I'm in an angst-y mood right now, so prepare for some tears to fall. Other than that, I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise; Jo and Warner Bros does.

I'm sitting in my kitchen, staring at the clock. It'll be exactly one year at 5:32. It feels like yesterday; I can't believe there are only 24 minutes till the one year mark.

We were so young, only out of Hogwarts for two years, and in love. God, how stupid we were. Of course, she was seeing Weasel at the time, but we kept our affair in secret. We both felt horrible about it, but in the heat of the moment we were hopelessly in love. Hermione, I thought, I miss you.

You see, after the war, Harry had testified for my pardon from Azkaban, eventually becoming my friend. Hermione and Weasel followed suit, Weasel reluctantly. I vowed that I, Draco Malfoy, would change for her. Soon enough, Weasel and I became close friends, bonding over Quidditch. I called him Weasel, he called me Ferret; it was how our friendship worked.

Now, I hate feeling responsible for all this mess. It was her who fell in love with me (okay, I was in love with her, too, but that's beside the point). After almost eight months of her dating Ron, he proposed. The dinner was a humungous Wealsey gathering, so naturally everyone was there. She accepted right away, of course, never turning to see how I felt. We'd been having an affair for four months. I already told her I loved her and her me. And the seed was planted by then. My seed, that is. Inside of her.

"I'm pregnant," she told me. I remember it was the day before Ron proposed.

I assumed it was Weasel's and replied, "Congratulations, Hermione. I'm happy for you." Those had to be the hardest words to say; I was lying through my teeth.

"Congrats to you, too," she beamed, then whispered, "Daddy." She ran into my arms, the ones she woke up in almost every morning.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Hermione, I love you."

I had already chosen the names in my head. Girl, Isabella. Boy, Hermes.

What shocked me most about the proposal was that she didn't talk to me about it, at all. Never did I hear her say sorry or that she regrets it. That is, until one month after the engagement. Like yesterday, I remember it.

She showed up on my doorstep after weeks of not talking to me; I couldn't hide my hurt.

"Draco, I'm sorry," she said as she took off the concealment charm that hid her miniscule baby bump. "I have to do this, so don't try to talk me out of it. I just wanted for you to be the last person I see before I go."

"Do what? Go where? Hermione, what are you talking about?"

She flung herself at me and cried, "I don't love Ron. I love you, and this baby. The only way I can accept my sins are my leaving."

"Leaving to go where?" I questioned, irritated.

"Away."

I brought her gaze to mine.

"Forever."

"No, Hermione, please. Don't. All you have to do is leave him and marry me, it isn't that hard."

"It is for me, goodbye."

She ran to the corner of my street before I could protest more, and apparated. I tried staying calm, but all I could do was throw things. She was going to kill herself, I thought, when she could just marry me. I ran to the corner, apparated and prayed I wasn't too late.

I had no idea where she went, but I had to find her. Quickly. I apparated and searched. Apparated and searched. Apparated some more, searched some more. Her house, the Burrow, her favorite hidaways from the world, then finally, her parents' graves.

There she was, lying propped up against her mother's grave like she was sleeping. I wasn't that daft, I knew she wasn't sleeping. Her face looked so peaceful, like she could finally rest and breath sighs of relief. I knew then that she wasn't in a dream-filled sleep, she was somewhere better; she was in her own haven, with nothing but love and joy surrounding her.

I'm sitting in my kitchen, staring at the clock. It's one year and one minute. 5:33. The pain, it never goes away. The tears, they won't stop and I know tonight I'll get no sleep. I love you Hermione, I tell the world about me, I love you Isabella, Hermes.

So, angst, yes. I quite enjoyed writing this. It's been in my head for EVER, I just never wrote it out. Reviews are always loved. Caio for now!

LA