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Beg Me For It	By : Icarus Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Beg Me For It
- 1
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Copyright 2005 by Icarus Ancalion. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually quite generous.

Beg Me for It
by Icarus

Lucius Malfoy was the best Minister of Magic we'd ever had. There was something definitely wrong with that.

I mean, beyond the obvious, Dumbledore and Harry and everyone in hiding with my brother Charlie in Romania or some such, and the Death Eaters in charge.

You'd think that Malfoy would be lousy at it. You know, spoiled or something, but....

I know what I'm talking about. I've been through no less than four Ministers of Magic. See, I worked for Percy the year after we finished school, while I held my breath and hoped I passed the Auror exam. I saw firsthand what a confused mess Fudge made of things. When my father took over I figured things would improve, so I continued my job while I took my second crack at the Auror exam.

Don't look at me like that. Everyone fails the first time.

Anyway, I love my father, but I have to admit it was kind of a disaster. All right, it was chaos, people racing back and forth, Owls and owl droppings everywhere -- I thought Percy was going to have a nervous breakdown. Percy drove me up the wall, and I took on more responsibility than I ever wanted, just to shut him up.

Then the Death Eaters hit the Ministry hard... well, thank God Dad got out. But Percy and I were trapped. Besieged.

Then I had one glorious week of working for Percy Weasley, 'Interim Minister of Magic.'

Yeah, no kidding. God....

So I know what I'm talking about when I tell you that Lucius Malfoy is a joy to work for, even though I hate to think it, and refuse to say it. I do have some pride left.

You heard right.

I, Ron Weasley, work for Lucius and the Death Eaters. Sounds like a rock band, doesn't it?

Sorry. Sick joke. You take your humour where you can.

Lord of Magic, I should say, not Minister. Lucius was bent on making it some kind of hereditary Lordship, though how he planned to do that I had no idea. I mean, if there was one person the Death Eaters hated more than Harry, it was Draco Malfoy. Well. Him and Snape. They didn't hate Draco for all the very valid reasons I hated him: that he's a bigoted, ferret-faced, pureblooded arsehole. They just don't like traitors much. I'd yet to figure out why Draco, Dark Mark and all, flipped sides and went against his own father. Though I did learn later. It turned out to be rather important.

When the Ministry fell, Percy and I, with a lot other people went to jail, and waited for execution. Depressing, I know. We weren't very cheerful.

The day Percy and I were brought from our cells to the Ministry, I thought we were both goners. The words 'drumhead trial' kept running through my head. As we climbed the stairs with those guards around us, well, Percy looked pale, but he was taking it rather well, I thought. I never really thought of Percy as brave until then.

Percy looked as shocked as I felt when, instead of being taken to the Hall of Justice, we were led to the Minister of Magic's front office, given cups of tea, and settled into cushy chairs to wait for the new Minister. The reception w was was very polite. Apparently we had an 'appointment.' There was hardly anyone around, though this place used to be a packed madhouse. Which made it all the more surreal.

After twenty of the longest minutes of my life, we were led in. When that black chair turned, and I saw Lucius Malfoy behind the giant desk... well, somehow I wasn't a bit surprised.

Numb. Terrified. But not surprised. He told us to have a seat. Which we did, very uncomfortably.

No, the shocker was when he offered us jobs. Lucius Malfoy explained he was 'understaffed.' Which was quite the understatement, looking around.

Malfoy explained he had a philosophy of management, learned from the writings of a Nazi SS officer. Figures the only Muggles he would know about were Nazis.

Don't look at me like that. Of course I know who the Nazis were! I may not be able to work a fellytone, but I've read all about Muggle Warfare.

Anyway, Lucius told us, if I recall it right:

"The lazy and stupid, I give menial jobs; tasks where it matters not at all if they're done well. Those who are hard-working and intelligent, I make my assistants, since they will do anything and pull off miracles for me," he said, as he folded his hands oh-so-gracefully, so Malfoy-like. I hated his guts.

"The intelligent but lazy, I put in management because they delegate and find the easiest way to do everything..." Lucius smiled at me, and I tried to smile back but couldn't; my throat got really tight. "While the stupid and hard-working, I remove as soon as possible, before they can do much damage. But that's hardly at issue now, is it? Cornelius Fudge is long gone."

We all laughed, politely. And sipped our tea, wondering where this was headed. Given Malfoy's opinion of our family, I had a vision of me and Percy sweeping Ministry floors.

"Of course, you can always choose to remain in your cells," Lucius said, leaning back in his chair. The Minister's chair. "But you are more valuable to us here."

That threat was clear. So long as we were valuable, we were alive. To his credit, he had the class to be honest with us, when I threw in his face we were just hostages for our father, the real Minister of Magic.

Yeah, that was probably stupid of me, to yell at Lucius Malfoy when he was offering us our lives. Percy looked ready to hex me (if he could without his wand). But I was hot, I tell you!

"Think of it as a term of your employment," Lucius answered smoothly.

We accepted. Of course. What choice did we have? I mean in jail we had nothing, but this... well, it was like Chess. Being in check, but still having a pawn or two on the board. Still better than checkmate. And you could still, with some tremendous luck, win.

I never forgot that.

Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would turn out to be my lucky charm?

I always suspected that there was some internal Death Eater politics going on, that Lucius wanted us under his thumb, personally. But heck if I can figure out Death Eater politics. All I know is that Avery was in charge of the jails, and they were getting kind of empty -- and not for lack of arrests.

Yeah, we were really glad to get out of the jail cells, and not just because of the lousy food.

So. Percy was made Malfoy's personal secretary. Visually they clashed, as Percy would hustle over with a document Malfoy hadn't asked for yet and they would pore over it together. All that red hair and white blond... your eyes would go - ouch - just looking at them. But personality-wise, it was almost scary how well they go. Ma. Malfoy expected perfection, and Percy, well, he gave it.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was everything I never expected him to be; aware of his environment, smooth, efficient and professional. He was like Crouch, only with a personality. Praise from him was just a satisfied nod, but people lived for days off of one of those nods. The staff loved him.

