FIC: More Than You Can Chew
Title: More Than You Can Chew
Author: gypsyflame
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,936
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Dubious consent; bondage; a pretty messed-up Ron
Summary: Ron takes Draco hostage to try to force Lucius Malfoy into Azkaban. It doesn’t quite go as planned.
A/N: Written as part of hp_prisonerfest for 6shotamericano, who requested dubious consent, wall!sex, and "a kidnapping where the kidnapper has bitten off more than he can chew". Many thanks to the_flic for the beta!
They were in the paper again, all three of them, smiling pleasantly from a small photo underneath a large headline: MALFOYS MAKE GENEROUS DONATION TO WAR ORPHANS’ FUND. The text surrounding the picture gushed about their generosity, their charity, their redemption.
Ron threw his plate against the far wall and sent the paper up in flames.
“Ron!” Hermione gasped, cleaning up the mess with a flick of her wand.
“Those slimy gits,” he fumed. “If I have to hear one more thing about their fucking philanthropy, I’m -”
Hermione cut him off. “No. No, I’ve heard enough. That’s all you ever talk about anymore. Maybe you should take a walk until you cool down.”
“I don’t need to -”
“Ron. Take a walk.”
He knew better than to tangle with Hermione when she used that tone of voice, so he grabbed his robes and his wand and slammed the door to the flat they shared over Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. They had moved in shortly after Fred’s funeral, when it had become obvious that George was in no fit state to live alone. He could barely function anymore; if it hadn’t been for Verity’s assistance, the shop would have had to have been closed altogether.
Ron walked down Diagon Alley, seething with anger - something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been angry. And reading about the Malfoys and their so-called redemption just made it worse. Ron had lost a brother in the war - two, really, since George was practically catatonic now - and the Malfoys had gotten off scot-free. It wasn’t fair, and it enraged him.
Speak of the devil. Ron stopped short as he saw Narcissa and Draco Malfoy coming out of Flourish and Blotts, looking relaxed and comfortable as if they had every right to be there. Ron clenched his fists.
Malfoy said something to his mother that Ron was too far away to hear, and she nodded and kissed his cheek. They parted ways - Narcissa heading for the Leaky Cauldron, Malfoy turning down a nearby residential alley.
Ron followed Malfoy without even really intending to. His mind was hazy with that now-familiar fog of rage and frustration and his body was tense with the need to take action, any action that might clear his head a little. An impulsive, half-baked plan formed in the back of his mind.
The alley was empty and Malfoy wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings, so Ron was able to get up right behind him and press the tip of his wand against his neck. Malfoy drew a sharp breath and stilled immediately.
“Give me your wand.”
“Weasley?” Malfoy said incredulously.
“Don’t make a fuss, Malfoy, and I promise I won’t hurt you. Just give me your wand. Slowly.”
Malfoy withdrew his wand and handed it to Ron without turning around. “What are you doing?”
Ron didn’t answer. Mind working feverishly, he stored Malfoy’s wand in his robes, then grabbed Malfoy’s arm with his free hand and Apparated them both to the Shrieking Shack. People avoided it even more now that they knew Snape had died in it; there was definitely no chance he and Malfoy would be disturbed there.
The moment they arrived, Malfoy jerked away and whirled around, but Ron kept his wand trained on him.
“What do you want?” Malfoy asked tightly.
“Take off your robes. I want to make sure you’re not hiding anything.”
Malfoy clenched his jaw, but removed his robes with stiff, jerky movements. Good. Ron was counting on Malfoy’s survival instinct being stronger than his pride - or anything else, really.
“Shoes and socks, too.” Malfoy wouldn’t be able to Apparate without his wand, but that didn’t mean he might not find another way of escaping. He’d find running away a lot more difficult if he was barefoot.
Malfoy complied with his commands and glared at him. “Is there a point to this, or have you just gone completely mad? Because honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Shut up. Incarcerous!”
The spell bound Malfoy at wrists and ankles against the far wall, slightly spread-eagled. Malfoy squawked satisfactorily. “Weasley -”
“This is how it’s going to go, Malfoy,” Ron interrupted. He wasn’t in the mood for Malfoy’s blustering. “You stand there quietly and behave yourself while I write some letters, and nothing will happen to you. I swear. My problem isn’t with you, not really.”
“Then who?”
Ron began to set up some wards around the Shack, ones that would keep them from being interrupted until his work was done. “Your father.”
Malfoy looked taken aback. “Pardon?”
“I don’t care about you or your mum, but your dad should be in Azkaban. It’s not right that he’s not.”
Narcissa had saved Harry’s life, after all, even if she had only done it for personal gain. And Malfoy - well, Ron could kind of understand why he had done the things he had. He wasn’t sure he would have done anything else himself if it had been his own family on the line. But Lucius? He was truly evil. Always had been.
“He had a fair trial -” Malfoy started to protest.
Ron laughed bitterly. “Fair? He bought off everyone on the Wizengamot who could be bought off, and you know it.”
Malfoy looked away.
