Complete Summary

After her entire family is killed, Ginny no longer has a reason to live. Her faith in the Light has been extinguished, and she no longer cares who wins. She takes a break from the wizarding world, only to return several years later secretly as a mercenary. How will she react when she realizes how much people have changed, especially a certain blonde one, and can her hope ever be rekindled? Post Hogwarts

Prologue

"How could you! How could you?" a confused 20-year old Ginevra Molly Weasley ranted at Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and head of the Order of the Phoenix.

The petite red head screamed at the old man. He was sitting behind his desk piled high with odds-and-ends as the 21-year old Boy-Who-Lived sat in a corner, just staring at nothing.

"I didn't let them do it," the wrinkled man said somberly, the twinkle in his eye gone. "They all knew the danger going in to this mission. They died for the cause."

Ginny gave a disgusted snort as she plopped down into her chair. "Of course. It's always for the cause," She mimicked, slouching and on the verge of hysterics.

Suddenly snapping out of his stupor, Harry Potter said, "Ron was my best friend. Ginny—"

She turned hurt eyes onto her once-savior. "And you! You were there! How could you just watch as my entire family was torn off the face of the Earth?" Tears streamed down her freckled face.

"It was our mission," Harry whispered, his own tears falling as well.

Screaming in frustration, she hurled herself at him, only to find that Dumbledore had magically secured her to her chair in a moment of foresight. She fought strenuously against the charmed bindings, screaming and sobbing, but to no avail.

"Let me go, dammit! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"Let me GO!"

At last she sat, quiet, tears gone, face sober and somber.

Dumbledore released the charm. "Miss Weasley, I truly am sorry that your family is dead. But you still have us; your friends, the Order."

As his words registered in her mind, her visage visibly darkened. She stood swiftly.

"You're wrong," she said quietly and slowly.

"Goodbye." She all but whispered.

With a swish and whirl, she was gone, lost to the wizarding world for quite some time.

One night, five years later, a grim, red haired, freckled woman sat on top of a building, watching a darkened parking lot in some foreign country. She thought distantly of the ridiculous amount of money she was getting paid to do such a simple job. A job she would probably do for free. Hell, even an amateur could have pulled this one off.

She pulled her black beanie tighter over her hair, watching as her breath steamed in front of her. A metal contraption next to her gleamed in the moonlight.

Finally, there was movement below. Two automobiles pulled up, a fair distance apart. Two men got out of one, three out of the other. One of the five was had a suitcase chained to a wrist.

That was her guy.

The two groups started walking toward each other, but neither ever quite made it.

One little squeeze, and another life was swept off the Earth. It's ridiculous, how easy it was.

Ginny was already packing her equipment up by the time the she heard the others' surprised commotion, and well on her way down the road by the time the sorry soul's companions could get two thoughts together to try to save him. The people they were meeting peeled out of the parking lot, business unfinished.

But she knew their efforts were useless. She had a dead aim.

Literally.

She drove along in her car, windows rolled down, beanie discarded, and let the freezing wind thrust through her hair. She expertly maneuvered the small car around corners, down streets, and between other cars, eventually arriving at one of her many small flats.

She opened the door and walked into the luxurious lobby of the complex.

People paid good money for the kind of work she did. Enough money for her to live comfortably in several countries at once and buy multiple airplane tickets at the drop of a hat. Even though she didn't need to with knowing how to apparate. But some clients liked to meet her at the gate.

One of her endearing qualities was the way she looked. She didn't look like the hardened killer she was, like most people picture mercenaries. Looking at her reflection in the mirror opposite the elevators, she observed the short, curly red hair and the freckles, the warm eyes, the petite frame, and the overall look that screamed innocence. And her name. Ginny.

Well, you know what they say. Appearances can be misleading.

The elevator dinged open, and she stepped in, punching the number of her floor. She got out her key as she approached her floor, and walked down the hallway to her apartment at the end of the hall playing with it. As she rounded a corner near her front door, she got a funny feeling.

The light next to her corner apartment was flashing, blinking on and off. It gave a spooky appearance that made Ginny's spine tingle.

She shook off the feeling, chalking it up to left over adrenaline.

She pushed the key in the lock and turned it, hearing the metal grate against itself. Ginny sighed as she walked in to the dark apartment and closed the door. She walked down the hallway and stopped short in the doorway to the living room.

Her breathing became shallow, and she could feel the blood rushing in her ears. She froze in surprise, not thinking to draw her gun or wand.

Sitting in front of a roaring fire, in her apartment, was someone she expected to never meet again. Someone she thought would be long dead, or at least imprisoned.

Sitting in front of a roaring fire was Draco Malfoy.

Shit.

A/N

Anyone else worried about my sanity?