Made my life easier. Since I had to manage the staff.

Yeah, Percy really hated the fact that Malfoy put me in a position that was technically over him. Even when I pointed out that I had just been insulted and called lazy (not that it bothered me really). Malfoy told me that any problems my staff couldn't solve were my responsibility. He didn't want to see oar aar anything about it. Which I guess made him lazy but smart, too. As long as I found the right people, I needn't do any work at all. Sounded good to me.

I was out of the frying pan, and employed by the Death Eaters. It was the second-weirdest day of my life.

I tried to be bad at my job. I really did. For my first hires I brought in some people that were definitely not loyal to the Death Eaters, and turned them loose on the Ministry, smiling the whole time. Malfoy was an *idiot* to trust me with any kind of authority.

But that was the night Percy stumbled into my quarters, shaking. He refused to tell me what Lucius had done to him, but he also refused to go back to his rooms that night or the next. That told me more than anything he could have said. I gave Percy my bed, and slept on the couch. Or tried to. But my eyes were wide open all night.

Lucius knew me. I don't know how. He could have done anything he wanted to me, but Percy, well, he's my brother. It may be cowardice on my part, but I would never risk him.

I imagine he held a similar threat over Percy.

After that... I did my job.

One bright spot was lunch with Percy every day. Did you know he had a sense of humour? Not the joking around kind of humour, but the laugh-so-hard-he-blows-milk-out-his-nose sort. I mean, when I said something about Lucius that was just, well, true, he fell out of his chair he laughed so hard. He looked at me from the floor and gasped:

"I thought Fred and George were the funny ones..."

"You think Fred and George are funny?!" I couldn't believe it. He'd always been on them about something. But Percy thought that was hilarious, too. I guess it was high pressure, working for Lucius all day long, though Percy always found a silver lining. And Lucius did supply him with chocolates - which were hard to come by - just 'cause Percy liked them. Another reason to look forward to lunch, heh.

I guess it was a testament to my ability that on the beginning of the weirdest day of my life, I was 'in a meeting' (i.e. I was folding paper airplanes in my office) and thinking about nothing more than lunch.

If life gets any weirder than this... then please, take my wand, stick it up my arse and say 'Avada Kedavra.'

Sorry. Probably been around Death Eaters too long. They joke about things like that.

I really did have an easy job. Management is just finding people who already want to do the job, then telling them to do it. Being really laid-back so people came to me with problems early, well, that was handy, but it's just me. Usually they talked out their own complaints and then thanked me for solving them. All right. Stop by any time. What can I say? Piece of cake.

So I had about six or seven paper airplanes scattered about my office, and all the darts stuck in the dart-board, though I really didn't feel like getting up to pull them out, when Percy stuck his head in through the fireplace. Which was a shocker, because we weren't allowed magic. He looked agitated, which made me even more nervous.

"Come to see the Lord of Magic. Right away. It's urgent." And Percy didn't wait for my answer, or even give me a sarcastic look about my paper airplanes.

It would have been great to be able to Apparate or Floo, but I had to get there the hard way. My robes flapped behind me as I hurried through the halls. I knew enough not to run. Percy could have at least given me a hint! Prepared me or something. Well, probably Malfoy was right there, casting the Floo powder and spell.

The reception witch was surprised to see me, so whatever it was, it was secret. Percy acted very smooth, lied and explained he had asked to see me. Which was even stranger. I didn't say a word. He brought me through the double doors into Lucius' office, and shut them on his way out, leaving me alone with Lucius Malfoy.

The Lord of Magic was very calm, and my mind raced through a dozen things I might have done wrong, but I just stood and waited for him to speak first. He motioned for me to take a seat.

"You never liked my son, did you?"

Well, what do you say to that? That his little Draco was adorable and lovely and we were pals? The Death Eaters hated Draco, but this was his father. Well. I didn't get along with that prat. I shook my head.

"Yes. It was fair to say you were as close to enemies as those of very different social standing could be..." Lucius dragged his thumb along his lip, like he did when he was thinking.

Yeah, I'd been around him long enough to know that sort of thing.

Malfoy finally said: "I need you to save my son."

"Save him...? From who -?" Then it dawned on me. The Death Eaters had caught Draco Malfoy. Shit. Lucius didn't even need to say it. For the first time in my life I felt sorry for Draco. I mean, he was in trouble for the only good thing he'd ever done.

Then I caught up with the rest of what had been said. "Me? What -? How...?" Yeah, I was as eloquent as ever.

"Our gracious Lord Voldemort has consented to spare Draco's life, on the condition that he... change." Lucius drew the words out slowly, as though this was a sentence worse than death. "It has been decided that Draco is... arrogant. That he turned from us because of that arrogance. He needs to be taught a lesson, and have that... flaw... removed."

Draco Malfoy, arrogant? What a surprise. But I kept my mouth shut. I still didn't know what this had to do with me.

"If he begs to serve Lord Voldemort..."

Draco Malfoy? Beg? Never in a million years...

"... he will not be allowed the privilege."

Huh?

"... but if he begs to serve those who serve... Draco may yet be allowed to do so." Lucius turned his eyes on me, and I felt pinned to the chair. "I need you to see to it that he does."

"Beg? What? To serve - me?" He'd never do that, I was the least likely person he'd ever want to see, let alone beg to...

Oh. That's why it was me. Voldemort had no intention of Draco succeeding. He only wanted to break Draco before he executed him. Scary, that I'd been around Death Eaters so long, I understood it so fast. Six months before, it would never have occurred to me that anyone could be that cruel.

"You will need this." Lucius handed me a small vial. It had a bluish liquid, and I swear, when I recognised it, I just stared at it in shock. I couldn't move. Or breathe even. Only when Lucius Malfoy looked a little irritated did I reach out my hand to take it. Lucius stood, turned his back to me, looked out a window and said:

"He will need to beg for it. See to it that he does."

It just goes to show my state of mind that I left before being dismissed. But I don't think Lucius Malfoy wanted to look at me right then. Not with the thought of what I was going to do to his son.

