Never Turn Back

Never Turn Back

By: Harmony Slytherin

Chapter One:

Two-Faced

~Never made it as a wise man

I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'

Tired of livin' like a blind man

I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling

This is how you remind me

This is how you remind me of what I really am~

*Nickleback's "How You Remind Me"

Wrong. This was all so very wrong. This was not what Ron's last night at Hogwarts was supposed to be like. He was supposed to be in the Gryffindor tower, remembering old times with Harry and Hermione. He was supposed to be saying goodbye to his teachers. He was supposed to be feeling sad and already missing the castle that had been his home for seven years. Hell, even hating his best friends, his teachers, the castle, and having a sleepless night of anticipation would've been so much better than this.

Not here. Ron was not supposed to be here, like this. This was not the way he had it planned. This was wrong...oh so very wrong.

Damn the Ministry! Damn them all! Damn them for giving him this opportunity. Opportunity...Ron sneered. Maybe that's the way he viewed it then, but not now. Not anymore.

He hated his life. Hated this cruel, mocking existence. He wanted nothing more than to end it, but no. He wouldn't. He was doing this for Harry and Hermione and Ginny. Not that they could ever know...they would never understand.

The pain in his left forearm was killing him. Ron cursed the Dark Lord. Cursed him...like he had cursed so many others. Behind the mask, his blue eyes were blazing.

Ronald Weasley, Death Eater.

Not exactly what he had in mind. Well, what can you do? Ron didn't go into this line of work because of his support of Voldemort. Quite the opposite. Ron did this for the war...he did this for Harry...he did this for the Ministry.

He was saving the whole bloody world, dammit!

The room was quickly filling with Death Eaters. None would be late. The Dark Lord did not like to be kept waiting, and therefore no one liked to keep him so. This was one of the few times Ron had gone while other Death Eaters were present. Usually Voldemort would summon Ron alone, and then ask a special favor.

What kind of special favor? Usually murder. Of course, Death Eaters murder all the time, but rarely did the Dark Lord give specific orders of who to kill. If there was real killing to be done, Voldemort preferred to do it himself. But when it fell somewhere in between these two extremities, the Dark Lord gave the orders to Ron.

Ronald Weasley, assassin.

Had a nice ring to it, don't you think? Ron smirked: no, he didn't think. He took orders from the Dark Lord and carried them out. Then he told the Ministry all about it, and took orders from them. The never-ending vicious cycle of Ron's life.

Ron fell into line quickly. He looked down at the long row of black robed men...well mostly men. There were a few women, he supposed, but Ron didn't know the majority of them. He tried to spot Severus, but it was impossible. Oddly enough, he and the professor had something in common now. Ron smirked again.

Ronald Weasley, Severus Snape's apprentice.

There's something Ron never thought would happen...but had he expected any of this? Of course not. Ron hadn't expected to become an undercover spy for the Ministry. Ron hadn't expected to willingly sell his soul to Lucifer himself, killing for evil in the name of good.

Voldemort swooped in, and the whispering of cloaks was stilled...hell, everything was still. The mere presence of the Dark Lord brought silence to every living thing. He surveyed his followers, his mouth drawn into a tight line of disgust.

"Tonight, this line lengthens. Unless, of course, I am forced to kill someone."

No one laughed. Lord Voldemort was not joking. Lord Voldemort did not like jokes.

"As I hope all of you know, the seventh years at Hogwarts will be graduating. I have here six students who wish to..." He smiled, and Ron shivered. Lord Voldemort smiling was not exactly heartwarming. "Join us."

There was a slight murmuring among the robed figures. Ron tightened; he had heard about this. When people joined after graduation, they went through the Ritual in front of everyone, and their identities were revealed. The Ritual was humiliating enough without throwing in seventy people who had already gone through it.

"Silence!" The Dark Lord commanded, and silence there was. You did not disobey him. Not after you had sold your will to him...just as these six young souls were about to do.

Ron didn't even want to see them. He didn't want to see them because he knew he would recognize them. And then, he would have to turn them into the Ministry.

Voldemort sauntered over to the first of the six people dressed in Death Eater attire in the line facing Ron's. He pulled off the mask, and Ron was not at all surprised to see Gregory Goyle. For the first time in his life, Ron truly pitied Goyle, who had no idea of the pain he was about to endure.

It started with the Cruciatus Curse. Goyle screamed, writhing in pain, but did not beg for mercy. That was the first step; don't beg for lenience. That, in Voldemort's eyes, only deserved further punishment.

