Warning: Rape. Slash rape in this chapter, you have been warned.
Dedication: This is to Kate, for keeping me company and writing such lovely Harry posts.
Author's Note: I went to the zoo today! And then I came home and wrote this chapter. I've always seen Walden Macnair as a cruel, twisted fuck. And that's how I portray him here.

Serving the Servants



I've been recently learning a very valuable lesson. Death Eaters are, for the most par, sick fucks. The reason this has suddenly leapt into the front of my mind is a huge, bear of a man name Walden Macnair. Yeah, the guy who used to get his jollies whacking off the heads of supposedly dangerous animals. He only did that because it was frowned upon to whack the heads off of generally innocent people. Out of the all the people I've come in contact with, he's the most noticeably deranged. And he's got these lecherous eyes...ten times worse then Filch's ever were.


He's probably one of the only people here that I'm afraid of. When I see him coming and I'm by myself, I turn and go another way. I'm not a coward, not at all. Hell, I wouldn't be here if I was. But I'm not stupid either. Too many times, people confuse intelligence with cowardice. It may be *brave* to run into the dragon's lair with nothing but a toothpick to save the princess, but it's damn stupid. I'd rather not be a charcoal briquette, thank you very much.


And now he's headed right towards me, and he's got that sick grin on his face I know all too well. It's that grin he gets when he's just come back from...whatever it is he does for fun. Throwing puppies into wells or whatever. I start to turn, but it seems I'm not going to be so lucky.


"Weasley!"


And he knows my name. Boys and girls, I am screwed! And what the fuck does he want with me? He's a much more hands on Death Eater. I'm purely in the behind he scenes line of work.


"Yeah?" I give a wide, fake smile. Nah, I'm not afraid of you! You're just a bid old teddy bear...the kind with fangs and claws.


"I want to talk to you." He's not sounding very cheerful at all. He's sounding rather sadistic, actually. That never bodes well. Maybe he wants to invite me to play a nice friendly game of Kick the Kitten.


"Uh...all right." I can't think of a lie quick enough. Why can't Draco be tagging along after me? And what the hell does Macnair want with me?


"In here."


In here? In here? 'In here' are never two words I like to hear uttered in quite that tone. It's the tone that is usually used to say things like 'prepare to meet your maker'. And sometimes things like 'you're fired.' But more usually the meet your maker one. Especially when 'in here' turns out to be an old storage closet. Nothing good happens in storage closets! Not when you're dragged in by huge hulking men who's hobbies include wiping out endangered species and Pop Goes the Hamster!


And then he's closing the door, and was that clicking sound I heard a lock? Yes. Yes it was. Macnair has locked me in a closet. But...I'm one of them now, this sort of thing isn't supposed to be happening.


"You listen to me, you little maggot!"


Oh, that's never an opening line that precludes good tidings. Especially when the speaker has just grabbed me by the collar and is lifting me off of the ground.


"I think they're all daft, trusting you. You're one of them. A spy, still. And even if you aren't, if you turn your coats once you'll do it again."


"Walden...relax!" I sort of pry his hands off of me-well, I try. I just manage to grab at his wrists. Man, he has huge wrists.


"Shut up!" And he gives me a shake along with the words. "You're going to be a good little boy, you here me?"


"Yes." A good little boy. Aw, shit. I've read this script. This is not a good place to be. Where's Lucius when I need him.


"And you're not going to tell *anyone* about this little meeting..."


"No, of course not." No one except for Voldemort and Lucius and Draco and anyone else I see in the hallway. What am I, an idiot?


"Good. Now...I'm going to give you a little reminder as to what exactly you're playing with." Macnair sort of lifts me up real close to his face, and I don't know what he had for lunch but it reeked. If you're going to rape someone, at least have the presence of mind to clean yourself up a little!


"Our lord might indulge you, but he's too soft." Oh yes. Lord Voldemort's just a big old softie. And Lucius Malfoy is the Easter Bunny. Yup.


"I'm not."


No, he isn't. And I've got a feeling that reminder he's going to give me isn't going to be all that little. He drops me, and shoves me down onto my knees. Oh merlin, but this is not somewhere I want to be. I'm about to be raped by a barbarian wanna be with hands the size of dinner hams and breath that smells like cat puke. This qualifies as a Very Bad Day.


"Didn't think so." I mumbled, looking away as he starts undoing the ties of his trousers. He doesn't need
to take them off for me to know that's not a jumbo-sized wand in his pocket. Oh yeah, he's going to get
in big trouble for this. But I figure I ought to fight a little bit. Otherwise I can't really claim that he raped
me. "Walden...knock it off..."


"You just keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it."


"No." I start to stand up, and his big old meaty hands are shoving me right back down again. "Hey, look...this is basically rape..."


