Chapter 1-

The War was over now, and the Dark Lord had been defeated. In his final moments, however, the world that he had tried so hard to conquer shattered under the force of his powers when the last second came. What was left were the remains of life…the remains of humanity. Ron had survived that attack when no one else in his family, save Ginny, Fred, and George, had. In their loneliness, their relationships had thrived…but there was a craving that took over the very depths of Ron's soul that he could never share with them. Instead, there was someone else who had occupied his thoughts every second of every day. For years, he had dreamed of nothing but a lifetime with her. He needed her…more than she could ever need him. Ron knew this. Even as they would walk down the halls together when they were in school, even as they became the closest of friends…he knew this. Now it'd been years since he had seen her. When the War ended, Ron had contacted Harry in hopes of trying to find the third part of their trio. Hermione was nowhere to be found. Ron had looked everywhere for his lost love…but that's exactly what she was- lost.

Hermione had survived the war, though this was not to Ron, nor Harry's, knowledge. She now lived in the ghettos, down Knockturn Alley. She was a nameless, faceless creature that had turned to a life of sin when her world came crumbling around her shoulders. Her identity was a mystery, even to her now. Her life was that of the prostitutes that slunk around the alleyways, hoping to tempt passerby that were too deep in their cups to notice the exhaustion written in the lines in their faces; hoping to God that this time would be the time to make the pain and the shame go away. Hermione knew, deep down, knew that the shame would not go away…she knew it would haunt her until she died, and she prayed that day came soon. There was no spark in her eyes anymore; no more was the passion for knowledge that had been with her in younger days. Alone and friendless, Hermione lived out her days in endless squalor and tried to remember what it was like to smile. She remembered Harry…and how he always knew how to make her feel better, no matter what. She remembered Ron and his wonderful sense of humor. She remembered her best friends and her school days…but when she woke up, every memory disappeared until Hermione was left sobbing in her bed, wondering where her life had gone…and it was then that she would rise from bed, outline her eyes in the blackest of pencil, redden her lips until she thought they were bleeding, and dress to walk the streets.

Ron knew he shouldn't be doing this. This was not the way to deal with things…not the way to try to rebuild a normal existence. Fred had suggested it as a way to deal with his cravings, to try to put out the monsters that ate up his heart. Still, Ron had protested, he didn't want to go to a whorehouse to get out of his system. But here he was, nervous and sweating, with Fred standing next to him, eyeing the women on the street.

"Ron, would you look at this?" Fred asked him, elbowing him in the side.

"Look at what? All these painted sluts waiting for a eager customer?" Ron answered bitterly.

"Ron, I know you wish you could find Hermione, and I know you wish the old days were back…but don't we all?" Fred said wistfully, sighing at the thought of his parents and older siblings.

"I just…I need her, Fred. George is lucky- he has Angelina. You're lucky, because you don't care. But…I need her. I can't believe that she's gone- not and try to go on living."

"Then pretend that tonight has nothing to do with living, and everything to do with having a good time. Trust me, you'll feel better afterward. You need to try to start putting your life back together, Ron. I'm sure Hermione isn't the only woman in the world for you."

Ron refused to acknowledge the comment, and instead, stepped boldly forward into the throng of people crowding Knockturn Alley. There were women everywhere. Some were beautiful, and looked as though they didn't belong with real hookers. Some looked scared and unsure, as though they couldn't believe this was the hand life had dealt them. Some of them, however, looked as though they belonged here- they were beautiful and ugly, slim and plump, with hard cold eyes and an unsmiling mouth. They knew they were there to tease and tempt, to make men get down on their knees and beg for the things they'd only dreamed of.

And then, out of the crowd, came a familiar face. Her hair was sleek and brown, and her eyes were outlined in dark black liner. Her lips were deep red, just ripe to be kissed. She was wearing a black leather corset top that displayed magnificent breasts that spilled out of her top. Her miniskirt showed the outline of a perfect ass, and her tall boots fit snugly to long, toned legs. She was the shadow of a stranger…and Ron knew he should know her. He didn't, however- but she was close enough to the real thing. Maybe it could ease his pain.

"Hey, you, babe." Ron called out to her, sounding more confident then he felt. He knew he would normally never act this way around women, never mind sleep with a prostitute…but the War had changed everyone.

She turned around and raised an eyebrow. She strode toward him until they were so close that he could feel her breath on his neck.

"What can I do for you tonight, sugar?" she asked him.

"You free for the night?" Ron asked before he lost his nerve.

"Yeah. Ya got fifty Galleons?" she questioned.

Fifty? Was she bloody mad? Without a word, Ron shuffled into his pockets until he found what he knew would not suffice- ten Sickles.

"This is all I have…" he started, but then she put her finger to his lips.

"It's fine…besides, you remind me of someone…but don't worry. You ready?" she asked him softly.

Ron nodded. She took his hand and led him down the alleyway to a decrepit old apartment building. She led up the first two flights of stairs and into her apartment. As she cleaned up the wobbly old coffee table absentmindedly, she asked,

"So, any type of specialty you prefer?"

"Um…I don't know…it's kind of been a while, what with You-Know-Who and all…" Ron trailed off.

She flinched visibly at the mention of the Dark Lord, but said nothing.

"Yeah. Well, um, the bedroom is over here," and then she led him into the bedroom.