After ten minutes, Goyle was released from the clutches of the curse, He was breathing heavily and crying openly. He found no pity in the cold eyes of the onlookers or in his new master's, unless he by chance caught Ron's.

"Stand." The Dark Lord commanded. Goyle did so, whimpering. Ron could see blood pouring from his lip, and bruises forming on his face. Voldemort showed no mercy. "Give me your arm." Goyle held out his left arm, which Voldemort took roughly. He shoved up the sleeve, revealing the unspoiled skin beneath. "Do you pledge your loyalty to me?" The Dark Lord hissed.

"Yes, Master." Goyle responded, trying not to cry. Ron closed his eyes, perfectly envisioning the smirk on Voldemort's face. He would test loyalty. Ron opened his eyes again just in time to see the Dark Lord take out the dagger. He saw Goyle's eyes widen in fear. Ron wondered numbly if he had looked like that. He could remember nothing of the night the devil robbed him of his soul.

Correction, the night he had given his soul to the devil.

Goyle cried out when the dagger pierced his flesh, as Voldemort slowly drew the outline of the infamous skull-and-snake. Then the Dark Lord whispered, and his hand started to glow with an eerie green light. Grinning, he gripped the bleeding cut with his glowing hand.

Goyle screamed. Screamed the scream of eternal pain...the scream of Hell, which he had willingly entered. He was brought to his knees by the pain. Voldemort laughed...laughed as if her were truly amused, which Ron was sure he was. Greedily, Voldemort squeezed Goyle's arm, as if breathing in his life, which was exactly what he was doing.

When the Dark Lord finally did let go, Goyle fell and rolled away, sobbing. Ron cringed, remembering the pain. He found himself unconsciously rubbing his own scar of eternal damnation.

Voldemort eagerly approached his next victim: Vincent Crabbe. He went through the same thing. Ron didn't want to hear their screaming in his ears, vibrating through his skin and entering the hidden chambers of his heart. This would bring many more sleepless nights to Ronald Weasley.

After Crabbe was another Slytherin, no surprise. But then...when Voldemort ripped off the mask of his fourth newcomer, Ron's eyes widened. Looking perfectly calm and collected was Lisa Turpin.

Lisa Turpin? Ron knew her! She was Ernie MacMillan's girlfriend! Hell, he had dated her in fifth year! When did she turn? When did sweet, innocent Lisa Turpin decide to give her life to the Dark Lord?

Ron watched her suffering in shock, all of these thoughts flying through his mind. Her screams echoed in the stone chamber, like the memories flashing through his mind. Why? When? WHY?

That question was answered when Lisa was over, and the next victim revealed, Ernie MacMillan, whom Ron had never liked. But still...a Hufflepuff? A pureblood Hufflepuff, sure, but a Hufflepuff?

Ron sighed. Had Lisa thrown away her life for Ernie? Ron watched his ordeal with mounting dislike. The Death Eater he had become took over, and he almost enjoyed seeing MacMillan scream.

Almost.

Ron knew who the next person was. He looked away as she screamed trying not to cry. Angel was like him. Angel was a good person underneath.

Angel was a spy.

As if he knew this, Voldemort was the worst to her. Or maybe that's just what Ron had thought.

When Angel fell...when Angel fell. Ron had to smile at the irony of that statement. She was a fallen angel now. In any case, when he tossed her down like a rag doll, now branded as one of the damned, he turned to the others, and dismissed them with a flick of his hand. Ron turned to apparate.

"Number 63?" The cold voice of the Dark Lord rang out. Ron stopped and turned automatically. They all had numbers...all of them.

"Yes, Master?" Ron asked, genuinely curious.

"Come here." He commanded, as if this were obvious. He waited until everyone had gone...even those who had just joined their little 'I've decided to join Lucifer, how about you?' club.

"There is another follower who wishes to join us here," Voldemort hissed to Ron. He stepped aside and another smaller figure stepped forward. Ron blanched. It wasn't that it the head coming out of the robes was female, or that she was small and delicate.

It was the fact that this small, delicate, female, wanna-be Death Eater was Rayven Michaels.

