Disclaimer: OK, you know the drill: I own nothing, except this paper clip and a couple of pieces of pocket lint.

AN: My apologies, I had meant to post this earlier, but my family went on holiday and I was delayed. You may also note, that my style of writing may change slightly between chapters- this is due to the style of whatever author I've been reading at the time. Now let's get back to ruining Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Draco's lives.

Chapter 2- After the tears

For Hermione, the week after Ron's death was remembered in flashes. For a while she lost all sense of self and fell into the vast emptiness. It wasn't until almost 5 days of half life had passed that Harry came.

She was staring out the window of the kitchen, watching the shadows move slowly across the ground. But she felt no need to glory in the remaining sunlight, for the light clashed so terribly with her broken sprit.

"Hermione."

Her conscious snapped and she looked blindly for the source of the noise: Green eyes swam into her vision. She blinked wearily at him, not really caring what he had come to say, because she'd lost all her purpose when Ron had died.

"Hello Harry."

"Hermione… You're not well. You're not eating…You barely sleep. Everyone's worried about you… I know you're upset, but Ron wouldn't want this."

"I'm not upset, Harry. I'm angry. And I'll never know what Ron wanted because he's dead! And not just dead- murdered! By those…Snakes! But I'll get them! By the time I'm finished with them they won't even be able to find the way to hell! They'll pay for what they did to Ron!"

"Hermione I understand. But we can't go hunting down every Death Eater right now. There are more important things that have to be taken care of."

"The horcruxes."

"Yes, the horcruxes- we need to find them if we're ever going to defeat Voldemort."

"Voldemort," spat Hermione, "all this is because of him. He needs to die Harry. Somebody needs to kill him!"

"Yes," said Harry shortly, "and in case you've forgotten- that someone is me. I need you right now, Hermione. I've already lost Ron: We both have. Don't say I've lost you too- I can't do this without you"

Hermione looked at him. He wasn't asking her to forget Ron or to release her hate. He was asking her to help him- help him get revenge for what had been taken from them. He was giving her a purpose.

"Of course Harry. We'll get them. For what they did to Ron, they'll die."

Draco closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair…. How much he wanted to sleep right now.

But he couldn't- not unless he wanted to leave these reports unfinished.

Since his father's capture and death the year before, Draco had taken over the Malfoy estate, as well as many of its businesses and investments. Which had resulted in late nights… that continued into early mornings… which ended in tired days.

The main problem was that his father had not cared for the work involved. Consequently, many of the companies had fallen into disrepute. They had started to flourish again now that Draco was in charge, but there was still a long road ahead.

He sighed. The door opened and a groggy Narcissa blinked at him. "Draco, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"Just finishing these reports Mother."

"You should be in bed."

Draco looked at his mother. She still stood the same proud woman she always had, and he doubted anyone had noticed a difference. He, however, could not fail to see the weight lost from her scant form. Or, indeed, the harsh lines that had cornered her eyes and mouth.

His mother had taken the death of his father hard, although he himself had found it a blessing. And now, after all her devastation of the last year, she still insisted on worrying about him as well.

"I'm fine Mother. I'm almost finished anyway. You should go to bed."

She nodded, still looking concerned. "If you're sure Draco. Sleep soon, OK?

"I will" he promised.

The door shut behind her and Draco lay his head on the desk. The cold mahogany served to wake his drowsy mind slightly. Unbidden, the still fresh memories of the past week surged beneath his conscious.

Prevalent in his mind was the image of Weasley's empty face.

Malfoy put his head in his hands, fighting off the revulsion. Wasn't it bad enough that he dreamed about the countless dead? Must they haunt him in his waking hours as well? He hadn't even killed Weasley- why then, did his death plague him so?

"He was a git." He whispered, trying to convince himself it was true. "He was a git and a traitor. I don't care he is dead. I-I'm glad."

Distaste filled his mouth. It was one thing to hate Weasley while he was alive, but to insult the dead seemed cowardly and childish. Anyway, had he really hated him that much? Yes. His mind answered him immediately. You detested him.

Fool that he'd been, Draco had thought that the squabbles of children filled the world, knowing little of the true evil that could lurk in the hearts of men.

You're wrong. He thought to his mind. HE isn't human.

Ginny looked at him. "When are you leaving?" she asked calmly.

"Tomorrow" Harry replied, bending over his bag. "Early, so that they don't try to follow us."

"I'm coming" said Ginny.

"No." How could she not understand? How could she not realise how hard it was for him not to even hold her? He was doing this to protect her. Why must she fight him at every turn? "You can't- it's too dangerous."

He knew immediately that he'd made a grave mistake.

Her voice froze and each syllable shook slightly. "Do not think you can tell me what I can and cannot do Harry Potter. I'm only a year younger than yourself. I've seen just as much hardship. For all you think of Hermione and Ron-" he flinched at the name, "-they have never faced him. I have. Or have you forgotten what I endured those long years ago? This is just as much my fight as it is yours. I'm coming."

"Ginny!" he said, begging her to understand. "It's not that I don't think that you're brave or that you can't take care of yourself, but if we do this, he will target you. We both know that he'd do anything to get at me. I won't have you die because I love you."

"Harry," she said, though her voice had softened, "do you really think he'll spare me if we're not together? I'm already a target, simply because I'm your friend and ally. He knows my mind as he does yours- we both felt him inside of us; we've both felt the fear and rage of that. Yet you would deny me the chance to get revenge for those who have died at his hand? If he wins- we both know I'll be killed anyway. I'd rather die with you than hiding like a coward. Can't you understand that?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"And you'll let me come?"

He reached, tangling his fingers in her flaming hair, and he looked into her eyes and met the iron fire of her will. He sighed. "If you must."