More G/R stuff- part 1
This and the next part will be long, so I'm lj-cutting them. This one shouldn't be offensive to anyone; R rating for language. The next two will be adult, so I'll filter them.
After their memorable shower, Remus went off to make tea. George took his time getting dressed, remembering the day he'd told his Mum he was going into the army. Organising of witches and wizards into discreet, particular fighting enclaves against Voldemort, Death Eaters, and any other creatures allied with the Dark Lord had begun prior to the attck on the joke shop, but he and Fred hadn't paid too much attention. Until they were taken hostage, that is, and Fred tortured and killed. After that, it was only a matter of weeks before he'd made contacts with some of the Order members and had enlisted.
"No, George, I can't allow it!"
"You can't stop me. I'm of age, for Merlin's sake! I can't just put the shop back together as though nothing happened. They killed Fred. They fucking killed Fred!"
"Don't you use that language around me, George Weasley! Nobody is more awware of Fred's loss than me. That's why I can't let you do this. Bill and Charlie are already involved, your father's attack last Christmas-"
"They need everybody. Even someone like me. I've enough anger now to cast an arsenal of unforgiveables."
"George, please." She grabbed his hands, holding them tightly on the table. "I can't bear to lose you, too."
He shook his head. "I'm only half a person anyway."
"Oh George, you mustn't say things like that." George could see tears in her eyes, but she held herself in check. "You know you don't mean it."
"Actually, Mum, most of the time I do. My heart's not into anything, least of all Wheezes. Selling gags doesn't seem right with all that's going on."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then George spoke quietly. "I'm leavin gthis afternoon. One of the reconnaissance units, but I'm not allowed to tell you which one."
"This afternoon?" Molly looked stricken. "But there's no time!"
"Exactly." George gently disengaged his hands from his mother's clutch as he stood from the table, then pulled her up, holding her to him. "There's no more time," he whispered, burying his face in her red hair. "I love you, y'know. I'll owl or get news to you somehow. I promise."
"You be careful, George," she said sternly, almost crushing him in her hold, then released him. "You'd better come back to me, you hear?" Her voice was rough with emotion.
"'Course, Mum."
An hour or so later, George willed himself not to look back when he Apparated from the Burrow.
"George? Care to come out on the porch?" Remus's voice carried from the kitchen, bringing George back to the present.
"Sure." In stocking feet he walked down the corridor and met up with Remus, who had opened the door to the front veranda and was levitating the tea kettle and two cups and saucers through it. George felt theh outside breeze and shivered. "It's a bit brisk to be outside, don't you think?" George asked, rubbing his arms.
"I've got the fire going in the stove, not to worry." Remus smiled. "For being English, you're not very tolerant of theh cold."
The door shut behind them as they walked over to two chairs near an old wood-burning stove Remus said had come from some distant relative.
"Compared to your inner temperature, it wouldn't matter if I were an Eskimo." Remus smacked him on the arse. "Oy!" George said, turning around. "No need for discipline." He gave Remus a heavy-lidded look. "Or maybe there is," he continued, sticking out his backside and wiggling it.
"You're quite keen today, aren't you?" Remus said, grabbing at one of George's arsecheeks. "Maybe later. If you're still in the mood."
George dropped into a chair then looked for something to prop his feet on. "Can I borrow your wand?" he asked, and Remus handed it over. George and Fred both had taught themselves some rudimentary wandless magic when their Mum had begun taking their wands away for periods in the summer, but transfiguration was much easier with a conduit, even if it wasn't his own wand. He focused, and the empty flowerpot became a cushioned ottoman. "Cheers," he said, returning the wand.
They sipped tea in silence for a couple of minutes, then George burst out, "Were you with Harry at the end? I hadn't really understood what all went on, but last we'd heard before Snape and I were ambushed was that you and Moody and Dumbledore had figured out a last assault. And I was out for a while, never really known what happened and was so glad to be alive and not missing any important bits that I hadn't bothered to find out the details."
Remus nodded. "I was. There are still some aspects to it all that I don't understand. Why were you paired with Severus? I thought that your division- you were in Malfoy territory, right?"
