Prologue

The war had raged for years now, she had lost count of how long it had been. Time was obsolete to her, everyday was a struggle to keep going. Neither side had advanced, neither had the upper hand. It was an endless string of fruitless battles, where the casualties mounted every time. The dead were never forgotten, but in a way never remembered. They became just another expendable asset. There wasn't time to mourn. There was to much to do, Harry and Ron still had not found the final Horcrux, that one final piece of Voldemort's soul. Harry had become a hero, as had been predicted, but as a man, he had hardened, the loss of Ginny to the enemy had destroyed him and he had built an icy wall around himself that no-one could penetrate. He had sworn vengeance on the one that had stolen her from him, Blaise Zabini, but he had disappeared, for going on two years now. Rumour had it that he had seconded himself and Ginny to the mountains in Italy, his homeland, but searches had been conducted and nothing was found. Hermione hadn't heard from him since that night at Hogwarts. Just another person who had abandoned her. She was surprised herself that she was still standing, but her strength had won out, her will to live. Not that you could call her life living. Everyday she locked herself away with her books, researching, scouring every inch of what seemed like every book ever written to find that last clue, the one that would lead them to the Horcrux and the conclusion of this bloody war. Not even Ron, her husband, could get through to her, not that she thought of him that way at all. A marriage of convenience. After that night at Hogwarts, Harry had given her a choice, stay and be loyal, marry Ron, pop out a couple of mini wizards and live her life with them, or leave and get an Avada Kedevra in the back. She chose the former, though the mini wizards were not going to happen. She couldn't stand having Ron touch her, every thing about him made her sick to the stomach. She was trapped by a loveless marriage, with no where else to go. Draco was dead, she had nothing.

Chapter One

"RED!" He yelled up the stairs,

"WHAT?!" Came the reply, he huffed,

"CHRIST WOMAN, COME THE FUCK ON! WE'RE GOING TO LATE!" Blaise Zabini, six years out of school, as handsome as ever, stood in the hall of a vast mansion home, waiting for his wife to finish doing her hair or whatever the fuck it was she was doing. He drew out a cigarette from his pocket and bought it to his lips, flaring it up immediately with a flick of his finger. He dragged the smoke into his lungs, hoping to ease the stress of the fact that the Dark Lord was going to have his balls if they didn't get going sooner or later. After all it was them that had requested the meeting, and to keep him waiting, well, was the ultimate insult. A movement at the top of the stairs drew his gaze, and there she was, his beautiful wife. Formerly the daughter of a blood traitor, the girlfriend of a hero, now was the wife of one of the most wanted men in the country, the Dark Lord's right hand man, or one of them anyway. No matter how annoyed he was at her, he couldn't hurry her along now, the sight of her still made his breath hitch in his throat. She descended the grand staircase and sauntered into his waiting arms, where he bent his head and took her lips in a searing kiss. The length of time she had been with him did nothing to diminish the fact that he could still kindle the fire that raged within her, he was her everything and she would not for one second think of having it any other way. He drew back and whispered huskily,

"As much as I'd like to ravish you right here my darling, we have to go. Mustn't keep the Dark Lord waiting, oh no." She tilted her head back towards the staircase,

"He not coming then?" Blaise shook his head, and said nothing more. Their host wasn't exactly a hot topic of conversation, Blaise didn't like to talk about him or talk to him even. Any conversation that was had usually ended in a slanging match and he really didn't have the energy for that this morning. He held out his arm for Ginny, who took it willingly and they both apparated out to meet their Lord. Landing with practiced elegance in the courtyard of the centuries old castle that was their new Headquarters, the Riddle house had been destroyed in a battle past. The castle was magnificent, situated in some ancient place in the heart of the Romanian countryside, it was the relic of a time past, the home of some centuries old warlord. Now it was seeing another battle, one of greater magnitude, of more import. Blaise looked around, scurrying towards them was Wormtail, still alive, unfortunately, but still as pathetic as ever. He bowed low, his nose almost banging the floor, then straightened, not meeting Blaise's gaze though, the rat was too afraid of him to have the audacity,

"Mister Zabini, Madame, welcome back. The Dark Lord is awaiting you in the West library." The only drawback to the castle was that it was like a fucking maze, it was West this and East that, the North bloody tower. He needed a fucking map every time he came here. They walked in the vague right direction, before Wormtail piped up again, "He was expecting three of you." Blaise grimaced, and said,

