Title: The Promise of a Wizard
Author: eeyore9990
Characters: Voldemort/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit non con, torture and violence, Voldie bits
Themes/kinks chosen: Faux spoilers month: Voldemort kidnaps Ron and tortures him.
Word Count: 1004 (I know, I know, pitiful)
Summary: Ron will do anything to keep Voldemort from finding Harry and Hermione.
Author's notes: I had intended to write a huge crackfic this month incorporating all the prompts, but as luck would have it, during the one month I'm allowed to write crackfic, I wrote something dark and horrible instead. Go figure. :P

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Voldemort trailed his hands down the pale shoulders, hands clenching roughly, fingers digging in until he heard the sweet sound of that voice crying out in pain.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you? No, of course you don’t. In your world, no one could ever touch you like this. You should have known you wouldn’t be safe once we caught you. Now… now, you’re mine. Mine to do with as I will. And what I want to do to you is cause you pain and misery such as you’ve never known before.”

The figure under his cruel hands struggled mightily, but he merely laughed coldly. “I’m going to bend you over and ram into you again and again and again until you beg me for mercy. And then I’m going to keep going, to show once and for all that you do not deserve mercy. When I’m through with you, I’m going to call all your Saviour's little followers in here, all the people who were so very loyal to him and to you, and under the combined effects of Imperius and Amortentia, I will let them all do what they will with what is left of you."

Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter's professed lieutenant, went stock still and stared at the far wall, jaw set in a stubborn show of control.

"I will have the location of Potter's whereabouts from your lips, boy. And I will not be so kind as to resort to Veritaserum or Legilimency. You will tell me; you will be the one to betray your friend. Only you."

"Never." The boy's voice was flat and sure. It wouldn't remain so for much longer.

Voldemort flicked his fingers, conjuring a thin whip out of the air—a nice cutting thickness. Snapping the whip, he was gratified to see the muscles at the corners of Ronald's eyes flinch.

"One last chance, Ronald, before I flay the skin from your back."

He watched a muscle leap in the boy's jaw before he stated calmly, "It'll heal."

"I doubt it very much."

Voldemort stepped back just shy of the length of the whip away from the boy and took his first experimental swing. It went slightly wild, curving around Ronald's shoulder to leave a red, bloody line along the top of his arm. He watched, lips curved in a thin smile, as the muscles along the boy's back knotted from the pain. There was only a small hissing noise of breath escaping Ronald's mouth to vocally indicate he'd felt that, but the screams would come. Oh, yes.

The second whiplash slid nicely down the boy's spine and brought the first cut-off scream. Ronald's whole body arched away from the pain; he went to his tiptoes to maintain his balance as there was nothing to hold him in place but his own stubbornness.

"Having fun yet, Ronald?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, no, you'll be the one getting fucked tonight, boy." Voldemort flung the whip away from him, wrath filling him as he stalked toward the boy. "Treasure the time I spend with you, Ronald. As soon as I'm done, the whipping will begin again."

Using a specially designed spell that removed all voluntary muscle control, Voldemort made Ronald fall bonelessly to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been slashed. He smiled that thin smile again as he watched blood pool beneath the spot where the boy's nose had smashed into the hard floor.

Another spell stripped the clothes from the long, muscular body, leaving the boy completely defenceless. Voldemort took a moment to consider the ease with which he'd managed to fell the boy, but dismissed it as inconsequential. He was, after all, the greatest wizard who ever lived.

A wave of his hand parted his robes and he sank to his knees on the floor between Ronald's lax thighs, leaning forward to murmur into the boy's ear, "You thought you could fight me? How laughably pitiful you are."

He tugged on his long, thin cock with equally thin fingers, completing his rise to full arousal that the effects of the whipping had started, and reached forward to part the rounded cheeks of Ronald's arse. A hissing laugh escaped him when he saw the tight, virginal hole that awaited his pleasure.

"This will hurt, boy. More than you could possibly imagine." He thrilled with triumph at the way the boy tried to tense just before he pressed his hips forward, thrusting his cock into the dry passage under him. A sound that was part grunt, part scream tore from Ronald's throat and Voldemort felt the power of victory swell within him.

He hissed his pleasure and roughly pulled out only to slam back in. This time the sound the boy made was purely a scream.

"Stop! Oh, god, stop!!" It was a harsh cry, driven from the boy by the unaccustomed pain of rape.

"Tell me where Potter is and I will."

"No… no. I can't. Won't."

"Then lie back and enjoy yourself, Ronald."

The boy's disbelieving laugh was cut off by another scream as Voldemort began to a steady rhythm of thrust and retreat. When he was done, when his come coated the boy's freckled thighs, there was a pool of blood between his thighs almost as large as the one under his nose.

Picking up the whip again, Voldemort walked over and nudged the boy with the tip of his boot. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ronald? Any words to still my hand?"

A harsh, dark laugh was all that came from the boy, prompting Voldemort to ask, "What do you find so funny?"

"You're going to die. It doesn't matter what you do now. You'll die. And I'll be there to see it."

"The foolish hopes of a boy."

"No, the promise of a wizard."

The cold tone carried with it the hint of premonition and Voldemort took a step back just as the doors to the room blasted off their hinges.