“Don’t talk to me about fair, Malfoy. I’ve got one brother dead and another who might as well be - not to mention a brother who’s scarred for life, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t kill your brother. Neither did my father.”
“No, but he almost killed my sister. And Harry. He deserves to be in prison for that.” Ron pulled out a few pieces of parchment and a self-inking quill from his pocket and dropped them on the table. “There is one good thing to be said for your dad, though. He really does love you. I think he’d do just about anything to protect you, don’t you?”
He could see the exact moment that Malfoy realized what he was going to do. “No,” Malfoy whispered.
“His freedom for yours. It’s only fair.”
“You cannot honestly believe you’re going to get away with this.”
Ron snorted. “I don’t care if I get away with it. Once you’re in Azkaban, you can’t come out again until your sentence is served. Unless you escape, of course, or you’re proven innocent. I don’t think there’s too big a chance your father will be able to accomplish either of those things.”
“Weasley, please don’t do this,” Malfoy said. His face was deathly pale. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my father alone.”
“This is the only thing I want,” Ron said with a shrug. He took off his robes and hung them over the back of the chair, then sat down and smoothed out a piece of parchment.
After a few long moments of silence, Malfoy asked, “How long are you planning on keeping me here?”
“As long as it takes.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened, and he pulled against the bonds. “You can’t. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Save it, Malfoy. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand -”
“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’m going to gag you,” Ron said. His constantly thin temper was already frayed to the breaking point.
Malfoy snapped his mouth shut. Ron shook his head and turned his attention back to the parchment.
He had to write three letters - one to Lucius Malfoy, one to the Ministry, and one to Harry and Hermione. In the back of his mind, he knew that what he was doing was not only wrong but extremely stupid, but he was past the point of caring. It felt too good to finally be doing something, trying to put things right again. The world had been out of balance for too long. And it wasn’t like anyone innocent was going to get hurt.
Of course, Ron had never been the most articulate person in the world, and finding the right words for this admittedly bizarre situation was difficult. He chewed the end of his quill.
Malfoy suddenly made a soft, pained noise, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Ron frowned at him, but Malfoy avoided his eyes.
As Ron struggled through the first letter, Malfoy kept making the same noise every so often, getting a little louder each time. It was maddening; Ron couldn’t possibly concentrate with Malfoy sounding like he was being stuck with hot pokers every thirty seconds. He did his best to tune it out, but only about ten minutes passed before he finally threw his quill down and leapt to his feet, whirling around to face Malfoy.
“Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with -”
He trailed off as he took in Malfoy’s appearance. Malfoy was flushed pink, like he was running a fever, and his skin was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He was panting heavily, his face drawn with pain, and his body was moving restlessly, as if he couldn’t keep it still.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ron said, bewildered now instead of angry.
“I told you I have somewhere I need to be. Let me go.”
“Nice try. Just tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it. I can’t concentrate with you making all this noise.”
Malfoy gave a pained laugh. “You can’t fix it. Let me go.”
As if he was really going to fall for this. “That’s not going to happen.”
Malfoy’s body jerked, and he groaned in pain.
“If you’re faking this because you think it’s going to change my mind -”
“Fuck you, Weasley,” Malfoy said, breathing heavily.
Right, that was enough. “Look,” Ron said, “either you tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, or I’m going to assume you’re making it all up and put a silencing spell around you so you don’t distract me. Which is it going to be?”
Malfoy bit his lip and looked at the ground. Ron shrugged and raised his wand. Malfoy made a panicked noise.
“It’s a curse,” he said.
Ron lowered his wand. “A curse.”
“The Dark Lord put it on me a couple of months before the Battle of Hogwarts, and now that he’s dead, I can’t find anyone who can break it.”
“Why would You-Know-Who curse you?”
In a low, tight voice, Malfoy said, “For fun.”
Ron winced, feeling a little sympathetic despite himself. “Well, what kind of curse is it?”
“I can’t tell you. The person I was going to see was going to help me with the side effects. Please let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. You can even Obliviate me, if you want.”
“What part of that’s not going to happen are you having trouble with? Just tell me what it is and I’ll do the best I can.”
Malfoy shook his head, and Ron raised his wand threateningly.
“I have to have sex.”
Ron’s mouth dropped open. Malfoy’s cheeks flushed even darker.
“You what?” Ron said.
“I have to have sex,” Malfoy mumbled.
“What the hell kind of curse is that?”
“A humiliating one. The Dark Lord’s favourite kind.”
“It doesn’t sound that bad.”
“You’re not the one who has to get fucked every twelve hours!” Malfoy burst out.
Ron raised his eyebrows. “Every twelve hours?” He paused. “Wait…did you say get fucked?”
Malfoy’s eyes widened. Apparently he hadn’t meant to let that slip.
Incredulously, Ron said, “Is that where you were going? On your way to let some bloke fuck you?”
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” Malfoy spat. “The curse is only satisfied if -” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “If someone comes inside me.”
“What happens if nobody does?” When Malfoy paled at the mere suggestion, Ron asked, “Would you die?”
“Eventually. But it would…it would take a long time.”
