Even If You Are An Inch From Death

Ron

The second curtain was drawn open and it took all of Harry’s strength just too look through the think glass. This time, escorted by another trio of Death Eater’s, was Ron. Green eyes stared fixatedly at the redhead. By the looks of it Ron had suffered a deep gash to one of his cheeks, but other than that, he too looked relatively unscathed.

Inside this cell were fewer items, though all metal. Shackles hung on the far wall where Ron was led and attached to. They forced his arms up high and legs wide, holding the teen in a spread-eagled position. Next to him, of course, was another IV containing the silvery Unicorn Blood. Harry’s hands came up to the glass as if in some vain gesture at reaching out to his friend. A Death Eater inserted the needle into Ron’s inner elbow and the Unicorn Blood began to flow. The only other object in the room was a small metal table holding one single piece of equipment – a dagger.

Harry turned to Voldemort; eyes thickly glazed with unshed tears. “Please, Voldemort,” screaming hadn't worked so Harry was going to attempt pleading, “Please call off your Death Eater’s, don’t put Ron through this, PLEASE!”

A mixture of delight and disgust crossed Voldemort’s face as he looked down on the pitiful Boy Who Lived.

“You choose to give up your dignity and beg for the life of this muggle-loving whelp?” Voldemort sneered but quickly smiled again, “But don’t worry, he isn’t going to die, just suffer through great pain… though knowing this friend of your’s he will probably like what is coming to him…”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?” But Voldemort just shook his head and forced Harry to watch the proceedings.

In front of Ron, one of the Death Eater’s had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the black mark, and picked up the dagger lying innocently on the table. Ron’s blue eyes followed every movement. Swiftly and precisely, the Death Eater cut of all of Ron’s clothing leaving him in only his shorts.

For a moment Harry thought that was all the knife was for and that they would now rape him, or even curse him, something not as deadly as being burned at the stake like poor Hermione, but that was not the case.

Harry listened as Ron hissed through his teeth as the first shallow cut was made just under his right nipple. A thin trickle of blood emerged from the slice and began travelling its way down Ron’s body.

In quick succession another four cuts were made, all to Ron’s torso, and more trickles of blood began to flow – some connecting with each other, some running faster being closer to a pulse point. Not once did Ron cry out, just glaring and growling at the offending Death Eater’s.

Harry continued to watch as the Death Eater’s took turns in making hundreds of cuts all over Ron’s body, making him flip over so his fresh cuts scraped across the dirty stone wall while more thin slits littered his back. The trickles of blood were beginning to grow steadily faster now and red was pooling around Ron’s feet. Harry was also beginning to notice that where crimson blood wasn’t covering his skin, Ron was looking very pale.

“Do you know how much blood there is in the human body, Harry?” Voldemort’s question startled Harry having forgotten that the scaly creature was behind him for some moments. Harry turned his head slightly then shook it, no.

“Come on, Harry,” Voldemort continued jubilantly. “If you have a guess I will tell you why I think your little Weasley would be enjoying himself…”

It was very tempting; Harry did want to know what the creature was going on about before so he made his mind concentrate on what the answer might be. If they were talking about an adult, well it must be a lot of blood that run through from head to toe.

“I dunno. 12 litres?” he guesses, feeling sick at playing the evil man’s game. Voldemort laughed.

“Not even close, Harry. On average an adult human only has about 4 litres of blood running through their veins at any one time.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Judging from the amount of blood on the stone floor it looked like Ron had lost about three litres of blood already, if not more.

He shook his head furiously forcing himself not to think about what Ron would be feeling and the realisation that the redhead was hanging limply in his chains, yet still breathing having been turned back around to face the Death Eater’s. Then he turned back to Voldemort.

“Ok, I guessed. Now tell me what you were talking about before!” Harry demanded.

That eerie grin was back.

“We I suppose I’d better, but I honestly though that you would know, being this boy’s best friend, but I suppose that fool Dumbledore did always want to keep you from hurtful truths…

“Ron Weasley, here, is a cutter.”

“WHAT!” Harry was shocked at this revelation.

“A cutter, boy. It’s someone who-”

“I know what a cutter is, you Snake! But Ron would never do a thing like that! If he ever had any problems then he’d talk to me. Besides, I sleep in the bed next to him at school. Ron’s no Cutter!”

Voldemort continued to glare down at Harry with those crimson eyes. “And how sure can you be of that? Hmm?”

Admittedly, there were times, Harry recalled, that his best friend was unusually quiet, and how, on occasion, he would constantly wear his robes even if it was stifling hot inside and outside the castle. But that didn’t prove he was a cutter. He might have just been angry or sick that day…

“How would you know Ron was a cutter anyway? Your not his best friend and don’t go to school with him.”

“Your right, Harry. But a certain brother of his does follow under my command and the Weasley family is very close, discussing everything with all its members. I should know; I was told personally.”

And before Harry could even think to question Voldemort on which Weasley member was following the Dark Lord’s rule, the Snake-like man tapped on the glass and one of the three Death Eater’s lowered their hood to reveal himself.

It was Bill Weasley.

Harry’s eyes boggled at seeing Ron’s older brother participate willingly in his pain and torture. Surely the Weasley traitor would be Percy – hadn't he chosen the corrupt Ministry over his own family back in Harry’s fifth year? But there was no mistaking that long hair and pierced ear that went horribly well with the evil and satisfies smirk plastered on Bill’s face.

“The eldest Weasley child seemed to have delved too far in his research of curse breaking and the dark arts simply consumed him. That was why I graciously recruited him, unbeknownst to anyone else, and he became a faithful follower. Of course that younger Weasley over there shared his dirty little secret with his elder brother first before confronting the rest of his family, thus the news travelled all the way to me. A fitting execution for the cutter, don’t you agree?”

But Harry didn’t hear the question. Pure hate and rage was bubbling up inside the green-eyed boy. He continued to stare at the weakening form of his best friend as he drooped in the unforgiving shackles holding up his wrists. Ron shouldn’t have to suffer like this – his weakness being used against him. Hermione shouldn’t have to suffer either, being mockingly burnt just because of her muggleborn status.

With the speed of a viper, Harry spun around and lunged at the evil man responsible for all the pain he had endured throughout his short life. For all the killing and for all the torment he put everyone through who was just too close to Harry, The Boy Who Lived.

Harry was just managing to loop the chain of his shackles around Voldemort’s throat when he was hit with the curse.

“CRUCIO!”

And then all Harry knew was pain.

Voldemort pulled himself up, still training his wand on Harry for a few more moments before letting it, and the torture subside.

“I believe, Harry, that it is time we moved on.”