"This is Ronald Weasley, child," Voldemort hissed. The look on her face changed immediately from stubborn determination to guilt. "Weasley, she came to me a week ago wanting to be initiated tonight-" Ron glared at Rayven who looked away guiltily. A week ago? "But she didn't have time to be shown the ropes properly. She seems to have the same bloodlust you do." Ron nodded, trying not to puke. Bloodlust. Did Ron really want to kill? "Therefore, I have decided you shall train her. I'll leave you two to...talk." He smiled. Lord Voldemort's smile was not exactly heartwarming. He then disapparated.

"Come," Ron instructed, his eyes flashing. He and the young Rayven Michaels quickly disapparated.

With a small *pop* they were in Hogsmeade village. Ron tore of his mask and turned to glare at Rayven.

"I thought we had decided that you shouldn't join until this summer!" He shouted.

"YOU decided," Rayven defended weakly. "I wanted to join right away."

"Rayven, are you nuts?" He demanded.

"Of course she is," Severus Snape said, coming up to the two of them. "Calm yourself Ron."

"She's not ready!"

"She's plenty ready," Draco countered, as he and a beautiful brunette joined them. "Angel did it, didn't you?" She said, winking at her. Angel blushed, wiping away her remaining tears.

"You all knew about this, didn't you?" Ron asked in defeat. Rather guiltily, Severus, Draco, and Angel nodded. Ron sighed. "Rayven, I just don't think you're ready yet!"

"She IS ready, Ron." Severus defended. Draco nodded in agreement.

"I was ready," Angel observed.

"I just...I..."

"Ron, we're not in training anymore," Rayven smiled shyly.

"Wrong again." Ron replied, grinning.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, frowning.

"I will be training Rayven...again." Ron said.

"You're kidding!" Angel exclaimed. "Lucky you! I went through Death Eater training with Lucius Malfoy. That was a nightmare...no offense, Draco."

"None taken." Draco shrugged. "I hate my father too."

"Angel, we need to get back to London," Rayven sighed. She looked over at Ron. "Are you going to get pissed about this?"

"No," Ron sighed. "No, of course not."

"Thanks," She smiled. "See the rest of you later!" Severus, Draco, and Ron waved as Angel and Rayven disapparated to their private school in London.

Severus had been the first spy. The first to risk his life and soul. He worked with the Unspeakables, and had convinced them to take on another spy: Draco Malfoy. Draco had been initiated sometime between fifth and sixth year, but had been giving the Ministry information about his father for two years before that.

Ron had been the next to join. Working at the Ministry this last summer, Severus had picked up Ron's uncanny knack for the Unforgivable Curses. Not exactly the talent Ron wished for, but it worked. Severus had approached Ron, and after two months of rigorous training by both the Ministry and the Death Eaters Ron had been initiated into the circle of Death Eaters.

Ron wasn't exactly sure of how Severus had discovered Angel and Rayven...only that they were doing something mostly illegal. In any case, Severus hadn't had time, so Draco trained Angel on behalf of the Ministry, and Ron had trained Rayven. It was rather ironic that he would be training her again.

But everyone had agreed that it would be safer for Rayven to wait! Angel's family had a bit of a history with the dark arts, so not much was new for her. But Rayven, like Ron, came from a family of Light. It seemed like she had gone over Ron's head and paid Voldemort a visit anyway.

Ron sighed. He was not comfortable with this situation. He silently wondered why in the world Rayven would still want to go through with it after what she had witnessed tonight. It was never too late to turn back until the Dark Mark was branded into your skin.

"Ron?" Draco cut into Ron's thoughts.

"Hmm?" Ron replied, looking over at Draco and studying him. He remembered not too long ago when he and Draco had been the worst of enemies. And now he was an ally, if not a friend.

"I'm going to the Ministry, you go up to the castle."

"I told I'd go," Ron muttered. "You're exhausted." Draco rolled his eyes, but it was true. He had spent a lot of his energy on whatever it was Voldemort had put him up to last night.

"Potter and Granger will suspect if you're not back soon. I can do it."

"Well, if you're sure..." Ron muttered uneasily.

"I will be fine." Draco insisted. He flashed a sardonic grin that didn't reach his eyes, and lifted his left hand. His first and middle finger were crossed. Ron flashed that same, ironic grin. Crossing...a joke between them. Their lives were nothing but double-crossing both sides of the war.

As Draco disappeared, Ron trudged back up to the castle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Ron, where were you last night?" Hermione asked.

"Around," Ron shrugged.

"Around?" Harry frowned.

"Yeah," Ron replied. He hated lying, but he had become exceptionally good at it. Practice makes perfect, they say. "I mean, it was our last night here, and I just wandered around. Kinda saying goodbye to the castle you would say."

