Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I attempting to make a profit. This is all for pure entertainment's sake! Hope you enjoy!

Author's note: extra special thanks go to Alcamenes and soupytwist, for not only getting back to me so quickly with this chapter, but their support and encouragement as well--not to mention, their talented editing. You girls have made yourselves absolutely indispensible, I tell you! :)

This one's dark, folks. Don't say you weren't warned LOL. But fear not, lighter moments are coming up ahead (and believe me, if you're an R&H fan, there are some scenes in the near future you won't want to miss *heehee*).

A big thank you to all my loyal reviewers! I was so psyched to see all the familiar names in the reviews the other day. You all make my world go round :).

A Deal With The Devil
Chapter 2: Ambush

Ron didn't trust silence.

Whether it was an instinct born of paranoia or one that had simply been honed from years of experience, he didn't know, but the absence of sound just made him uneasy. Very uneasy. He wasn't one to be lulled into a false sense of security; he'd been an Auror long enough to know better. There may have been those who easily fell prey to the belief that silence meant there couldn't possibly be any threat of danger lurking about, but Ron Weasley would be damned if he would let himself be one of them.

Even when things were perfectly still, when the air was windless and it seemed the entire world had vanished or at least had stopped moving, there were always sounds that could be heard if one simply strained to listen for them. Seagulls taking flight, wings beating ferociously in the air. The crackling of pebbles on the shore as water bled onto land and then receded. The swelling and shrinking of the mighty sea.

Ron reckoned that people had simply learnt over the years to tune out anything that was out of the ordinary; when he was younger, he had done exactly that. Looking back on it, he realised he had spent the first fifteen years of his life in somewhat blissful ignorance--sheltered by parents who'd done their best to shield their children from the dangers of the wizarding world, and later, strengthened by a false confidence that came from having managed to escape several ridiculously close calls and still come away in one piece each and every time.

But the things he had seen and heard and lived had not come without a leaving their scars; somewhere along the way when he wasn't looking, they had taken their toll on him, and in time he found his defences steadily taking root. The older he became, the more he found himself becoming acutely aware of everything that surrounded him, even developing the ability to sense when danger was near. To almost hear it.

It was quiet right now. Too quiet. Ron knew it couldn't possibly be real.

In the distance, the waves continued to batter the shore, growing rougher as the night wore on and the moon beckoned the tides. Still, nothing materialised from the shadows, and it made Ron that much more anxious. Midnight had almost descended upon them, and the Muggles had all gone to bed at this late hour, their windows dark and cloaked with drawn curtains.

This would be the perfect time to launch an unexpected attack. Defenceless Muggles, oblivious to the peril that awaited them just outside their homes, asleep and completely unaware that blood-thirsty Dark wizards were waiting to slaughter them.

Ron knew with every fiber of his being that they would strike at any moment. They had to be ready.

He felt a tap on the shoulder and flinched involuntarily, so noticeably that the young Auror, who had only been trying to get his attention, drew his hand back immediately, as if he'd been stung.

"I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Ron almost turned round behind him to see if his father was standing there; he still hadn't got used to being called sir by anyone, least of all someone who was barely five years younger--or, for that matter, a good number of others here who happened to be older than he was. He half-expected someone to snigger when addressing a mere twenty-three year old by such a title, but to his relief, no one actually ever had.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I reckon my mind was somewhere else just now. Can't have that, can we?"

Ben Foster tried to smile, but it was obvious that he was more than a little apprehensive and was trying his best to appear composed. Ron knew that Foster was still inexperienced; he'd come out of the Auror Academy only nine months ago and had been assigned to mostly low-level missions up to this point. No wonder the poor bloke seemed a bit jittery tonight. Ron decided it would probably be best not add to his anxiety in any way.

"Has everyone arrived?"

"The last of them arrived just five minutes ago," he said, motioning to the rest of the Aurors to gather round them.

Ron nodded, then waited for the rest of the group to assemble. All of the Aurors had worn simple black hooded robes like his to conceal themselves, and it was only then that he realised for the first time the irony of how eerily they resembled the Death Eaters.

The very thought sent chills raking up his spine.

He felt those chills settle in his stomach, before spreading throughout his body like poison when he realised that there were only eight Aurors here tonight--three of whom were no older than Foster, and had even less experience than he. Ron forced himself not to follow that particular thought to conclusion; none of them could afford to feel outnumbered, especially not at a time such as this. He just hoped no one would be bold enough to voice the thought out loud.

As it turned out, Foster had something else on his mind.

"Sir," he said, "should we start placing Anti-Apparition Wards around the area-"

"No."

Ron had cut him off more sharply than he had intended. He saw Foster stiffen immediately, as if in anticipation of what he was about to say.

"We haven't any Portkeys," he said. "We'll have no bloody way of getting out of here if all hell were to break loose. And besides..."

He looked past all of them to look out at the waves again, his eyes searching for any sign of movement, however subtle.