Ron nodded, understanding.
“You said you weren’t going to hurt me. You have to let me go.”
After a long, considering pause, Ron said, “No, I don’t.”
He ran through his options quickly: he could let Malfoy go and thus ruin his entire plan, perhaps foregoing his one and only chance to balance the scales. He could just keep Malfoy here, in pain - but he honestly didn’t want to hurt Malfoy, and he had promised that he wouldn’t. Or he could fulfill the terms of the curse himself.
It wasn’t a wholly disagreeable prospect. Ron had never been attracted to men before, but Malfoy wasn’t exactly a paragon of masculinity. In fact, his features had a degree of androgyny that Ron found appealing. It had been a while since Hermione had been pleased enough with Ron to have sex with him; he thought he could probably get it up for Malfoy.
Hermione would…well, no, she wouldn’t understand, but she’d already be angry enough with Ron for the whole kidnapping thing, so what did a little infidelity matter? He was going to Azkaban, anyway.
Malfoy was still frowning over Ron’s words, as if he didn’t understand what Ron meant. Ron started unbuttoning Malfoy’s shirt, wanting to get a closer look before he committed himself.
“What - no. Weasley, no.”
“Would you rather I just left you like this?” Ron asked in a reasonable tone. “I’m assuming the pain is just going to get worse the longer you go without. And we have no idea how long you’ll be here.”
He finished with Malfoy’s buttons and spread the shirt open. Malfoy’s skin was almost as soft as Hermione’s, and although he lacked breasts, he had lovely small pink nipples. Yes, Ron could definitely get it up if he had to.
“You can’t be serious - ah!”
Malfoy gasped when Ron rubbed his thumbs over his nipples.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t go back on my word.”
“There’s a simpler solution, and it involves you letting me go!”
Ron pinched his nipples lightly. “And what if I did? Do you really think you’d be able to make it back to Diagon Alley in this state?”
Malfoy closed his eyes. Ron ran his hand down Malfoy’s flat stomach and unfastened his trousers, reaching inside to caress Malfoy’s half-hard cock through his pants. Malfoy tried to twist away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Relax, Malfoy. I’m trying to help you, you know.”
“You’re completely barking mad, is what you are! Get your hands off me.”
Malfoy’s words couldn’t hide the fact that he’d grown harder under Ron’s touch. Ron paused to push Malfoy’s pants and trousers down around his thighs, then took a firm grip on Malfoy’s cock. It wasn’t all that different from touching his own - about the same length, but not as thick. Malfoy moaned.
“You don’t seem that upset about it,” Ron said.
“It’s the spell,” Malfoy snapped.
“All right,” Ron said easily, not believing him for a second. He reached down further to roll Malfoy’s balls in his hand, liking the way it made Malfoy’s hips jerk. His own cock was pressing hard against the front of his trousers.
He used his wand to release the bonds on Malfoy’s ankles and then to turn him to face the wall, adjusting the bonds on his wrists so they didn’t get tangled up. Malfoy squeaked in surprise, and Ron patted his arse reassuringly. It was a rather nice arse.
“Don’t!” Malfoy said. “Have you ever even done this before?”
“Not with a bloke, but I’ve done this with Her- with a woman. It can’t be all that different.”
“Yes, it can!” Malfoy said indignantly. “I swear, Weasley, if you hurt me -”
“I already told you I wouldn’t,” said Ron, irritated.
He unfastened his own trousers and pulled out his cock to make himself more comfortable, then conjured a palmful of lube. He pushed one finger gently but firmly inside Malfoy, who made a noise of mingled outrage and relief.
Hermione, of course, had made Ron read a book about this before they’d tried it themselves, so he was well aware of the importance of lubrication and preparation. He gave Malfoy another finger, scissoring them slightly.
Malfoy let out a shaky breath. “S-stop,” he said, completely unconvincingly.
Ron just rolled his eyes. He frowned as his fingers encountered a small bump inside Malfoy - that definitely hadn’t happened with Hermione. Curious, he brushed harder against the bump, and Malfoy moaned. Ron raised his eyebrows and pressed even harder, rubbing it. Malfoy cried out in pure pleasure.
“Merlin,” Ron said, surprised.
“I told you it was different. Don’t -”
Ron got it now. It was just like that spot inside Hermione, the one that made her scream when he touched it the right way. He hadn’t known men had a similar spot, but he was fully prepared to take advantage of it. He tapped his fingers quickly against the bump, the way he would do to Hermione, and Malfoy writhed against his hand. Ron reached around to find Malfoy’s cock hard and dripping.
“Fuck,” he said. “You’d do this even if you didn’t have to, wouldn’t you? You enjoy it.” The thought inexplicably turned him on more.
“Not with you,” Malfoy snarled.
Ron shrugged, even though Malfoy couldn’t see him, and withdrew his fingers from Malfoy’s arse. He had to close his eyes for a moment when Malfoy let out an involuntary whimper at the loss. He lined his cock up with Malfoy’s hole, but it was suddenly very important to him to make one thing clear.
