Devil May Care

Warning: Still slashy. No sex here, though. Just plot.


Dedication: This is for Nyla . Who gave me the best review I have ever gotten on this piece of work.
Thank you so much, it made my day.


Author's Note: There is no sex here, at all. Just wanted to warn you all. We get some major plot stuffs
though. I want to really show Ron's abilities here. That's something that's very important to me, as an
author. I hope you all enjoy this!


A (Not So) Difficult Task

We're a real, honest to Merlin army now. I've noticed that, all of a sudden. Now when I walk around, I
see people in uniform. And damn good uniforms, too. Leather trousers, white undershirt, and a coat
that's half coat half robe. Sort of fitted around the chest, but long. They button just along the torso, then
they're open from about the hips down to the ground. They're very impressive if you ask me. It didn't
take me long to figure out the color scheme either.


The basic grunts are all in black. And they've got pretty crap material coats. Wool or cotton or some
really easy to get shit. Then comes green. Those are the officers. I guess the equivalent of generals and
commanders and things like that. Special tasks are blue, and only Lucius Malfoy get's to wear a snazzy
red silk getup. Then there's the little sliver snakes that go on the collar. One silver snake: you're a crap
soldier, bottom of the barrel of whatever rank you've got. Two, you're ie mie middle. Three, you're at
the top. No surprise that Lucius sports three shiny silver serpents by *his* shoulders.


I don't have one yet. Draco does. He gets to wear blue (one snake) And I've got the feeling he's
wearing blue just because Daddy's in the red. Appease the Lord High Commander, or whatever title
Lucius carries. Draco assures me I'll get one soon. He's busy preening. He looks at himself in the
mirror *all the time*! It's starting to but the hell out of me.


But right now, I have to go see Voldemort. He was very specific, earlier, that I had to come see him.
Maybe I'll get my outfit. And it had better be black with three snakes, or I'm going to pitch a fit. Well,
not out loud. Pitching fit's in the presence of your evil overlord tends to get you dead.


I do get three silver snakes. But my uniform's not black, it's green.


Voldemort's smiling at me like a maniac. He meant this to be a surprise. And he looks...holy shit, he
looks like my grandpa did that year he gave me the broom I'd wanted for years. Eager, and happy and
just wanting to see the look on my face when I open it.


I've been learning something here. Voldemort may be a very *bad* man, but he's also a very *nice*
man. He'd have to be, I realize. You can't win a huge following by screaming obscenities and
threatening to kill small children. It just doesn't work that way. The man has charisma!


"You look taken aback, Ron."


"I...I am sir..." It's green. And it's soft and supple and I can't even place what it's made out of. And
there's three little snake pins. Three. I'm...I don't know what the hell I am, but I've got rank over
Draco. Ah man, this is gonna piss the hell out of him.


"Weren't expecting such high honors, eh?" He smiles sort of indulgently. He really is like my grandpa.
Just...with a dry skin problem and a really bad case of pink eye.


"Not at all. I just...I guess I just want to know what I did to deserve it..."


But I know already. I'm doing a lot for these poeple. Hell, I should have figured after the Macnair
incident how important I was. Macnair had been a loyal Death Eater since the first rise of Voldemort. I
was just a kid. But when it came down to it, Voldemort would rather have me comfortable and safe then
have Macnair at all. Sure, the guy wasn't good for much more then yelling aavinaving a club, but still.


"You are a much valued member of this endeavor." Endeavor. It's not an endeavor, it's a world
domination. But he can cal it what he likes, he's the Lord of all Darkness.


"Guess I just didn't realize it." I say, and I think maybe he thinks I'm regretting things. That's not what I
mean at all, s I clear things up. "It's not like I'm a soldier, where I can see what I've done. I don't see
any real results. I just...well, I keep on living fig figure I've done good." Nervous laugh.


"You have done very good." Voldemort says. "In fact, you last advice allowed us to take the town of
Hawkspoint. Cripsin Dugg led the attack, and is currently holding the town. But he's more suited to
leading an army then governing a province."


"Ah." This is going where now?


"I am sending you to relieve him."


"What?" He can't be serious. This is some sort of weird, overlord humor.


"My boy, I believe you are ready for this. I have complete faith in you. Hawkspoint is not a large town,
hardly a town at all, really. A village. And the troops are already there, holding it. You will just be
needed to give them direction. Quell the masses and such."


"Oh." Well, that sounds easy enough. But this isn't behind the scenes anymore. What did I think, I
could stay out of it forever? Ah hell. But I've got a green jacket and three snakes. "Can I bring Draco
with


As it turns out I can, and I put on my nice new uniform because Voldemort wants to see how I look in it.
And hell, so do I. And I look good. I look older. I've done a lot of growing up here. I head back to my
rooms, and Draco gives a little squeal and runs at me.


"Hey!" I catch him, and twirl him around. "Guess what we get to do?"


"*I* get to sleep with a ranking officer." Draco says, pouting his lips and bng hng his eyelashes.


"Later. Right now, we pack. We're going to Hawkspoint. I've got to take over for Dugg."


"Pardon?" Draco sounds like he doesn't believe me. I let go of him, and start getting things together.
"We?"


