Katabasis

Darkness. Darkness and a clammy coldness were what he first perceived when he woke. He took one ragged breath, his lungs begging for air. He took one more, and then a third. All of him ached. When he tried to move his arms and hands, they protested by sending out needles of pain. A rippling curtain of tiny pricks of pain. His brain throbbed and he wanted to throw up, but he felt he lacked the strength even for that. He could feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, as if he bit his tongue badly.

“Ugh, fuck. What happened.”

Nobody answered his question, the cold and damp blackness continuing its silence. Ron attempted to shake some life into his leaden limbs, the pricks of pain continuing without hesitation as the blood flow in his veins began anew. He tried to remember what had happened before he landed himself here, but all he could come up with a jumble of disconnected bits of memories. He sluggishly wondered if his head was wounded and was the reason why his memories was so fleeting. His fingers gingerly sought his scalp but gentle his prodding did not turn up anything more than soreness. Perhaps he had gotten a knock on the head and the dizziness he now felt was an aftermath of that. After exploring his own body, Ron began to scratch the feel around in his surroundings, exploring where he could be. He his fingers felt rough stone, something that he realised that he became aware of that his body already knew. But where he was it could not be especially cramped – when he with somewhat of an effort reached upwards, he touched nothing but cold empty space. He closed his eyes and tiredness carried him away.

He awoke again – head pounding with a dull thudding – not having any way to knowing after how long. It was just as dark, cold and dank as the last time he had surfaced to consciousness. The only difference was he was aware of a thirst, and licking his lips he could feel the slight dryness on them.

“Hallo! Someone here? Hallo”

His voice first came out as croaking, breaking of in mid-sentence. He tried to gather himself and tried again, with better success. But he was yet again met with a balk silence. Ron tried to crawl in some direction, just to explore what the limits of this space was. But when he began doing that he could hear, and for the first time also felt, the sound of a chain that was connected to a cuff on his shin. When he bent down and grasped it, it felt thick and cold. By the feel of it, it was probably made of iron or steel, not something that he ever would be able to get thorugh without his wand. He did not even have to check to know that the wand was not there. Of course, whoever that had caught him would have taken his wand away from him. He tugged at the chain – but unsurprisingly it did not budge an inch. 

“Fuck fuck fuck”, he muttered under his breath.

What kind of mess had he gotten himself into. He guessed that someone had come upon them and caught him – he shivered and thanked the precautions they had taken and that meant that they at least would not have caught Harry or Hermoine. He did not want to think about what may had happened the others. In the best case they were all here and could hope to make some kind of plan of escape from this place. He wondered if it was some Snatchers, desperate for some coin, or if he had been caught by Death Eaters directly. The last thought was far from a happy one, and he began shivering more as fear began creeping up in his throat.

Time kept flowing – measured by the increasing thirst that Ron could feel in his throat. He called out a few times more, but to as much success as earlier. He tried to calm himself down with the dour thought that his captors had put a chain around his ankle and therefore saw him a prisoner of some import – not likely to forget that he existed. He attempted to stop the thought that he did not know if he wanted to be remembered. Perhaps death would seem preferable in a short time. He shivered again, wrapped his arms around himself and tried to imagine that they belonged to Harry. He imagined lying beside Harry’s warm bodily, on ta cot in their tent. In his inner eye he could see the soft smile play on Harry’s face, the felt so secure in the presence of his boyfriend. When the war was over, they had promised each other that they should marry. Ron could feel his lips twist in a thin-lipped smile devoid of all mirth. How naïve. But in a war against a force who regarded love as a weakness – their love had been – no was – a act of resistance.

He thought about him and Harry laying in their tent bed, his hand slowly finding his way to the waistband of Harry’s underwear. He was about to undress Harry and let his weary mind feast on Harry’s exposed body when a light suddenly bloomed in the darkness.  So used to the dark had his eyes become that he momentarily was blinded. He shielded his eyes from the stinging light.

“Who…Who are there … Please help.”

