Harry Potter

by SeparatiX

Dead. I can't believe my best friend is actually dead. But then, maybe...I know Ron hasn't been the same since...Well, he's just been a completely different person, really. And there are so many people who had a bone to pick with him, that just about anyone could have killed him. Anyone. Fuck! Ron is really dead. I just can't believe it. I loved him like the brother I never had. And now he's gone, and I don't think things will ever be the same.

I sit here watching as Basher takes another person back for questioning, and if I think about it long enough, a number of likely suspects come to mind. But I can't just sit here, can I? No, my mind is racing too damn fast to sit here. I have to get up and get out of here, do something. I need to talk to...but how?

I have to calm down and think this through rationally. Who would want to kill Ron, and why? I sit back down and begin really going over Ron's past to see if anyone stands out.

I know Ron had a rather stormy history with Draco. The two of them never got on well together, at least not for as long as I have known them. Hell, I don't think Draco ever forgave Ron for befriending me before he got a chance to, and we all know what a sore loser Draco can be. But Draco has changed a lot since we left Hogwarts. He left behind all of our petty childhood rivalries a long time ago, and I haven't heard him refer to Hermione as a Mudblood in ages. No, Draco hadn't even been capable of killing Dumbledore back in sixth year, and I don't think he has it in him to take another human life. Not now, not ever. And because Draco cared about me, he would never, ever do anything to hurt any of my friends, because he knew he would be hurting me. Besides, I would have just as much reason to hurt Ron as Draco would, considering Ron pretty much made sure I knew how bad a person Draco was, fuelling our rivalry with every derogatory comment that came out of his mouth. Shit, what's taking that Auror so long? I just want to get this over with so I can go home.

And then there is Lucius. I know Ron had a big problem with Lucius Malfoy, especially after Ginny was used as a pawn for Riddle's charmed diary when she was only eleven years old. There has always been bad blood between the Weasley and Malfoy families, and Lucius never let Ron forget that. But did the hatred run deep enough for Lucius to want to kill Ron? I doubt it. Lucius might not be the nicest of men, but he is not a murderer. Even the Ministry came out and said that he had been infiltrating the Death Eaters in order for the Aurors to get a step ahead of Voldemort, and without his help, I doubt that I would have been able to defeat that snake-faced freak-of-nature. Lucius was exonerated of all charges, and was even given an Order of Merlin for his role in the war.

But Ron...Even though he frequented Lucius' club often, Ron never believed that he had been working on our side. He thought that it was just a case of Malfoy choosing the side he thought was going to win, then jumping ship to join. Ron was always coloring my opinions of the Malfoys. "Bad faith, Harry!" He'd say. i "That's what the name Malfoy means. They're trouble, the lot of them." i Hell, I thought Lucius was an intriguing and highly sensual man with a dominating presence, and I really would have liked to have got to know him better. But Ron and his judgmental attitudes helped make sure that I was as closed off and narrow-minded as he was. How could I have been so blind?

You know, almost every year we were at Hogwarts, Ron had some sort of issue with me. The look on his face when he criticised me for being a Parselmouth was just...well, he was downright scary. It's like he thought I was the reincarnation of Salazar Slytherin himself, there to wreak havoc on Hogwarts. How could he have felt that way about me? I was his best friend; he should have known me better than that! And the jealousy in fourth year nearly had us calling our friendship quits. I felt such a coldness and distance from him that year. I guess I was more hurt than anything when he accused me of lying when I insisted I hadn't entered my name in the Goblet of Fire. Saying I was a glory seeker, taking all the attention from him, like I really wanted to focus any more attention on myself than absolutely necessary. Not bloody likely! But the accusations kept being flung at me! I was only fourteen years old! He knew... knew how much I hated the fame and celebrity, but he was always impressed by that. Didn't it mean anything to him that he was the one thing that I would miss the most? And, oh god, he is! Just hours gone and I already feel the empty place he occupied in my heart. But did he really care about Harry, or was he just blinded by the whole Boy-Who-Lived bullshit? Sometimes it felt like I was defined by the blasted scar on my forehead, and not by who Harry actually was inside. And the way he treated Hermione...