“I wouldn’t do this to you if I didn’t have to,” Ron said. “If you didn’t need it. I’m not that kind of person.”
Malfoy snorted. “How noble of you.”
Ron pushed in slowly, letting Malfoy adjust, even though he was so turned on by now that every nerve in his body was screaming at him to just shove in and pound away. It seemed to him that Malfoy was a lot tighter than someone who’d been fucked every twelve hours for eight months really should have been, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Shifting uncomfortably, Malfoy said, “Could you just get this over with? I don’t want to be subjected to Weasley sex any longer than absolutely necessary.”
The anger, which had been kept at bay by the strangeness of the situation, came flooding back all at once. Ron grabbed Malfoy’s hips tightly and gave him a few hard thrusts. Malfoy gasped and scrabbled at the wall.
“Weasley -”
“No. You want to get it over with, Malfoy? Fine by me.”
He fucked Malfoy fast and rough, revelling in the fact that he didn’t have to hold himself back. He thought about closing his eyes and pretending he was with Hermione, but to his surprise, he realized he didn’t want to. The fact that Malfoy was taking his cock and obviously enjoying it - even though he was trying hard to stifle his responses - was sweeter than any revenge.
On one particularly hard thrust, Malfoy cried out and his knees buckled. Only the bindings on his wrists and Ron’s hands on his hips kept him from falling. Ron muttered a curse and then dissolved the bonds, catching Malfoy around the waist and lowering them both to the ground without breaking their connection. Once they were both kneeling, Ron shoved Malfoy forward so he was on all fours and resumed the near-frantic pace of their fucking.
Malfoy moaned in unabashed pleasure, no longer trying to hide it. He spread his legs as far as he could get them with his trousers around his knees and rocked back into Ron’s thrusts, urging him on.
“You love this, don’t you?” Ron growled. “Slut.”
Malfoy only moaned louder. Ron very suddenly wanted to make Malfoy come, to prove his own worth beyond a shadow of a doubt so that Malfoy never questioned it again. He took hold of Malfoy’s cock and tugged it roughly in time with his quick thrusts.
Malfoy wailed as he came, his hands searching desperately for purchase on the dirty wooden floor. Ron milked him through his orgasm and then resumed his death grip on Malfoy’s hips, giving a few more brutal thrusts before emptying himself deep inside with a sense of indefinable satisfaction.
Ron gasped for breath as he pulled out of Malfoy’s arse and fell to the side. He felt strangely empty and clearheaded - it was as if all the anger and confusion that had been clouding his mind for the past six months had drained away, and he suddenly regretted his actions. Well, he didn’t really regret fucking Malfoy, but he did regret kidnapping him and holding him hostage.
Malfoy set his clothing to rights with trembling hands, not even bothering to clean himself up first. The thought that his come was still inside Malfoy’s arse sent a powerful surge of lust through Ron’s body.
“Let me go, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “It’s not too late. We can both pretend this never happened, and you can move on with your life. There’s no need to keep me here.”
Ron took a deep breath and nodded slowly. It had been a stupid idea from the very beginning, and without the incoherent rage to distract him, he was no longer willing to throw away his own life just to see Lucius Malfoy go to Azkaban. That wouldn’t help George.
“Yeah, all right. Hang on.”
He stood and fastened his trousers, then retrieved Malfoy’s wand from his robes. By the time he turned back around, Malfoy had already put his shoes and robes back on. Ron handed his wand to him, and Malfoy took it and left without a word.
Ron spent a few minutes gathering his thoughts and composing himself. He didn’t feel all that guilty about cheating on Hermione - he had done it to save Malfoy’s life, after all - but he knew she wouldn’t be happy about it. He hit himself with a few cleaning spells before Apparating back to Diagon Alley.
On the walk back to the shop, Ron mused that he might as well try to find a cure for Malfoy’s curse, because he did feel a little guilty about kidnapping the bloke. Plus, sex was probably a lot less fun when you were obliged to have it.
“Have a good walk?” Hermione asked him when he entered the flat.
“Yeah. I think I figured some stuff out.”
Hermione nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
Ron sat across from her at the kitchen table, where she was reading an enormous book, and toyed with the small vase in the center of it. “Hey, Hermione. Do you know anything about - about sex curses?”
“About what?” she said, looking up.
Ron wondered how to ask her without telling her what had happened. “I, er…I was talking to some blokes at the Broomsticks. They’ve got a friend who was hit with this really weird curse during the war. He has to have sex every twelve hours or… well, he’ll die painfully, I guess. And they can’t find any way to cure him. I just thought I should ask you, see if you might know anything.”
Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment. “He has to have sex every twelve hours?”
“Yeah. Well, you know, he has to be, er…on the receiving end. You know.”
Hermione blinked, then chuckled. “You mean the Eromenos Curse?”
“Is that what it’s called?” Ron said, relieved that she had heard of it.
“Oh, Ron. The Eromenos Curse is an urban legend that’s been passed around the dark magic community for centuries. Those blokes were just having you on.” She laughed outright. “There’s no such thing! Honestly, Ron.”
