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keelywolfeSince the last chapter was pretty darn short, I decided to go ahead and post this chapter today as well. Might as well get it out while I still have a head of steam. :)
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Four
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
You can read the other chapters here. Except for 23, which is here.
PS: I do have to add a sincere thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
resqdog51 and kalyw for never letting me forget about this story. When it gets finished, it's going to be partly due to you. :)
Chapter 24
~*~
In which truths are revealed. And revealed. And revealed.
*
"This one, I believe, I'll send to the Ministry."
Ron forced himself, barely, not to flinch from the pressure of the blade so very close to his scalp.
He wondered vaguely at the time. There was no way of knowing; he'd woken up here some hours before and Merlin only knew how long he'd been unconscious after the beating he'd been handed with that little Muggle pain machine. Next time his father made mention of how delightful Muggle devices were, Ron swore he'd shove that one up his father's arse and let him see up close how it worked. If he ever saw his father again. He had to admit, it was getting increasingly doubtful if he would.
He'd long suspected he'd die like this, oh, yes. Couldn't have a simple hex taking him down, all nice and painless, like. No, Ronald Weasley had to go for torture and agony, that was the ticket. He wondered if he'd been hanging upside down long enough to go insane. The pressure of his own blood was heavy and painful in his head and sinuses and that alone would drive a man nutters. Strung up like a sausage on a string in a dirty old warehouse of some sort. Yes, this was his kind of death, no doubt about it.
Again, cold metal against his skin and this time he cut too close, a slice of pain whinging through his skin. Ron didn't make a sound. He wondered if Harry had noticed him missing yet or perhaps he simply thought Ron had left again. No, he couldn't be thinking that, Ron told himself. He wouldn't. That was only his self-pity having a chat with him, was all.
"Dear me, I must be more careful. Another one for the ministry, perhaps? To the filthy little Mudblood they have sucking cocks down there. Granger, a friend of yours, I believe. I'm sure she'd wish for a little keepsake of her own, to keep under her pillow."
Sucking cocks, that had a nice thought to it. He'd gotten to do that a few times in his life. More than a few, depending on how you counted. Even got to do it a few times with Harry, and he'd known for years what a sweet mouth Harry had but it had only been recently that he'd found out just how true that was. Maybe he could add that to his résumé; Auror, Sighted, and expert finder of good cocksuckers. Had to be a nitch for a person like that in the world, didn't there?
Hair made an awful tearing sound when it was cut with a knife Ron noted, as another section was delicately cut away. "And this one for your mother. You favor her, don't you?"
Not really, Ron thought. He felt oddly detached from the pain and fear of it. All he felt really was a little bored and headachy. Easier to busy his thoughts with other memories than to wait for him to finally get on with it. Dark wizards were all alike, jabbering on and on, boring a fellow to death before they even pulled out the scalpels. And truth was, he favored his dad rather than his mum. Tall and redheaded like all the rest of them.
Trust a Malfoy to get it wrong.
Another lock of hair parted under the knife and was laid very carefully next to the rest of them, lined up like little soldiers on a cutting board. "And this for dear Mr. Potter. Although perhaps I should send him something else, as well. Something a little more…intimate, do you think?"
Ron kept his words to himself. Not much he could say about Harry would upset him, not anymore. Harry was safe, that's what mattered. Locked up like a virgin in a tower and no one and nothing was hurting him today. Why, he might never find out what had happened to Ron. That was a thought worth considering. Probably better that way because it was a certainty he'd be feeling guilty about it. Better if he did think Ron had just slipped off again. He'd rather Harry hated him than feel this mess was his fault.
"Really, it was quite ingenious. When Goyle told me the manner in which you exchange information, I simply put a memory charm on him so that he would forget he was under the Imperius curse."
Now that one irritated him. He'd come up with that exchange process himself, knowing how difficult it was to trick Veritaserum. That was Malfoy for you, all right, slimy and sneaky enough to think of a way to cheat anything. It had worked well for so long, too. He did hope the other Aurors would figure out what happened so that no one else got reeled in by that trick again.