His voice came out as a croak and Ron hated how unsure it sounded.

“Oh no help will be coming your way Weasley, so you can spare the both of us much trouble by shutting up.”

Ron felt that he should not have been surprised, but gasped when hearing the voice and he felt his heart starting to beat with a steady thump in his breast. The light had died down a little and he could see one of the persons he hated most on this earth. Draco held himself with a reassured swagger as befitted the head of Malfoy House, and his features bore an expression of supreme smugness, his eyes glinting with a steely light.

“Heh – surprised? Well, I was also surprised when I saw what our scouting party had secured. Soon you be joined by you other filthy friends.”

Ron could hear the wet splat on the stone floor and instinctively drew back. His thought raced, trying to supress the raising fear by trying to come up with a good jibe. But his brain seemed to have been frozen.

“No funny quip? You are afraid. Good – fear is appropriate in this situation, I guess.”, Draco’s voice was suave and only betrayed only the tiniest hint of glee.

Ron tried to think of something that would catch Draco off guard, to make him show something more than this unnerving coolness.

“You bastard, let me go.”, Ron blushed when he heard himself say what even him realised must sound ridiculous. But Draco did not seem to bother in pointing that out, and merely contented himself by saying:

“No.”

After a bit of silence Draco said, “I came down here to see that you still were alive. That, and to give you some water and food. I would excuse the rudeness of giving even my prisoner their water and food in bowls- but you realise that I do not want to give you any utensils that you can try to harm yourself with. I intend to keep you.” And with that Draco let two metallic dog bowls advances towards Ron and land next to him.

“You do not expect me to eat from that. You are crazier than I thought. You are fucking mental, you…”

Ron suddenly felt a hard slap on his face that almost knocked out the breath out of his lungs.

“Manners, Weasley. I have been tolerant. It is our first meeting after all, but do not test my patience too much or you will see what I call discipline. If you refuse to eat, I will force you to eat. It is rather simple after all, gluing you to the floor and forcing a funnel in your throat. Do you think I am too squeamish to do that? Really, you are obtuse. I will come tomorrow and look after you, and I expect those bowls to be empty.”

The look that Ron now gave Draco was now not only filled with fear – it also flashed with desperation. Ron realised that he was truly fucked. But as he apprehensively looked at the two-glinting bowls, he thought that he would have a higher chance of resisting Malfoy if he was not starving and thirsting. Giving him food and water was Draco’s first mistake, but – hoped Ron – not his first.

-------

Draco came again as he had promised. Ron still had no idea what time of day it was and in his still exhausted state he tried not to waste energy by thinking too hard on the matter.

“Oh, so you have eaten your food and drunk your water like a big boy – good. See, it was not so bad, was it. Here are some more water – important to keep hydrated.”

Ron glared at the bowl that Draco had filled from a pitcher that he held in his hand.

“I don’t want to have any more to drink, thank you.”

Suddenly Ron saw a flick of Draco’s wand and felt his feet glued to the spot and his mouth being forced opened, Draco looking bemused. With a thumping heart he then saw Draco sauntering forward with the pitcher in hand. Ron shook his head, trying to deny Draco’s intent with all the might he could. The rebellion – such as it was - only lasted a split second as he felt his head being frozen in place. With bulging eyes, he saw Draco coming close, and raising the pitcher and placing the cold spout resting on his petrified lips. Then Draco slowly inclined the spout so that the clear and cool water began pouring. The first sensation was relief – he was parched, and the water was nice. But slowly the level of discomfort increased. It was hard to breath properly with water continuing sloshing down his throat, it also spilled outside his mouth, dribbling down his chin and throat. After what felt like an eternity Draco suddenly stopped pouring water down his throat, withdrew from Ron and unglued his limbs from the floor and unfroze his limbs. Ron was left panting and sloppily wiping his mouth – watching Draco wearily.

“Will you torture me more? If so, be done with it.”, Ron spat – trying to spit as much as he could to emphasize his disgust for the person standing in front of him.

“Torture you. Why”

“To get information.”