"No Weasley, there's no basically about it. You need to learn your place. And if no one else has the bullocks to show you, I will."


Okay, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that Walden Macnair is raping me. He just admitted to it. I'm in the clear, and he's going to get whipped or beaten or fed to Dementors or something like that. So I guess I can get through the *very* unpleasant task of going down on him. If only to see him hanging from a spike later.


Okay, that was a little...well, graphic. Especially for me. I don't have that sick sense of humor. This place is rubbing off on me. And I have bigger things to worry about. Most immediately, Macnair's cock. It's big, and it's really not all that great to look at. It's long and thick, but not really in a good way. I know some women are all about big cocks, but I'm really not. Women are built to handle them, they stretch. Men do not stretch. Draco may not be huge, but he fits me perfectly. I don't choke on him, it doesn't hurt me when he fucks me, it's perfect. This thing in front of me is not perfect, it's disgusting.


But I have to put it in my mouth. He makes sure I know that.


"Now you can use that sippity little mouth of yours." The man doesn't talk, he growls. He sounds like some old english lumberjack who's trying to be a pirate. And lumberjacks are not pirates for a good reason!


I can play stupid, but I really don't want this to get violent. He's a really strong guy, his arms are about as wide around as my waist. He might kill me by accident, and I don't want to die. I think I've established that pretty well at this point. So out goes my tongue, but that isn't enough. He grabs my hair and pretty much shoves my mouth over his cock. I want to be sick. Merlin, I want to throw up. This is foul. He tastes...sour! Doesn't the man know how to bathe himself?


I can't breathe like this. He's sawing his cock in and out of my mouth, and the tip of it keeps pushing down my throat. I'm choking and gagging, and the hand in my hair hurt's like hell. Draco may have raped me in the beginning, but never like this. This is...awful. If I had known it was going to be quite like this, I think I would have legitimately started fighting and trying to get away. He keeps tightening his fist in my hair, jerking my head back and forth. I'm going to have one hell of a headache.


And then the worst part comes. Literally. He doesn't even stop yanking my head, he just jams his cock down my throat as far as it'll go and cums. I want to die. My lungs are burning, my stomach hates me, and I think he just ripped out a chunk of my hair.


"You got off lucky this time, Weasley..." He pulls out of my mouth and lets go of me, and I just sort of sink forward, coughing and spitting. Lucky? *Lucky*? If he had fucked me, at least I would have been able to breathe! And what the fuck does he mean by 'this time'. "Next time, I'll be getting a taste of your pretty little bum..." He shoves me backwards, and then unlocks the door and walks out. I need a minute, but then I haul ass right to Lucius.


I don't go to Voldemort, that would be stupid. Lucius has more of a personal attachment to me, and way more pull with the Dark Lord. He's with Draco, big surprise. I don't even stop to see what they're doing, I just burst in the door. But I guess I must look awful, because they both stand up and Lucius asks me if I'm okay.


"No." I shake my head. "Lucius...I need to talk to you..."


"Of course. Draco, you will excuse us..."


"But daddy..."


"No!" Lucius shoo's Draco out, and then he turns to me and he's actually concerned. In his eyes. He's worried about me. That's actually wicked touching, for some odd reason. "Ron...what happened to you?"


"Macnair..." I spit out the name, wishing I could have spit out his foul emissions earlier. Emissions. What a funny word.


"Merlin boy, are you all right?" I guess I didn't have to say much more. Or maybe I did. "What did he do?"


"Decided I needed a little reminder." My voice is wry. I sink into a chair, and ask for a glass of water. Lucius fetches one quickly for me. Huh. Lucius Malfoy, waiting on me. What an odd situation.


"Told me I should know my place." I continued. "He seems to think that the dark lord made a mistake in trusting me."


"Oh did he?" Lucius raises an eyebrow, and I know he's not happy. "Are you hurt in any way? I know Walden can oftentimes be rather enthusiastic..."


"My throat is killing me." I say. "Oh yeah, enthusiastic. He shoved me to my knees and rammed his cock down my throat."


Lucius is silent. He looks pretty stunned. I know I look sullen and grumpy, but I don't care. I was just throat raped.


"This will be taken care of." Is all he says, and he stands up and I can tell he's *really* pissed. His face is all white, and his eyes have that real dangerous look in them, and his hands are fists. He walks out stiffly, I guess to go see Voldemort. I don't know what happened, but Voldemort summoned me later to apologize for any mistreatment I may have received. Assured me that he knew I was a loyal servant, and that that sort of behavior would not be tolerated. Told me to take it easy, was there anything I needed, blah blah blah. I say no, and I go to my room, and I won't let Draco touch me. I tell him what happened, and he just goes tight lipped and moves to the other side of the bed. Not mad at me, but more understanding. I think that's real sweet of him.


And I never saw Walden Macnair again.