A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 11 - I Open At The Close. Team: Montrose Magpies.
CAPTAIN: Typical HP Trope: Ron the Death Eater
Thanks to Shannon and Lizzy for beta work, remaining errors are my own.
Wordcount (OpenOffice): 2783

If 'Ron the Death Eater' doesn't give it away already: MAJOR Ron bashing ahead.
This fic starts in 'Deathly Hallows' chapter 19, 'The Silver Doe', and borrows some dialogue from there.

Years to Build, Seconds to Break

Harry was dying. Not for the first time, but this time he could blame no-one but himself. After all, it was his own stupid idea to follow the silver doe into the forest at night, and it was his own stupid idea to dive into a freezing lake to get Gryffindor's sword. He would die here, alone and forgotten, and no-one would ever know what happened, not even… Hermione!
Bubbles of precious air escaped his mouth as he wordlessly screamed her name, turning it into a war-cry as unfamiliar strength found his weak and tired limbs. He kicked out wildly, struggling against the weight around his neck—the Horcrux—as well as the impossibly heavy sword he held in his hand as he fought his way back to the surface. He broke through the ice with impossible strength, choking and retching as he clawed his way back to the snow. He was colder than he had ever been in his life, but he was alive. Alive to fight on, alive to return to her. As he attempted to crawl back to his feet he heard footsteps around him, but they sounded too heavy to be hers. It had to be someone else, but with Hermione's wand carelessly discarded somewhere else and his arms still hurting he could do nothing to defend himself now. All he could hope for was for it to be a friend. A strong arm lifted the heavy chain of the Horcrux from around his neck and suddenly he could breathe again, the weight gone. Then, someone spoke.

"You're mental, mate."
The shock of suddenly hearing Ron again gave Harry the strength to pick himself up. There before him stood Ron, looking as fresh as ever, in fact, he looked as if he had had an excellent few weeks. Whereas Harry looked like death warmed up, even before diving into the lake, Ron had obviously not been missing a single meal lately. At once the pain of Ron leaving them, and the hurt Hermione had felt especially, came rushing into him even as he began to redress, still shivering from the cold.
"What… what the hell are you doing here, Ron?"
"Oh, is that how you greet your best mate? I came to rescue you, Harry. But you were already out of the ice before I could even cast a spell."
"Y—you cast that doe?"
"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!"
"My Patronus is a stag."
"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers."
Harry snorted. Typical Ron answer. He looked at the lake side again, not finding Hermione's wand.
"Ron. Did you see the wand?"
"This one?" Ron asked, a smirk on his face as he twirled it around. "It's Hermione's, isn't it? What happened to yours?"
"Yes it is. Mine is gone. Hand it over, Ron."
"Way I remember it, last time you and I met, you wanted to curse me, mate," Ron said. That smirk was still present on his face. "I think I'll hold on to it until I can give it back to my girl."
My girl. Those words hurt Harry even more than Ron's initial betrayal had, but for now he fought back the urge to snap at the ginger.
"Fine. Doesn't matter, I got the sword. Hand over the Horcrux, Ron, so I can destroy it."
"What, now?"
"Yes now! Come on, Ron! I have the sword and—"
"Not here, mate. Back at the tent. Don't you think Hermione should be there?"
Harry frowned. He wanted to disagree, but Ron wasn't completely wrong here.
"Okay. Follow me," said Harry.
In surprisingly little time they made their way back to the tent. Harry was still cold so he entered the tent immediately, greeting the warmth as a long lost friend. Speaking of friends, Hermione was fast asleep, covered by her blankets, and she did not rouse until Harry had called her name several times.
"Hermione! Ron is here!"
Hermione woke up quickly at that, sitting up straight and looking at him.
"Harry? What? Ron? What do you—"
She looked past him and saw Ron, standing at the tent's entrance, smirking.
"Hi, girlfriend."
"You—complete—arse—Ronald—Weasley!"
Each word was accompanied by a punch. Ron backed away slightly, not looking too troubled by her assault.
"Now now, is that any way to speak to your boyfriend?"
"You unbelievable git! Harry, hand me my wand!"
"He doesn't have it," Ron said, revealing her wand in his left hand even as he held out his own in his right. "Seems I hold all the cards, right?"
"Give me back my wand!" Hermione screamed, lunging for Ron. Only a quickly cast 'Protego!' stopped her from reaching him, the invisible shield forcing her back and on the floor. Caught in the middle between rage and grief, Hermione regained her balance, crawling forward a bit on her hands and knees and she started to rise up again. A sudden statement stopped her in her tracks, though.
"That's a good position for you, girlfriend. You should be in it more often."
"Ron! What are you saying?" asked Harry.
"Keep out of it, mate," Ron snarled back. "This is between my lovely girlfriend and me."
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" yelled Hermione, back on her feet and looking furious. "You—you come back after weeks—weeks—and you don't even apologize and you think it's fine to joke around?"
"Who said I'm joking? I'm no longer the third wheel that got abandoned by his girlfriend a few weeks ago. I could have handed you over to him as well, you know," Ron said, feeling confident behind his shield.
"What are you saying, mate?" asked Harry.
"Nothing you need to be concerned about, mate," Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Step away from Hermione, she was promised to me."
"Promised to you? By whom?" Hermione demanded.
"Who else? The Dark Lord, my Master. You'd know him better as Voldemort."