“Perhaps some other person will do that in due time and if need arises, but to be honest – we do not think you have any valuable information to give us. We have other sources if we need intel.”

“So why keep me alive?”

The question was out before he could stop himself, and when posed he wondered if he really wanted it to be answered. Draco’s eyes glinted. Ron gulped, and almost and drew himself backwards a bit, earning him a cold chuckle from Draco.

“The little Weasel don’t know, and he is really afraid. Well, as I said I guess you should be afraid. You should in fact be very afraid.”

And with that Draco casually conjured more chains that cuffed Ron’s hands and wrists, and that then glued themselves to the floor. Reflexively Ron pulled the chains, the pace of his breathing increasing when he saw that they were tightly held.

“Do you really think that you can pull them loose? You are thicker than I imagined.” Draco’s voice was a study in boredom as he studied the panic starting to return to in Ron’s face.

“I guess it is time to begin.”

Ron did not even have time to ask, “Begin with what?”, before Draco, with a suave expression, touched Ron’s clothes his wand making the seams snap, unmaking them in a heartbeat and making the now loose pieces of cloth fall down in a pile on the dungeon floor.

Ron grasped that he was nude, but it was the sudden coolness on the skin, making goosebumps appear, that made him react first. He tried, chins hindering any meaningful action, rubbing his skin for warmth. This tactile reaction lasted only a split second. It was after this Ron fully realised that he now stood completely nude in front of Malfoy, and he tried to hide his genitals with his hands. 

“Oh, do we have a little prude here. Did you not show yourself naked before that Potter creature?”

“Fuck off Malfoy. Do you want to see me naked? I did not know that you were gay. All that snogging at the loo with Pansy – just a show, was it?”

“I never have seen the reason to make a difference between men and women in that regard. See I am quite liberal after all.”

“Do your master look on it the same way?”

“He does not care – as long as I profess my adherence to his main points and keeps a dutiful wife in public.”

Ron continued to try to hide his cock, trying to deny Draco total visibility. Trying to deny him total vulnerability. Draco looked at him with a piercing glance, an expectation painted there that Ron did not know the source off.

Abruptly Ron felt a churn in his stomach and heard a large gurgle. His eyes widened in shock when he realised that he need to shit, and to pee. To shit and pee really bad in fact. He had totally forgotten these basic functions during the time he had been snatched. It must have been days.

“Ughhh.”, Ron removed his hand that was shading his penis to grip his now grumbling stomach.

“Oh, what is happening. Do you need to take a dump? What a predicament. That laxative was super effective, I have to thank Snape when I meet him again.”

Ron glared at Draco with pure hate as he put two and two together – Draco’s weird insistence on him drinking all that water suddenly made grim sense. This thought was wiped away as a new wave of cramps churned Ron’s stomach. He grunted and looked around, praying to some higher power that there would something that he could relieve himself in that would not force him to soil the place where he stood.

“There is a bucket there in a corner – if you do not want to spoil the place where you are sleeping. I will just notify you that I will not clean up if you do. The chains will extend – you need not worry.”

Ron felt the smallest and most swiftly passing gratitude imaginable towards Draco and began waddling towards the bucket hoping that his bowels would not let loose to early.

After what seemed like an age of this waddling, he was finally positioned over the bucket. Ron cursed under his breath as he stood crouched, eyes closed.

“Do you have some weird scat-fetish Malfoy? Why do you enjoy watch me shit?”

“Nah, I am not into scat. But it amuses me to see you brought so low. You are no more than an animal. A filthy little degenerate blood traitor animal that uses a bucket to shit. See, your flushing cheeks already makes me smile.”

Ron wanted to bite back, but he felt the pressure against his anus, and keeping his eyes closed – in a vain attempt at trying to ignore the fact that he was about to defecate in front of Malfoy, he pushed.

The sound was disgusting beyond words, as were the smell that assaulted his nose. The emptying felt like it continued for ever.

Behind the suddenly tearstained eyelids Ron could hear Draco’s disdainful voice.