The third member of the so-called Golden Trio. Hermione, what a piece of work that one was! Our first day at Hogwarts she blew through our compartment on the Hogwarts Express like a whirlwind, that was quintessential Hermione. No one was surprised when she and Ron got together. But Ron took advantage of her; he really treated her like shit. For all of his talk about how poorly the Malfoy's treated Muggle-borns, he really wasn't that much better. I don't think he ever fully accepted Hermione, even though he claimed to be in love with her and they were engaged to be married. But he was always making these subtle slips about purity and blood, like he thought Hermione wouldn't notice it.

But like Sirius said, Hermione is the brightest witch of our age, Muggle-born or not, and she could tell when he was talking down to her. But, it really shocked me when he would leave Hermione alone for days on end, then come waltzing back in like there wasn't a care in the world. He didn't care if she was stuck in that flat by herself, as long as she was there, willing to spread her legs for him. To him, she was just a warm, wet hole to shove his cock in whenever he was in the mood to fuck, regardless of her feelings. And I know there were times when he was rough with her, he even bragged to me about using her as a fuck toy for some of his friends, sometimes two or three at a time. The man had no scruples! He said she was a wanton slut, and had literally begged him to wank as he watched her suck and fuck three of his friends, taking on all three at once.

"It was so hot, mate!" he said. "Her mouth was being fucked by a huge cock, and she was straddling another; I could see that hard prick slamming up into her pussy, while her arse was being pounded from behind. She looked so hot, with my cum splattered across her face and begging to be fucked hard. My mates got their money's worth that night."

I couldn't believe the things he told me he did to Hermione. Oh, he would have married her if she hadn't dumped him, I am sure of that. He would let his friends use her body, dampen her spirit, all the while making sure she was producing lots of little red-haired babies so Molly would be proud of him. Because none of his other siblings had given Molly lots of grandchildren, and he was going to be the first to have a large family, and then his mum would love him.

But even though Ron treated Hermione like a cheap Knockturn Alley whore, she worshipped him, and she would never do anything to hurt him. There was a time that she'd do everything she could to please Ron, even whore herself out to strange men. Hermione is such a selfless person, always looking out for others before herself. We all made fun of her about S.P.E.W., but her heart was always in the right place. I remember all the times she tried to make us take notes in classes so we would do well on our exams, but then turned around and lent us her notes when we didn't manage to pull it off in time. She saved our arses more times than I can count. No, Hermione is simply too kind hearted to murder anyone. I really can't blame her for finally seeing the light and calling things off with him.

Chief Investigation Auror Boadicea Basher is coming toward me; it's time for me to take my turn in her little game of cat and mouse. I keep going over everything Severus has taught me about clearing my mind and preparing my shields. There is no way in hell she's going to get me to say anything. But, as soon as I walk through the door, I feel a tingle as a spell washes over me. My head is lighter, and I feel like I want to share everything with Basher. Shit!

The floor is worn where I have been pacing in the small, airless office that the Ministry has graciously allotted to Basher. I wonder if she knows her namesake is supposedly buried under platform 12 in Kings Cross Station. Probably. I try to relax as she adjusts her Dicto-Quill and begins her round of questions.

"Will you state your full name for the record, please."

"Surely you know my name. Harry James Potter. Ring any bells?" She rolls her eyes at me and presses me to answer more of her inane questions.

"Where are you currently employed?"

"I don't have a job. My job finished the day I obliterated the snake-faced freak-of-nature called Voldemort from the face of the planet. I think I deserve a little off time, don't you?" I've clearly angered her, her lips are pressed in a firm line and her eyes narrowed into beady little slits. I walk over to a mirror that is hanging on the wall and continue playing this idiotic game, as she huffs out her next question.

"Please give me your physical description, including any identifying marks you may have." She actually chokes as she asks me this question. Serves her right.

"Obviously, I am 5'10" tall, and I have shoulder length black hair. And there's this pesky little scar, right in the centre of my forehead. You do have eyes of your own, do you not?" I pace some more; I really, really need to get out of here.

"How did you know the deceased, and what was your relationship with him?"

"Everyone knows that Ron was my one of my best friends when we were in school. I've known him since we were both eleven years old, and his family made me an honourary Weasley. He was family, okay?" I run my hand through my hair and take a few breaths to calm down. "Ron fancied himself in love with me, and we shagged a couple of times, but it just didn't feel right to me. It was like sleeping with a brother, not that I've had any experience in that department."

