A/N: Hello all, this was quite a quick update in my opinion! I should be doing other things instead of writing but eh. Here you are.

Thank you to: Plauged Dark Thoughts, Jade2009, tfobmv18, ICorona23 for reviewing.

And also, thank you to everyone who favourited and alerted

Chapter Fourteen: The Scandal of the Century

Draco: Twenty Four Hours to Deadline

I was angry all the time now. It coursed through my veins like blood, running me, sustaining me. Having me believe that this is the way to live. Perhaps it was, I don't know, really. But I had never felt so determined, so alive, and so vengeful. Things needed to be done, and my anger was the best fuel to make it happen.

The bastard would go down in flames.

If I didn't manage this perfectly, there was no way I could live. The fear, the guilt, the horror would consume me. Claw at my insides until it found a way out of my skin, seeping right through the pores. He simply had to be destroyed because killing him was not an option.

Killing him would upset Hermione when she would wake. And she would wake. There was no question about that, now. If she didn't, then my very existence was futile... meaningless. The thought made me dizzy, so much so that I would have to halt and sit myself down until the nervous tremors wracking my body had settled. Then I could go on with what needed to be done.

I can't live without her.

It had only been a few short weeks but of this much I was certain. There was no life for me beyond Hermione Granger and returning to the empty shell of an existence I had been living before her was simply not an option anymore. It was her or death. Let fate be kind and join us in the void that is death... Beneath the hot, pulsing anger that was ever present, shrouding me like a blanket, there lay the cold fear of losing her. I would shiver involuntarily. Could life be so cruel, to give me such a joy and then to snatch it away so shortly?

But this is why retribution was so important. It could perhaps convince her to wake. Convince her to return to me. Beyond this, I was told there was nothing I could do. Yet I sat with her, every spare moment I had. I was loathe to leave her for even a second, but it was all necessary.

In the name of retribution.

Hermione:

When I opened my eyes I found myself sitting at my usual study desk in the Hogwarts Library. At first I was under the impression I was dreaming of the better days, but then Riddle appeared, strolling out from behind one of the many towering shelves of books and I realized grudgingly that this wasn't over yet.

"You are quite a studious nerd, aren't you? If this is your comfort zone..."

"Hey, you smarmy git, don't judge. I know it was yours too," I retorted back to which he smirked.

"Mind your language, Hermione, I don't tolerate impertinence," he said imperiously, though I had a feeling he was joking with me. Maybe it was the smirk.

"So, why are we here?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

"This is your receptive place."

Great. My receptive place? Why was he never clear about what he was saying? I mean, did he really want me to go beyond or wherever the hell you go when you're truly dead? Honestly! As if I haven't suffered enough being shoved down the goddamned stairs and into a near death – coma? Whatever. If he wasn't going to be helpful-

He sighed. "At the very least, you've held your tongue."

My mouth dropped open. He could hear my thoughts? What the hell – this is...intrusion!

"Intrusion or not, perhaps you ought to allow me to explain before you continue to rant within your mind, if you can control yourself, that is," he offered, with an eyebrow raised. This man was really starting to get on my goddamn nerves. When that thought crossed my mind though, his smirk became more pronounced.

"This place is the place of transmission. It is the centre of this world, and it is the connection between all other worlds. Everything is passed through here, quite like a tunnel. Everything is open here, and if you were to properly meld yourself, like you will do in a moment, you will ... receive, for lack of a better description."

Well, wasn't this just messed up?

"Receive what, exactly?" I asked, stiffly, still slightly miffed he had been intruding in my mind.

"I couldn't possibly know what you're here to receive. That is for you to know and only you," he paused. "And I'll have you know it isn't me prodding around in your mind, everything in this particular room is projected, available for viewing to those that are welcome within it."

"You mean, the Hogwarts Library?" If that were true, it would make a lot of sense how I got all of my work done back in the day...if all you had to do was concentrate...

"Not exactly. For those who do not belong in this world, once they enter, they project their ideas and subconscious onto it. It's quite an enigma, really. Almost like a dream..." he faded. Leaving me to wonder what exactly he was thinking.

"So, why can't I hear your thoughts, then?" He jumped a little, startled.

"Firstly, you are not concentrating and searching what you came here for and secondly, I know how to protect my mind properly, unlike yourself," he responded, curtly. He got up, bowed slightly to me and started to walk off. I stood up but he called back to me, "Stay, concentrate, get what you came here for. I shall be waiting for you outside, if my presence is needed. If we do not meet again, it was a pleasure, Ms. Granger. I've heard quite a lot about you." Before I could respond with anything, he was gone.

Great... now what?

I took in a deep breath and attempted to do what was expected of me. I attempted to focus, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to be doing. Concentrate on what? I instinctively knew I was running short on time, but riddle hadn't told me what I was supposed to be looking for. What does one concentrate on? Minutes passed and a sense of urgency began to build within me. I closed my eyes and attempted to figure it all out, but it was rather futile.