The Sneakoscope on the table in the tent lit up and began to spin as Harry and Hermione looked at their—former?—friend with shock. Behind Ron the tent flap opened and two men stepped in, wearing the dark robes of Voldemort's followers. To his horror, Harry recognised one of them: Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf and mass murderer.
"About time, Weasley. The Dark Lord was becoming restless, and you know how he gets then," Greyback's growling voice stated.
"I have their wand, and the Lord's item as well," Ron said. "Watch out for Potter, he is hiding a sword behind his back."
"You traitor!" Hermione screamed, lunging forward again only to be forcibly slammed back by a vicious back-hand from Greyback.
"Know your place, Mudblood! Scabior, take Potter's sword and force him on his knees. I want to see him bow before me."
The man called Scabior walked around Greyback and Ron towards the two betrayed Gryffindors. Hermione was holding her stinging cheek as she silently cried and Harry was considering his options.
"You didn't have to hurt her, Greyback," Ron said.
"If the Mudblood makes a move for me one more time I'll do more than hurt her," Greyback said, his voice full of malice. "What's the hold-up, Scabior?"
"Sword, now, or I hurt your little friend," Scabior said.
Reluctantly Harry handed over the sword. The next thing he knew he was stunned, and everything went black.

Harry woke up to find himself tied to a chair. As he groggily raised his head he found himself facing a sight he had last seen in his nightmares… "Voldemort."
"In the flesh," Voldemort said. "How nice of you to join us, Harry Potter."
Voldemort was seated in an actual throne, leaning back slightly. He rose from his seat and stepped closer. Harry winced as he reached out for his scar, touching it with a pale and thin finger. It hurt, just like it had had in previous years, and he forced his mouth shut to keep from screaming.
"I was not expecting it to be this… easy. What a surprise, that a blood traitor would succeed where my truest followers could not. Speaking of… Weasley!"
Harry's eyes spelled murder as his peripheral vision caught sight of his once best friend moving forward. Ron was clad in Death Eater robes except for the silver mask, instead he wore a smug grin that would not be out of place on Malfoy.
"Traitor!" Harry yelled. "How could you? What did you do with Hermione?"
"Tell him," Voldemort prompted. "I'm sure he's… dying to know. Besides, it will be entertaining."
"As you wish, my Lord," Ron said. Harry growled at the sycophantic grovelling.
"To answer your last question first: Hermione is a little tied up right now. She isn't all that happy with me for some reason," Ron said to the laughter of several others in the room Harry could not see—he assumed they were Death Eaters. As Ron got closer to Harry he could see some scratches below the ginger's eye.
"Hope she gave those to you, traitor!"
"She did, and she'll pay for it for soon enough."
"You touch one hair on her head and—"
"I'll do more than touch her head, mate," Ron interjected. "In fact, I'll—"
"Weasley. We're waiting," Voldemort's nasally voice stopped him. Ron swallowed, paling a little.
"After you forced me to leave and stole Hermione from me, I—"
"You chose to leave, bastard! She chose to stay with me and—" Harry's interruption was cut off as quickly as it started by a wave from the Dark Lord's wand, and he realized he had been silenced.
"After you forced me to leave I wanted to go the Burrow, but I knew Mum and Dad would not understand," Ron continued. "So I decided to go to the twins' store instead. Unfortunately someone saw through my disguise, and I was intercepted before I even made through the Leaky Cauldron's portal."
Harry shook his head at Ron's idiocy. Of all the places in Wizarding Britain to hide, he had chosen the busiest shopping street?
Ron went on, undeterred. "So, yeah. I was in a Ministry holding cell before I knew what happened, just my luck, eh? Anyway, as I sat there waiting to be deported to Azkaban or something my brother came to rescue me. Percy, that is."
Harry simply sat in his chair, the silencing spell still on him so he could not reply even if he wanted to.
"Turns out, Perce isn't a bad guy at all. He pulled some strings and instead of a one-way ticket to Dementor Central, I got an invite to a meeting with my Lord. Yeah, that was a shock, I tell you. Thing is, I was hungry, you see, mate? So I blurted out… erm..."
"Quite a surprise for me," Voldemort said. Harry looked past Ron to the Dark Lord, who had retaken his seat in his throne. "Amusing, even. Tell him, Weasley."
"Ah… yes. I believe my exact words were, 'Oi! Snake face! Dunno why I am here, but where's the food?' And then—Aaaaargh!"
"Crucio." Voldemort almost absent-mindedly cast the spell on his follower, holding it for a full minute before he let Ron drop to the ground, still twitching.
"I thought I'd add a little authenticity to the retelling. Although, at our first meeting young Weasley had to suffer my displeasure for a while longer, right until he passed out," Voldemort said. His eyes flared red, full of malice. Ron was still twitching on the floor. Harry felt some satisfaction in seeing the traitor suffer.
"Seems Weasley is a little out of it, so I'll continue the story for him. To cut past all the irrelevance, Weasley begged for his life once he was revived, offering up you in return. Needless to say, I was positively delighted to have his assistance. Just as Weasley was happy to have access to warm food and a good bed as he waited for that toy of Dumbledore's to reveal your location to him."
"Ooooh… it hurts," Ron whimpered.
"You're lucky your Lord is in a good mood, Weasley. Enough entertainment for now. Go train your pet Mudblood."
Ron jumped to his feet, then bowed before Voldemort. "Thank you, my Lord. I will, my Lord."
Harry wordlessly shouted abuse after him until Ron left his field of vision.
"Take Potter to the dungeons. We have a celebration to prepare, I want his execution to be reported live," Voldemort ordered.

