Ron Weasley's head felt big. He briefly wondered if it was actually big or, in fact, head-sized. The thumping of the cane hit the floor again and again. He could feel the reverberations in his feet.

Thump, thump, thump

"Well, Mr. Weasley. I see you're as...noble as your father," sneered the voice that held the cane.

Ron's head lolled back and forth. His tongue poked out between his teeth and he tasted blood. "Urrghh." He felt a slap across his face and a cane to the skull, some blood sloshing out of the corner of his mouth. This wasn't as bad as some of the other treatment he'd received. Nothing compared to Crucio. Certainly nothing compared to the two hours spent alone with Pettigrew.

If he could have mustered it, Ron would have shuddered, but his body wouldn't allow it.

"I'll ask you again, Mr. Weasley." There was a sarcastic emphasis on the word "mister". The speaker obviously didn't think Ron deserved a term of respect. With a black eye, his hands and feet bound, and separated from three of his best teeth, Ron doubted he deserved it, too. It was hard to think you should have dignity while dressed only in soiled y-fronts.

The voice cleared its throat. "Where. Is. Harry. Potter?" Each word its own sentence.

Voice raspy, Ron beckoned Lucius Malfoy with a slight shake of the head. "Come here. I can't speak up. I give up. I'll tell you." His voice was small, defeated, shaken.

Malfoy smirked and stood directly over Ron. He didn't stoop, so Ron found himself staring at his crotch. Using all his remaining strength, he reared back his head and spit blood and phlegm all over his enemy's aristocratic face.

The Fidelius Charm protected the person under it. It didn't protect the Secret Keeper. Ron Weasley didn't care. If he died, Harry would be safe forever. Ron's face twisted into a psychotic, bloody grin and he laughed maniacally.

Never surrender. Never give yourself away.