Latrunculus--Part 9

Ron stormed down the stairs. Hermione quickly followed behind him, calling his name. However, he ignored her.

“Why not?” she demanded. “Why can’t I go?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“I know it’s dangerous, Ron.”

He stopped, whirling to face her. “Have you ever been to Azkaban?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” he said. He loomed over her, emphasizing the significant difference in their heights. “I’ve been there, Hermione. You have no idea how dangerous it is.”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she countered. “I was there for the war, too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

They were nearly nose to nose. His face was nearly as red as his hair. Her cheeks were flushed.

“You really want to know?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t!”

“I don’t want you near him, okay! I don’t want to give him another chance to hurt you.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s done enough already.”

“You’re doing this to protect me?”

“Is that what I said?”

Hermione’s expression went from confused to irritated. “That’s the most misogynistic thing you’ve ever said, Ron!”

“Miso-what!”

“Oh, never mind,” she huffed, barreling past him.

“Where are you going?” His longer legs allowed him to quickly catch up with her. “Hermione!”

“I’m going to Azkaban, Ron. You can’t stop me.”

“I don’t have to.”

She stopped and whirled to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You can only get to Azkaban by special clearance. As an Auror, I have it. You, Hermione, don’t.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Few things in life are fair, Hermione.” He shook his head. “Please, go back to the library. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“That’s so kind of you,” she spat, her tone acid.

“Anytime.”

She growled in frustration. With one last glare, she stomped back to the library. He could hear her muttering as she left.

She would be mad at him. He had no doubt about that. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take her too long to get over it.

But at least she wouldn’t be at Azkaban.

* * * * *

Shacklebolt said that he wasn’t supposed to set foot near Auror headquarters until he received an owl from the director himself. Azkaban was nowhere near headquarters. So, Ron technically wasn’t violating the director’s orders. But he knew he was violating the spirit of them.

He just couldn’t bring himself to give a damn.

“Has he said anything?” Ron asked as he and his escort made their way through the prison. Even without the Dementors, the place could still suck the soul of a person. It was the perfect place for Malfoy, really.

Seamus shook his head. “Nothing useful. Of course, we’d more suspicious if he did decide to cooperate.”

“Where was he found?”

“Romania. An old family that knew his father was sheltering him. A generous reward persuaded the local villagers to contact us.”

Seamus stopped outside a cell door. “I’m not going to regret this, am I, Ron?”

“Just open the door,” Ron ordered.

Seamus did as he was asked. He watched as his superior entered the cell and then nodded. With a sigh, he shut the door. Then he began to wait.

* * * * *

“Ah, weasel.” Draco Malfoy still clung to his aristocratic airs. Although he was dressed in prison robes and chained at wrists and ankles, he acted as if he was receiving a guest. A guest who did not warrant his attention.

“Ferret,” Ron returned.

“How is the Mudblood? Has she lost her magic yet?”

Ron grinned before punching him in the jaw. The blow sent the slight man sprawling. With a groan, he picked himself off the floor.

“How dare you!”

The door opened. Seamus popped his head in. “Everything all right?”

“Yes,” Ron replied. “Malfoy’s just clumsy. Tripped over himself.”

Seamus glanced from Ron to Malfoy and back. “I see.” With that, he closed the door again.

“What’s the cure, Malfoy?”

Malfoy smirked. “There is no cure. I made sure of that before I used it.”

“You’re lying. If you give us the cure, I will make sure that your sentence will be lightened.”

Malfoy tried to look bored. It was an expression his father had done well. “I don’t care what you think, Weasley. Besides, why would I help your little Mudblood?”

Ron grabbed Malfoy by the collar, twisting his fist in the fabric of the prison robes. Fear flashed in the other man’s eyes. “The cure, now!”

Malfoy tried to pull away. However, Ron’s grip held. “There is no cure, idiot!”

“You’re lying!”

The next thing Ron knew, Seamus was pulling him off Malfoy. Ron suddenly let go. The prisoner fell to the floor, grasping for air. Seamus glanced at Malfoy before he shoved Ron out of the cell, slamming the door behind them.

“That the hell was that!” Seamus bellowed.

“I lost control of my temper,” Ron said weakly.

“No shite,” Seamus spat.

Ron knew that he should say something. That he should at least apologize to Seamus since he may have put his job on the line for this. But all he could do was stare at his hands.