I knew Lucius didn't mean Draco was to beg for the potion. No. That was for me; a performance-enhancing potion any guy knew about, though using it was like admitting you couldn't get it up on your own. But in this case - I was gonna need it. I also guessed that Percy helped him cook up this idea, this intervention, to save Draco. Who knew how many favours Malfoy had pulled in for even this much. But it was unlikely Mr Malfoy could know Draco and my personal history without Percy's help.

My God.

I couldn't look at Percy. I went right past the witch at the front desk. She said something to me, but I'm not sure what it was. I thought about going to my office and pretending everything was cool, right? But I'm not that good an actor, I know that. So I stopped by for maybe a second, told one of the assistants - I'm not sure who - that I was sick, and went home.

Well. Not really home. House arrest, like most of the people at the Ministry these days. There were offices transformed into beige, two-room apartments with tiny attached kitchens.

Flopping onto the couch, I realised two things: first, I'd bloody forgotten to ask when, and there was no fucking way I was going back to ask. Second, I needed to get drunk. Just absolutely pissed. I hadn't earned that kind of privilege, to have alcohol, but I knew someone who had.

I started to unlock Percy's door - Muggle locks, 'cause we couldn't use magic - but it opened for me on its own. Percy was already home. In the middle of the day. That was a first. He didn't say a thing, and I am so glad. No explanations. No excuses. Nothing. When I reached for the booze, he just pulled out a glass and poured it for me. And kept pouring, till I blissfully slid into unconsciousness.

I woke the next morning, late, in Percy's bed. I felt a little bleary, but I lucked out on the hangover this time. Percy had already gone in to work, but left me a note to say he'd made my excuses, so I wasn't expected in today. I'm glad I'd said I was sick.

I must've said something about not knowing when, because Percy's note also said it was to happen tonight. I hadn't considered the fact that Percy, of course, would know.

I wished I didn't. Now I had all day to think about it.

I almost started drinking for breakfast. But I stopped. I realised I was going to have Draco Malfoy's life in my hands tonight. Better not be drunk. He may be the worst excuse for a wizard walking this world (outside of Voldemort), or close to it, but I would not have his blood on my hands. That's how I saw it. Punishment from Lucius Malfoy was guaranteed if he died, sure. But that didn't mean shit to me at that moment.

Maybe that's why I failed the Auror exams. Twice. They asked the strangest questions, probably personality stuff.

Yeah, I'll admit not everyone fails them twice.

Well, sometime around the afternoon I pulled together a brilliant plan. It would get this over quick, with the least amount of trouble for me, and Malfoy would walk away a live little bastard. Though a bastard still.

I'd go to their creepy dungeon or whatever, and then lean over and pretend to kiss him. Then I'd tell him his options. He could fake a 'oh Ron, please do me' -- I'd do what I had to do -- and then... that would be it. With any luck, I would never have to see his ferret-face again.

It was given I'd never be able to look Draco Malfoy in the eyes after that. Ever.

I poured some cooking oil in a bottle I emptied from Percy's medicine cabinet, in case they didn't think of that. I mean, other than Malfoy's comfort -- whew, ouch. Rug-burn, right?

Around nine o'clock, there was a knock on the door. There were three or four blokes in full Death Eater masks and robes.

Trick or Treat, I thought. But somehow I doubted they had a sense of humour, so I kept it to myself.

I slipped the vial and the oil into my pockets, and they led me away without a word. They were doing the 'scary Death Eater' thing pretty good. Except, heh, the guy on the left was wearing white sneakers. It looked a little silly.

I dunno. Things had taken such a turn for the weird that I was in a very strange mood.

I expected to be taken to a dungeon someplace, but instead they took me outside, which I hadn't seen from anywhere but a window for who knows how long. Since before the siege. But I didn't get to enjoy that breath of freedom for much, because they sandwiched me between them on a Ministry Security broom, and we took off. It was a good twenty-minute flight, and I had lost my sense of humour, somewhere between here and there, and was really starting to worry. Where the hell were we going?

Then I recognised what was ahead of us. The Quidditch Stadium for England. I was sort of out of touch with the Quidditch world, for good reason I might add. Had the Death Eaters transformed the Quidditch Stadium into a prison of some kind? How? Did people still play Quidditch even?

Then I saw that the stadium had been all walled in. So it was a prison. Or something like it.

I dunno, that hit me kind of hard, worse than anything, that Quidditch was no more in England. It sort of brought home to me what the Death Eaters were. I guess I'd gotten used to them, working my job at the Ministry. I'd grown, I hate to admit it, comfortable. It wasn't a great life. But I was okay. I had forgotten. In a way. I felt really uncomfortable all of a sudden.

We landed, and I just stood there staring at the walls of the Quidditch Stadium. The Death Eaters dragged me off the broom by the collar when I didn't move fast enough. That shocked me. Lucius was never rough with us! But suddenly I was a prisoner again, and I didn't like it one bit.

I felt a lot worse for Draco Malfoy than I had yesterday. Because I mean, he was 'the Traitor.' I didn't mean a thing to the Death Eaters. I couldn't believe Malfoy had even bought Draco a chance.

I didn't think I could do it. Save him, I mean. Staring at those high walls, it just didn't seem possible.

They led me to a small door off to the side, and we came into this crowded dark room. There was all kinds of noise outside that room, and I was so disoriented, hit by so many different understandings at once, that I didn't recognize it. Someone said, 'Sonorous.'

I was shoved forward through a door into bright light, and the crowd roared.

It was a fucking Roman Coliseum....

"Son of a bitch..." I said to myself.

And my voice echoed, filled the whole stadium. The place rippled with laughter. The Sonorous Charm had been put on me.

An Oroborous Spell, or even a Muggle bomb, right here, I thought. That's all we'd need to take them out. Nobody obliged.

There went my brilliant plan. I could almost hear the flushing sound. As I walked forward, footsteps crunching loudly on the dirt and gravel, I realised there was no way I could whisper to Malfoy his options.

Now what?