“Ha, you actually did it. Wow, you really lack any shame. You are such a filthy little thing.”

Ron opened his eyes and glared at Draco, and even though shame burned his cheeks, a sudden dreadful thought took even greater priority. Where were the toilet-paper. He looked at the glint in Draco’s eyes and knew that the twisted fuck had planned this out in disgusting detail.

“Do you need any toilet paper? Ask nicely and we can see if I will give you some. Or don’t and go around with your shit-smelling ass. Your choice.”

Ron wanted to scream, wanted to claw that fucking face to shreds and force Malfoy to gauge out his eyes with a rusty spoon. Instead, he tried to calm himself and slowly – any slip would see him descend into incandescent rage, and a still shitty anus. He did not doubt Draco would take a horrible delight in be given any pretext for leaving him reeking of his own excrement.

“Could I please have some toilet paper?”

“Of course – next time you ask you would be advised to add ‘Master’, at the end. Because – and make no mistake from my politeness – that is what I am to you from now until the end of your life. You may now think that you are not my slave, that you will somehow escape. You are my slave – or, creature, rather – and you will not escape.

Ron had been about to wipe himself, but now found himself gaping in horror and shook. This could not be happening. His brain screamed. And it was only the acrid smell in his nose that made him mechanically take the offered paper and clean himself. When he was done, he threw it in the bucket.

“I think I will go now,” there was no mistaking the haughtiness in Draco’s voice now. “I have things to attend to that is more important than watching the base needs of my creature. I will see you tomorrow slave.”

With a twirl of his wand, he made the contents of the bucket disappear and the chains tighten, forcing Ron to the ground of the dungeon. Ron manged to hold the tears in until Draco was out of the room, but after the thud of the door, his body was racked with sobs util darkness claimed him.

---

Ron tried refuse food, death by starvation seeming a welcome deliverance from what seemed to be his fate, but Draco made true his threat of force feeding him. Draco conjured a large metal funnel and passed a bland gruel through it until Ron felt that he was like to burst. When the natural reaction took place – speeded up by the damned laxative - and Ron refused to call Draco “master” after he had done the deed, Draco simply left without handing him any paper to wipe himself. Ron was left alone in the dark, reeking of his own shit.

After waking up in the same cold darkness as always, Ron looked at the food in the bowl and looked away. He was hungry, so hungry – he just wanted to give in and eat. To forget the humiliation and subjugation it would mean and eat the bland food that he just some time ago would have considered worse than animal feed. He could still smell his own foulness – laying like a thick blanket in the dungeon air. Ron did not know if it was the sensory deprivation, the pain in his limbs or the all-enveloping desperation that felt as pervasive as the air he breathed, but he could almost hear Harry’s voice in the darkness:

“Live Ron. He can cause pain and humiliate you – but you can deny him the satisfaction of killing you. Live and defy him by never giving in, by continue living.”

So, when Draco came thorugh the dungeon door Ron tried his best to hide his burning contempt. He had eaten his food and when Draco – in a tone one may use to one’s dog – commented at the empty bowl, Ron held back the remark that was so close on his tongue and was silent. And when Draco asked if Ron wanted to have his ass clead from the mess he had made yesterday, Ron with a tight voice answered with a simple: “Yes Master.” Draco smiled a thin-lipped smile at the subservient ‘Master’ and said:

“So, you have learned some manners – a good start. Just lay still and Master will take care of the rest.”

After all was done and the bowls – Ron still tried not to think of it as his bowl – was filled with more food and water Draco left.  This routine continued for a couple of days.