Alright. Well, what would Draco do if he were here?

Now that was something I could concentrate on. Breathing in slowly, I imagined him sitting in front of me, staring at me critically. "Analyze the situation, obviously. Honestly, Granger, calm the hell down. Don't run from the problem, chase it."

Analyze the situation... that was a good place to start.

What did I know? I knew I was in a world that was in between world. A place where seers get their prophecies from. And since I wasn't a seer, I don't have a connection to this world. So I was here...to get a prophecy? That made sense. Yes, that really did.

I closed my eyes again and tried to focus on just Draco. "Aren't you bright? See how being calm gets you places? Now all you need to do is continue to think of a solution. Logic, now, Granger. It hasn't failed you yet." I smiled to myself, missing him terribly. I could do this. I needed to do this for Draco. I had to see him again. I took a deep breath and returned to the problem at hand.

Riddle had said that this was a room that connected all worlds, sort of like a funnel. So, logically, if I were to get a prophecy it would be here. Right? And things were projected here, if I chose to look for them. If I concentrated.

So really, all I had to do was clear my mind and search. It was rather simple, wasn't it? I cleared my mind and attempted to search for an answer. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Nothing happened! I suppose I couldn't rush this. Things can't exactly be rushed...yes, I shouldn't panic.

An hour passed, then two, then three but I still remained just empty, no question that this was an insane endeavour. This was hopeless. Hitting my head against the mahogany desk, I groaned.

I was never going to get out of here.

Draco: 4 hours to Deadline

I had a productive day.

First came the court hearing, which I supposed I'd nailed perfectly. It was a brilliant victory, one of the many that I'd won in the past few hours. But it was the first and it set my mood for the day. It made me feel joyous.

Had the trail been open to the public, this would have been the event of the year.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, Resident of 146 South Ealing Road, Westminster,?" Yes, it was confirmed that he was indeed the accused. "Charges against the accused: Assault causing bodily harm of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, unlawful restraining of Mr. Malfoy, threats to both Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger and misuse of your powers as an Auror. Has the accused have any witnesses to speak at this trial?"

The accused had no witnesses to speak of. Cat in the bag.

"May the evidence be presented, then," spoke the head of the Wizegmont, who for the first time, did not seem bored of his job.

First came Potter, as if any more evidence was needed. Anything that came out of the mouth of The Boy Who Defeated the Darkest Wizard of All Time was good enough for the rest of us.

"Harry James Potter of Number 12 Grimauld Place, London?"

"Yes," he responded timidly, as if just by being here he was betraying his friend of however many years. In essence, he was, but even Potter knew the bastard deserved to be punished.

"Please describe the events on the evening of December 31st, if you will."

"I was attending a party thrown by the Weasleys to celebrate the New Year. The holidays had been going quite well in general up to that point..." he paused, as if not sure how to continue, but he was prodded to continue. "Well, Hermione, as you might know had been visiting from America and Draco had come with her. We were all staying at the Weasley's house. During the party, well... Draco went missing after he had given a toast. Hermione became worried, so we went to look for him."

"What happened, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, we found him out by the pond. He was tied up and thrown into the lake. Ron, I mean, Mr. Weasley, had been standing there with his wand pointed at him saying things to the effect that Draco was a useless...well, you get the picture, I'm sure," he said, uncomfortably. He glanced over at me and I nodded. I hoped I had reassured him that this was a good idea.

"And what happened when Mr. Weasley visited you at your home three days ago?" he was asked. ended up arguing. I decided that I hadn't wanted any part of it, so I went to my kitchen." He paused again, as if the memory was painful.

"I heard insults being exchanged and then a fight ensue and a few crashes. Hermione was screaming at me to come help, and when I did I found Ron standing at the top of the stairs to my cellar and Hermione injured really badly at the bottom of the stairs. She had crashed into a crate of potions that members of the Department of Magical Control were coming to remove the next week... because they're very damaging."

"What did you do?"

"I went with Draco to St. Mungos so Hermione could get medical attention," he said, straightening up.

"Mr. Potter, do you believe Ronald Weasley is responsible for Hermione Granger's condition?" No response. It was quiet for a very, very long time and everyone held their breath. I could practically see Harry unravelling right there in the witness seat, slightly trembling. It must have been hard for him to go against his bastard friend. I crossed my fingers and prayed. "Mr. Potter?"

"Yes." And that was that.

The rest of the trial passed in a breeze. I was questioned. Several of the Weasleys and a few of the guests at the party had been questioned to confirm facts. But that hardly mattered. Harry Potter had spoken, and the rest was really just for show.

Weasley was sentenced five years in Azkaban, several magical restraining orders had been placed against him and his post at the ministry terminated permanently with Kingsley's full support on the matter.

Ron Weasley was completely destroyed. His life, his job, his family and friends were all against him, but that was hardly enough for me. After all, he had been a public figure at one point. I couldn't rest with the fact that some people would actually take his side. I had to get everyone else to see how much of a disgusting fucker he actually was.