"I understand." Hermione smiled, satisfied. Harry gave Ron a curious glance, but didn't press the subject.

"And anyway, Hermione, why are you grilling me?" Ron joked. "Shouldn't you be practicing your speech or something?"

Hermione, of course, had been valedictorian...as if anyone had expected anything else. She was also Head Girl, and Harry was Head Boy. No surprises there. And also, of course, they were a couple.

The perfect couple.

Ron shook his head, as if this would shake his jealousy away. Harry and Hermione didn't deserve anyone but each other. Ron didn't deserve a smile like that from anyone else. He didn't deserve whatever that feeling was that made them glow.

Death Eaters cannot love.

The three went down to the lawn where the graduation ceremony was to be held. Ron tried to laugh and talk. He tried so hard to act like nothing was wrong; like they were the same three innocent friends they were seven years ago. He tried to banish the guilt and secrets.

But Ron could not banish away the ghosts in his eyes of the hell he had seen.

Wouldn't you know it, Harry was perceptive. Hermione was observant, but observation only goes so far. But Harry...Harry knew something was wrong. Harry had known something was wrong for a long, long time. He knew that Ron's laugh was not what he had heard after Draco Malfoy became a bouncing ferret. Harry knew his best friend had changed. But how?

They seated themselves with the other Gryffindors, and Ron felt his stomach tighten. This was it. After seven years, he was graduating Hogwarts. He was leaving the place he had called home since he was eleven.

Ron looked down the row of graduating students, all twitching nervously. What he wouldn't give to be one of them. To be ignorant and innocent still. Harry had faced Voldemort, yes, but he didn't know half the horrors of his circle. Ron's eyes traveled down, examining the people he had been living with for all these years. Oh, to be one of them!

Well, not any of them. He caught Draco's eye, and smiled grimly. Draco seemed to be thinking the same things. Ron could read it in his eyes.

Oh my god, Ron thought, I think I'm friends with Draco Malfoy.

Odd, that this was the hardest time of Ron's young life, and he was sharing it with his ex-worst enemy instead of the two loyal friends sitting beside him. But Harry and Hermione would never understand. They just couldn't understand why Ron had become a Death Eater. Little did they know, he was protecting them. He, Draco, and Severus had prevented 32 attempts on Harry's life over the last year, and Ron had even prevented a few on Hermione's. After all, she was not only a Mudblood, but Harry's life.

Mudblood. Ron shook his head; I'm tossing around the word 'Mudblood' as if it means nothing.

Dumbledore stood up and made a speech. He then began to call names, beginning with 'Abbot, Hannah'.

Ron and Harry cheered like wild when Hermione was called. She blushed, mumbling a thank you when she received her diploma from Professor Dumbledore. Ron watched Ernie MacMillan swagger to Dumbledore with mounting dislike. The Ministry would have him before the end of the week: Draco had told them everything.

Speaking of Draco...his name was called. Ron had to refrain from cheering, but couldn't help grinning. He knew what Draco had gone through to graduate...juggling two lives. He knew because he had gone through the same thing.

Harry, by far, got the loudest cheer of all. Ron felt a pang of wistful jealousy. He wished he could receive that kind of welcome. He wished he could be appreciated for fighting the Dark Lord.

But Ron didn't fight Voldemort openly. Ron was a Death Eater. Ron was a spy.

Ron hated his life.

He watched Lisa Turpin with mixed emotions. He knew that under there somewhere was a wonderful person: charming and funny. But he also knew that on her left arm was the mark of the Devil himself. Why had Lisa turned?

Finally, 'Weasley, Ronald' was called. As he numbly approached Dumbledore, hearing the cheers from his friends, Ron remembered when he had been called to be sorted. Where had that innocent child gone?

He accepted the diploma, and found sympathy in Dumbledore's blue eyes. He knew, and the Minister knew. A select few members of the Department of Mysteries knew.

Knew Ron was a traitor.

Ron looked over at Harry and Hermione, grinning and screaming and flailing their arms, and tried to smile at them. He didn't deserve them as friends. His eyes traveled to the Slytherins, where he saw Draco smile. Well, at least when Harry and Hermione found out, there would be Draco.

What was he SAYING?!

Ron returned to his seat, thoughts reeling through his mind. Dumbledore called the valedictorian up for her speech to wild applause. Ron couldn't help smiling: Hermione deserved this. She deserved this honor she had worked so hard for. She deserved all the glory: this was HER hour.

