"D'you reckon Hermione's still mad at me?" Ron began a conversation behind Harry, who was watching over the forest's lake intently, startling him.

"Take how mad she was at you yesterday and multiply by 10, Ron."

"Hmph," he said, making no effort to hide his discomfort. "I said I was sorry."

"Well, to Hermione, mate, 'sorry' doesn't bring back weeks of absence, sorrow and ignorance."

"Well-played," Ron grinned and playfully wacked Harry in an all-brotherly type of fashion. Harry smiled back at him and did the same, but not breaking his glare at the river. "I know I was an arsehole, Harry, you don't need to remind me that…but honestly, what happened that night…I swear that wasn't me speaking. You know that, right?"

Harry turned to Ron, his mouth dropping. "Of course I do, mate! I know how it was like. Couple of times I had some stupid outbursts with Hermione…the locket just affected you more, which is weird, considering that Vol –"

"Harry, wait –"

"-demort's more intent on killing me –"

"HARRY, NO!" Ron yelled, startling Harry and making Hermione, who was reading at the mouth of the tent, to shuffle over to them to see what the commotion was about. "HARRY, NO! Oh, now you've done it…"

"Done what? Done what, Ron? Hermione, what is he talking about?" Harry demanded, turning to a shocked and clueless Hermione.

"Ron, what's wrong?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Harry said the name!"

"Oh honestly, Ronald, I know it's hard for you to get used to saying the name, but fear of a name only –"

"No, that name's taboo! Whoever says it breaks some magical force or something…and snatchers, or muggle-born and blood traitor kidnappers who're also looking for Harry know your location – we have to move fast, we've gotta move now before they –"

A loud crack disrupted Ron's lecture and they all turned on the spot. Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously pulled out their wands carefully and quietly for safe measure. They walked silently across, nearly reaching the tent, the only sound being the crunching of dead leaves under their footsteps. Hermione made no effort to peer inside the tent and instead turned to Harry and Ron. "It's fine, there's nothing –" she began.

"Gotcha!" a snatcher came up from the tent and intentionally grabbed Hermione by the hair and his hands closed around her neck –

"Don't – touch – her!" yelled Ron, coming from behind Hermione and pushing the snatcher off.

"Hands off, Ginger!" jeered the snatcher. "I want to make this one mine to keep…" there were more snatchers circling them, cornering them and banning every chance they had of them escaping. "You've got nowhere to run, boy." Ron took his long legs as an advantage and started by climbing up a hill in the forest. Hermione and Harry followed, slightly lagging behind him. "Run!" Ron ordered, and he let his legs set the work; he used his spare upper body to turn and see where the snatchers were at next.

"Snatch 'em!" ordered the snatcher that had pursued Hermione. "And don't let them get away!"

Hermione, like Ron, was running like the wind and going where her legs would take her. Harry's arms were swinging frantically and now, Ron had lost sight of them. His stomach turned over. He turned back to wear he was running to and nearly collided with a tree before switching lanes and running towards a small creek. He turned around again and while doing so, jumped across the creek and landed with a large thud, before carrying on with his running and going downhill. He thought he had lost sight of the snatchers, but he had secretly sworn in his mind once he saw a ragged one chasing him again. He hardly had time to defend himself when the snatcher waved his wand in a nonverbal way; thick, rusty chains erupted from the wand's end and closed around Ron's thigh under, immobilizing him – he fell on the forest floor and struggled against his bindings.

"Get up, Ginger." He felt a snatcher most likely twice his size practically scoop him off to his feet. The snatcher held him like a ragdoll, by the hair while another snatcher – supposedly the leader – yanked his wand from his hand. "Feisty one we've got, Greyback. 'ungry yet?"

"Not quite," grunted the werewolf.

The snatcher, named Scabior, smirked and turned back to Ron. "What's your name?"

Ron knew he had to come with lies – big ones, but believable. "Ernie Macmillan."

"Status?"

He wanted to say 'pureblood'. He really did. But like they would believe him, even if they were thickheads. "Half-blood."

"That's the seventh time this week someone's told us that," said Scabior. "Funny 'ow they always wants us to 'ear that. You sure your 'alf-blood, Ginger?"

"Positive," snarled Ron, as the snatcher holding him shook him.

Scabior laughed a second time. "Does the phrase 'electricity' mean anything to you then?"

Ron swore in his head. He had heard Hermione mention something like that before…but he couldn't remember what the hell it was. Was that OK, though? That'd really prove he was pureblood.

He blanked out.

Scabior took a cheap shot at his face; he had to welcome the pain because of the other snatcher clutching him, immobilizing his movements. "That's for lying to us, Ginger. But at least we've caught a pureblood. I don't know Greyback," he added, watching Ron squirm in pain. "Should we take 'im to the Ministry?"

Greyback shuffled closer to Ron and stared him up and down. "No, Scabior," he said. "I know exactly who this is, and it ain't no Ernie Macmillan. This is Ron Weasley. He's one of the blood-traitor blokes."

Scabior smiled. "Well then, Ginger, welcome to the list. We're taking your arse to the Ministry."

"No," said Greyback, stopping Scabior in his tracks. "there's more. This is Potter's friend."

Scabior's mouth fell open. "Potter? As in, 'arry Potter?"

"Yes," snarled Greyback, letting go of Ron in disgust. "I know what we'll do with him." He turned to Scabior. "Malfoy Manor it is."