"Yeah well, he's just going to have to deal with two of us." Wormtail said nothing more, from what he knew of Zabini's host, was that the man did things on his terms or not at all, summoning him wasn't worth shit anymore. Thankfully the rat led them to the correct door, knocking three times before leaving them, and scuttling off into the darkness. The door creaked open and Blaise and Ginny stepped through it into the vast library. The Dark Lord emerged from the shadows, looking less human then ever, the years of constant battles had worn him and his remaining humanity was dwindling by the day. However, he still held a commanding presence. Blaise inclined his head in a sort of bow, and Ginny bent her leg and curtseyed gracefully. Voldemort's features cracked an admiring smile,

"My dear Ginny, how beautiful you look, and Blaise, it has been too long, you look well," He looked past them, as if expecting someone else to appear, then when they didn't, he frowned, "I take it you are here without..."

"He didn't feel it necessary for him to accompany us," Blaise cut him off before he could finish, risky, but he couldn't give a fuck about being rude. Voldemort, however seemed unfazed by the interruption,

"Ah well, I hear you have some news for me?" He gestured for them to take a seat on the sofa, before seating himself on the armchair by the flickering firelight, Blaise lent forward and said,

"We have a lead. But its tricky, it'll take us back to London. With the Ministry rebuilt, it'll be harder for us to slip by unnoticed. I wasn't sure whether you would want us to proceed, considering the risks, and..." he trailed off, Ginny took his hand, then spoke herself,

"What he means is, our illustrious host has voiced certain concerns about the validity of the information, and he's not sure whether its worth it." Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, for the Dark Lord rose and drew himself to his full height,

"I am tiring of his insubordination! It has gone on long enough! I tolerated it for this long because of the importance that he has to my cause, but no more! You can tell him that if he is not standing in front of me first thing tomorrow morning I will have his head. Do I make myself clear?!" Blaise and Ginny nodded, Voldemort sat again, his demeanor shifting faster then lightning,

"Good, now, my dear friends, you shall go to London. Stay undercover, unseen. Carry out my orders, and take back what is mine. Keep it safe, and bring it to me." He stood up again, then left them sitting there. Blaise stood up and paced,

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!" His mind was on two things, how the hell they were going to steal something from right under Potter's nose and what the fuck was going to happen when they got home and told him what Voldemort had ordered. Ginny apparently had the same thing in mind, for she said,

"He is not going to like this." Blaise looked at her and smiled darkly, taking her hand they apparated out to face a dragons wrath.

"There has to be something new to go on! Its been fucking days!" Harry was yelling at her. He had bought her information two weeks ago and asked her to look into it. After endless research, she hadn't come up with much, which, of course made Harry mad.

"Its not my bloody fault! Maybe if you had given me more to go on, I could've done more to help!" She yelled back. They were standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, after years of war the Dark Lord still hadn't discovered the whereabouts of their Headquarters, for which they were grateful.

"Don't blame me! If you got of your arse and came out with us, we might do better! But no, you'd rather sit around here, feeling sorry for yourself. Well, fuck you, you selfish bitch!" Most of their conversations in the last six years had been along similar lines. She'd never forgiven him for what he had done, and he knew it. They hadn't ever gone back to being how it had been before. She didn't care though, they meant nothing to her anymore, she had had a taste of something else and it had ruined her. She knew she had spaced out before he started shouting at her for it, "You're not even fucking listening! Why do you stay here, huh?! You obviously don't want to be, we'd be better off without you!" She shook her head,

"I've explained to you before Potter. I'm here because I truly want this over." He scoffed,

"So you run back to Zabini the first chance you get?!" This enraged her, hearing even Blaise's name these days grated on her,

"Don't you dare! I married Ron didn't I? I did what you wanted, what more do you fucking want from me?!" He advanced on her, eyes flashing with menace,

"I want you to appreciate what I did for you. I want you to show some god damn team spirit, work your hardest. I want you to squeeze every last drop from every piece of information I give you. Do you think you can do that?" If she didn't find his audacity so offensive, she may have found herself crying,

