A/n- Sorry it took so long. I've been very busy.

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Chapter 1

It was hot out; Draco was sweltering in the July heat. He was outside, in the broom shed looking for the extra crate of quidditch balls to lend to Blaise. Of course the stupid crate was bewitched so it wouldn't come with a summoning charm; it was just Draco's luck. He heaved a few boxes out of the way and finally found it, in the way back of the shed. Draco scowled and lifted it easily, hauling it out of the shed and onto the green grass outside of Draco's Manor.

He looked up at the windows, wondering what Hermione was doing. Probably cleaning or something, she refused to allow the house elves to clean their bedroom. Draco hated when she got all motherly; she got weird and started singing Muggle songs. The windows in their bedroom were thrown open, he could see, for 'fresh air' as Hermione put it. He looked back down at the dusty crate.

That's when he heard it; the crunch of gravel under a heavy foot. It came out of nowhere, as Draco hadn't seen anyone when he had just looked up. His hand reflexively went to his wand in his pocket, but when he looked up, it wasn't who he had expected. No cloaked visitor, wand pointed out, scowling fiercely. Not a threat at all. An old friend. An unwelcome one.

"Melana," he said shortly, charming the quidditch crate smaller and putting it in his pocket for later. He'd visit Blaise tonight and give it to him then.

"Draco," she greeted in return, striding her way over. She looked no different; it had only been a month and a half, after all. Somehow, Draco had expected her to look older, but for the most part, she looked quite the same.

The air she held herself with was different though. The cockiness and sarcastic nature of her old school self had seemed to evaporate. Draco couldn't place it, but she seemed more tired, maybe worn out. Draco didn't think she had started working, not that she needed to, but all the same, she didn't look just right. Her hand was on her hip and she was staring at him, angrily.

"Nice house," she commented.

"What are you doing here?" he seethed, ushering her into the shed and shutting the door behind him. "Hermione is home, Melana. Do you need something from me?"

"You're not going to graciously invite me into your actual home?" she asked roughly, a pout on her face.

"No, you shouldn't be here. The last thing I need is Hermione getting suspicious."

"Yes, because if she finds us together alone in a broom shed, she won't have any suspicions."

"Hilarious."

"I take it that you didn't tell her about what happened."

Draco paused for only a moment. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Melana had a set expression on her face, but he could see the water glistening in her eyes, threatening to break loose. Draco didn't understand women and their need for waterworks constantly. Melana knew full well that denial was the only way to get through this situation and forget about it. It was bad enough that it had haunted him this past month, he didn't need her skeletons coming back up as well.

"Well, I'm glad you can pretend, Draco." Her eyes avoided his as the tears slipped out.

"What do you mean?" he shot at her.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Draco."

--

Draco was sitting, bolt straight, in his sitting room. A cup of coffee was on a coaster on the wooden side table; cold, untouched. He stared straight ahead, not moving. He was thinking, actually. But even that came at a price; thinking made him feel guilty, and the guilt was tearing at his chest and throat. Draco hated the feeling that he was going to cry, yet he felt so helpless.

Who could he turn to? He wasn't ready to tell Hermione. He wasn't ready to fix this with Melana. Blaise would never understand. And his mom would believe it was unforgivable. Draco Malfoy was trapped, and he truly felt it too. The walls were closing in on him, and he knew that he needed to take decisive actions, and quickly.

Firstly, he needed to know what Melana was going to do. Keep this baby, or not. That would change his decision and he knew it. If Melana was keeping it, which was her decision, then he would have to tell Hermione sooner rather than later. If she wasn't, then it was safe to allow a few months before Draco dropped the bomb. He felt guilty. He took a sip of the cold coffee and spit it back into the cup.

Hermione was in the shower. He could hear the water running upstairs, and hear the footsteps of his mother on the floor above. Merlin knows what Narcissa was up to; most likely redecorating some wing of the house no one would step foot in. Draco stood up mechanically, clearing away the cup with his wand, and went outside onto the patio. The sun was setting, a brilliant orange and red.

It looked as though the sky was on fire, as shades of red flames licked up the last of the sun's yellow rays. Draco watched slowly as the sun slipped, finally, beyond the horizon. Blackness inked through the bright colors, leaving small traces of pink and orange in the faraway skyline. Sighing, he turned back inside and went upstairs to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hermione walked through the door, clad only in a white towel. Draco looked up and smiled, just barely, but she wasn't looking at him anyways. He hung his head once again while she slowly got dressed; Draco could hear the opening of drawers as she put her pajamas on. It was time for bed, of course. Draco got up and stripped down to his boxers slowly, and climbed into bed.