After what must have been a few days, Ron suddenly awoke in the darkness. He had become used to this, and except for the humiliation of being naked and forced to abase himself in front of Draco, there had not been any escalation from Draco’s side. He had just come and done the usual routine of filling his food and water, trying to find any cracks in Ron’s new humility. But truth be told, he seemed somewhat bored of the whole situation. Ron had begun to hope that this would be it until Draco decided to kill him or he was rescued. It was because of this last still alive hope he soon was wide awake when awoken. The hole of light that he assumed was the entry to the dungeon was there, but it was not Draco standing there. Ron squinted and waited – it could not be true, could it be, yes it was Harry standing there. But Draco had slipped and, in his taunts, made remarks that Ron had been able to conclude that the war was going badly for the Death Eaters. He was a bit surprised that there was not more clanging and shouting – but perhaps this was just the first stealthy strike at the heart of the Death Eaters. Ron looked at Harry, not wanting to talk and disturb Harry’s plan. If Harry wanted to be silent, then they would escape in silence, they could be louder in their celebration.

Harry twirled his wand and the chains that bound Ron loosened themselves and left him free to move undisturbed for the first time in who know how long. At first Ron had a hard time moving, his first step more of a shuffle then a proper walk. Harry still stood at the dungeon door, looking around – obviously keeping guard. When Ron came nearer Ron could see the smile plastering Harry’s face. Ron wanted to run and hug Harry, but Harry’s smile faded as he seemed to hear something in the other room.  Harry motioned Ron to speed up, and after only a few seconds Ron finally was out of the dungeon. The bright light of the corridor was almost too much for his eyes, and he had to blink several times before he could see clearly. He could almost touch Harry, but before he could hug Harry, Harry had begun walking towards the door at the far end of the corridor and the little door that presumably led up from the dungeon area. Ron had to strain his legs, and ignore the soreness that he felt, as to catch up with him. Under the bright light of the corridor, he became more aware that he lacked clothes, and wondered why Harry could not have brought any. But then again, who could have thought that Draco would enjoy literally undressing him. Suddenly before they reached the door Harry turned and in a voice that was no more than voiced breath asked:

“How is it, Ron?”

“Awful, but thank you for saving me from this hell hole.”

“How was Draco towards you? Did he hurt you much?”

“Yeah, but it is over now. Harry, should we not move, before they come?”

But Harry just smiled and asked a new question:

“Do you hate Malfoy?”

And before he could stop himself and ask Harry to ask him that particular question when they were at a safer place Ron let the words tumble out of him:

“Yes! I hate him more than I thought was possible. I want to gouge out his eyes with my bare hands and force him to eat them. I want him to suffer – when we finally win, he better hope I will be nowhere near him. I would make him suffer. Sorry Harry but you do not know what that freak have done to me.”

“I can guess.”

Ron was somewhat surprised that Harry smiled, and even let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t like Harry. And with a start Ron realised that it did not sound like Harry either. Suddenly he froze, and with a dread that almost made him piss himself he could see Harry fade and be replaced by a smug looking Draco.

“I guess that I should not be surprised that you hate me, nor that you are not fond of me yet. But gouging out my eyes and feeding me them – that is a bit melodramatic I think.”

Draco laughed when he saw the horrified expression on Ron’s face as Ron put two and two together. It had all been a ruse. The hints, the silence and unwillingness to touch.

“Now we will have to bring you back to the dungeon – and to prepare your punishment. You will not like it one bit. No, but then you will not like the training I will have to give you afterwards. Did you think I could not see though your pathetic attempts to please me the previous days? You will be dreaming your happiest dreams about the past days in the coming time.”

Ron wanted to scream when he was lifted into the air and floated back into the darkness of the dungeon below. In the coming days he would scream even more.

…

Pain – yes there was pain the coming days. Draco had kept his promise of punishing Ron and making him dream of his former days of captivity. At some points during the punishment – when his throat was raw from screaming in pure agony and every pore of his body seemed coated with an oily patina of pain – Ron had the strange sensation of almost floating above the scene, observing Draco inflicting wave after wave of suffering. He did not go mad, Draco made sure of that. If death was barred from him, madness was also withheld. Careful potions were forced down his mouth during the session, and he was too weak to resist. He had to be forced to eat, shit and sleep either by threats of even more pain or magic. After two days of constant punishments Ron was left in a dazed state. He just looked blank when Draco the day after came in the dungeon with a smug expression.