"We're here to trap those bastards. And the only way to do that is let them apparate here."

Simone Curry, another of the newer recruits, was the one to ask the question that Ron had been dreading all night.

"But sir, how are we to stop them disapparating once they realise we're here?"

Ron let out a weary sigh.

"That," he said, "will be the real trick. We've got to take them by surprise. We've no other choice. As soon as we pounce, we've got to immobilise them--straight away, before they get the chance to reach for their wands..."

It all sounded so simple that he had even himself almost convinced. Almost.

At length, Foster said, "What do we do now?"

"We wait. We wait and get ready-"

"Sir!!"

Ron saw it even before Foster ever got the word out. Moonlight bent at an angle, as shadows began to solidify into figures that suddenly appeared standing in the shallow edges of the water. Ron's breath jammed in his throat, and without even turning his head to look at the other Aurors, he screamed, "NOW!"

The sound was loud enough to carry all the way to the shore; Ron saw the Death Eaters' heads pivoting in their direction one by one, their hoods casting shadows over their faces, effectively concealing them. He felt his brain switch into auto-pilot as he plunged into his robes for his wand and charged towards the group, sparks littering the sky as hexes shot out from enemy wands.

God in heaven, there had to be at least twenty Death Eaters here--more, even, as bodies continued to materialise from thin air at an alarming rate, until the shore was completely lined with black figures.

They weren't just outnumbered. They were being bloody ambushed.

"Immobulus!!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Crucio!"

Bodies were falling hard to the ground, blood splattering onto the rocks, and Ron could no longer distinguish which of the fallen were on his side, and which ones were those on the enemies'. Blindly, he stumbled forward, not even knowing whether he'd been hit by a curse, but charging ahead nevertheless. He aimed his wand at a Death Eater who had just apparated less than ten feet away from him and screamed out the spell to immobilise him. And even when the Death Eater pitched forward, Ron kept shouting the words, over and over again until he was hoarse, hoping that the spell might actually hit others, but knowing there were far too many for him to possibly reach.

There were far too many, and they were coming much too fast.

"Sir! Foster has gone down!"

Ron felt his heart smash against his ribcage. Curry grabbed him by the arm to turn him around.

"Over there," she said, pointing to a lifeless body by the shore. "He might be..."

"Keep your wand out!" Ron said. "Any sign of movement and immobilise the person--I don't care who it is, do you understand? If it's one of our own, we'll revive them later..."

He stayed only long enough to see her nod, then sprinted over to Foster, dodging screams and falling bodies and sparks of green. When he had reached Foster, he dropped to his knees and reached for the young man's pulse point without a moment's hesitation.

He was alive. That much was for certain. Ron's eyes traveled down and his stomach twisted at the sight of blood soaking through the thick weave of Foster's robes, just above his knee. Those Death Eaters hadn't just leveled a curse on him; they'd attacked him physically as well.

Bastards.

In the old days, his father had told him, the Death Eaters had gone after all people--Muggle and wizard alike--for fun. But they'd always done it with magic, never by physically touching them. And now they were gaining in boldness. God knew just how far they would go this time.

"You're going to be all right," he said to Foster.

Foster was gritting his teeth and looked as if he were trying to respond, but Ron shook his head to cut him off before he could even speak.

"Save the thanks for later," he said, hoping humor would be enough to distract the young man from the pain. He aimed his wand at Foster's upper thigh and whispered, "Medero..."

Blood receded immediately, leaving only its caked remnants on the fabric of the robe.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so..."

"OK, come on, then-"

"Sir, look out!!"

Ron never had time to register the warning, before a heavy blow struck him to the back of his head, and his knees gave out.

What the...

That was no hex. It was a blunt object, and it struck him hard, so hard that he saw the figure standing over him split into three distinct shapes. The Death Eater raised a hand again, but just as he did, Ron heard another voice cry out. It hadn't been from one of the Aurors--Ron was sure of it--but the words the Death Eater spoke were words that Ron never thought he would ever hear one of them say.

"That's enough!"

"I've got him now, Severus! I can't stop now..."

Severus...

Ron's blood went cold. No. Not him. Not the one Death Eater he'd spent his entire career trying to hunt down.

It couldn't be... could it?

He tried to straighten, but dizziness overtook him once more, and he collapsed before he could even get his upper body to lift up off the ground.

"I said that's enough! We won't do any more here!"

"But we've come this far already! How can we give up now-"

"The others have already left! You will do exactly as I say, or I will make certain that your insubordination does not go unpunished!"

Ron pried his eyes open. The two hooded figures were no longer standing just over him, but rather a few feet away, and one of them--the one who was speaking--had his back turned to Ron and his hood up. But Ron knew that voice.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

Son of a bitch...

He's here, he's actually here... Bloody hell, I've finally got him...

He jammed his elbow hard to the ground for leverage. The world spun around him when he managed to get his head up, but he clenched his jaw and carried on nevertheless.