I didn't see Malfoy at first. There were a whole bunch of clowns, dressed up mockingly as Dumbledore, Snape, Harry, my Dad... all the Death Eater favourites. I tried not to look too closely at their crude humour, 'cause it kind of made me see red.

Then I saw Malfoy. And I looked away.

He was chained by the arms to some kind of frame in the middle of the stadium. Even from here, the angle of his left shoulder looked like it was dislocated. At first it seemed like he was wearing something smudgy and greyish over his chest and arms and shoulders. But as I walked closer, slowly, I realised he wasn't wearing anything but his shorts. He simply didn't look it, because he was covered, just covered, in bruises.

There were two huge guards in Death Eater masks on either side of Malfoy. Even with the masks though, I'd seen those two flanking Malfoy too many times not to recognise Crabbe and Goyle on sight. They had their wands.

My God. What had they done to him?

There was a big sign above him that said 'Dumbledore's Whore.' I had a feeling that sign would bother Malfoy more than the bruises. As I drew closer, I saw his face... my God. I stood directly in front of Malfoy, stopped and just... stared. The stadium kind of hushed.

What was I going to do?

I thought he might be unconscious, hanging off those chains, but then I caught a kind of glimmer of eyes in his swollen face. I couldn't tell if they were partially-closed in pain, or just so swollen that he couldn't open them all the way.

Jesus. Up close, Malfoy reeked. The smell almost knocked me out.

Malfoy spoke first.

"So, Weasel. You're my torturer..." Malfoy said. His teeth were broken, so he sort of spit when he talked. "I'll bet you'll enjoy it...."

His voice echoed through the stadium. Another Sonorous Charm.

"Are you thirsty?" the 'Harry' clown asked.

And, I don't believe it, the clown actually whipped it out, and pissed on Malfoy! The stadium roared with laughter. No wonder he smelled so bad.

"Draco," a voice boomed. It was Lucius Malfoy. "Your salvation has arrived. If you beg it of him, he might accept your plea. Everything can be granted by your Master. If you wish water, if you wished to be healed... these can granted by your Master, Ron Weasley. If he accepts you."

The crowd tittered.

"You do not deserve to serve Lord Voldemort. But you may yet serve the lowest of his slaves, and prove yourself worthy, at least, of him."

"Fuck you, father..." Draco Malfoy's voice echoed again.

The crowd hissed, booed and boomed with laughter.

"You are marked for death, Draco. As you were once marked by our Lord Voldemort. A privilege you have been so arrogant as to deny. You should not even have this chance. But you are fortunate."

Draco Malfoy tried to speak, but he started coughing instead. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

My mind was kind of numb. I just stood there watching, thinking this was completely impossible. I couldn't reconcile this to my life at the Ministry. I was sure Percy knew nothing about this either.

I was certain now that Malfoy wasn't going along with this easily. Hell. I didn't blame him. The stadium fell strangely silent, or as quiet as stadiums get with that constant whisper and movement of sound.

"I'll bet you have a whole row of little slaveboys at home, Weasley," Malfoy spat at me.

"No." It was all I could think to say, honest.

"Collaborator!" Malfoy coughed.

That really hacked me off. What the fuck did he know, about Percy, and Lucius' hold on us?!

"I could walk away right now," I told him. "And let you die."

That whisper in the stadium increased, but I ignored it.

"Do it..." he mumbled.

The fucking fool! I was trying to save his sorry life.

"You never cared about anyone, did you?!" Unlike me. "You never gave a damn!"

But I do, and that's why I'm here, you idiot. If it were Malfoy in my shoes, I bet he wouldn't even try.

I got really close to him, despite the smell. He tried to spit on me I think. But he started coughing. A lot. I reached over and wiped the trickle of blood from his face. Malfoy flinched away. His face really hurt. I just sort of... ached, seeing it. There was no way I would ever walk away. Somehow, he had to trust me.

With everyone watching. Without words. And two guards watching.

Fortunately for me, that last was an advantage. Those two were astoundingly stupid. I had no idea why the Death Eaters used them.

Malfoy's shoulder was definitely dislocated. I knew how to fix that.

Yes, of course I knew -- that and a lot of medical basics. What do you think I had to learn for my Auror exam? Make that: exams. It's not all magic.

Too bad I couldn't get him fro from the chains to do it.

Wait a minute... I realised there was no way they expected me to 'do' Malfoy chained up like that. I motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to loosen the chains. It took them long enough to catch on to what I wanted, but they did what I said!

I thought, I'll be damned. They really want me to play Master here. The chains rattled to the ground, and I caught Malfoy before he fell.

I looked him in the eyes. He looked really surprised and kinda scared for a moment. Then I got him to his knees, and just to give Malfoy some warning, I held his eyes like that a long second. Finally, I reached around... and pulled.

He yelled bloody murder, echoed and magnified fifty times over in the stadium. The crowd kinda rumbled. I couldn't tell if they were confused, happy or what.

Then they roared, cheered, and howled. There was all this clapping.

What a bunch of bloodthirsty bastards.

I looked at Malfoy, who was somehow managing to support maybe half his own weight. It was a good thing he was so small. He looked me straight in the eyes suddenly, real sharp, and I could tell he knew. He knew I'd reset his shoulder. He knew I'd faked everybody out. He understood, I was sure of it, that he had a friend here, who would make damned sure he *didn't* break. The defiance ran right out of him and he started looking really shaky.

Please let me be right, I thought. Because if he doesn't know, then I just saw him crack. Maybe it was harder to stand up to them when there was a little trickle of hope.

For the benefit of the crowd, I said, "Beg me to clean you." My voice boomed like some kind of barbarian god's.

It was also for my benefit. I couldn't stand his smell a minute longer. My stomach was a tad queasy from drinking last night.

"P-please..." Malfoy whispered. It carried everywhere.

"Call me Master," I ordered, thinking: damn it. Play along.

"Please... c-clean me, Master..."

The clowns came back, but this time they had buckets of water. As they threw the buckets of water at Malfoy and the crowd laughed, I regretted asking for that. They were just so much harsher than I imagined. Not to mention they got me, too. Fucking cold water. But I wouldn't let go.