“How is my little toy today? Any wish to escape again?”

Ron did not answer, his whole mind in a thousand sharp stinging shards.

“Not talking I see. Well, you seem like you need something to wake you out from your stupor.”

Somewhere in Ron’s addled mind he realised he would get punished again. He still did not move or react. But to his surprise – a strange and novel sensation in the thick coating of suffering - Malfoy unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop, removing his underwear soon after – plainly savouring the uncertainty that must be evident on Ron’s face.

“I have always known you were piss poor Weasley – going to school with handouts, second hand bought or hand-me-downs. Well, I can’t promise that you will be richer but let me at least make you a little bit piss richer. And before Ron had time to comprehend what was happening, Draco had released a stream of urine on Ron.

Ron’s mind kicked off and he frantically tried to avoid the golden shower, but with no discernible effect, and Ron could feel the acrid liquid falling on his hair, saturating the hair until the pee began running down his face in small rivulets. He pressed his lips together in a desperate effort not to get anything in his mouth.

“Weasley don’t want to taste my piss? Well, are we not ungrateful today.  But there is no need to be hasty, I guess. You will never be able to escape from me, and who knows, there well come a time where you will beg me to piss on you.”

He let out a cold merciless laugh as he wiped his hand on a magical appearing towel.

Ron still felt the dampness in his hair, and the stench of Draco’s urine still was fresh in his nose when Draco turned towards him again, and whispered:

“It is time to move Weasley – now your real training begin, this was just the first phase.”

“Fuck you … and fuck the bitch mother and father that ever thought of bringing you into this world Malfoy.”

Ron had not made a conscious decision to speak, and not to say that. For the first time in captivity, he could see rage on Malfoys face. It was only for a moment, but in that moment Draco’s whole face became a twisted mask of fury and disgust.

Ron felt himself jerked up into a sitting position.

“Get your filthy hands …. mmmhph”

“You will regret that insult. Oh, you wish you never said that you are a fucking son of a hag’s cunt.”

Only desperate grunts and groans greeted this string of explicative, the suddenly appearing gag stopping Ron’s mouth.

His arms were forced into some sort of jacket made of a stiff material, and his arms forced in sleaves without any openings, that was quickly bound crosswise over his chest.

“Muggles calls them straight jackets. Had no idea of them until Avery showed them to me. He found them amusing to use on muggles. Unnecessary to wizards of course, but fun. How does the gag sit? Not too tight I hope?”

He laughed uproariously when seeing the look of hatred that Ron gave him.

“Mmmmmmmmhph.”

“Yes, cry on, it will not help you. Oh, are you crying again. Is widdle Ronnie sad. Do widdle Ron have his teddy and bottle of milk. Well Ronnie better get used to this. He and Mr Strightjacket will get to know each other for quite some time now. You are an uncultured dog. You will soon realise how fucking insignificant waste of space you are.”  

 Ron glared up on Draco – hatred radiating from his tear-streaked eyes. Draco came closer and Ron first thought that Draco aimed to hit him, and he steeled himself. But Draco just wiped away the tears from his face.

“Oh, little Ronnie is so exposed, cannot even dry his wet eyes. Poor thing. Prepare yourself sweetheart, I wished I could say that this would be pleasurable for you, but I doubt it will be when done this way.”

Ron was janked up in the air, and suddenly he felt something forcing its way in his ass.

“Mmmmmmmmhph”

“Does it hurt?”

“Mmmmmmmmhph!!!!”

“Sorry cannot hear you.”

“Mmmmmmmmhph!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, you like the large buttplug. Well, you are in for a treat then – what did you say, you want to have your dick in a cage so that you never can cum again? Well, this can certainly be arranged.”

The silver caged suddenly appeared and fastned itself over Ron’s cock and balls – inscribed with the caption Property of Draco Malfoy. But it was not done – with a horror that almost short-circuited his brain Ron saw Draco holding a white-hot branding iron I his hand. The last thing Ron remembered before darkness claimed him was the smell of burning flesh.