Apparently, Snape's threats had had an effect, because the Death Eater he'd been trying to coerce had vanished, as had the dozens of others who had scattered all over the shore and stood their ground just moments before. All who were left now were the fallen bodies of his comrades--some breathing, some not--and all Ron could do was focus all of his rage on the lone figure that stood just a few feet away from him.

Whether he'd willed a sudden burst of adrenalin or he'd managed to call upon some hidden reserve of magic without even knowing it, he wasn't sure, but by some miracle, he managed to get to his feet, however shakily, and stumbled towards Snape. He was seconds away from lunging at him when Snape suddenly spun around, as if sensing an imminent attack.

"You dirty Death Eater bastard!!" Ron spat out. He reached for Snape's robes, but fell before he ever made contact.

Snape merely watched him fall at first, then a corner of his mouth began to twitch and then rose into something that resembled both a sneer and a smile at the same time. Ron could only look back at him in disgust for his chillingly cavalier manner.

"Are you proud??" he said. "Are you proud of what you've done? Are you happy that you've betrayed everything Dumbledore ever stood for? Did you enjoy hearing those Muggles in Wales beg for their lives when you murdered them? How about those Muggles in Ireland? How did it feel to hear them screaming?"

Snape breathed in without so much as batting an eyelash.

"Always so quick to judge."

If Ron only had strength enough, he would have struck him right then and there with his bare hands. But he could barely lift his arm just to point his wand at Snape's ugly, crooked nose.

Snape came closer, and Ron reached for his wand and gripped it, however pathetically useless the action was.

"Go ahead," Snape said. His eyes burned into Ron's, full of challenge and maddening amusement. "You wanted to capture me, didn't you?"

He leaned in closer, then said, "Weasley..."

Ron felt his heart leap to his throat.

How did...

"Yes," Snape said. "I know it's you. Did you actually think Polyjuice Potion would fool me?"

Ron wasn't about to confirm or deny anything, but he knew that even without his admission, Snape had already worked it all out.

"What do you want?"

Snape merely smiled back at him. If this was some kind of riddle he wanted Ron to solve, Ron did not have the patience for it. Nothing the bastard was doing right now made any sense. He could have easily disapparated by now. He could have been long gone. He could have gone back to his master and left Ron here--left all of the Aurors here--to die.

So why hadn't he?

"If you want to arrest me, go ahead," Snape said simply. He actually sounded sincere.

Ron forced himself to look up, though his head was throbbing incessantly and it was all he could do not to get violently ill at Snape's feet.

"Bloody insane you are," he said with an incredulous laugh that only made his head throb more.

Snape's eyes narrowed momentarily; it was a look Ron was most familiar with. Then in a surprising move, he took out his wand and let it drop to the ground. Ron stared at him in disbelief, his eyes flicking to the wand, then back up to Snape, unable to believe what they had just seen.

"What... what are you playing at?"

"I'm unarmed," Snape said. "I'm unarmed! What are you waiting for?"

Ron tried to straighten, but fell once again. He didn't even have the chance to look back up when Snape suddenly took hold of his head. Ron struggled against him, fighting in vain, until he realized Snape was muttering a simple healing spell.

Snape abruptly let him go, causing Ron to lose his balance and fall to his side. Then Ron looked up at him, bewildered by what he had just done.

"Why did you do that?" Ron said.

This time, Snape didn't respond. He simply stared back at Ron, as if waiting for him to make the next move. When Ron realised he wouldn't answer, he reached behind him gingerly to feel at the back of his head. There was caked blood there, but whatever swelling there had been was now going down quickly, and he could now manage to get himself upright without swaying.

He kept his eyes fixed on Snape, though, watching him closely in case this was all some sort of an elaborate trick, and his old Potions Master was about to strike him down once and for all.

But he only stared straight ahead and said, "Do what you've come to do."

He couldn't be serious, could he? It was as if he actually wanted Ron to arrest him. Just what the hell was going on here?

Both men continued to eye each other, until at last, Ron aimed his wand and Snape and chords shot out, wrapping around Snape's wrists.

When he'd made certain that the ropes were secure, he said, "What is all of this?"

Snape's face had turned completely unreadable. Ron watched him, but it seemed Snape was determined to make him wait.

Finally he broke the silence. "There are other ways to fight."

"No," Ron said. "There won't be any more fighting. You're done, do you hear me? You're done!"

Snape suddenly gave him a smile that made him want to come out of his skin.

"It's not done, Weasley. And you are making the biggest mistake of your life."

Ron snorted out a laugh. Snape had to be simply spouting his rhetoric, after all. He tugged on the chords on Snape's wrist to pull them even tighter, enjoying the sight of Snape flinching slightly in pain when he did.

And yet, even as he tried to dismiss Snape's words as the ramblings of a defiant man under arrest, Ron couldn't help but shudder inside at what he had said.