A/N: Well, I realize I already have one out, but I like the detail I actually put into this one. I was not in a good mood one night, and this is what I got out of that bad mood. So, enjoy.

What More Can I Say?

Prologue Losing Someone Is Harder Than You Think

A clouded look appeared in the girl's eyes as she lay on the stairs, unmoving, but still breathing.. barely. A voice broke through the swimming pool of thoughts, 'Ginny! You have to get up! Ginny!' it screamed frantically. And something was pushing her, prodding her, pulling her.. But she didn't want to get up. She needed to rest.. she needed to sleep, if only for a few minutes..

"Ginny!" Hermione screamed as her friend slowly closed her eyes. Hermione was battered, bruised, and torn, but she didn't go through all this hell just to lose her best friend. No, she went through all this hell so everyone could keep living on, and live in peace..

"Ginny! Wake up, please, just wake up," Hermione pleaded desperately, dropping to her knees beside her fallen friend, crying heavily, holding the girl in her arms.

"Ginny.. you have to get up.." Hermione whispered again, closing her eyes as she put her head on Ginny's shoulder, torso heaving with sobs.

"Hermione, it's too late.." Ron whispered, voice laced with tears.

"Its never too late! Don't you ever think that Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, looking up at her friend with furious eyes, "She's not dead.. she's not dead.."

That one day stole Hermione's best friends from the world.. from the promise she had made, and from her blossoming life. Now, if you see Hermione Granger on the street, nothing is held in her eyes. Nothing but wished death.. nothing but sorrow, and a void that needed to be filled, but couldn't.

Hermione Granger was dead inside.

Chapter 1

Retaliation

Hermione Granger walked quickly through the streets of Diagon Alley, staring blankly at the people who peered at her as if she had some kind of illness and they had the curtesy not to point it out whilst she was standing right in front of them.

'Let them wonder why I'm no longer with Ron and Harry, let them wonder what happened.. but they'll never know.. they'll never understand..' Hermione thought bitterly as she pushed her way into Flourish and Blotts, making her way to the back, where a small reading section had been erected for people who wished to read during their visit.

A slender hand pulled a copy of Whilst I Think Of You from her bag as she settled into a large, over-stuffed, burgundy couch, her head resting lightly on the arm as she laid her body out on the rest. A small sigh pushed through her pale pink lips as she opened to her current page, and started reading furiously.

The book was generally about a girl who had lost her best friend to famine in the late 1500's, making Hermione wonder if this related to her own current situation.. and the more she thought of it, the more it made sense to her.. because of Ginny.

Eyebrows furrowed as she reached a sappy part of her chapter, and she stopped reading abruptly, slamming the hard-back shut as she sat up on the couch. She didn't want a hopeless romantic, she wanted a serious, straight-to-the-point story about.. well, her situation. Something that might help her cope, something that might make the pain finally go away.

And, as she stood, and started searching, a thought came to mind. Where were Ron and Harry now? It had been quite a few months since the final war, and Harry was probably living it up in some famous Wizarding Community.. while Ron was probably still moping about the Burrow with his family..

And where was Hermione? Living her life day-to-day, never looking for adventure anymore, never wondering why she was there, never questioning why she lived this way. Never questioning what Ginny would think of the pathetic life she lived if she were alive. Never wondering why she didn't try and move on.. never actually able to move on.

Fingers ran across the spines of books, stopping on a certain one here and there, but never actually pulling one from its shelf.. until she reached the black book with gold lettering. Until that gold lettering caught her eye.. and the title fit just perfectly to what she was thinking.

What If You Had Lived?

It came so close to her own reality, it was almost scary.. yet so taunting and tantalizing. Hermione pulled the book from its shelf casually, skimming through the front cover and skipping the dedications.. most of them, at least. One of them caught her eye..

'To all those out there that think losing someone very close is where their life ends.. well, it doesn't. Don't throw your life away.. do you think they would have wanted it?'

Hermione's caramel eyes filled to the brim with tears as she stared at the dedication for a few minutes, wondering whether the book was magical to fit the mood of the person, and their past experiences.. their thoughts.

And, without a second thought to it, Hermione grabbed her stuff and marched right up to the desk and bought the book. She'd be damned to miss such a good read as this one, and she be damned if she continued her life this way without at least skimming the book first.

As soon as the book was bought, Hermione marched out of Flourish and Blotts, then spun around on one foot, clinging tightly to her newly bought purchase, and apparated back to her flat in Birmingham, England, hoping all the while that the book, whatever it was, would help her get out of the swirling vortex her life was now..

Draco Malfoy heaved a heavy sigh as he walked out onto his balcony, placing his pale hands into the pockets of his slacks, and staring over the grounds that were now his, and the only thing he had left of his father. The only thing that gave any evidence to whether his father had actually been here or not.

No, his father hadn't died, yet. But he was in Azkaban, and legally, since his father was there for life, all the inheritance, lands, and businesses got dropped right onto Draco's unsuspecting lap. Maybe he wasn't ready for any of this, and maybe he wasn't grown-up enough to deal with any of it. But he had to, and he didn't have a choice nor say in the matter. At all.

He could still remember the day perfectly, when he had received the news of his father's imprisonment.. and his mother's death. He had remembered all too well the surprised, anger, and shame he had felt at that exact moment when he really thought about it. Every fleeting emotion, the pride and dignity, giving way to the irresponsibility and disrespect his father had brought the Malfoy name.

But most of all.. he still remembered the hate he had felt so strongly.

He still remembered, quite clearly, the sadness in his mother's eyes when she found out he had been imprisoned.. the guilt, and more shame. Draco remember well the sound of his mother's screams later that night when Nott had tortured her to death.. and then made Draco watch him finally finish her off.

Yes, he had felt sadness, anger, and unreputed fury surging through his veins. The very same fury that had helped Draco commit the very first crime in his adolescent life. He had murdered Theodore Nott because Nott had killed his own mother.

And now, Draco lived with the guilt of everything. The guilt of his father's imprisonment, something he felt he could have stopped, and his mother's death.. something he knew he could have stopped, something he would have stopped if he had known it was going on in his very own home.. and now the guilt that he had taken another human being's life.

And he knew that guilt would never leave.

So, now, Draco stared down at the forest that surrounded his home, wondering why he had been given all this so early. Wondering why his father had been so foolish as to get caught, and wondering why he hadn't been taught all the skills of running an estate and over three dozen businesses earlier on.

But most of all, wondering how he had gotten here today.

And he knew the exact answer to that; it was all his father's fault.

His father's fault he had never taught Draco even the basics of this, his father's fault he was in prison, his father's fault his mother had gotten killed as a punishment to the family, his father's fault Draco felt all this confusion inside. His father's fault that Draco felt like this..

.. but Draco's fault he kept the feeling alive with hate, rage, and despondency.

Draco only had himself to blame for any of this. Only himself to blame.. and now he only blamed himself. It was a retaliation to his father's wishes.. Draco now knew the entire Malfoy fortune lay in his lap.. and he was going to waste it, and himself away in the process..

Just out of fucking retaliation.