Let's get this over with, quick, I thought. Or he's gonna get pneumonia.

"Beg me to take your shorts off," I said, as steady as I could. My voice rang.

The crowd shushed, titillated. Well, even bruised like that, Malfoy was good-looking I had to admit. I wondered at the twisted minds that came up with all this.

Malfoy shivered, terrified. He looked he was going to crack after all. I don't know why I was so steady myself, come to think of it. He didn't answer me.

I cupped his face, on the chin where he wasn't bruised, and gave him a look: dammit, hang in there!

He flinched and looked away. And that was strange, because that part of his face was not injured. I realized then that the vain little thing couldn't stand what he must look like, with his face beat in. He didn't want me to look at him. I mean, of all the things to be upset about -!

But that gave me an idea. I stood away, just to make the right effect, and held his face cupped like that. Then I said:

"Look at his face! I can't fuck that!"

The crowd loved it, they roared. Jeered. Yammered. My eyes practically bugged out of their sockets trying to tell him it was okay. Somewhere, I knew, Lucius Malfoy was giving me one very sharp look. 'Cause he knew his son was vain.

"Beg me to heal your face. Now."

Malfoy understood. He mumbled the words.

Goyle, I think it was, lumbered forward. I just prayed that a couple years of war had made Goyle better at these than he had been at school, or Malfoy might just end up wearing his teeth for eyelashes.

War had made a difference. Thank God. Either that, or it was Crabbe who did the Healing Charm. Crabbe had always been a lot better at them.

The difference was amazing. Crabbe - I'm sure it was Crabbe now - managed to fix his teeth. The cheekbones came back, and the haughty straight mouth. His eyes were grey. I'd never been close enough to notice that. Disgustingly, he even had rather long blond eyelashes. Malfoy tossed his hair a little, and straightened slightly. The familiar arrogance returned.

Insufferable, really. Who could blame Voldemort for wanting to cure the little prick of that?

All right, you've got your ferret-face back, now... "Beg for it, Malfoy."

"Oh, please, may I have your cock?" The sarcasm was obvious! Idiot! This is what I get for fixing your face!

The crowd heard it, too, and buzzed angrily. Before I could do a damned thing, Goyle and Crabbe clobbered him. Malfoy was knocked to the ground, several times.

There was nothing I could do about it. I just had to stand there and watch him take it, while Malfoy looked up at me in shock, as I did nothing. I watched the sarcasm evaporate. Along with the trust.

Damn. For one brief moment I wished he were Harry. Or like Harry at least. Harry would understand, Harry I could communicate with, Harry would understand and listen.

Malfoy curled up in a ball in the dirt, sullen and coughing again. Crabbe gave him a final kick and walked away.

I would just have to try.

I walked over and touched the shoulder I'd fixed, lifted his face again. It was still okay. Look me in the eyes, I thought. I've repaired your damned body -- twice. Doesn't that mean anything? Malfoy looked away; God he was nicer when he was almost broken.

The crowd stirred a little around me. The natives were getting bored with the show.

"Beg me for it... Draco," I said, desperate to make the point. I put as much behind that name as I could. His head snapped up, at more than just his name I think. Though 'Draco' had to sound weird coming from me.

Yeah, no one in that stadium knew we never called each other by our first names. Ever. We went to school together, right? How would they know we were never anything but 'Malfoy' and 'Weasley'?

Something teetered on the edge between us, changed. He looked at me with solid understanding, maybe even confidence.

He said in a small voice, which still echoed. "Please... give me your cock. Ron."

I - I was probably as shocked as he'd been, hearing him. More than by his words. It's hard to describe it at this point. It was the first time he'd ever said anything that wasn't meant to tear me open; Draco was the sort who could say 'good morning' and leave me bleeding. But the way he asked, it sounded somewhere between 'thank you' and 'help me.' It broke my heart rea The There was this strange intimacy, and it seemed like the whole outside world ceased to exist - for all that most of it was watching.

I admit, I swallowed. This part I didn't need the potion for; I knew what was expected of me. I unbuttoned my trousers, and he hesitated for a second, looking up at me.

Draco didn't look defiant. No - something else - stoic. So I'd given him that much. Just enough dignity to get through this.

When he wrapped his lips around my cock, Draco kept his eyes open and on my face the whole time. And, well -- that took guts.

Yeah, of course it felt good, but I sd thd that aside because it wasn't given, all right? I didn't move either, even when I was tempted.

Sorry about the view, folks. You sick bastards. I hope you all die of boredom.

As soon as I could, I guided Draco's head off. Enough. And I held both sides of his face, and looked at him, firmly. Let's get this over and done with.

"Ask."

That had to do for their damned show.

Draco's lips pursed with disgust, and his eyes flashed with pure hatred. I didn't care if it was for me, or the audience, or the situation -- I never thought I'd be glad to see Draco act like himself in all his rotten glory.

Aside from a slight flare of his nostrils, Draco was steady. "Please..." he only winced slightly. "... fuck me, Master."

If anyone noticed the defiance in that pause, they were probably distracted by the next part of the show. I took the potion. Although, to tell you the truth - just between you and me - Draco got a rise out of me without it.

Don't look at me like that. Show me *anyone* whose prick doesn't get hard after a blowjob, and I'll show you someone who's ninety.

I've always been rather proud of my, well, size - though I never thought quite this many people would ever know it first hand.

It's funny. Maybe I'm an exhibitionist or something. I mean, you'd think I'd be embarrassed or something when I pulled off the robe, but I wasn't. I guess... these people just didn't seem real. They were just a wash of colour and noise. The whole thing didn't seem real. Except Draco. He was very real. The fact his life was on the line. That was too fucking real.

I pulled down his shorts and wished that I could do this from a position where I could watch his eyes, 'cause I knew that helped, but right away I knew that wouldn't fly in Death Eater Land. It'd look way too equal. So I hoped for the best. But when I got the oil out I kinda worried about whether or not I'd fit. So with a lot of oil on my hands, I slid a finger inside first. I mean, I knew what I was doing with anal sex --

... don't look at me like that. Girls do anal sex too, you know.

