Occlumency. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck . . . the despairing litany ran through his mind as he literally jumped at her command, and the bitter thought least she didn't make me say 'how high' was followed up by the sheer hopelessness that he had utterly and completely failed in the only thing he'd set out to do in the past five years, protecting Harry and Hermione.
"I think I liked you lot better when you just killed people," he muttered darkly. But since he didn't have much choice in the matter, Ron stepped into the light. He also kept his hand where it was. Not that he really had a choice about that, either. At the moment, Ron wasn't sure if he'd ever hated someone more than he hated the obnoxious pixie who'd sliced through his brain like so much butter. He wasn't especially fond of "T" at the moment, either, or whoever his name was. But this was definitely the same man he'd known by the name of Emil. Ignoring the other comments about the gun and the bomb, Ron chose to focus on the only thing that mattered in the situation, the fact that these two Death Eaters were both claiming to be protecting him, for some reason.
"Well, that's awful generous of you, 'rerouting' the other flunkies, Emil. And I guess your friend here would be the blonde, never did get a name for her," he added with an ironic smirk. The smirk vanished with his next question, "What do you want, then?" And more importantly, why aren't you just taking it, seeing as you've got me over the fucking barrel here. Not that it mattered. If this was how it was going to end for him, he'd go down defiantly, for as long as possible. He owed Harry and 'Mione that much, at least.