"Yeah."


"Why me?"


"Because I don't know how long I'm going to be gone. I might be there for weeks." I don't want to be
that long away from him. "I'd miss you."


"So you're taking me along with you?


"Yeah." But he seems pleased. He gets his things, and within an hour we're standing inside a small
stone room, dusting soot off of ourselves.


"Welcome sir!" A black coated man says to me, bowing. Death eaters are bowing to me. This is a
Good Thing. Draco's shown to our room-I guess it's a small set of rooms that's right off the main
fortress-and I'm taken out to the grounds to meet with Dugg.


"Ron?" He asks. He's an older man, with grey hair and beard, a wide face and an even wider smile.
He looks kind of like Santa Claus.


"Crispin?" I try using his first name. He's the same rank as me.


"Good to see you, boy, and very glad. I'd much rather be out fighting then trying to lead a village!"


"Then I'll leave the fighting to you, if you leave the leading to me!" We clasp hands, and share a laugh,
and it feels good. We'rst tst two officers meeting in a slow point of war. Soldiers are milling about, and
there are some tents set up. I figure I need to find out the exact situation.


"So what do we have here?"


"The village fell yesterday. All of our prisoners are in these tents. The town is warded, so no one but
officials can come or go."


"Have you seperated the civilian prisoners from the military prisoners?" Dugg looks at me like I've got a
hippogryff groing out of my head.


"No..."


"That's your first move. Release the civilian prisoners."


"Release them? We were going to kill them all..."


"No." I shake my head, and there's that little suspicious look. I sigh. "If we start killing civilians, we're
going to have a problem." Draco's wandered out by now, and is raising his eyebrow at me. "That's not
the sort of message we want to send. We have to let these people know we're here for their sake. This
is a military occupation, not a genocide."


"I see." He nods, but I can tell he doesn't. But he lets the civilians go, and I have the military prisoners
brought to my office. I have an office. With a desk and a bookcase and some chairs. And I'm told that
the Lord will be coming along as well.


"You're in trouble now." Draco tells me, flopping down in a chair. I'm pointedly ignoring the prisoners.
They're bound hand and foot, by magic and by rope. And I know a handful of them. Personally, not just
as familiar faces. And they're staring daggers at me.


"No I'm not." I sigh. "Look, Hawkspoint is now part of...the Lord's regime. His empire. Whatever the
hell you want to call it. These people are now his subjects. What the hell would be the point of killing
them?"


Draco looks at me blankly. He gets me, he just doesn't want to admit it. Now I have the military
prisoners to deal with. I'm not going to have around and wait for Voldemort. I turn, not acknowledging
those that I know.


"I think you all know why you'r ehere." I tell them, clasping my hands behind my back and pacing before
them. "You have two choices. You can join the Lord's Empire"-yeah, that's officially what I'm going to
call it-"or you can become a prisoner of war. And trust me, being a prisoner of war is not a fun thing.
I've been there, I know. You talk to rats and you drink your own piss. Now you don't have to decide
immediately, you've got...oh, I'll give you all in hour."


"Sir? Ron?" I hear my name and I jog to the door.


"Yeah?"


"Our lord is here."


"Send him in." I step back, I'm sort of proud. Voldemort comes in, and I can hear a collective growl
behind me.


"Crispin tells me you protested the destruction of prisoners?" There's no suspicion, more amusements.


"Civilians, yes."


"May I ask why?"


"Beacause you need them." I shrug. "You can kill everyone, but then where would you be? Ruling over
empty fields. You need people to...to plant the crops, and raise the cows, and harvets the food and kill the
cows and prepare your food and build the houses and each the children...you need subjects, my lord, in
order to *be* a lord." I don't even realize what I've just called him. But he does, and that's when I
realize. Aw, fuck.


"You are a very wise young man." He puts his hand on my shoulder and he smiles warmly at me, and I
can hear a hiss. I know who it is. "And what of these? Why should they not all be killed?"


"Only the dangerous ones. I've given them a choice. They can join, or they can remain captives. The
one's who are a liability, we kill. The ones who may be of use, we keep."


"And they told me I had made a mistake." He squeezes my shoulder, and I realize it makes me feel
really good. He thinks I've done good. He's proud of me. This is sort of sick. "I believe, my boy, you
are in need of a reward."


"A reward?" Well, this is a good thing.


"Choose one of these prisoners. You need a personal servant."


Oh. My. God. I get a personal servant. And I can pick ay of these men and women bound before me.
Voldemort doesn't realize what he's done.


"Thank you, my lord!" There are those two little words again. Man, do I hate them. But he just smiles,
pats my shoulder again, and takes his leave. Telling me e trusts me implicitly, and all that, and no one
better say anything against me. Then I turn to the prisoners.


"You heard the man." I grin, and I don't think it's a happy one. I look at one man, sort of down the line.
Thick black hair, hateful black eyes, strong features and broad shoulders. He looks like he wants to spit
on me, and I don't blame him. But he has to realize this is how I can help them. All of them, including
him. But he doesn't see a savior, he only sees a traitor. And he's a man who know's a lot about traitors.


Untying his binds, I crook my finger at Sirius.


"I want you."