"Appreciate what you did? Your noble act, saving me?! You murdered the man I loved, killed him in front of my eyes! And you expect me to be grateful?! I work my arse off for you in that library! How else do you think you found the other Horcruxes?! You and Ron can't find a thing unless its staring you in the face! You should the one who's grateful to me!" He was in front of her now, towering over her, but somehow she seemed like the bigger person. The door to the kitchen swung open and Lupin and Tonks walked through it, Lupin shook his head at the pair,

"Christ, you two aren't having the same argument again are you?" Hermione's head snapped towards him,

"Keep out of it!" Lupin raised his hands, in mock defeat,

"Yeah, okay, just keep it down will you. Teddy is sleeping." Tonks had had a child three years into the war, why they would have wanted to bring a child into such a world was beyond Hermione, it seemed like a damn ridiculous thing to do. So no compassion there then. Hermione stormed from the room and locked herself in the library again, this was her sanctuary, as it always had been, even when she was at school. It was her place to let go, to be what she wanted and to mourn for her losses. She could still feel him, even after six years, even after her perfect delusion of him she had had at her wedding. That flash of white blond hair, a shadowy figure lingering in the background. Still she was unsure whether it was real, or just a cruel reminder that she had betrayed him by marrying one of his killers. Everyday she had hoped though, that maybe, just maybe somehow he had survived, and was finding a way back to her. But those hopes had grown cold as time progressed, he wasn't coming back for her. She looked down at the table in front of her, books lay strewn open across it, she picked one up, and hurled it at the wall. The same followed for the other ten. Finally she broke down, collapsing against the shelves, clutching his ring that had never been removed from chain around her neck, she sobbed for her love lost.

"Wake up Angel." She blinked, "Wake up," her eyes opened. Took in her surroundings, a forest, twilight. She looked up, grey eyes stared down at her. That smirk,

"Draco?" He held out his hand and pulled her into his arms. She held on tight, bewildered,

"How?" She whispered, he chuckled, that soft laugh that warmed her heart,

"It doesn't matter. We're here, enjoy it whilst it lasts." She leant back,

"Whilst it lasts?" He looked away,

"I can't stay," She clung to him tighter,

"Stay. Stay with me please." He bent, kissed her slowly,

"Soon, my love. Soon. I'll find you." Then he let go and walked back into the darkness. She screamed his name, tried to follow but she was rooted to the spot. An invisible arm dragged her backwards,

"Draco! Come back, come back to me!"

She woke to feel the cold ground against her back, icy tears were still rolling down her face. She had had the dream before, always the same, he always left her, and he always promised her. She used to think that dreams could predict the outcome of the future, they had brought her and Draco together, they had torn them apart, but they had always been right. Not this time, this recurrent dream had no future, hell how could it? Picking herself up, she tidied up and then slipped through the house unnoticed, and went to her bedroom. Ron was out on a mission, so she had the bed to herself. Sinking down, she curled in a ball and fell straight to sleep.

The sun had only just dipped below the mountains, bathing the ground in a dim orange light. The temperature was dropping fast and snow was beginning to fall, cascading to the ground with a delicate grace. Winter was coming, though it seemed like winter never ended here. It was always cold, always dead. Nothing could thrive here, except the darkness that crept ever steadily, casting a shadow over the world. He watched the sun disappear from his window, sinking lower and lower, until the sky was plunged into an inky black. The swirling clouds were tinged silver by the light of the moon and the night was still. If he didn't know better he would say that this scene was beautiful, the snow falling, the moon in the air, but the danger of the world lurked on the edge, the oncoming storm of battle yet to be fought, of lives yet to be lost. He flared up a cigarette, the light from the tip illuminating the gloom. He heard the wolves cry out, baying for blood. They'd find it soon enough, then their howls of triumph would celebrate until the dawn came. He shivered, turning towards the fireplace, he swept a hand at it, flames began to crackle in the grate and the room was lit in a soft, warm glow. He went to the fireside, and sat in the armchair, slouching with practiced, aristocratic ease. The flames dancing in the hearth transfixed him, they reminded him of her. The hot, fiery passion they shared, the sparks that flew when they touched. He cut of that train, it angered him to much. It had been six years, six years of waiting. He was getting tired of it. The Dark Lord was gaining ground, and that's when he would strike. The last Horcrux was within his grasp and then, only then would he reveal himself. Then he would go to her and together they'd drag down every person that slighted them. His lip curled into a smirk, and his eyes darkened black, the flames continued their dance,

"Soon, my love. Soon." He whispered.