"We caught him wandering not far from the house, My Lord," one of the hooded men said derisively. "Yelling his head off, he was, and didn't even have his wand out. A child could have taken him."

His cheeks flamed at this mockery of his own stupidity, but he kept his head up, his back straight, and looked them each in the eye in turn. If he lived, he wanted to remember who had been there. The Lestranges, the Malfoys, a big blond man, a man he recognised from the Department of Mysteries as Antonin Dolohov, Wormtail, a dark-haired woman, the werewolf Fenrir Greyback -

"He is a member of the Order of the Phoenix?" asked the tall, pale man, red eyes burning. "You are certain of this?"

"Better than that, My Lord," the hooded man said smugly. "This one is friends with Potter. And we all know what Potter does when his friends are in danger."

Laughter rang out around the circle of Death Eaters, echoing off the cracked plaster of the old walls.

"A friend of Harry Potter," mused Voldemort. "You have done very well indeed, Travers. I shall not forget it. Potter has proved rash under such circumstances before. I think we shall lay a trap for our young friend. But until Potter comes to us, this one shall be our honoured guest."

He stood as tall as he could, and looked straight into the pitiless red eyes. He was not afraid for himself or for Harry. Harry had faced Voldemort before, and won. He would do it again.

"You can do what you like with me," Ron Weasley said as bravely as he could manage. "I don't care. Just let Hermione go."

More laughter echoed around the room, but Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Ron's chest.

"You will speak only to answer our questions, boy. Crucio!"

Pain screamed through his bones, twisting and grinding them together so that they would surely shatter. It ended as abruptly as it had begun, and he found himself lying with his face pressed to the flagstone floor. His body ached atrociously and their laughter echoed inside his skull.

He tried with all his might to listen to what his captors were saying, knowing that it might well be important, but the words came to him muddled and indistinct. He wondered muzzily how hard his head had struck the floor. He could not distinguish between the residual ache left by the curse and any physical trauma he might have suffered.

"- Greyback in a few days," he managed to catch. "Soften him up a bit."

There was more laughter, and then hands seized him roughly by the shoulders, forcing him to his feet. He stumbled along, unable to offer much resistance, as they half-dragged, half-carried him down a narrow corridor, dimly lit by old gas lamps, through a doorway and down a flight of steps into dark and chilly space that smelled of mildew and something less pleasant which he could not identify in his befuddled state. There was no light down here but the wand of one of his captors, which threw confusing shadows on the stone walls.

A shove, and he was on the floor again, banging his knees painfully against the stone, and throwing out his arms only just in time to save himself another blow to the head. There was a clang of iron on iron and the grating sound of a key in an old lock.

"There you go," laughed a rough voice through the bars. "You two lovebirds can keep one another company."

Their footsteps retreated, and Ron was left in darkness. But not alone.

"Hermione?" he whispered, blinking into the gloom, trying to force his eyes to adjust, which they did reluctantly.

Ron's heart fell. The figure who huddled against the wall, forehead resting on knees drawn up to its chest, was male. He was also thin and ragged, light hair grayed by grime or age, Ron could not tell. Until he spoke.

"Lost your girlfriend, have you, Weasley?"

The head tilted back and a pale face seemed to glow in the darkness. Draco Malfoy. Ron's eyes had adjusted enough to see his reddened eyes and the white channels left by tears streaking the grime of his face. He reeked of weeks of incarceration and something else that Ron thought might be fear. He was so shocked by the apparition that, for a moment, he forgot his schoolboy loathing, ignoring the barb and answering the question.

"I woke up and she wasn't there. Have you seen her? Did they bring her here?"

Draco chuckled. "Finally managed to pry Granger's knees apart, did you? Well done."

Ron shot him a dirty look, and Malfoy grudgingly added, "If they've got her, they didn't bring her here."

A sigh of relief escaped Ron's lips. "Thank god. I thought for sure they'd got her."

The cell was small, no more than six feet by eight, and there was nowhere he could sit that was far enough away from the other boy to avoid his stink. He rested his back against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe through his mouth.

"You may not have noticed, Weasley, but they've got you." There was the ghost of a smirk in Draco's voice. "You think your Mudblood girlfriend will be any happier when she finds out you're here?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," he said without much heat. "I haven't got the energy to teach you a lesson just now."

Draco only chuckled.

Ron opened his eyes again and turned as something occurred to him. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought your Mummy and Daddy were all chummy with You-Know-Who. They were upstairs just now."

"Were they?" Something moved in the depths of Draco's eyes, as if he were about to ask more, but changed his mind. Instead, he gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "Oh, they are. Best mates. And just to show them how much they mean to him, the Dark Lord is keeping me safe down here."

"He seems to have gone all out on the accommodations," Ron commented drily.

"Indeed." Draco's tone matched his own.

"Any idea why they stuck me in here with you?"

Draco smirked. "Maybe because we're such good friends, and the Dark Lord didn't want us to be lonely."

Ron snorted at that.

After a moment of stillness, Draco said softly, "But it's probably because of Greyback."

"Greyback?" Ron asked, puzzled. "You-Know-Who's pet werewolf?"

Draco nodded, looking uncharacteristically grim. "They probably think I'll warn you what he's like, so you can be properly horrified and willing to do anything they ask by the time it's your turn."

Ron looked in shock at the boy as gray and thin and ragged as Remus Lupin. "He bit you? You're a werewolf now?"

"No, nothing like that." Draco stared straight ahead. He might have been talking to himself. "They don't let him in here on the full moon. He's got a cell down the hall, though, and I hear him. When they don't let him out to have his fun, that is." He shuddered involuntarily.

"If he didn't bite you, how bad can it be?" asked Ron skeptically.

His own eldest brother, Bill, had been savaged by an untransformed Greyback, and apart from some scarring and a liking for rare steak, had taken no ill effect. Draco did not look all that scarred.

"Bad enough," Draco said quietly. "They brought me here when they released Father from Azkaban. That was the arrangement; my freedom for his, and his good behaviour and diligence for my safety. And just to show he meant it, the Dark Lord made Mother and Father watch the first time he let Greyback in with me."

Ron's mouth dropped open in dawning horror. "He didn't -?"

Draco's gray eyes were haunted, but a mirthless smile played across his lips. "Who would have guessed that my mother's tears would hurt worse than being buggered by a werewolf? And my father just stood there looking about as disgusted as you do right now."

"Merlin's arse!" Ron grimaced, revolted. "That's horrible. I wouldn't wish that on -"

"Your worst enemy? Thanks, Weasley. I appreciate the sentiment."

"You're not my worst enemy," Ron said after a moment. "I hated you, right enough, but that was kids stuff. This is war. You're nowhere near the worst thing out there."

Draco cast him a pitying look. "You'll know that for certain soon enough. I may even feel sorry for you when your turn comes."

Ron balled up his fists in his robes until his knuckles turned white. "That's not going to happen," he said, voice carrying as much conviction as he could muster. "The Order - Harry - my brothers - Hermione - they'll come and find me. They'll get me out. I know it."

"If you say so," Draco said with a shrug. He slid down the wall and curled himself up on the floor, pulling his tattered robes tightly around him. "I'm going to get some sleep, myself. Wake me when your rescue party arrives."

Note: This story is continued in The Power of Two, Chapter 12, in my archive.