Author: gypsyflame
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,936
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Dubious consent; bondage; a pretty messed-up Ron
Summary: Ron takes Draco hostage to try to force Lucius Malfoy into Azkaban. It doesn’t quite go as planned.
A/N: Written as part of hp_prisonerfest for 6shotamericano, who requested dubious consent, wall!sex, and "a kidnapping where the kidnapper has bitten off more than he can chew". Many thanks to the_flic for the beta!
They were in the paper again, all three of them, smiling pleasantly from a small photo underneath a large headline: MALFOYS MAKE GENEROUS DONATION TO WAR ORPHANS’ FUND. The text surrounding the picture gushed about their generosity, their charity, their redemption.
Ron threw his plate against the far wall and sent the paper up in flames.
“Ron!” Hermione gasped, cleaning up the mess with a flick of her wand.
“Those slimy gits,” he fumed. “If I have to hear one more thing about their fucking philanthropy, I’m -”
Hermione cut him off. “No. No, I’ve heard enough. That’s all you ever talk about anymore. Maybe you should take a walk until you cool down.”
“I don’t need to -”
“Ron. Take a walk.”
He knew better than to tangle with Hermione when she used that tone of voice, so he grabbed his robes and his wand and slammed the door to the flat they shared over Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. They had moved in shortly after Fred’s funeral, when it had become obvious that George was in no fit state to live alone. He could barely function anymore; if it hadn’t been for Verity’s assistance, the shop would have had to have been closed altogether.
Ron walked down Diagon Alley, seething with anger - something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been angry. And reading about the Malfoys and their so-called redemption just made it worse. Ron had lost a brother in the war - two, really, since George was practically catatonic now - and the Malfoys had gotten off scot-free. It wasn’t fair, and it enraged him.
Speak of the devil. Ron stopped short as he saw Narcissa and Draco Malfoy coming out of Flourish and Blotts, looking relaxed and comfortable as if they had every right to be there. Ron clenched his fists.
Malfoy said something to his mother that Ron was too far away to hear, and she nodded and kissed his cheek. They parted ways - Narcissa heading for the Leaky Cauldron, Malfoy turning down a nearby residential alley.
Ron followed Malfoy without even really intending to. His mind was hazy with that now-familiar fog of rage and frustration and his body was tense with the need to take action, any action that might clear his head a little. An impulsive, half-baked plan formed in the back of his mind.
The alley was empty and Malfoy wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings, so Ron was able to get up right behind him and press the tip of his wand against his neck. Malfoy drew a sharp breath and stilled immediately.
“Give me your wand.”
“Weasley?” Malfoy said incredulously.
“Don’t make a fuss, Malfoy, and I promise I won’t hurt you. Just give me your wand. Slowly.”
Malfoy withdrew his wand and handed it to Ron without turning around. “What are you doing?”
Ron didn’t answer. Mind working feverishly, he stored Malfoy’s wand in his robes, then grabbed Malfoy’s arm with his free hand and Apparated them both to the Shrieking Shack. People avoided it even more now that they knew Snape had died in it; there was definitely no chance he and Malfoy would be disturbed there.
The moment they arrived, Malfoy jerked away and whirled around, but Ron kept his wand trained on him.
“What do you want?” Malfoy asked tightly.
“Take off your robes. I want to make sure you’re not hiding anything.”
Malfoy clenched his jaw, but removed his robes with stiff, jerky movements. Good. Ron was counting on Malfoy’s survival instinct being stronger than his pride - or anything else, really.
“Shoes and socks, too.” Malfoy wouldn’t be able to Apparate without his wand, but that didn’t mean he might not find another way of escaping. He’d find running away a lot more difficult if he was barefoot.
Malfoy complied with his commands and glared at him. “Is there a point to this, or have you just gone completely mad? Because honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Shut up. Incarcerous!”
The spell bound Malfoy at wrists and ankles against the far wall, slightly spread-eagled. Malfoy squawked satisfactorily. “Weasley -”
“This is how it’s going to go, Malfoy,” Ron interrupted. He wasn’t in the mood for Malfoy’s blustering. “You stand there quietly and behave yourself while I write some letters, and nothing will happen to you. I swear. My problem isn’t with you, not really.”
“Then who?”
Ron began to set up some wards around the Shack, ones that would keep them from being interrupted until his work was done. “Your father.”
Malfoy looked taken aback. “Pardon?”
“I don’t care about you or your mum, but your dad should be in Azkaban. It’s not right that he’s not.”
Narcissa had saved Harry’s life, after all, even if she had only done it for personal gain. And Malfoy - well, Ron could kind of understand why he had done the things he had. He wasn’t sure he would have done anything else himself if it had been his own family on the line. But Lucius? He was truly evil. Always had been.
“He had a fair trial -” Malfoy started to protest.
Ron laughed bitterly. “Fair? He bought off everyone on the Wizengamot who could be bought off, and you know it.”
Malfoy looked away.