Draco was wide open. And a little torn. I looked over at Crabbe and Goyle and thought, oh, fuck....

Something about Draco's face, the way he looked at the ground, told me exactly what had nearly broken him. His own damned friends.... Now his worst enemy, along with the public humiliation. I could see why I could have put him over the edge. And might still.

Shit! Those fucking bastards!

Right that second I knew. Draco was right. I was a collaborator. I thought I was working from the inside - I thought. But it was really for my own comfort. And for Percy. But this is what these Death Eaters did. Lulled by Lucius Malfoy's civility because I was such a *good* slave, I had forgotten what they were. I felt sick.

I swore that whatever it took, I would bring them down.

But first, let's get Draco out of here alive, and reasonably sane.

As torn up as he was, no matter how much oil I used, it was gonna hurt. Well, I couldn't give him a bullet to bite exactly, but I did the next best thing. I reached around, and on the pretext of needing to hold onto something, I teased one of his nipples till it was hard while I stroked the oil in.

He gasped as my finger went in. Even that much hurt. Then I pinched his nipple as a distraction, and held it and him, tight, while I waited. I breathed in his ears and nuzzled my hair along the back of his neck, until he shivered a little. Ready?

He took a deep breath and finally nodded, imperceptibly.

A cry just tore out of Draco's throat as I pushed in that first inch or so.

He moaned, loud and painfully as I pressed in further. God. If it weren't for the potion I'd be limp as a noodle. This was not a turn-on. I wondered if people were far enough away I could fake coming, because I was nowhere near it otherwise.

Another inch and Draco screamed bloody murder and whimpered, almost crying. That was it. No more of this. He couldn't take it, and neither could I.

Okay... time for brilliant plan number three: Acting 101. I nipped Draco's shoulder to get his attention. He was panting horribly. He looked around at me, his eyes dilated, and I mouthed: *Fake It!*

Draco nodded emphatically.

I put my hand on his arse and guided it in time with my thrusts, so he was basically moving in the same direction as me. I made a point of moving a lot, to cover what we were doing. Oh, and I moaned theatrically.

"Oh God, oh yeah... yeah, oh, Yeah!"

The crowd hooted, roared and jeered wildly, adding their own distraction.

Thank God Crabbe and Goyle had all the brains of, say, lichen.

Draco alternated between pained winces, biting his lip - I was still hitting some sore spots - and looking like he was going to laugh out loud. He rocked with me, and added his own moans and groans and exclamations.

I really wished he wouldn't do that, because... I was ready to laugh, too. And his were starting to sound pretty damned fake. Which was really funny. Draco had no control over that sarcasm it seemed.

Oh, I had the biggest, loudest, raunchiest orgasm of my life right there in that stadium, as good a performance as any of my girlfriends. Not that I'd stop the sex to call them on it, mind. I hoped none of them were up in the stadium, 'cause they'd know I usually came kinda quietly. A lot of people at the Burrow, yeah? Not to mention seven years in a dorm.

As I pulled out and stood, I silently prayed that no one would do a 'spunk-check' later. Or we were *really* fucked. Literally. It occurs to me now to wonder why no one cared that I was still hard, or why that would be. I guess people see what they want to see. Ironic, huh?

Draco looked up at me, naked as a jaybird, and said, "Thank you... Master."

There was an emphatic, grateful look in his eyes. He meant it. I didn't know what to do. I just ran my hand through his fine hair, thinking, Draco...you're a hell of a lot of work, you know that?

I worried about discovery, and then Crabbe and Goyle came over to lead Draco away. And that worried me even more.

Then I had brilliant plan number four.

I stood up and shouted to the audience, which I realised was starting to break up.

"He's mine, isn't he?!"

The Sonorous Charm echoed in the stadium. People stopped, kind of interested. There was some laughter.

"I earned him, didn't I?!" Some people started to clap.

"Haven't I earned him??!"

A group of rowdies cheered, but pretty much the whole stadium stayed. Curious. Didn't want to miss this part of the show. Draco stood, nonplussed, while Crabbe and Goyle looked around, confused.

"Haven't I conquered him?!!" Everyone liked that. There was hooting and roaring.

"Yeah?!!"

They cheered wildly.

"YEAH!" I raised my arms. Buck fucking naked and I didn't care.

The stadium went nuts.

People shouted back, "Yeah!!" And someone shouted, "Take him again!"

Oh. I had to change the direction of this, quick.

"Bring him to my rooms!!! GIVE him to me!!!" I pounded my chest -- and the crowd roared.

There was some signal that I didn't see, probably from Lucius, because Crabbe (or Goyle?) walked a stumbling Draco Malfoy over to me. Then Draco's chains were put in my hands.

The crowd went absolutely crazy, like it was the perfect capper to their evening.

When I said it was a weird day....

I only hoped it wasn't just for show. It was possible that the moment we got off the stage Draco would be taken away from me. I could kinda see the same thoughts racing through Draco's eyes, too.

Then the big doors opened, and someone dressed head to toe in flowing elegant black walked across the arena. I recognised the white-blond hair. It was Lucius Malfoy.

I waited.

He stopped right in front of us. Then he looked me up and down. And he did the same to Draco.

Lucius said to me, "Weasley. Put on some clothes."

Then he threw some black cloth to Draco. It was one of his old school robes. Lucius had brought it in hopes Draco had survived.

I picked my own robes out of the dirt, and shook them out. Since Draco's hands were all chained - and he looked a little stupefied - I managed to get his robe about him. It was a little small, probably from when Lucius last saw him.

Lucius then turned, and we scrambled to follow. I realised then that no one was going to take Draco. Not with Lucius leading the way. He stayed just far enough ahead, as though he were only doing his duty. But he didn't turn us over to the guards for a second. He stayed with us all the way to the door of my rooms.

And I don't think he'd ever seen that corridor before.

When we reached my prison at the Ministry -- and I knew it was a prison finally -- Lucius stood at the door to my beige cell and said, "We will speak tomorrow. My secretary will put you on my calendar."