"You okay?" Hermione asked as she climbed in after him and turned to him. Draco propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "just tired."

"Quidditch wears you out," she commented, and Draco smiled faintly.

"Always has." He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips and kissed her lips gently. He wasn't in the mood tonight, so he pulled away. She didn't complain.

"Night," Hermione said, yawning. Draco kissed her forehead and turned over, away from her, and closed his eyes.

Sleep evaded him almost all night. He knew Hermione was asleep next to him; he could hear the sound of her breathing; inhale, exhale. For awhile he simply listened to that, and the hum of the crickets outside. There wasn't much else to do. Getting out of bed would awake Hermione and simply alarm her; he would have to tough the night out. After a few hours of sleep deprivation, he nodded off into a doze.

At six, he swung his legs out of bed gently and got up, stretching. Creeping out of the room, he found his way to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed for the day. He had promised to see Melana today for breakfast; it was the easiest time to get away. Hermione took morning classes at the Ministry for training, and she wouldn't know he was gone.

When he wandered back into the bedroom after his shower, Hermione was awake, sitting up in bed.

"Morning," he said, leaning over and receiving a lazy, sloppy kiss from his fiancé.

"Mmm," she mumbled. It was clear she had just woken up; the sleep in her eyes was noticeable. "Why are you up so early?"

"I was going to have an early morning fly," he mentioned.

"It's barely light out," she said, laughing lightly. He ruffled his own hair, making it dry with a spell.

"Yes, well, a good breakfast and then out I go."

"You're strange sometimes."

"No, just surprising. I'll make breakfast today," he said, knowing she'd like that.

"That's sweet of you. Just don't burn down the house, I'm not sure even you could afford another Manor."

"You'd be surprised." He left the room then, leaving Hermione to her morning routine. She always took a shower, got dressed, got ready, cleaned up the room, and then had breakfast. Draco would certainly be done preparing her meal by the time she was done.

It turned out, though, he wasn't a very good cook. After the third piece of burned toast, Draco threw them into the trash and ordered a group of elves to quickly make breakfast. It would turn out better than anything he could cook anyways. In the end, the elves hastily prepared eggs, toast, and bacon, and Hermione sat down and seemed happy.

"You didn't cook this," she said immediately after taking a bite.

"What?" he asked, trying to stifle his laughter. "How'd you know?"

She laughed. "It tastes good."

He chucked her the finger and sat down next to her on a bar stool, where they normally ate quick meals. Hermione seemed rather rushed; glancing up, he noticed that she was running late. That in itself was odd, but perhaps he had slowed her down, having to make breakfast and all. Normally, she grabbed a piece or two of toast and bolted. Well, she could appreciate him at least attempting to do something nice once and awhile, even if it was out of guilt.

And that thought sent him spiraling again, in to the same sort of hopelessness that had overwhelmed him all night. Sighing, Draco got up, breakfast practically untouched, and headed towards the door.

"You didn't eat," Hermione said, not looking up from her bacon.

"Yeah, I know, I'm really not hungry."

She paused. "Are you alright? You tossed and turned a lot last night."

Draco was glad he was looking away; he didn't want his face to betray him on this one. He cleared his throat, his hand now resting on the handle of the door.

"Sorry if I woke you up," he said shortly, opening the door. "See you when you get home."

He left, not waiting for Hermione's response. Normally, in the morning, he was grumpy anyways. She ought not to think anything of his little mood swing; however, he knew Hermione's way of over thinking everything. Draco felt worse than before, because she would surely worry all day now, overanalyzing every one of his words. Nonetheless, he couldn't turn back. Nothing good would come off that.

For a few minutes, he flew around the Manor on his broom, stealthily climbing above the trees and circling the roof. After awhile, he figured Hermione had left, and flew down to check. Hopping off his broom, he leaned it against the wall of the house and peeked in. It was quiet.

"'Mione?" he yelled.

"Master's girlfriend has left for work!" squeaked Tinky, his newest elf. Draco smiled politely and thanked her, shooing her off to work in the kitchens or elsewhere. Surely, Narcissa would be having some guests today while Draco was out of the house, and the elves would be attending her whims.

Feeling in his pocket to check for his wand, Draco took a few deep breaths. His watch read just past 7:30; he had told Melana 8:00. Growling fiercely, he headed back outside. The only thing he could think of doing was flying more, but he was hardly in the mood. But, it was the only thing that truly kept his mind off of unpleasant things.