“Don’t talk to me about fair, Malfoy. I’ve got one brother dead and another who might as well be - not to mention a brother who’s scarred for life, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t kill your brother. Neither did my father.”
“No, but he almost killed my sister. And Harry. He deserves to be in prison for that.” Ron pulled out a few pieces of parchment and a self-inking quill from his pocket and dropped them on the table. “There is one good thing to be said for your dad, though. He really does love you. I think he’d do just about anything to protect you, don’t you?”
He could see the exact moment that Malfoy realized what he was going to do. “No,” Malfoy whispered.
“His freedom for yours. It’s only fair.”
“You cannot honestly believe you’re going to get away with this.”
Ron snorted. “I don’t care if I get away with it. Once you’re in Azkaban, you can’t come out again until your sentence is served. Unless you escape, of course, or you’re proven innocent. I don’t think there’s too big a chance your father will be able to accomplish either of those things.”
“Weasley, please don’t do this,” Malfoy said. His face was deathly pale. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my father alone.”
“This is the only thing I want,” Ron said with a shrug. He took off his robes and hung them over the back of the chair, then sat down and smoothed out a piece of parchment.
After a few long moments of silence, Malfoy asked, “How long are you planning on keeping me here?”
“As long as it takes.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened, and he pulled against the bonds. “You can’t. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Save it, Malfoy. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand -”
“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’m going to gag you,” Ron said. His constantly thin temper was already frayed to the breaking point.
Malfoy snapped his mouth shut. Ron shook his head and turned his attention back to the parchment.
He had to write three letters - one to Lucius Malfoy, one to the Ministry, and one to Harry and Hermione. In the back of his mind, he knew that what he was doing was not only wrong but extremely stupid, but he was past the point of caring. It felt too good to finally be doing something, trying to put things right again. The world had been out of balance for too long. And it wasn’t like anyone innocent was going to get hurt.
Of course, Ron had never been the most articulate person in the world, and finding the right words for this admittedly bizarre situation was difficult. He chewed the end of his quill.
Malfoy suddenly made a soft, pained noise, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Ron frowned at him, but Malfoy avoided his eyes.
As Ron struggled through the first letter, Malfoy kept making the same noise every so often, getting a little louder each time. It was maddening; Ron couldn’t possibly concentrate with Malfoy sounding like he was being stuck with hot pokers every thirty seconds. He did his best to tune it out, but only about ten minutes passed before he finally threw his quill down and leapt to his feet, whirling around to face Malfoy.
“Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with -”
He trailed off as he took in Malfoy’s appearance. Malfoy was flushed pink, like he was running a fever, and his skin was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He was panting heavily, his face drawn with pain, and his body was moving restlessly, as if he couldn’t keep it still.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ron said, bewildered now instead of angry.
“I told you I have somewhere I need to be. Let me go.”
“Nice try. Just tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it. I can’t concentrate with you making all this noise.”
Malfoy gave a pained laugh. “You can’t fix it. Let me go.”
As if he was really going to fall for this. “That’s not going to happen.”
Malfoy’s body jerked, and he groaned in pain.
“If you’re faking this because you think it’s going to change my mind -”
“Fuck you, Weasley,” Malfoy said, breathing heavily.
Right, that was enough. “Look,” Ron said, “either you tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, or I’m going to assume you’re making it all up and put a silencing spell around you so you don’t distract me. Which is it going to be?”
Malfoy bit his lip and looked at the ground. Ron shrugged and raised his wand. Malfoy made a panicked noise.
“It’s a curse,” he said.
Ron lowered his wand. “A curse.”
“The Dark Lord put it on me a couple of months before the Battle of Hogwarts, and now that he’s dead, I can’t find anyone who can break it.”
“Why would You-Know-Who curse you?”
In a low, tight voice, Malfoy said, “For fun.”
Ron winced, feeling a little sympathetic despite himself. “Well, what kind of curse is it?”
“I can’t tell you. The person I was going to see was going to help me with the side effects. Please let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. You can even Obliviate me, if you want.”
“What part of that’s not going to happen are you having trouble with? Just tell me what it is and I’ll do the best I can.”
Malfoy shook his head, and Ron raised his wand threateningly.
“I have to have sex.”
Ron’s mouth dropped open. Malfoy’s cheeks flushed even darker.
“You what?” Ron said.
“I have to have sex,” Malfoy mumbled.
“What the hell kind of curse is that?”
“A humiliating one. The Dark Lord’s favourite kind.”
“It doesn’t sound that bad.”
“You’re not the one who has to get fucked every twelve hours!” Malfoy burst out.
Ron raised his eyebrows. “Every twelve hours?” He paused. “Wait…did you say get fucked?”
Malfoy’s eyes widened. Apparently he hadn’t meant to let that slip.
Incredulously, Ron said, “Is that where you were going? On your way to let some bloke fuck you?”
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” Malfoy spat. “The curse is only satisfied if -” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “If someone comes inside me.”
“What happens if nobody does?” When Malfoy paled at the mere suggestion, Ron asked, “Would you die?”
“Eventually. But it would…it would take a long time.”