Not 'Percy.' His 'secretary.'

I wished Percy had seen what I'd seen, and understood that we were merely convenient parts in Lucius Malfoy's well-oiled machine. Well-cared for, because that's how one treats useful tools. So they'll last. And not squeak.

A very efficient man.

Lucius unlocked Draco's chains, and shut the door behind us, locking out the last chance Draco could be waylaid. And locking us in. We could come and go throughout the Ministry building. But that was as far as we could go.

I was really glad Lucius took the chains off Draco though, because I was just wondering how Draco was going to wipe his arse like that.

Hey - I'm practical!

I also saw the look Draco gave Lucius, when he took tho those chains.

Now this sounds terrible, but if I were Lucius, I'd've let the Death Eaters kill Draco. I realize Draco was his son and all, but can a man be that blind? It didn't take a genius to see how Draco looked at him. I don't think. Anyway, it was obvious to me now why Draco had switched sides. Figures he wouldn't do it for the benefit of mankind.

Right about then, as I was leading Draco into my rooms, another brilliant plan came to mind. Lucius Malfoy had a point after all. That's what I was good at. Delegating.

Send a snake to kill a snake? Why not?

So. There we were. In my rooms. After all that.

Draco looked around my quarters with this look of complete disdain. Ha. Like I was responsible for them. I'd like to see how his last jail cell looked like. I bet this was a palace by comparison.

"They probably want you to curl up at my feet like a dog, but you can have the couch," I told him.

"I'd prefer the bed," Draco said primly. Expecting to get it, too! Unbelievable.

"The bed is *mine.* Unless you want to share," I shrugged.

"Want another crack at me, Weasley?" Draco sneered.

Remind me here. Did I or didn't I just save his life? And his arse in the bargain! For a bloke with a relatively small dick, he sure had balls. My face must have grown really red, because he had that familiar victorious look he'd always had at school. I almost fell for it, too. I was thinking I should have let him get fucked in the dungeons!

But then I took a look at the chains still at his feet. And I didn't rise to the bait. I mean, he was just helpless. Like one of those small, yappy dogs that make a whole hell of a lot of noise, but don't have anything to back it up. Perhaps he'd always been like that.

"Maybe another time," I said. His barb was toothless, too. Truth was, if I did want another crack at him, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. 'Cept maybe run very fast in a circle. "The shower's over there."

It gave him a place to hide for a bit, lick his wounds in private. As no doubt he wanted to after getting fucked in front of thousands. Funny that didn't bother me much. But that's the difference between us I suppose.

Besides, Draco still stank.

I got out a pair of my pyjamas and a towel for him, and set them outside the bathroom. The pyjamas would be way too big, but he could roll them up. I'd see about clothes for him tomorrow. Draco came with rather a limited dowry: one filthy pair of shorts. One too-small school robe.

I heard the water running, and then some splashing about. It felt sort of... nice... to have somebody else around. A relief. I guess I like to have people near me. Even if it's Draco.

I needed to take a shower too, but I was more tired than anything. I washed up a little in the kitchen.

Hey. Mum's not here to complain, right?

About an hour later, I was half-asleep with the lights off when I felt a squeaky-clean Draco rustle under the covers with me.

He lay on his side next to me, real quiet. I guess I was still sort of 'tuned in' to Draco, because, I dunno... he just seemed so small and shaky right then. I supposed he'd been through a lot, and his head was spinning. I remembered what it was like the day we were let out of prison. It was too much to be believed.

I reached over to squeeze his shoulder a little, just to say, hey, it's all right. It's real.

I didn't expect to meet skin. Was he starkers? Well, he had to be, unless he wore those grubby shorts.

Okay.

I left my hand there. I dunno why, I guess I needed it. The shock was still running through me. And he seemed so small. Besides, after a day like that you just want to curl up in a ball and say, yikes.

Heh. Well, I guess there's not a lot of people who've had days like that, eh?

"Didn't you find the pyjamas?" I mumbled sleepily. He didn't move away, which was a relief.

"That colour belongs in a hunting catalogue. It probably glows in the dark," Draco complained. "I've seen prettier things scraped off the bottom of Longbottom's cauldron."

You're welcome.

I suddenly realised he would have news from the outside.

"Neville... is he all right?"

"Yeah. Last I saw."

"How 'bout Harry?" God, I could barely swallow around the lump in my throat. I don't think I could handle it if the news was bad. It suddenly occurred to me that I was so comfortable at the Ministry because I was really pretty easy to break. I was close to a lot of people. Draco, on the other hand, I bet was nearly impossible to crack.

Draco sighed and kind of shifted under the covers. "He's fine. The same as ever."

We were quiet for a bit.

"Lot's changed," I said.

"Uhm-hm," Draco answered, turning to me. "For a minute there I almost thought I was back at school. Then I realised - wait - I'm in bed with Weasley! You're supposed to be a gorgeous blonde from Hufflepuff."

I really couldn't resist. "Male or female?"

"Sod off, Weasley," Draco said blandly, without missing a beat.

How the next part connected to my brilliant plan, I haven't the foggiest idea.

I mean, I just lay there, thinking of the millions of ways my plan could go wrong -- where I wound up very dead or worse... and they all had to do with Draco Malfoy not cooperating.

I thought of how Draco had climbed into my bed way too easily -- I mean, it's *me*, Ron Weasley. Hated enemy?? Thought about his refusing to wear the pyjamas, the touch of his hand as he climbed in... I put two and two together and came up with four.

When I reached around, his dick was as hard as a rock.

Yep. I groped Draco Malfoy. Sick, huh? And he didn't say a word, but that didn't surprise me at that point.

Then I said, don't ask why, "All right my little Elf, your boss has a job for you...." as I rolled towards him.

I meant to say 'House Elf' - slave boy, all that stuff - but I think it came out wrong. I'm like that during sex. I talk and say things, and they sound ridiculous the next day. But Draco got this smile on his face, so I guess it didn't sound that stupid. Or it didn't matter with me wanking him at that moment, which was probably closer to the truth.

I didn't expect...

