Ron Weasley had never been so alone in his life. He had grown up in small house with six siblings. It was cramped and overcrowded and the children were always on top of each other. Someone was always shouting for someone else, or else barging into his room, and bumping into him on the stairs. Meals were loud and noisy affairs, where his family would sit elbow to elbow, and very often friends and extended family would be visiting, making the crowded home even more alive with people.

When he started at Hogwarts, he shared his dormitory room with four other boys, Harry, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. One of the boys would always be around with some new spell to show off, a new story to tell, or just to waste time hanging out with.

Ron Weasley was used to other people. Although there were moments in his childhood when he would have killed for some peace and quiet, all in all, Ron liked company. He liked conversation, he even just liked the feeling of knowing he wasn't alone. He was a people person, and he didn't seem to thrive as well when he was on his own.

But now he was completely alone.

As soon as the anger dissipated, as soon as the affect of the Horcrux wore off, Ron found himself with a new sinking feeling. The Horcrux did not bring on this new feeling of depression, nor did dementors. Instead, this depression was brought on by himself. And this was far worse feeling.

"I left them" He whispered. A knot formed at the pit of his stomach, his extremities felt cold as all the blood rushed to his heart and brain to compensate for the shock.

Immediately, he knew he had to go back. He had to apologize. The look in Hermione's eyes when he left made him feel physically ill. And Harry. He had said such awful things to Harry, things he didn't really mean but once he started yelling them, he just couldn't stop.

He couldn't walk out on them. They needed him.

Well, his insecurity creeping back in even without the Horcrux, even if they didn't need him, he still needed them.

He tried to remember where they had been when he left, but for some reason his mind drew a blank. He could not apparate to them unless he knew where they were. "Come on Ron. Think. Where were we?" he mumbled to himself. All the places they had been, and all different hideouts and forests were blending together in one giant mesh in his head. He could see the tent in his mind, but he wouldn't be apparate inside it because of their protective enchantments. He would need to apparate to the wooded area right outside it, and wait for them to show themselves in the morning. He just couldn't remember where they were.

A crack in the woods behind him caught his attention. His head jerked up and his eyes darted around, just now for the first time taking in his surroundings. He was in a plot of woods not far from 12 Grimmauld Place. During the summer before his 5th year, when the house served as headquarters to the Order, he and Hermione had gone on a long walk in these woods just to escape the confines of the house. Of course, the first place he thought of would be connected with her, he mused.

It was stupid to come here, though. Death Eaters were no doubt on alert to the area. Since the woods were close to the home that was Harry's former hideout they would be idiots not to be patrolling the area, now that they could get in.

He had to leave, and he had to leave now.

As he turned on his heel, desperate to go back to Harry and Hermione, he heard a whisper in the dark. Before he had time to react or defend himself, a jet of white light hit him square in the chest.

There was pain. He yelped and fell to the ground gripping at his chest. It felt as though someone had literally stabbed him, but as he grabbed at the area the pain was radiating from, there was no torn flesh. He couldn't feel any physical damage, but it hurt so badly, Ron thought he was going to pass out.

"well, well, well. What do we have here?" A large man approached him and with his foot, rolled Ron onto his back. The man bent over and grabbed Ron's wand, which Ron had lost his grip on when fell to the ground.

"Ron? Did you say your name was?" Ron inwardly swore at himself for using his own name when he was trying to remember where Harry and Hermione were.

"Not Ron Weasley. The blood traitor. Potter's right hand man" The man bemused further. Ron finally was able to see the man's face as the moon lit it up slightly. He felt his heart skip a beat. It was Runcorn. The man Harry had impersonated to get into the ministry. Even though, polyjuice potion had made them carbon copies, Ron would swear that this man had a more evil look than Harry did as his copy. When it had been Harry, there was a softness to his eyes, a tenderness. Now, his eyes held nothing but pure malice.

Ron opened his mouth to say something. He wasn't sure what, but some lie about his identity.

"No, no, no. I don't want your excuses bloodtraitor, you are coming with me" And in one quick movement, he picked up Ron by the neck of his sweater and dragged him to his feet. Ron's chest was still killing him. The pain had not dulled at all. Ron had never felt so alone and so terrified in his life.

As the massive figure of Albert Runcorn dragged him along, pain still radiating through his body, all he could think about was Harry and Hermione. Ron would never make it back to them. They would never know how sorry he was for leaving. He wouldn't be standing by Harry's side at the end, fighting with him. Hermione would never know how he felt about her. He would die with his best friends thinking he abandoned them.

Ron felt tears well up in his eyes, but fought them back. He would be strong in front of these death eaters. He would never cry in front of them. And Harry and Hermione might think he abandoned them, but Ron Weasley would die before they betrayed him.