"Fellow students, teachers, and friends," Hermione began smiling. "It has been an unbelievable journey..."

Hermione's aura made everyone sit a little straighter. She talked about her years at Hogwarts, and the lessons she had learned. She talked about being Muggle-born, and facing prejudice.

"...And if there's one thing I've learned here, it's the importance of not just knowing right from wrong, but choosing what's right..."

Suddenly, Ron didn't like Hermione's speech. She didn't understand. Hermione had no idea...

Sometimes the lines of right and wrong weren't that clear! Sometimes following the right path requires doing the wrong thing. Sometimes you have to end one life to save another. Sometimes...

Ron stopped his rambling thoughts in their tracks. No, not sometimes. Never...or virtually so. Severus, Draco, Angel, and Rayven were the only people he knew that would understand what he was thinking and why.

"...Good luck to you all!" Ron was snapped out of his drifting thoughts by the wild applause that followed the conclusion of Hermione's speech. He stood and cheered alongside Harry, feeling treacherous.

Afterward, the now graduated seventh years went into the Great Hall for the End of the Year Feast...and their last meal at Hogwarts. Ron ate with Harry and Hermione, happily celebrating Gryffindor's seventh House Cup running. For a single, blissful hour, he felt like the same old Ron Harry and Hermione knew.

Then they went down to the train platform, where the younger years departed with delight, and the seventh years said goodbye. Well, they weren't really seventh years anymore, were they? They were qualified witches and wizards. Slowly but surely, Ron watched as the people he had known for so long literally disappeared with a soft *pop*.

"Well...I guess this is goodbye," Hermione said sadly to her two best friends.

"It's not forever, 'Mione," Harry said, smiling sadly.

"I know but..." She turned away, and Ron knew she was crying.

"Don't cry!" He and Harry insisted in unison. She turned back to them, laughing softly through her tears.

"I already miss Hogwarts." She said, smiling.

"So do I," Harry replied. Ron nodded his compliance.

"Oh, come here!" She cried, throwing her arms around them and pulling them into a group hug. Ron felt himself choking up. Where did he get friends like this?

"Well...see ya," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, bye," Ron mumbled, his ears rather red.

"Goodbye," Hermione said, beginning to cry again. And with one last hug, they all disapparated.

Ron didn't disapparate to the flat he had bought with the money the Ministry paid him. Instead, he apparated to a small building in London...Reed Girl's Academy for the Magical Arts, where Angel and Rayven went to school.

The two girls were saying goodbye to their friends. They were both, from what Ron could tell, crying. He rolled his eyes. What is it with girls crying at graduations?

"Ron?" Angel asked when her friends had disapparated and she spotted the red-haired man leaning against a tree.

"Hey," He smiled. "Where's Rayven?"

"Ron, what are you doing here?" Rayven herself asked.

"Rayven, just the girl I wanted to see!" Ron exclaimed. "We're going out tonight."

"Out?" She asked suspiciously. "Out where?"

"To a little pub I know where we can...talk." He said, and both girls knew immediately what he was referring to.

"Well, I'd better go," Angel said to break the silence that had descended upon them all.

With a goodbye to Rayven and a nod to Ron, she disapparated.

"Where are we going again?" Rayven asked with a frown.

"The Hanged Man." Ron replied. "Just apparate to Little Hangleton, and we'll get there."

And so, the two newly graduated friends-by-default apparated into the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron did not really know any of the Death Eaters personally other than his fellow spies and the five he'd seen initiated. However, Draco knew everyone worth knowing. It was Draco who informed Ron of the 'bonfire'.

At the beginning of each month, a swarm of Death Eaters would get together and, just for the hell of it, terrorize a Muggle village. Why they called it the 'bonfire' was beyond Ron, who had never been to one. Draco seemed uneasy to discuss it. It's not like there were marshmallows and camp songs involved or anything.

Ron smiled. He had suddenly had a vision of all seventy some Death Eaters sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows as Voldemort led them in a round of 'Kumbaya, my Lord'.

Or not.

The bonfire for the month of July was to be held in a little village called North Brooke in Kent. Ron was invited to come along with Draco, even though none of the Death Eaters would know if he was there because they all hid under their masks like the cowards they were. And, because Ron was now training her, he decided to bring Rayven along.

