Remuneration

"Now, Lucius, I'm sure you don't want to insist on compensation for your... act of generosity," says Albus Dumbledore, eyes hard and distinctly untwinkling for once.

Walked in on the Death Eaters attacking the Burrow and saved Mum, Bill and Fleur and the babies, Malfoy did. They'd have ended up like the Longbottoms if not for him. Worse than Hermione. And of course he got to off the last of his Death Eater comrades who could have testified against him in the process, Ron thinks.

Bastard.

"Apologies, Albus, Arthur," Malfoy drawls, "but according to the Statutes of Rambold the Rambunctious of 1237, saving the heir - both heirs - of a Wizarding House entitles me." Lips curl around the word 'House' in a two-second's pause that changes its meaning to 'rabble'.

Bastard!

"It entitles me to a price high enough to ruin a Noble House," Malfoy continues, "but since we all know that there is no such thing as a Weasley fortune, I'll be generous. I will settle for service." He sneers, as if that was a vaguely distasteful prospect too. "Not your only girl, obviously - the Contract Rulings of Mildred the Elder exempt women on grounds of potential prenuptial arrangements. But I think you have a few sons removed from the immediate succession, Arthur..."

"I'd never surrender any of my children, you-"

Ron flinches at his father's impotent rage.

"Well, Arthur, you see, Lucius is well within his rights here..."

Fudge, hovering next to Malfoy like a giant frog, lime-green and pulsing with officiousness.

"Ancient wizarding law..." *croak* "... traditions of the magical community..." *croak*, *croak*.

Double bastard!

"We'll make an appeal to the Wizengamot about this, Cornelius!" Dumbledore, saying 'sorry, can't help you here' - as always.

Malfoy looks at Ron directly, for the first time. Eyes paler even than the ferret's. A male White Widow. Ron shivers, and doesn't look away.

"I assume it'll be your youngest, then?" Malfoy says.

Who else? The twins couldn't possibly be separated, and Percy would just laugh into their faces and walk away.

"I won't-"

Ron takes a step forward, and his father falls silent. Leaving all his friends and family to stand behind him at least means that he doesn't have to face them.

"Yes," he says, dead-calm, as if he's already stopped being a Weasley. Maybe in time his hair will wash out too.

Behind him, Harry crackles with rage.

"Never!"

They've silently raged at each other ever since that stray curse cut down Hermione in the final battle, while Harry was preoccupied with his destiny, and Ron with watching Harry's back. They never even noticed, and here is Harry, so desperate not to have another sacrifice to weigh on his conscience.

"Are you offering yourself, Potter?"

Oh yes, Malfoy, you'd love that, wouldn't you?

"No." Ron casts a surreptitious "Silencio!" over his shoulder, which chokes Harry in mid-snarl. "He doesn't," Ron finishes calmly.

He takes another step, and then gloved fingers fist in the hair at his neck, dragging him towards the enemy side. Perhaps he shouldn't have let his hair grow out, like Bill. Who's still in Healing Coma at St Mungo's, and surely would rather be dead than see his little brother bartered off like this. The gesture isn't purely for Ron's benefit - the bastard wants to show Dad and Dumbledore and Harry just how powerless they are.

Ron's face burns. For a second he dreads that Malfoy will force him to his knees for all to see, but he just pulls him close until their mouths are only an inch apart and Ron can almost feel the sharp white teeth of the spider, draining him to a dry husk.

"Perhaps I will gift you to my son. I'm sure he would enjoy that."

At least the ferret's not here today, to witness this! And the threat just doesn't bear dwelling on - that way lays hysteria.

"Whatever." Ron's mouth curves down, mirroring the sneer. "But you won't get at Harry. Does that sting?"

The grip tightens until every trapped hair feels like a tiny needle piercing his scalp.

"I 'get' at your Harry by taking you," the spider whispers, and Ron smiles because Harry will be oh so angry with him, will hate him more perhaps than he already does for letting Hermione die while watching over him.

"But not enough," Ron whispers back, and the ambivalence of it is sweet on his tongue, even sweeter because Malfoy can't possibly understand.

"Or perhaps I should keep you and tame you myself..." Malfoy ponders, his breath tickling Ron's lips until he squirms. They must look repulsively intimate to their audience. "They say you're quite the little strategist - perhaps I'd enjoy watching you play for your life."

And Ron just clings to his smile and murmurs, "Yeah, well, why don't you?", because he may be scared but he's not afraid, because Lucius Malfoy is still sheltering under Fudge's protective mantle and won't get away with everything, while Ron Weasley has nothing left to lose.

He'll have a battle of his own, to take his mind off Harry and Hermione, and if Malfoy breaks him, what matter? He's never been worth much, after all.

~ finis ~

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