So after the trail, not only did I complete three interviews, one with Skeeter and the others with writers who I couldn't care less for, just necessary for variety. Every magazine that had any respect would have an article dealing with this with their next publication. Even Witch Weekly and the Quibbler.

The media coverage, as always, was spectacular. Interviews, as good as they are in presenting the proper picture to the public are unfortunately not enough in getting where you need to be in destroying someone's life.

I had learned something rather important from the muggles in my time spent in America. Press Confrences were crucial in getting your point across. It wasn't that Wizarding folk didn't attend press conferences. It wasn't even that they didn't quite care for them. It was simply that no one bothered doing it. It ended up being only the minister and officials of the ministry that held these press conferences to address public issues and the sort.

It's quite the opposite in America, as you can imagine. I played it to my advantage.

Not only did I learn that the people of London carry news faster than any network I've ever seen through gossip and the like, but they're rather receptive to scandals. I stood there, barraged by questions, asked questions I hadn't known any respectable human being could ask and had answered them anyways and in the process became a celebrity being that my parents would have been proud of if they'd seen how manipulative I'd become.

Or on the second hand, my mother was probably rolling over in her grave because I was dating a muggleborn when I was the most eligible bachelor in all of the UK. And it isn't as if my father has any coherent thoughts these days anymore.

All in all, it had been a very productive day. Ronald Weasley was now properly ostracized and wizarding London adored me. All is as it should be, of course.

It was the scandal of the century.

As I sat beside Hermione on her wretched looking hospital bed, I told her all of this. I even imagined what she would have said back but that didn't go so well. I couldn't bear doing this for the rest of my life. I needed her to get up and talk properly.

I had four hours until the papers were distributed, then all my work would play out evenly. Until then, I would doze.

Sighing, I leaned in and rested my head against the edge of her pillow, careful not to disrupt anything or snag her hair. I took her hand in mine as gently as I could, revelling in the fact that it was still rather warm. That meant she was still alive.

"I miss you, Hermione."

Hermione:

"I- ...miss- Herm-io-y..."

I jumped to alertness. I had thought I had heard Draco's voice... but that couldn't be right, could it? I had only just dozed off, really...just for a minute, with my head against the desk.

Could it have really been Draco? It had sounded out of focus, blurry, as if the signal was not as strong as it should have been...

"Plea... don't—me..."

I jumped again, sure of what I'd heard this time. I wasn't imagining it. It was Draco. Perhaps...if I could concentrate on it a little more, I'd actually hear something. Taking a deep breath, and hoping against hope that this really was real, I closed my eyes.

Immediately, the vision of Draco resting his head near mine popped into my head. He was holding my head and sitting in a chair next to my...bed? I looked horrible. Was this me in the real world?

"Please don't leave me, Hermione, I don't think I could bear it..." my heart just about cracked in half and smashed with a hammer into pulp. I wanted to reach out and touch him but I couldn't. I did feel a hot tear slide onto my skin and I tried to talk, I really did, but the image just blurred. Desperately, I attempted to focus once again.

All at once, several images flooded my.

A girl in a white dress with long curly brown hair, walking down a street with a bottle of liquor dangling from her hand.

My parents, smiling, sitting on their regular pink worn out couch, sipping a cup of tea.

Draco, writing at a desk, looking frustrated.

Draco pinning me, kissing my neck and pleasure I'd never felt before...closer than I'd ever been to a human.

A blond little girl and a boy with chocolate coloured hair and grey eyes playing in a sandbox.

Running, running, hiding. Feeling more betrayed than I could imagine. Hurt.

A fire, and a man burning in the flames...

Laying in the rain, holding hands with Draco and drifting...

Me, laying, bleeding, torn. Tears falling from my eyes, but oddly at peace.

And then, there was nothing more. I opened my eyes after a minute and found Riddle sitting across from me again, staring at me solemnly. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't, so I stopped trying. He reached over and patted the hands I was gripping the table with. Were those my hands? I couldn't remember gripping the table so hard...or leaving scratches. I felt something drip from my chin. I swiped at it, shocked. Was I crying?

"You haven't much time," Riddle spoke suddenly.

"No. I saw that much, myself – how can I-"

"No, you haven't much time here. I must tell you things before you leave," he spoke quickly. I paused, assessing him, then motioned for him to continue.

He seemed odd. His eyes went blank and he spoke in a sort of monotone. "You were brought here for a reason. That, which you have been given is for your fate to be decided in your hands, to show the man of identity that is challenged that the good must be put on his shoulders, from his to yours. Heed wisely, you shall learn that you are the vessel of fate, born for this purpose and happiness shall not be short lived – heed – and all shall – be –well -"

He was fading. Everything was going black. I reached out to touch him but found him to be too far away to reach. I was falling and I screamed. Pain jolted into my body. But before I was thrown back into my own world I heard Tom Riddle's lilting voice in my ear, close and sending a shiver down my spine...

"Come see me."

A/N: So what do you think?