For three weeks Ron had been avoiding showing Rayven any hard-core Death Eater activity. In his mind she was too young, to fragile...even though in reality she was hardly six months younger. But still, she retained her innocence in a way she didn't even know.

"Where are we going tonight?" Rayven groaned when Ron apparated to her flat almost on the border of Wales.

"Anxious for anywhere in particular?" He grinned. Well, Ron didn't really grin anymore...it was just an action. What was there to be happy about in this world anyway?

"Just something other than this tedious talk, talk, talk, talk, TALK!" She exclaimed, sounding rather frustrated.

"Well, there will be no talking tonight," He snapped.

"There won't?" She replied.

"No..." Ron sighed. He continued grimly, "Get your mask on, we're going out with some friends.

Suddenly, Rayven didn't seem eager to pass the 'talking' stage.

It was Richie Hanger's seventh birthday. He and practically all the children in town were running around with sparklers in the Hangers' backyard. Dusk was falling, and fireflies were darting in between the sparkling lights of the squealing children. Lawrence and Pamela Hanger watched their son play with smiles on their faces, along with several other parents who had come to collect the children, but didn't have the heart to interfere with their childhood joy. Everything was perfect in North Brooke on the breezy evening in July. Until...

A scream.

Thirty cloaked figures surrounded the yard, and jets of light streamed from them. Pamela Hanger was the first to fall under the green curse of death. Rayven looked around in horror as the Death Eaters spread throughout the yard of terrified children.

Children! These were innocent, harmless Muggle children, not one over nine years of age! She felt her knees weaken as she saw a little boy cry for his mother just before death. She watched in shock and rage a black-cloaked figure put a young girl under the Cruciatus Curse. The figure cackled as the child screamed and not relenting until she was clearly dead. What were these creatures torturing these innocent children?

Those 'creatures' were what she was to become.

Shuddering she pulled out her wand, looking at it in a new light. She had never realized all the damage she could inflict on human souls with this. She had used Dark spells on spiders and the like, sure. And she had been put under two of the three Unforgivables. But she had never, ever really realized what she had the power to do in her hands.

Other Death Eaters were beginning to look at her questioningly. She looked out at the wave of black robes and curse jets. That figure killing the child holding his dead friend could not be Ron, right? That one holding a mother under the Imperious Curse and forcing her to kill her own daughter could not be Draco. That one approaching the father crying for his screaming daughter could not be Angel.

Suddenly, she saw one child running toward her. She automatically raised her wand. She contemplated 'stupefy' but knew she would have to kill him. Still, when she got to him, she hesitated. Swallowing down the urge to help the child with pleading brown eyes she raised her wand...

And the boy disappeared.

Rayven felt her eyes widen. Where had he gone? She spun around to see him behind her, looking down at his own hands in shock. And that's when Rayven knew.

This child was a wizard. A Muggle born wizard.

Before she could react to this discovery, the child started to run away. Right into the path of another Death Eater. One quick flash of green was all it took.

Rayven watched as the boy known as Richard Hanger fell to the ground, dead. She looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes behind the mask of his murderer.

Familiar blue eyes.

Soon, all the Muggles were dead, and the Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky. Then one of them, Rayven couldn't tell which, raised his wand and shot a burst of orange light from it. The house and grounds burnt into ashes, but as the smoke cleared, Rayven was horrified to see that the bodies were untouched.

She disapparated with the others, the vision of seven adults and nearly twenty children lying dead the black remnants of a beautiful home burning into her mind.

"I'll go to the Ministry," Angel volunteered. Ron was glad someone had finally broken the uncomfortable silence. Only Draco had previously been to a bonfire, and he looked just as shaken as the rest.

"All right..." Draco sighed. "I need to get back to the Manor. My father- " He spat the word, "Will be wondering where I am."

"I think Rayven needs some time," Ron said quietly, taking her hand and leading her to a bench in the park they had apparated to. She was shaking.

"How could this happen?" She asked in a voice as shaky as the rest of her.

"It's what Death Eaters do," Ron replied sadly.

"Death Eaters like you?" She snapped accusingly.

"And like you," He replied, looking at her with unwavering blue eyes. She looked away, starting to cry.

"Did you...did you kill anyone tonight?" She asked uneasily.

"Yes," He replied, feeling a lump in his throat. You would think he was used to it by now, but no. Every murder was like the first to Ronald Weasley.

Well, almost anyway.

"Was it a boy with brown eyes and dusty blonde hair and freckles?" She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes...how did you know?" Ron asked, his eyes widening.