Another bit of hair and that cut was deep enough to have been deliberate, stinging sharply behind his ear. "And to think, you actually believed I wanted Potter. An easy enough mistake for you to make, I suppose, all things considered."
It wasn't the ruler straight segments of hair that bothered him so much as the other things Ron could see from his admittedly poor position. A lot of those tools were bright and shiny and new, and a lot weren't. He'd really rather that none of them come all that close to him. A shame he wasn't going to have a lot of choice in that matter but, well…
"…that's the way of the world these days. True wizards ruled by mudbloods and their murderers get to walk free, to get drunk and fuck their little boytoys."
"I didn't kill your son, Lucius," Ron said clearly. It was the first he'd spoken since they'd left the woods. He hadn't really meant to say a word and thought it was rather like him to not have the dignity to die in silence. But the words had spilled out of him like sand through a child's fingers and the Sight had a hold of him now, showing everything as clear and plain in front of his eyes as looking through a window. The pain only sharpened it, blood overflowing in his nose and sheeting down his face and he could barely breathe but he could speak. "You did. His death is on your hands."
"Don't try to play little word games with me, boy."
"I couldn't have killed him," Ron could hear himself speaking and it was all so perfectly obvious now. "He was dead already. You pushed him to league with Voldemort, you pushed him on and on but he was never good enough for you and with every push, you murdered him again and again. Your son died years ago, a hundred times over." Ron’s voice was rising but he was only dimly aware of it, lost in the Sight. He could taste blood, slick and briny at the back of his mouth. "He was already long gone when he watched his mother die. It doesn't even matter. People aren't born good or bad, they're just people. You birthed evil in your newborn son from the moment he drew a breath and it killed him."
The world swam back into focus and left Ron alone, sick and trembling. Lucius was standing in front of him and Ron cringed away from his face instinctively, away from the cold metal pressed tightly to his throat. Lucius leaned closer to him, his breath smelled rotten and foul even to Ron's blood-clotted nose as he whispered, "Perhaps you're right, Auror. But you're going to suffer for it, regardless."
Ron thought there was a good chance Lucius was right.
*
end chapter 24
A Lacking of Foresight: Chapter Twenty-Four
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry/Ron
NC-17
You can read the other chapters here. Except for 23, which is here.
PS: I do have to add a sincere thank you to
resqdog51 and kalyw for never letting me forget about this story. When it gets finished, it's going to be partly due to you. :)Chapter 24
~*~
In which truths are revealed. And revealed. And revealed.
*
"This one, I believe, I'll send to the Ministry."
Ron forced himself, barely, not to flinch from the pressure of the blade so very close to his scalp.
He wondered vaguely at the time. There was no way of knowing; he'd woken up here some hours before and Merlin only knew how long he'd been unconscious after the beating he'd been handed with that little Muggle pain machine. Next time his father made mention of how delightful Muggle devices were, Ron swore he'd shove that one up his father's arse and let him see up close how it worked. If he ever saw his father again. He had to admit, it was getting increasingly doubtful if he would.
He'd long suspected he'd die like this, oh, yes. Couldn't have a simple hex taking him down, all nice and painless, like. No, Ronald Weasley had to go for torture and agony, that was the ticket. He wondered if he'd been hanging upside down long enough to go insane. The pressure of his own blood was heavy and painful in his head and sinuses and that alone would drive a man nutters. Strung up like a sausage on a string in a dirty old warehouse of some sort. Yes, this was his kind of death, no doubt about it.
Again, cold metal against his skin and this time he cut too close, a slice of pain whinging through his skin. Ron didn't make a sound. He wondered if Harry had noticed him missing yet or perhaps he simply thought Ron had left again. No, he couldn't be thinking that, Ron told himself. He wouldn't. That was only his self-pity having a chat with him, was all.
"Dear me, I must be more careful. Another one for the ministry, perhaps? To the filthy little Mudblood they have sucking cocks down there. Granger, a friend of yours, I believe. I'm sure she'd wish for a little keepsake of her own, to keep under her pillow."