"Yeah. I would never've believed how many houses, and companies, and spies the man had until we started mapping them all out." George shook his head at the memory.
"But recons were supposed to be in groups of three."
"I know. We had been up until a few days before that. We'd lost MacLeod and there wasn't anyone else to spare."
George stared into the flames of the stove. "That was a really bad loss, MacLeod." He looked over at Remus, who was nodding, encouraging him to continue. George focused on the golden eyes, crinkles in the corners, wondering briefly to himself how he'd gone from barely paying attention to Professor Lupin in class several years ago to being his life partner, with all of the disasters and some high points inbetween. Then he was MacLeod in his mind's eye, before he'd had to bury him and send notice to his Mum. "Life's a bastard at times," he said.
Remus lounged in his chair, propping his head against his hand. "Now there's an understatement," he said wryly.
George stared into his tea.
"Ye're who? Weasley? Right. MacLeod. Jon MacLeod."
A wizard around George's age with wide shoulders and short brown hair introduced himself. "Glad to have another mate with us. We're taking out Malfoy's spies and all that. Bit brutal, so I'm grateful ye've got some muscle on ye."
It'd taken George a few days to get used to his highland brogue, but it began to become comforting, especially when he found out the third person in their group was to be none other than Severus Snape.
"Rest assured, I find this no more pleasant than you do, Weasley," the former Potions Master had said the first time the three of them gathered at the central Apparation point, having the arrival coordinates handed to them on parchment which spontaneously combusted after a few seconds. "I cannot believe I'm supposed to find my way into one of Malfoy's prisons with an ex-sheepherder and a Hogwarts' dropout," Snape fumed, his brows so furrowed George thought he must have a headache.
"Pleasure being with your sunny company too," George tossed back. "Better with us than dead, eh?"
Snape glared at him. "I'm not so sure."
"George? Hello?"
George snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, sorry. Just thinking about...Well, I met MacLeod and put up with Snape and it wasn't too bad, at first."
Remus nodded, pulling hair behind his ear. "Go on."
"Sure," George sighed, and gave an overview of the couple of months he spent with Reconnaissance Four.
After their memorable shower, Remus went off to make tea. George took his time getting dressed, remembering the day he'd told his Mum he was going into the army. Organising of witches and wizards into discreet, particular fighting enclaves against Voldemort, Death Eaters, and any other creatures allied with the Dark Lord had begun prior to the attck on the joke shop, but he and Fred hadn't paid too much attention. Until they were taken hostage, that is, and Fred tortured and killed. After that, it was only a matter of weeks before he'd made contacts with some of the Order members and had enlisted.
"No, George, I can't allow it!"
"You can't stop me. I'm of age, for Merlin's sake! I can't just put the shop back together as though nothing happened. They killed Fred. They fucking killed Fred!"
"Don't you use that language around me, George Weasley! Nobody is more awware of Fred's loss than me. That's why I can't let you do this. Bill and Charlie are already involved, your father's attack last Christmas-"
"They need everybody. Even someone like me. I've enough anger now to cast an arsenal of unforgiveables."
"George, please." She grabbed his hands, holding them tightly on the table. "I can't bear to lose you, too."
He shook his head. "I'm only half a person anyway."
"Oh George, you mustn't say things like that." George could see tears in her eyes, but she held herself in check. "You know you don't mean it."
"Actually, Mum, most of the time I do. My heart's not into anything, least of all Wheezes. Selling gags doesn't seem right with all that's going on."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then George spoke quietly. "I'm leavin gthis afternoon. One of the reconnaissance units, but I'm not allowed to tell you which one."
"This afternoon?" Molly looked stricken. "But there's no time!"
"Exactly." George gently disengaged his hands from his mother's clutch as he stood from the table, then pulled her up, holding her to him. "There's no more time," he whispered, burying his face in her red hair. "I love you, y'know. I'll owl or get news to you somehow. I promise."
"You be careful, George," she said sternly, almost crushing him in her hold, then released him. "You'd better come back to me, you hear?" Her voice was rough with emotion.
"'Course, Mum."