So, Draco took to the air once again, this time releasing a snitch to capture. The mist had lifted, but his sneakers soaked through from the dew on the ground. He scowled and counted to ten with his eyes closed, trying to listen for any sound of the snitch's wings to tip him off. After ten seconds, he opened his eyes wide open and flew off in the direction of the snitch. He could see the early morning rays of light glistening off of the golden ball, and he easily caught it.

Sighing, the ball crumpled in his hand, Draco realized that this wasn't going to distract him today. He shoved the snitch into his pocket and descended to the ground. Before he could change his mind, he turned on the spot and apparated.

--

Melana sat across from him, constantly running her hand through her hair. The other was used to wandlessly stir her coffee, which was still full on the table. Draco sipped at his tea merely out of habit; he didn't care for the taste today. Nothing could perk him up. Neither of the two said anything at all, just stared anywhere but at each other. They were seated in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, in a private room Draco had requested (with a handy tip).

"So…" she said slowly, seemingly testing his patience. He had none.

"So what?" he snapped angrily. He immediately regretted it, seeing the look on her face. He shook his head, running pale fingers through blonde strands of hair, gently pulling at it. It didn't do much but sting, but somehow released his stress.

"Can you just… say something?" she said. Draco could tell she felt stupid. "I wasn't going to tell you, because of that stupid mu- girl. But I couldn't keep shit from you."

Draco shook his head, wishing Melana hadn't said anything to him at all. "Yeah, well, you did what you thought was best."

"You wish I didn't tell you."

"No," he lied, "I just wish it hadn't happened." At least he wasn't completely lying on that one.

"Ouch," she replied, but not looking hurt at all. Draco knew that Melana normally wasn't like this at all, but her confidence had been lost in a rash, drunken mistake.

"It's not… you know why it was a mistake."

"Yes," she said firmly. "We're just kids, you know, we make mistakes."

His laugh was utterly forced. "Yeah, mistakes."

She giggled. "Alright, we all fuck up."

"Much better." He took a long sip of tea, allowing it to scald his tongue. He bit through the pain. "So what's the plan?"

"The plan?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Well… I mean, are…" he trailed off, unsure how to say this. It couldn't be insensitive; that would spark more conflict. But Draco desperately needed to know Melana's course of action regarding this… baby. He cleared his throat. "Are you… keeping it?"

It sounded so wrong, but she seemed indifferent to it. However, Melana didn't immediately respond to his question. Rather, she looked around the bland room, searching for a distraction. Draco didn't attempt to hold her attention, and allowed her some time for innocent thoughts to flow through her head. After all, were this his decision, he knew it couldn't be rushed. Draco had no doubt that Melana had thoroughly thought it through.

"I don't want to make it hard on you," she said, staring at the floor.

"You can't make your decision based on me." He wished she would.

"That's not what you really want, though."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But I made an error in judgment. Whatever the outcome, I will back you in whatever means. Life doesn't always work out."

"And if I choose to keep it… you and Hermione…?"

Draco couldn't deal with the flutter of pain that shot through him at the mere prospect of telling Hermione the news. Eventually, she'd hear; the newspaper would announce it, and if not by the Prophet, someone in the Ministry would be eager to dish to Hermione. And it wouldn't be long before she connected Draco's guilty mood wings to Melana… they had a history, after all. Shaking at the thoughts, he pushed them away.

"She will be attended to by myself. Nevertheless, if that if your choice, I will… accept responsibility."

She took a deep breath. "I'm keeping the baby, Draco."

"That's what I was afraid of," he admitted, sighing.

"I'm not asking you too marry me or anything. I don't need that."

He nodded slowly. Leaving Hermione wasn't an option anyways. If, however, Hermione did leave him, he supposed he'd end up with Melana. He had no romantic feelings for the girl, but he was sure they'd get along well enough. Pansy would have some sort of fit, though. The retaliation from all this wasn't going to be pretty.

"You want money, then," Draco commented, taking another draught of tea.

She scoffed. "I don't need your money, Draco. You know that as well as I do."

"Then what are you asking me for…?" He was confused. If she wasn't asking for money or any form of child support, or even to be with her, then what did this girl require of him? He was growing impatient with her lack of demands.

"I'm asking you to be a father, Draco."

White hands gripped the table as his brain reeled.

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A/n- Let me know your thoughts. Reviews.