"I took a wand to him myself, but he somehow disappeared and then reappeared behind me," Rayven explained in a monotonous tone. "I think he was a wizard."

"A Mudblood?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How can you just throw that word around?" She demanded. Ron sighed.

"Look, Rayven, I'm sorry if it offends you. One of my very best friends is Muggle born, and Draco used to call her a Mudblood I would try to kill him, but...but it's different now."

"Because you're a Death Eater?"

"Right."

Rayven put her head in her hands. "Will I be different?" She whispered.

Ron pulled her into a hug, telling her without words that someone was there. He didn't respond to her question because she already knew the answer.

Rayven cried herself to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well, the date's set," Rayven said grimly as she sat down across from Ron.

"The date?" Ron asked.

"For my initiation..." She replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, right," He replied, sighing. For no particular reason, it seemed that he had been distracted lately. He tried to smile at her.

Rayven was a beautiful girl, no one would doubt that. She had sleek deep chocolate hair that looked auburn in the light, which fell pleasantly around her shoulders, and exotic hazel eyes. She was about medium height, thin, with curves in all the right places. Sometimes Ron thought she looked angelic, and sometimes she looked demonic.

Odd.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the date is?" Rayven asked with a sigh.

"Huh?" Ron asked. "Oh, yeah. When?" He asked when she gave him a look.

"July 31," She replied. Ron frowned. That date seemed familiar to him. Did he have plans? He racked his brains, but nothing but the nagging feeling that there was something happening that day surfaced.

"You are coming, right?" She asked.

"Of course," He replied. She sighed.

"Thanks,"

"No problem." They ate their meal and talked as if they were real friends instead of coworkers in the Death Eater spy business. Ron liked Rayven, the real Rayven, the ambitious, charming girl behind her unique golden eyes.

They said goodbye, and made plans for their last meeting before Rayven officially joined the Death Eaters. Ron shuddered. He did not like to think of innocent Rayven as what he was.

Ron went back to his flat and wrote a letter to home, and got several chores done. The odd thing about being a spy was even though you worked weird hours you got the others off. Mrs. Weasley was starting to think her son might just be a layabout. A valid fear, considering she didn't know about his real life.

After a nap and a quick shower, he changed and apparated to Harry's flat for dinner. Hermione and Ginny would also be there.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, smiling at his best friend. Hermione came in and gave her friend a hug, also smiling. Ron tried to smile back...he really did. But how do the damned smile in the face of the blessed?

"Is Ginny here yet?" He asked. Ron had seen very little of his family since Christmas.

"Ron!" He was answered by Ginny running up to her brother in delight. He gave her a bear hug, as if she were six instead of sixteen.

"How's it going, kid?" He asked her teasingly.

"Oh, shut up you!" She said, sticking her tongue out. "I'm seventeen in August."

"Lord, I feel old!" He joked. Harry, Hermione and Ginny laughed.

"Come on," Hermione said. "Dinner's on the table."

The four had a delightful dinner, prepared Muggle-style by Hermione herself. There were several compliments to the chef. Even Ron was having a difficult time finishing the cheesecake. The meal was full of laughter and animated conversation. Ron felt more alive than he had in months.

"Okay, we have an announcement to make," Hermione said, looking over at Harry.

"What kind of announcement?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked over at Ginny, who seemed to be as clueless as he was.

"Well..." Hermione said, looking at Harry. She seemed to be bursting with...something.

"We're going to get married," Harry said.

"What?" Ron asked, after several moments of stunned silence.

"Oh my God, congratulations!" Ginny squealed, running over to hug Hermione. "Let me see the ring!" Blushing like crazy, Hermione pulled out her hand to reveal a simple, yet elegant diamond ring.

Now Ron knew what Hermione was bursting with. Happiness. Ron wondered what it was like to be filled with that much joy. Over the last few months, he had nearly forgotten what the word meant.

Ron shook himself mentally. This was no time for self-pity.

"Harry, you rascal!" He exclaimed, jumping up and shaking hands with his best friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You two are the first to know," Hermione explained. "Because I want you, Ginny, to be my maid of honor."

"Me?" Ginny asked, looking sincerely surprised. Her friend nodded. "Hermione, I would be honored."

"And I want you to be my best man," Harry said, smiling at Ron.

"Wow...I can't believe you guys are getting married," Ron said. "This is fantastic! I've got to owl mum!"

