped his arms around Ron's waist. Fuck it, he thought, kissing Ron back, tasting his dry, chapped lips and lithe tongue, breathing Ron's air, feeling the redhead's back muscles flex beneath his wandering hands.

"Have you any idea what you think you're getting yourself into?" he asked, pulling back and staring at Ron's healthy face and perfectly grown eyebrows.

"Not the slightest. You?"

Snape shook his head. "Right now I am going to scrounge something to eat and try to wash the stench of this miserable day away from me."

Ron smiled brightly. "Excellent. I'll help."

Snape quirked an eyebrow upward. "You cook?"

"I eat," Ron corrected. "And I can probably help with the washing part, too. Not fair that you've been able to handle me as much as you want without even undoing a button of your own kit."

Snape glared at him irritably. "I make you a salve and get you off, and that means you automatically attach yourself to me?"


"Oh joy."

"Just wait until Christmas. Mum will be thrilled."

Snape couldn't quite get his irritation up to snuff as Ron led the way out of the hospital. Ah well. Maybe by Christmas he could convince the young man to bugger off. Or to go on vacation with him to Cuba. A good place for the application of sunscreen to sensitive skin. They'd just have to see.

Loyaulte Me Lie: Harry/Ron/Snapeshocolate on December 28th, 2005 11:05 pm (UTC)
Look, don't tell anyone I read Ron/Snape, OK?

But that was stunning.
rose_whispers: HP- Batman!Snaperose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:13 am (UTC)
Thanks! I won't tell if you won't mention how much I enjoyed writing it ;)
(Deleted comment)
rose_whispers: BtVS- Spike- Kitten pokerrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:14 am (UTC)
Thanks so much!
....just an earth bound misfitmiz_tith on December 28th, 2005 11:29 pm (UTC)
Just wait until Christmas. Mum will be thrilled

*evil grin*

Nice story, I liked very, very much!
rose_whispers: Labyrinth- Jareth crystalsrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:15 am (UTC)
Thanks for reading :D
rinsbane: Kiss (from Faded Ink)rinsbane on December 28th, 2005 11:31 pm (UTC)
I'm impressed. This pairing is, er, not my favorite, let's just say. *g* But this is a really lovely story and it works. Yup. Very impressed.
rose_whispers: H2G2- Teaheadrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:17 am (UTC)
Thank you! I've never attempted this pairing before, so I'm pleased that you enjoyed it!
maddiec24maddiec24 on December 28th, 2005 11:34 pm (UTC)
That was wonderful! Your Snape is absolutely perfect.
rose_whispers: Gargoyles- Moonlightrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:17 am (UTC)
What a lovely compliment. Thanks so much!
daylyn: Ron tell off spiders:unknowndaylyn on December 29th, 2005 12:35 am (UTC)
OMG, this is soooo NOT my pairing, but this was bloody brilliant. The snark, the "breathing difficulties", Snape's penance (so to speak).

Snape quirked an eyebrow upward. "You cook?"

"I eat," Ron corrected.

Just brilliant. Loved this.
rose_whispers: Jon Stewart- gigglerose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:20 am (UTC)
It's not really my pairing either, but I had fun writing it, so it delights me to no end that you enjoyed reading it :D

Your icon is adorable, btw. That's one of my all-time favourite scenes from any of the HP movies *giggles*
Laceylrodell on December 29th, 2005 12:45 am (UTC)
Wonderful! Thank you!^^
rose_whispers: Get Fuzzy- Bucky hammerrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:21 am (UTC)
Thanks for reading!
the wickedest witchhimilzungal on December 29th, 2005 12:51 am (UTC)
I loved the story! Snape was so Snape-ish and Ron was very realistically matured(IMO). The pacing of the story was really well done. And OMG the wanking scene was so HOT!!!
rose_whispers: HP- Lockhart Smilerose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:22 am (UTC)
Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Sev1970: Ron and Snape thinking about each othersev1970 on December 29th, 2005 06:42 am (UTC)
Snape/Ron is a pairing I am growing increasingly fond of. Wonderful story!
rose_whispers: HP- Bad Fic- Nagini's handsrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:23 am (UTC)
Thanks. I had lots of fun writing it :)
RainbowWisherrainbowwisher on December 29th, 2005 07:47 am (UTC)
Lovely fun to find a Ron/Snape story that's not all, "Grrr, I hate you, let's have angry sex!"

I mean, sure, there was the snarkiness, but it's Snape, so...it's Snape. And the wanking... *melts* And the after! *is a small puddle of girly-goo*

Loved it. Adored it. I'll even go so far as to say I'd obsess over it, but it's imprinted upon my mind's eye, so that should do well enough. ^_^ Thanks for the wonderful prose!
rose_whispers: HP- SS/RL- Not Doing Anythingrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:24 am (UTC)
Wow, thanks for the lovely comment! The picture was great inspiration, and I'm glad it translated well for you into words :D
Josan PQjosanpq on December 29th, 2005 02:54 pm (UTC)
Deliciously evil story. Poor Snape...punishment with rewards. LOL!
rose_whispers: Gilmore Girls- Michel- Stupid Peoplerose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:27 am (UTC)
I could take punishment if it came with rewards like this ;) Thanks for reading!
Amorette: PotterPuffsamorettea on December 29th, 2005 03:57 pm (UTC)
Gracious. You made me believe in Snape and Ron! Snape was so very perfect and the whole storyline was excellent. Plus a great last few lines. I really admire good endings! Oh, yeah, Christmas at the Burrow will be. . .interesting.

rose_whispers: Get Fuzzy- Bucky hammerrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:28 am (UTC)
Thank you! I'm almost tempted to write a sequel to see how Molly and company react to this ;)
bethatway on December 29th, 2005 05:36 pm (UTC)
That story made my day. I loved your Snape.
rose_whispers: Dragonheart- starsrose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:28 am (UTC)
Thanks very much :D
Girlfriend Resplendent Valentineimkalena on December 29th, 2005 06:48 pm (UTC)
Did I mention that I love you? :D

That was cute and funny and believable and H. O. T.
rose_whispers: HP- SS/RL- cuddle- ponderosa121rose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:32 am (UTC)
*bats eyelashes* Why thank you ;)
Catherine / cdkobasiukcdkobasiuk on December 29th, 2005 09:28 pm (UTC)
I can't believe I read Snape/Ron .......... and liked it , a lot.

Very original.

rose_whispers: HP- Batman!Snaperose_whispers on January 9th, 2006 07:33 am (UTC)
Thanks! It's not a pairing I've written before, so I'm pleased that you liked it :D