Harry struggled against his bindings but could do nothing to prevent the Death Eaters from taking him to a dungeon cell and shackle him to the wall. The only sound he heard was the dripping of water, somewhere. He could not have been hanging there for more than one hour before he got a visitor.
"Snape," Harry simply said.
"You absolute dunderhead. Do you have any idea how many plans you ruined by letting yourself get caught?" Snape said in a soft voice, taking out his wand.
"Are you here to kill me?"
"Kill you? Why—Potter, don't be an idiot. I'm letting you go free. The Dark Lord is out, your guards are stunned, and I've got the sword for you. You just make your way out without being seen."
"Since when are you on my side?" Harry asked, suspicion in his voice. Snape glared at him as he cut the chains around Harry's wrists, allowing the young wizard to drop to the ground.
"Enough with the questions! Leave, quickly. I've cleared a path for you to the back door, but it won't stay free for long."
"I'm not leaving without Hermione. Or the Horcrux."
"Gryffindors," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, then. Take your sword and follow me, quickly."
Harry took the sword from Snape's hands, then silently they walked up the stairs, past sleeping guards (Scabior among them), and up another set of stairs.
"These are Ron's rooms," Snape said, stopping by a door. "What you seek will be in here. Give me a minute to disappear, then it's up to you and your blasted luck."
"Snape? I don't know why you're doing this, but… thanks," Harry said.
With a sighed "Potter" and a scowl, Snape seemed to slink into the shadows once more.

Harry took a deep breath and then kicked in the door, rushing in with his sword in hand. "Let Hermione go you—"
"Oh good, you're here," his best friend said in a calm voice. She was standing over the unconscious—naked—form of Ron, holding his wand as she kicked his privates again and again. Her clothing looked torn in places, but she looked to be in one piece.
"Hermione? I thought that he—"
"I kneed him in his privates the moment he tried to… remove my clothing, then stunned him with his own wand. The moron decided to untie me after he stripped himself," Hermione spat.
"Hermione, I was so worried you—"
"Harry, not now. The Horcrux is somewhere in here; Weasley was gloating to me about how he intended to present his Master with it at your—at your execution."
"Are… are you okay?"
"Harry, it's sweet you're worried. To be honest I am probably in shock, as are you, but I'll have time to cry later. I am going to make sure he never tries to hurt another girl again. In the meantime, why don't you get my wand and the Horcrux."
Harry walked past the unconscious traitor and then started to rummage through the cupboards to find the items. He winced as he heard the sound of something being crushed under a pair of feet, then finally found both Hermione's wand and the necklace in Ron's underwear drawer.
"Got them," he said, not wanting to look down on the floor. Hermione cast a silent cleaning charm on her shoes—Harry did his best not to think of why—and then they crept down the stairs and to the back exit.

x-x-x-x

They found their tent intact in the forest. Rushing to pack everything, they popped off to another location in record time, only then relaxing.
"What now, Hermione?"
"First, we destroy the Horcrux."
"We can do that. Do you have any idea how Ro—"
"How the traitor caught us? He told me, Harry. You-Know-Who trapped his name, so we just won't say it. Call him Tom, or Snake-face, or anything. Now, come and we'll take care of the Horcrux. Then, I'm going to need to cry for a long time, and you'd better be hugging me until I fall asleep, mister. After that… we'll figure something out."
"Together, then."
"Always, Harry."