An hour or so later, George willed himself not to look back when he Apparated from the Burrow.
"George? Care to come out on the porch?" Remus's voice carried from the kitchen, bringing George back to the present.
"Sure." In stocking feet he walked down the corridor and met up with Remus, who had opened the door to the front veranda and was levitating the tea kettle and two cups and saucers through it. George felt theh outside breeze and shivered. "It's a bit brisk to be outside, don't you think?" George asked, rubbing his arms.
"I've got the fire going in the stove, not to worry." Remus smiled. "For being English, you're not very tolerant of theh cold."
The door shut behind them as they walked over to two chairs near an old wood-burning stove Remus said had come from some distant relative.
"Compared to your inner temperature, it wouldn't matter if I were an Eskimo." Remus smacked him on the arse. "Oy!" George said, turning around. "No need for discipline." He gave Remus a heavy-lidded look. "Or maybe there is," he continued, sticking out his backside and wiggling it.
"You're quite keen today, aren't you?" Remus said, grabbing at one of George's arsecheeks. "Maybe later. If you're still in the mood."
George dropped into a chair then looked for something to prop his feet on. "Can I borrow your wand?" he asked, and Remus handed it over. George and Fred both had taught themselves some rudimentary wandless magic when their Mum had begun taking their wands away for periods in the summer, but transfiguration was much easier with a conduit, even if it wasn't his own wand. He focused, and the empty flowerpot became a cushioned ottoman. "Cheers," he said, returning the wand.
They sipped tea in silence for a couple of minutes, then George burst out, "Were you with Harry at the end? I hadn't really understood what all went on, but last we'd heard before Snape and I were ambushed was that you and Moody and Dumbledore had figured out a last assault. And I was out for a while, never really known what happened and was so glad to be alive and not missing any important bits that I hadn't bothered to find out the details."
Remus nodded. "I was. There are still some aspects to it all that I don't understand. Why were you paired with Severus? I thought that your division- you were in Malfoy territory, right?"
"Yeah. I would never've believed how many houses, and companies, and spies the man had until we started mapping them all out." George shook his head at the memory.
"But recons were supposed to be in groups of three."
"I know. We had been up until a few days before that. We'd lost MacLeod and there wasn't anyone else to spare."
George stared into the flames of the stove. "That was a really bad loss, MacLeod." He looked over at Remus, who was nodding, encouraging him to continue. George focused on the golden eyes, crinkles in the corners, wondering briefly to himself how he'd gone from barely paying attention to Professor Lupin in class several years ago to being his life partner, with all of the disasters and some high points inbetween. Then he was MacLeod in his mind's eye, before he'd had to bury him and send notice to his Mum. "Life's a bastard at times," he said.
Remus lounged in his chair, propping his head against his hand. "Now there's an understatement," he said wryly.
George stared into his tea.
"Ye're who? Weasley? Right. MacLeod. Jon MacLeod."
A wizard around George's age with wide shoulders and short brown hair introduced himself. "Glad to have another mate with us. We're taking out Malfoy's spies and all that. Bit brutal, so I'm grateful ye've got some muscle on ye."
It'd taken George a few days to get used to his highland brogue, but it began to become comforting, especially when he found out the third person in their group was to be none other than Severus Snape.
"Rest assured, I find this no more pleasant than you do, Weasley," the former Potions Master had said the first time the three of them gathered at the central Apparation point, having the arrival coordinates handed to them on parchment which spontaneously combusted after a few seconds. "I cannot believe I'm supposed to find my way into one of Malfoy's prisons with an ex-sheepherder and a Hogwarts' dropout," Snape fumed, his brows so furrowed George thought he must have a headache.
"Pleasure being with your sunny company too," George tossed back. "Better with us than dead, eh?"
Snape glared at him. "I'm not so sure."
"George? Hello?"
George snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, sorry. Just thinking about...Well, I met MacLeod and put up with Snape and it wasn't too bad, at first."
Remus nodded, pulling hair behind his ear. "Go on."
"Sure," George sighed, and gave an overview of the couple of months he spent with Reconnaissance Four.