Prologue:

It was over. The war was done. And now he was alone. Alone and more than willing to join those who had gone before him. As he stood over his grave, Harry silently counted them up. Neville, Ron, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Luna Lovegood, Dumbledore, and Ginny. Ginny... the one person he'd trusted with his darkest dreams and desires. The one woman he'd ever love. Dead. All of them, dead. He didn't know who by, but he was going to find out. Harry swore that to himself as he shifted his grip on the book that had been left on his doorstep the night before. The Wizard's Guide to the Dark Arts.

This was going to be hard. It wasn't ever going to be easy, it never had been. Then again, was anything ever easy? No... No, nothing was ever easy. And it was that way for a reason. Heaving a sigh, Harry smiled faintly at the grave sites, then, kneeling over Ginny's he pressed his fingers to his lips before gently pressing his fingers to the head stone reading "Beloved Daughter and Sister; In Our Hearts She Stays." Beneath the engraved words was a picture of an angel soaring above clouds with the sun shining brightly behind her. To Harry's eyes, the angle was a red-head, beautiful. What he didn't know, or realize at that moment was that that very image would haunt his dreams for years to come.

Chapter One: The Resistance

"No, no, no!" Percy Weasley yelled at the top of his lungs, glaring at his two remaining siblings. Fred shifted uneasily and frowned at his brother. "Why not? It's ridiculous, Perce." He mumbled, arching an eyebrow. "Yeah," George bumped in. "This is stupid, all we do is sit here and wait for news." Percy was ready to explode.

They didn't understand, probably never would, that their lives were at stake. The last of the Weasleys. They had to stay together; they couldn't risk loosing each other like they'd lost the rest. At that moment, the door flew open and Hermione strode in, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes bright with either excitement or worry, Percy didn't know. "'Mione, What's wrong?" standing quickly, Percy, frowned and tilted his head. This wasn't a surprise, Hermione bursting in like this. She'd been almost a constant in the Weasley household since... Since everything had happened over three years ago. And now it was starting again. "An-Another attack." She breathed as Fred immediately grabbed a chair for her and George took her cloak.

A member of the Ministry, Hermione knew about almost everything that went on in the Wizarding world. "Another pure blood family... And again with the green cloth. None of us get us. Dean's just as confused as I am. We're looking at the Malfoys because so far, they haven't been attacked." "Why does this not surprise me?" Percy muttered, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

The attacks had been going on for the last year, and as hard as he might try, he had no idea how to stop them. And as the newest and youngest Minister, Percy was highly perturbed. This was his area he should know what to do. Fred interrupted his thoughts. "What's with the green cloth?" he asked curiously, sitting down slowly and kicking the chair back on two legs. As half-owner to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he knew a lot about practical jokes and the things involved to make them. But these were deaths. Murders really. With a puzzled grunt, he looked towards George who was sitting on the counter, swinging his legs boredly. "I dunno, Fred. Beats the devil outta me really. What I really don't get is why it's pure bloods this time around." George said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "It's completely reverse. Purebloods, staying hidden from the people's knowledge. We don't even have a name on it. Nothing." He says quietly.

And that's how they stayed. Hermione staring down at the cup of tea George had presented to her as she sat. Percy staring blankly out a window at the snow as it swirled around in the wind, his mind on his wife and son tucked up in France. Fred and George silently, conversing through eye contact. No one moved or talked for a while. Then, Hermione stood then smiled faintly and looked at all of them. "I'm going to go lay down, guys, wake me up if you need me," She said softly before walking out of the room and sluggishly making her way up the narrow staircase that led to the bedrooms.

Once at the landing, she immediately made her way towards Ron's room. Out of instinct perhaps, she braced herself for the bright orange of the room. Nothing had changed since she'd first seen it... And if she was right... Hermione carefully pulled back the bed cloths of the bed and blinked back tears. Still there, but darkened with time... She didn't bother to go back downstairs and ask the three Weasleys why no one had changed the room, or the sheets.

Thankful that they hadn't, she pulled out her wand, muttered a cutting spell then ran the tip on the wand around a section of the sheet. Then, once the piece was detached from the rest of the bedding, she carefully picked it up, folded it and tucked it neatly into her purse. As her eyes welled with tears, Hermione kicked out of her shoes and lay down on the bed, drawing her knees to her chest, blocking out the memories of the last time she'd lain here.

They'd been seventeen and stupid. Hormones were running high. But neither cared that they could get caught at any time. They'd fallen into the bed, clutching at each other as if that was the only thing keeping them from flying to pieces. As Ron yanked back the blankets, Hermione tugged and yanked at his shirt until it was off, then, she tossed it to the floor and sealed her mouth to his. Meanwhile, Ron's hands worked them under her shirt and were slowly working their way up her shirt. In moments, both of them were undressed, sweating and gasping for air. As Ron pressed his forehead to hers, Hermione stared up at him, brown eyes wide as she watched his face. Then, the pain, sharp, quick and then nothing but Ron. Then all she saw was Ron's face, all she heard was his voice, telling her he loved her, how beautiful she was, how he would always take care of her...

Hermione woke with a start, tears slipping from her eyes and drenching the pillow as she stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly, the feeling of hatred and pain overwhelmed her and she sat up slowly, looked around the room then stood, grabbed her purse and started down stairs quickly. "George! Fred!" she shrieked, coming to a stop in the living room. She stood there and waited for them to turn. When they did, she tilted her head. "We're going to need more than just Ministry help if we're going to do this. We need the help of everyone." Fred and George were speechless. Then, as if something had clicked in their brains, the nodded and immediately disappeared. Then she turned to Percy. "This can't get out at the Ministry." At Percy's nod, she smiled faintly then disappeared back to her own apartment in London.