Look, I don't care if you're the straightest arrow that ever came out of the box -- you have to try this, just once! Girls are great, but this is one thing... you never have to tell a bloke it won't break, that's for sure. Oh, God, I'm getting hard just thinking about that night.

Draco, while I still had my hand on his cock, doing a damned fine businesslike job of getting him off -- he reached over and pulled mine out. Just like that. And said, after checking me out for a second: "You are the *big* boss, aren't you?"

Holy shit! And then he started to give me the best handjob I've had in my life. Within, I swear, five seconds I was bigger than I'd ever been, and he never let up. Except once, and I almost cried. But my hand had stopped on his I realized, so I went to town on him -- businesslike, hell, I had enthusiasm now.

After all, unlike certain death if Dumbledore ever attacked, a 'social life' (how's that for a handy euphemism?) wasn't exactly a term of my employment.

Draco breathed heavily, his hips jerked up into my hand and messed up my rhythm, and he started to sweat -- and I can't tell you how good he looks with that perfect hair a wreck, and him sweating and moaning just like anyone else. That hand of his, as little as a girl's, running up and down my cock with that a grip that was *nothing* like a girl's -- I just exploded all over my chest and stomach.

As I lay there, trembling with aftershocks, mind gone to smithereens, he put his hand over mine on his cock, and did a few strokes to make me keep going. Can't say I blame him. He was awfully close. My mind spun as I listened to him build up with these little moans, feeling something between worship, gratitude and surprise as he got louder and arched until he came, wet and hot, all over my hand.

Yeah, worship. I can be honest here, can't I? I'm a little sappy when it comes to sex, too.

I guess in that big Mansion he never had to be quiet. I did think about the neighbours for a second there, but that was stupid. I mean, the entire Death Eater world had just watched me give it to Draco up the arse! What did I have -- a reputation?

I thought we were done. I mean, we both came, right?

I was just about to roll over to get something to clean us up, when Draco kinda snuggled up between my legs, lay on top of my cock... and started to lick my spunk right off my stomach.

Oh, gross.

I was totally disgusted. If I wasn't in complete shock, if it didn't feel so damned good, and if it weren't the most erotic sight in my life -- his head gently moving between my legs, all tousled, as he licked me up like a cat -- hell, I probably would have done something. Maybe even moved. Possibly even breathed, though I'm not sure I could really.

As it was I just stared and memorized every second of it. I still wank to that image in the shower.

And he knew how much I liked it, because he was on top of my cock as I got hard again. I wish I could be nineteen forever. But at the time I practically died of embarrassment, when he gave me that little evil smile of his again.

He kissed his way down my stomach.

I'm not ignorant. I knew exactly where he was headed. At least, I prayed I knew where he was headed.

Malfoy slipped down the sheets, and then glittered at me as he checked out my cock. That's what I saw. My cock standing straight up, and those grey eyes glittering at me. Then his lashes fell and he took my cock in his mouth. This time for real.

Minutes before I wouldn't've given Malfoy a blow job if you pointed a wand at my head and said 'Avada...' But at that moment... I would've given Malfoy ten blow jobs, my first-born child, and anything else he wanted besides.

I think I said so, too. Because he laughed, his mouth full of my cock. Which felt really strange. But amazing, too. It was all amazing, a real thrill. It didn't matter he was a bloke. And it mattered even less he was Malfoy.

I did give him a blow job. Later. He said I sucked at it. Which is really a lousy pun -- Draco's never been as clever as he thinks. A scary thought, when you consider my plan, and the fact that my life will soon depend on him being exactly as smart as he believes himself to be.

I try not to think about it.

Oh. Yeah. Of course he said yes.

"Is that why you slept with me?" Draco asked, as we curled up in bed together afterwards and I told him my great idea.

"Yep."

"You're a stupid prat, Weasley. You're supposed to negotiate *before* you give it away." Draco's skin felt like hard silk next to mine.

He had a point there. But I felt too damned good to really care. "Yeah."

Besides, sometimes I act on raw gut instinct. I see something in front of me, an advantage, and I act. Quick.

You see, the main trick of delegating is not to get people to do what they want already - that's not hard. Draco came here to kill Lucius Malfoy. I knew that. The real trick is to motivate people to do it *your* way.

It wasn't something I planned exactly. But n was was there, in close enough for Draco to listen to me, maybe even do what I said. I could feel him listening, drinking me in, as his fingers stroked circles down my back. (Hm. I really had to learn how to do that.) With me, he may have a snowball's chance of success. Without me -- no way. I think he knows that now. And hell, he may even try to make sure Percy and I survive it. Who knows? It would be nice to see Harry again.

In the meantime....

Everything's ready. We just have to wait for the right timing. I mean, it's stupid to go through the trouble of bumping off Lucius Malfoy, just to have another Death Eater waltz in to take his place. So we wait, until Dumbledore attacks, and losing Malfoy would really knock them on their arses.

For now I find myself cleaning up after the lazy prat. He's 'earned' his own quarters, according to Lucius, but Draco tells me he stays for the easy sex. I tell him he stays for the cleaning service, the slob. Really, House Elf is the worst term for him. He's neither hard-working nor eager to please. Except in bed.

Lucius got him a job, but Draco never shows. I guess he's either smart and really lazy, or else he's just too smart to work for Death Eaters in the first place. I'd love to do the same, but, you know, Malfoy privilege.

Around the house, when I call him 'Elf' he blushes, and he gets this little smile on his face. But Draco gets me back. He calls me 'Boss' - in public, damn him! I'm the only one who knows what he means by it, of course, but I turn beet red every god damned time. I'll bet Lucius knows.

Still, it's nice being the one who's straight, because I always want it just a little teeny bit less than he does. So when he's been insufferable, and he's called me 'Boss' in front of my *brother* just one too many times, and I've come home tired from work... only to find him eating the last chocolates Percy gave me....

Well, those times, late at night, I get Draco hot and panting, his feathery blond hair all over the place... pin him to the bed... and then I tell him:

"Beg me for it."

Finis.
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Beg Me For It