Part IX Ron stormed down the stairs. Hermione quickly followed behind him, calling his name. However, he ignored her. “Why not?” she demanded. “Why can’t I go?” “I’ve already told you.” “I know it’s dangerous, Ron.” He stopped, whirling to face her. “Have you ever been to Azkaban?” She blinked. “No.” “Consider yourself lucky,” he said. He loomed over her, emphasizing the significant difference in their heights. “I’ve been there, Hermione. You have no idea how dangerous it is.” “I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she countered. “I was there for the war, too.” “That’s not the point.” “What is the point?” They were nearly nose to nose. His face was nearly as red as his hair. Her cheeks were flushed. “You really want to know?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t!” “I don’t want you near him, okay! I don’t want to give him another chance to hurt you.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s done enough already.” “You’re doing this to protect me?” “Is that what I said?” Hermione’s expression went from confused to irritated. “That’s the most misogynistic thing you’ve ever said, Ron!” “Miso-what!” “Oh, never mind,” she huffed, barreling past him. “Where are you going?” His longer legs allowed him to quickly catch up with her. “Hermione!” “I’m going to Azkaban, Ron. You can’t stop me.” “I don’t have to.” She stopped and whirled to face him. “What do you mean by that?” “You can only get to Azkaban by special clearance. As an Auror, I have it. You, Hermione, don’t.” “That’s not fair!” “Few things in life are fair, Hermione.” He shook his head. “Please, go back to the library. I’ll let you know what I find out.” “That’s so kind of you,” she spat, her tone acid. “Anytime.” She growled in frustration. With one last glare, she stomped back to the library. He could hear her muttering as she left. She would be mad at him. He had no doubt about that. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take her too long to get over it. But at least she wouldn’t be at Azkaban. * * * * * Shacklebolt said that he wasn’t supposed to set foot near Auror headquarters until he received an owl from the director himself. Azkaban was nowhere near headquarters. So, Ron technically wasn’t violating the director’s orders. But he knew he was violating the spirit of them. He just couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. “Has he said anything?” Ron asked as he and his escort made their way through the prison. Even without the Dementors, the place could still suck the soul of a person. It was the perfect place for Malfoy, really. Seamus shook his head. “Nothing useful. Of course, we’d more suspicious if he did decide to cooperate.” “Where was he found?” “Romania. An old family that knew his father was sheltering him. A generous reward persuaded the local villagers to contact us.” Seamus stopped outside a cell door. “I’m not going to regret this, am I, Ron?” “Just open the door,” Ron ordered. Seamus did as he was asked. He watched as his superior entered the cell and then nodded. With a sigh, he shut the door. Then he began to wait. * * * * * “Ah, weasel.” Draco Malfoy still clung to his aristocratic airs. Although he was dressed in prison robes and chained at wrists and ankles, he acted as if he was receiving a guest. A guest who did not warrant his attention. “Ferret,” Ron returned. “How is the Mudblood? Has she lost her magic yet?” Ron grinned before punching him in the jaw. The blow sent the slight man sprawling. With a groan, he picked himself off the floor. “How dare you!” The door opened. Seamus popped his head in. “Everything all right?” “Yes,” Ron replied. “Malfoy’s just clumsy. Tripped over himself.” Seamus glanced from Ron to Malfoy and back. “I see.” With that, he closed the door again. “What’s the cure, Malfoy?” Malfoy smirked. “There is no cure. I made sure of that before I used it.” “You’re lying. If you give us the cure, I will make sure that your sentence will be lightened.” Malfoy tried to look bored. It was an expression his father had done well. “I don’t care what you think, Weasley. Besides, why would I help your little Mudblood?” Ron grabbed Malfoy by the collar, twisting his fist in the fabric of the prison robes. Fear flashed in the other man’s eyes. “The cure, now!” Malfoy tried to pull away. However, Ron’s grip held. “There is no cure, idiot!” “You’re lying!” The next thing Ron knew, Seamus was pulling him off Malfoy. Ron suddenly let go. The prisoner fell to the floor, grasping for air. Seamus glanced at Malfoy before he shoved Ron out of the cell, slamming the door behind them. “That the hell was that!” Seamus bellowed. “I lost control of my temper,” Ron said weakly. “No shite,” Seamus spat. Ron knew that he should say something. That he should at least apologize to Seamus since he may have put his job on the line for this. But all he could do was stare at his hands.


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