Ron nodded, understanding.
“You said you weren’t going to hurt me. You have to let me go.”
After a long, considering pause, Ron said, “No, I don’t.”
He ran through his options quickly: he could let Malfoy go and thus ruin his entire plan, perhaps foregoing his one and only chance to balance the scales. He could just keep Malfoy here, in pain - but he honestly didn’t want to hurt Malfoy, and he had promised that he wouldn’t. Or he could fulfill the terms of the curse himself.
It wasn’t a wholly disagreeable prospect. Ron had never been attracted to men before, but Malfoy wasn’t exactly a paragon of masculinity. In fact, his features had a degree of androgyny that Ron found appealing. It had been a while since Hermione had been pleased enough with Ron to have sex with him; he thought he could probably get it up for Malfoy.
Hermione would…well, no, she wouldn’t understand, but she’d already be angry enough with Ron for the whole kidnapping thing, so what did a little infidelity matter? He was going to Azkaban, anyway.
Malfoy was still frowning over Ron’s words, as if he didn’t understand what Ron meant. Ron started unbuttoning Malfoy’s shirt, wanting to get a closer look before he committed himself.
“What - no. Weasley, no.”
“Would you rather I just left you like this?” Ron asked in a reasonable tone. “I’m assuming the pain is just going to get worse the longer you go without. And we have no idea how long you’ll be here.”
He finished with Malfoy’s buttons and spread the shirt open. Malfoy’s skin was almost as soft as Hermione’s, and although he lacked breasts, he had lovely small pink nipples. Yes, Ron could definitely get it up if he had to.
“You can’t be serious - ah!”
Malfoy gasped when Ron rubbed his thumbs over his nipples.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t go back on my word.”
“There’s a simpler solution, and it involves you letting me go!”
Ron pinched his nipples lightly. “And what if I did? Do you really think you’d be able to make it back to Diagon Alley in this state?”
Malfoy closed his eyes. Ron ran his hand down Malfoy’s flat stomach and unfastened his trousers, reaching inside to caress Malfoy’s half-hard cock through his pants. Malfoy tried to twist away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Relax, Malfoy. I’m trying to help you, you know.”
“You’re completely barking mad, is what you are! Get your hands off me.”
Malfoy’s words couldn’t hide the fact that he’d grown harder under Ron’s touch. Ron paused to push Malfoy’s pants and trousers down around his thighs, then took a firm grip on Malfoy’s cock. It wasn’t all that different from touching his own - about the same length, but not as thick. Malfoy moaned.
“You don’t seem that upset about it,” Ron said.
“It’s the spell,” Malfoy snapped.
“All right,” Ron said easily, not believing him for a second. He reached down further to roll Malfoy’s balls in his hand, liking the way it made Malfoy’s hips jerk. His own cock was pressing hard against the front of his trousers.
He used his wand to release the bonds on Malfoy’s ankles and then to turn him to face the wall, adjusting the bonds on his wrists so they didn’t get tangled up. Malfoy squeaked in surprise, and Ron patted his arse reassuringly. It was a rather nice arse.
“Don’t!” Malfoy said. “Have you ever even done this before?”
“Not with a bloke, but I’ve done this with Her- with a woman. It can’t be all that different.”
“Yes, it can!” Malfoy said indignantly. “I swear, Weasley, if you hurt me -”
“I already told you I wouldn’t,” said Ron, irritated.
He unfastened his own trousers and pulled out his cock to make himself more comfortable, then conjured a palmful of lube. He pushed one finger gently but firmly inside Malfoy, who made a noise of mingled outrage and relief.
Hermione, of course, had made Ron read a book about this before they’d tried it themselves, so he was well aware of the importance of lubrication and preparation. He gave Malfoy another finger, scissoring them slightly.
Malfoy let out a shaky breath. “S-stop,” he said, completely unconvincingly.
Ron just rolled his eyes. He frowned as his fingers encountered a small bump inside Malfoy - that definitely hadn’t happened with Hermione. Curious, he brushed harder against the bump, and Malfoy moaned. Ron raised his eyebrows and pressed even harder, rubbing it. Malfoy cried out in pure pleasure.
“Merlin,” Ron said, surprised.
“I told you it was different. Don’t -”
Ron got it now. It was just like that spot inside Hermione, the one that made her scream when he touched it the right way. He hadn’t known men had a similar spot, but he was fully prepared to take advantage of it. He tapped his fingers quickly against the bump, the way he would do to Hermione, and Malfoy writhed against his hand. Ron reached around to find Malfoy’s cock hard and dripping.
“Fuck,” he said. “You’d do this even if you didn’t have to, wouldn’t you? You enjoy it.” The thought inexplicably turned him on more.
“Not with you,” Malfoy snarled.
Ron shrugged, even though Malfoy couldn’t see him, and withdrew his fingers from Malfoy’s arse. He had to close his eyes for a moment when Malfoy let out an involuntary whimper at the loss. He lined his cock up with Malfoy’s hole, but it was suddenly very important to him to make one thing clear.