"I know, we're thrilled." Hermione blushed and looked over at Harry, who took her hand.

"When?" Ginny asked in excitement.

"I don't know, maybe when Harry gets out of auror training. We haven't set a date yet."

"Oh that's right, you're going to be an auror, aren't you?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded.

Weird, Ron thought. Just a year ago he had been considering becoming an auror, and now they were enemy number one. Ron suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he imagined Harry as 'enemy number one'.

"Well, I certainly hope we all do this again before the Rehearsal Dinner," Ron said, throwing down his napkin.

"Of course we will," Hermione said, giving him a funny look. "You are coming to Harry's birthday party?"

"Birthday party?" Ron asked, "When's that?"

"On my birthday..." Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. Ron frantically pulled out the contents of his memory. Harry's birthday...July, wasn't it? July, July, July.... Ron's eyes suddenly widened. July 31.

The day of Rayven's initiation.

"Harry..." Ron said, feeling very uncomfortable and extremely guilty. "I can't come."

"What?" The other three all said in unison.

"I'm really sorry, but I've got previous plans," He replied, looking down at his feet. What was he supposed to say: 'I have to go watch the girl I've been training to become a Death Eater actually go through with it and throw her life away'?

Or not.

"What previous plans?" Harry asked. Ron looked down at his watch.

"I have to go," He said, striding out of the kitchen. The others exchanged a look, and Ginny went after him.

"Ron," She began uneasily.

"What?" He snapped, spinning around. She flinched.

"I think you should explain to all of us,"

"There's nothing to explain," Ron replied. "I've got plans."

"You know how important this is to him!" She objected. "Can't you break your other plans or something?"

"Not an option," Ron replied, putting on his traveling cloak.

"Ron-"

"This discussion is over, Ginny." Ron said fiercely. "Tell Hermione it was a wonderful dinner and I congratulate their engagement."

And, without further ado, Ron disapparated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Guilt. That was the only thing Ron felt as he apparated outside the castle-like structure of Voldemort's lair. Guilt about missing Harry's party, guilt about letting an innocent girl like Rayven go through with this torture, guilt about everything.

Rayven apparated next to him only a few moments later. She looked at him, and he squeezed her hand. Neither was wearing a mask. No one but them would be here tonight.

They entered, and immediately felt the cold pressing down on them. Rayven shivered, but Ron showed no emotion. He had clicked into a certain mode, the same way he did before every meeting with his master...before every murder.

Voldemort was waiting for them. He watched with his snakelike eyes as they approached. Trying not to be sick, Ron handed Rayven to him.

Handed her to the devil.

He circled her, inspecting her up in down in a sickening manner. Then he suddenly whipped out his wand, and uttered the word Ron had been dreading but knew would come.

"Crucio."

She screamed and cried in agony. Ron watched, wanting to stop it, leave, scream, die and kill all at the same time. As he watched Voldemort's glee at her suffering he wanted to kill him. And at that moment, he knew that he could. Rage as he had never felt pumped through his veins. He could hear the blood in his ears, and the adrenaline surge through him as he watched the delicate figure crumple in torturous pain.

No, he couldn't kill Voldemort. Voldemort owned him. There was nothing he could do but watch.

Finally, he released her, and she struggled to her feet. Even though her body was weak and defeated, her eyes showed an even stronger conviction to go on. Determination to damn herself, Ron thought.

Then, Voldemort went through the process of giving her the Dark Mark. Again, she was brought to her knees in agony when his mysterious magic made a permanent mark out of the crude flesh drawing. Finally satisfied, he let go and let her fall down.

"I am finished." He hissed. Ron nodded. He then bent down and picked her up. Carrying her out of the God forsaken castle, he cursed Voldemort's name. Ron apparated to Angel's flat, where she and Draco were waiting for them.

"How is she?" Angel asked, biting her lip. Ron laid her down on a couch. Draco immediately began muttering charms to fix her bloodied face and arm.

"Ron?" Rayven asked groggily, looking around. She couldn't move. It hurt...everything hurt.

"I'm here," He said, giving her a hug.

"Draco? Angel?" She muttered.

"Right here, honey," Angel replied, trying to smile. Underneath her heart was breaking for her friend.

Draco gave her a twisted grin. Ron had seen that grin so many times in school, and he had hated it then. But now...but now he understood why Draco was the way he was. He looked down at her, and raised his crossed fingers.

"Rayven, welcome to the Circle of the Two-Faced."