Sucking cocks, that had a nice thought to it. He'd gotten to do that a few times in his life. More than a few, depending on how you counted. Even got to do it a few times with Harry, and he'd known for years what a sweet mouth Harry had but it had only been recently that he'd found out just how true that was. Maybe he could add that to his résumé; Auror, Sighted, and expert finder of good cocksuckers. Had to be a nitch for a person like that in the world, didn't there?
Hair made an awful tearing sound when it was cut with a knife Ron noted, as another section was delicately cut away. "And this one for your mother. You favor her, don't you?"
Not really, Ron thought. He felt oddly detached from the pain and fear of it. All he felt really was a little bored and headachy. Easier to busy his thoughts with other memories than to wait for him to finally get on with it. Dark wizards were all alike, jabbering on and on, boring a fellow to death before they even pulled out the scalpels. And truth was, he favored his dad rather than his mum. Tall and redheaded like all the rest of them.
Trust a Malfoy to get it wrong.
Another lock of hair parted under the knife and was laid very carefully next to the rest of them, lined up like little soldiers on a cutting board. "And this for dear Mr. Potter. Although perhaps I should send him something else, as well. Something a little more…intimate, do you think?"
Ron kept his words to himself. Not much he could say about Harry would upset him, not anymore. Harry was safe, that's what mattered. Locked up like a virgin in a tower and no one and nothing was hurting him today. Why, he might never find out what had happened to Ron. That was a thought worth considering. Probably better that way because it was a certainty he'd be feeling guilty about it. Better if he did think Ron had just slipped off again. He'd rather Harry hated him than feel this mess was his fault.
"Really, it was quite ingenious. When Goyle told me the manner in which you exchange information, I simply put a memory charm on him so that he would forget he was under the Imperius curse."
Now that one irritated him. He'd come up with that exchange process himself, knowing how difficult it was to trick Veritaserum. That was Malfoy for you, all right, slimy and sneaky enough to think of a way to cheat anything. It had worked well for so long, too. He did hope the other Aurors would figure out what happened so that no one else got reeled in by that trick again.
Another bit of hair and that cut was deep enough to have been deliberate, stinging sharply behind his ear. "And to think, you actually believed I wanted Potter. An easy enough mistake for you to make, I suppose, all things considered."
It wasn't the ruler straight segments of hair that bothered him so much as the other things Ron could see from his admittedly poor position. A lot of those tools were bright and shiny and new, and a lot weren't. He'd really rather that none of them come all that close to him. A shame he wasn't going to have a lot of choice in that matter but, well…
"…that's the way of the world these days. True wizards ruled by mudbloods and their murderers get to walk free, to get drunk and fuck their little boytoys."
"I didn't kill your son, Lucius," Ron said clearly. It was the first he'd spoken since they'd left the woods. He hadn't really meant to say a word and thought it was rather like him to not have the dignity to die in silence. But the words had spilled out of him like sand through a child's fingers and the Sight had a hold of him now, showing everything as clear and plain in front of his eyes as looking through a window. The pain only sharpened it, blood overflowing in his nose and sheeting down his face and he could barely breathe but he could speak. "You did. His death is on your hands."
"Don't try to play little word games with me, boy."
"I couldn't have killed him," Ron could hear himself speaking and it was all so perfectly obvious now. "He was dead already. You pushed him to league with Voldemort, you pushed him on and on but he was never good enough for you and with every push, you murdered him again and again. Your son died years ago, a hundred times over." Ron’s voice was rising but he was only dimly aware of it, lost in the Sight. He could taste blood, slick and briny at the back of his mouth. "He was already long gone when he watched his mother die. It doesn't even matter. People aren't born good or bad, they're just people. You birthed evil in your newborn son from the moment he drew a breath and it killed him."
The world swam back into focus and left Ron alone, sick and trembling. Lucius was standing in front of him and Ron cringed away from his face instinctively, away from the cold metal pressed tightly to his throat. Lucius leaned closer to him, his breath smelled rotten and foul even to Ron's blood-clotted nose as he whispered, "Perhaps you're right, Auror. But you're going to suffer for it, regardless."
Ron thought there was a good chance Lucius was right.
*
end chapter 24
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Date: 2005-12-01 02:18 am (UTC)