There is a photo on her desk, two tow-headed children. I pick it up and look at them, so wide-eyed and innocent. At least they are living in a Voldemort-free world, and would not be forced to grow old before their time. I put the photo back down on the desk abruptly. All of her questions are beginning to give me a headache, and I rub my temple absently.

Ignoring my action, she takes a seat at the cluttered desk and ruffles through the disorganised mess to find a file before continuing. "Are you, or have you ever been suspected of committing any crime, and do you own a dagger?"

"I am standing here being questioned about the death of my best friend, Madame Basher. I would think that this could be considered being under suspicion, wouldn't you? And yes, I own a dagger, but you would be hard pressed to find a witch or wizard who is not in possession of one." My palms are sweating, and I am thankful she has not employed the use of Veritaserum for this little party, although I do feel the effects of the Speak Easy charm she cast on me as I walked into her office. She will not like the answers I am about to give her, but because she cast the spell, I will not be able to temper my responses to spare her precious sensibilities.

She rises, and comes to stand directly in front of me. "Where were you the night of October 30th?" Finally, the crux of the matter.

"The night of October 30th, I was at Hogwarts. I was thinking about my parents deaths as I always do the day before the anniversary, and I went to visit Severus Snape. When things get out of control, I go see Him, and He helps put things in perspective for me."

Fucking hell! What am I saying? I feel like I'm going to pass out, and take in several gulps of air before I continue.

"A few weeks ago I accidentally walked in on them. I'd already left for the evening, but came back to pick up a book, and there they were. As my punishment, Severus made me stay and watch Ron fuck Him, and as soon as Ron left, Severus took me into the private dungeon to show me what happens when I disobey Him.

"Master was still very displeased with me. When I met him on the 30th he told me that I was a wretched, foul boy, and that I was going to have to pay for my insolence. I was ordered to strip and kneel quietly on the dungeon floor whilst he finished eating his supper and grading third year essays.

"He came to me two hours later and led me to our 'classroom.' He bent me over the desk and attached a spreader bar between my ankles and placed my wrists in bindings, leaving me spread eagle and immobile. He said I was so filthy that He needed to make sure I was clean before he would touch me. He hasn't used the enema bag on me for quite some time, as I've generally been very good about obeying Him. I must have been especially filthy because He brought it out and cleansed me several times so I would be worthy of his attentions. Master does not fuck dirty boys."

I'm really sweating now, because I am divulging to her my greatest pleasure and my deepest shame. I feel sick, and hope she does not request to see marks that I am unable to show her. Why am I doing this? No one needs to know this; no one should have the privilege of hearing how Master chooses to punish me. He'll be so angry when He finds out I've spoken to an outsider about Him and might never punish me again, and I need that like I need oxygen.

"He smacked my arse and told me that I was no better than a common trollop, and if I wanted to behave like that, He was going to treat me as such. He spread my arse cheeks and roughly shoved in a lubricated butt plug, giving it a few hard thrusts before he smacked my arse again and told me to prepare for my punishment. The moment the words left His lips, I felt the sting of His riding crop as it landed on my arse."

'I want you to count out each lash, and then beg me for another one. Do you understand me, filth?'

The Speak Easy charm ensures I recount the scene, including the words Severus used as he flogged my arse raw.

"Of course all I could do was say, 'Yes, Master,' and begin counting each and every stroke as He painted my arse and thighs with a series of measured strokes."

'Fifteen, Sir. Please punish me for being disobedient.'

Oh, I begged Him, and I would do it again and again.

'Tell me what you are, filth.'

'I'm dirty, low-class chattel, Master. A common slut good for nothing but pleasuring You, and I deserve and welcome every punishment You see fit to bestow upon me.'

My body is shuddering by now; the look on Basher's face says everything to me. She is disgusted, she does not understand that Master cares for me, and only punishes me for my own good. And I'm sharing my precious memories of my time with Master with this nobody, and know I will lose Him because of it. Is it really worth it? Is bringing Ron's killer to justice worth risking the loss of Master? The only answer my mind supplies me with is 'no'. Nothing is worth risking this. Nothing.

It's entirely my fault anyway. I re-erect my mental shields and bury everything else deep inside of my mind. I cannot let her know what happened in Diagon Alley, how horribly I failed Ron, and how guilty I really am.