Author's note: this was written for the "2013 Summer of Slaves" fest at HP Owned on Livejournal. The prompt I claimed was "Any setting (magical or non-magical, AU or canon) with a slave fighting ring. Masters use their slaves as fighters for their amusement, including betting, tournaments etc," with the additional suggestions "Maybe someone, who had no idea anything like this existed before, gets caught up in it and now has to fight for their survival. Maybe the romantic slave/slave pairing ends up having to fight each other. Maybe the defeated masters do not only lose money, but also their slave. Maybe the winner of such a tournament gets their freedom. A myriad of possibilities really. Somehing darkish and violent would be great, but take this wherever you want."

I was ambivalent about some of these tropes and even the pairing, at first. Then I started brainstorming all the different directions I could take it. And it's hardly an exaggeration to say that this fic ate my brain. Many thanks go out to the original fest mods for their gracious extensions, and to the amazing starduchess for an incredible betaing job. Any remaining errors are of course my own.

This fic is complete, but will update here on Mondays. Starting with an extra chapter, because this one was extremely short.

"You can't do this."

Bartemius Crouch the Second stared into space, twiddling his fingers against his robes. "On the contrary, Percy, this is exactlywhat I am allowed to do. Unless you've realized that insubordination is a waste of time on both our parts?"

Percy sighed. "Swearing oaths of loyalty is a waste of time on my part, as well as yours. I don't see what you're getting out of this." He'd always been of more use to Crouch the Second in the house. Sorting papers. Writing owls. Even cleaning the kitchen! Percy inhaled the warm air. It had felt like nothing special, revisiting every nook and cranny of the dank corners, but compared to the alternatives...

"In, ah, unstable political times, declarations of allegiance are even more necessary than usual. One would not want to seem lax."

Whatever that was supposed to mean. "I'm not going anywhere. I have my spells, I have my markings, I don't see why I have to swear some extra oaths, too."

"And inasmuch as you are not going anywhere, your protestations seem unnecessary."

"I'm a clerk!" Percy blurted. "You can't throw me into an arena, I haven't the slightest idea what I'd be doing! I'll be killed right away, and then you'd be minus one clerk. At least think about your bottom line!"

Crouch the Second folded his hands and then, one by one, spread his fingers free. "I suppose," he said, without making eye contact, "that you are right, at that."