“I wouldn’t do this to you if I didn’t have to,” Ron said. “If you didn’t need it. I’m not that kind of person.”
Malfoy snorted. “How noble of you.”
Ron pushed in slowly, letting Malfoy adjust, even though he was so turned on by now that every nerve in his body was screaming at him to just shove in and pound away. It seemed to him that Malfoy was a lot tighter than someone who’d been fucked every twelve hours for eight months really should have been, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Shifting uncomfortably, Malfoy said, “Could you just get this over with? I don’t want to be subjected to Weasley sex any longer than absolutely necessary.”
The anger, which had been kept at bay by the strangeness of the situation, came flooding back all at once. Ron grabbed Malfoy’s hips tightly and gave him a few hard thrusts. Malfoy gasped and scrabbled at the wall.
“Weasley -”
“No. You want to get it over with, Malfoy? Fine by me.”
He fucked Malfoy fast and rough, revelling in the fact that he didn’t have to hold himself back. He thought about closing his eyes and pretending he was with Hermione, but to his surprise, he realized he didn’t want to. The fact that Malfoy was taking his cock and obviously enjoying it - even though he was trying hard to stifle his responses - was sweeter than any revenge.
On one particularly hard thrust, Malfoy cried out and his knees buckled. Only the bindings on his wrists and Ron’s hands on his hips kept him from falling. Ron muttered a curse and then dissolved the bonds, catching Malfoy around the waist and lowering them both to the ground without breaking their connection. Once they were both kneeling, Ron shoved Malfoy forward so he was on all fours and resumed the near-frantic pace of their fucking.
Malfoy moaned in unabashed pleasure, no longer trying to hide it. He spread his legs as far as he could get them with his trousers around his knees and rocked back into Ron’s thrusts, urging him on.
“You love this, don’t you?” Ron growled. “Slut.”
Malfoy only moaned louder. Ron very suddenly wanted to make Malfoy come, to prove his own worth beyond a shadow of a doubt so that Malfoy never questioned it again. He took hold of Malfoy’s cock and tugged it roughly in time with his quick thrusts.
Malfoy wailed as he came, his hands searching desperately for purchase on the dirty wooden floor. Ron milked him through his orgasm and then resumed his death grip on Malfoy’s hips, giving a few more brutal thrusts before emptying himself deep inside with a sense of indefinable satisfaction.
Ron gasped for breath as he pulled out of Malfoy’s arse and fell to the side. He felt strangely empty and clearheaded - it was as if all the anger and confusion that had been clouding his mind for the past six months had drained away, and he suddenly regretted his actions. Well, he didn’t really regret fucking Malfoy, but he did regret kidnapping him and holding him hostage.
Malfoy set his clothing to rights with trembling hands, not even bothering to clean himself up first. The thought that his come was still inside Malfoy’s arse sent a powerful surge of lust through Ron’s body.
“Let me go, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “It’s not too late. We can both pretend this never happened, and you can move on with your life. There’s no need to keep me here.”
Ron took a deep breath and nodded slowly. It had been a stupid idea from the very beginning, and without the incoherent rage to distract him, he was no longer willing to throw away his own life just to see Lucius Malfoy go to Azkaban. That wouldn’t help George.
“Yeah, all right. Hang on.”
He stood and fastened his trousers, then retrieved Malfoy’s wand from his robes. By the time he turned back around, Malfoy had already put his shoes and robes back on. Ron handed his wand to him, and Malfoy took it and left without a word.
Ron spent a few minutes gathering his thoughts and composing himself. He didn’t feel all that guilty about cheating on Hermione - he had done it to save Malfoy’s life, after all - but he knew she wouldn’t be happy about it. He hit himself with a few cleaning spells before Apparating back to Diagon Alley.
On the walk back to the shop, Ron mused that he might as well try to find a cure for Malfoy’s curse, because he did feel a little guilty about kidnapping the bloke. Plus, sex was probably a lot less fun when you were obliged to have it.
“Have a good walk?” Hermione asked him when he entered the flat.
“Yeah. I think I figured some stuff out.”
Hermione nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
Ron sat across from her at the kitchen table, where she was reading an enormous book, and toyed with the small vase in the center of it. “Hey, Hermione. Do you know anything about - about sex curses?”
“About what?” she said, looking up.
Ron wondered how to ask her without telling her what had happened. “I, er…I was talking to some blokes at the Broomsticks. They’ve got a friend who was hit with this really weird curse during the war. He has to have sex every twelve hours or… well, he’ll die painfully, I guess. And they can’t find any way to cure him. I just thought I should ask you, see if you might know anything.”
Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment. “He has to have sex every twelve hours?”
“Yeah. Well, you know, he has to be, er…on the receiving end. You know.”
Hermione blinked, then chuckled. “You mean the Eromenos Curse?”
“Is that what it’s called?” Ron said, relieved that she had heard of it.
“Oh, Ron. The Eromenos Curse is an urban legend that’s been passed around the dark magic community for centuries. Those blokes were just having you on.” She laughed outright. “There’s no such thing! Honestly, Ron.”