Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K. Rowling does.

Author's Note: So I was going to make everyone wait in suspense until Monday, but even I'm not that evil. Thanks for all the positive reviews and reviewers, both new and old. Oh and I'm very thankful for no flames. I personally straddle the line on this situation and it's really cool that you all put your own experiences into your reviews and I'm excited you all like the controversial direction this story is taking. Now, let the curse words fly. Happy reading everyone!

Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you

You are my only one.

I let go, there's just no one that gets me like you do.

You are my only, my only one.

"Only One"—Yellowcard

(Moments later)

"Okay…well, that sounds like a personal problem."

Those words flash in my head over and over.

Like neon lights.

"You know, Draco," I speak with a clenched jaw and blood that seems to be cooking to a nice boil, "I figured you'd say something like that," I stand straight, shaking my head, trying to calm myself, albeit pretty unsuccessfully, "I don't even know why I even wasted my bloody breath to tell you."

He looks at me as if he's looking at me for the very first time, "Wait, it's mine?"

Sarcastically, "No, it's an immaculate conception, a fucking miracle…of course it's yours, you dolt!" I pull the ultrasound picture from my pocket. I've looked at it at least a couple thousand times, so much the edges are creased, but I glance at it for a moment and toss it at him dismissively. He's lucky I'm throwing a picture at him and not this platter of chocolate chip cookies...or an unforgivable, which is really what I want to throw right now. "It's yours."

Draco stares at the picture, much like I did when Dr. Rattan handed it to me. It's nearly two inches from his face and his eyes almost cross to see the magnified blob that is our baby in the center. His eyes remain on the picture and slowly the stern look on his face melts into one I've never seen before. It's one of awe, incredulity, and…wait just a moment, fear.

Fear.

I didn't realize that fear is an emotion typical of a Malfoy.

Of course, he's had moments of fear, but not around me.

He's always been a tower of strength and nerve.

Right now he looks like a deer in headlights.

Moments later, the mask and the guard go right back up and he's back to making sure everything on the coffee table is perfectly placed and organized.

I feel my blood pressure steadily rise and my cheeks flush from the heat of my rage.

Draco picks now to speak, but his voice sounds oddly strangled, "Are you sure this is mine?"

"Yes. It's yours," I rub my aching head, very sensitive all of a sudden, my voice breaks just a little, "You're the only one I've been with, Draco. I'm not some slag that sleeps around with every man I come into contact with." I shake my head sadly, eyes watering, "You know what? It doesn't even matter what you say…I've decided not to keep it."

Apparently that makes him lean forward in his seat, picture still in hand, and voice flat, "You're not keeping it?"

Looking down, I rest my hand on my flat stomach and use my free hand to wipe my eyes.

I'm lying through my teeth right now and I don't know why, "No."

Tensely, "Why not?"

"Don't act like you give a shit, Draco. It's a mistake. Just like that night was, just like every other encounter before that night was."

He glances down at the picture before meeting my eyes, "You really believe that?"

Emotionally, "I don't know where I stand with you…I never have. And you've done nothing to prove otherwise."

Intensely, he shoots words so nasty and cold I nearly fall over from the force, "And you never let me try to tell you where I stand with you so don't sit here and play the bloody victim."

I'm desperately trying not to scream and cry in front of him, "Look," I start, voice dejected, "I'm tired, I'm cranky, I've been baking all fucking day, and I don't want to argue with you tonight. I don't know…I, this is a huge decision for me." Positioned just in front of the coffee table, I rub my temple in a circular motion just like Pansy advises, "I was just trying to be a good person and let you know, and that's all. I felt obligated to tell you and now that I did, I don't know why I even wasted my breath and your time, I'm gonna kick Ginny's—"

Interrupts, "Well, does my opinion matter? I am the father, after all."

"Actually, it doesn't, not to me, not now. I've heard enough of your opinions to last me a lifetime. This is my body and I'll do with it whatever the hell I want and I don't want to bring a baby up in…whatever the hell this is. I don't. I just don't. It's just not fair to it, you, or me."

He stands up slowly, still holding the ultrasound in his hand, "Just—"

Frustrated and fuming, "Why are you fighting this so hard, Draco? This is my personal problem, according to you."

He looks down at the picture as he speaks coolly, "I admit that wasn't the best reaction..."

"No shit, you git, you always know just what to say to make me feel like a peon," I mumble angrily, "But thanks for having that reaction, Draco, it makes it slightly easier to make my mind up."

Silence falls between us.

I find myself staring out a window next to the fireplace and he's still staring at the ultrasound like Ginny and Ron study Quidditch books. I want to pull my hair out and scream, "It's just a 4-D blob on a film," but I can't formulate the words, I'm so tired and weak.

So now, I look out the window, watch the rain, and sigh, because looking at him will make the tears start up, and it's so much easier to watch the clouds cry.

Twelve minutes later, I glare at the rain.

Maybe if I hadn't gone. Maybe if I'd just stayed with the dry and condescending Theodore Nott. Maybe…it doesn't matter anymore.

I can blame anything, I can blame anyone, I can ask "what if?", but it's all in the past. This is now.

Glancing over my shoulder, I observe him for a full minute while he tidies the end table for a few seconds and stares at the picture for a few seconds, methodically switching between the two. I turn away. I really hate it when he does that. All the arranging and organizing. Maybe he does it to keep from going insane, maybe it's one of those nervous habits, maybe he's obsessive-compulsive, I don't know. I just know that he's so pristine and perfect and methodological…it's really annoying.

And now, staring at the rain, I'm not sure whether I'm annoyed with his habit, or whether I'm just annoyed with him.

I'm just fucking annoyed.

"Hermione…" Draco breaks the silence.

I turn around and he's staring at the ultrasound, "What?"

Another pause, he takes a breath and looks up, determined, "I want this baby."

Wait…do I need to clean my ears out? Did he just say—of course, he didn't—right?

Stunned, I stammer, "D-did you say you w-want this baby?"

Confidently, "Yes, I've been thinking about it and I do…I'm willing to do anything to change your mind."

"I don't understand, Draco. Help me understand why all of a sudden you want this baby."

He looks at me, a bit angered, "I never said I didn't want it. You just assumed."

"Wanting to take responsibility for your actions isn't something you're known for."

Heatedly, "Just like you're not known for being very upfront."

Snap. The heat of my blood spikes, just like that. "Upfront? I'm—"

"You're the most guarded person I know." Draco replies in matter-of-fact tones.

Folds my arms and huffs stubbornly, "Funny you should say that, I say the exact same thing about you."

"Let's not get off topic, Granger. I want to be a father to this baby. I don't want you to get rid of it just because you hate me. This baby deserves a chance."

We fall into another tense silence.

My head throbs from the tears of frustration building behind my eyelids and Draco is standing there, calm and gazing down at that bloody picture. I really want to choke him until he passes out. This mature, arrogant, responsible, look-at-me-I-want-to-be a-father persona, yes, Draco, this really works. Really well.

Thank you very much, Draco…I feel like a giant guilty arse about this entire situation.

Exhausted and ready to break down in tears, "Why do you want this baby? It's not going to fix anything."

Truthfully, "I beg to differ…after all, it may very well be the only child I'll have."

Scoffing, I lash out, "Please, I'm sure you have plenty of whores who are ready and willing to get knocked up by you."

That's like stepping on the trigger that detonates a bomb. All goes from tense to fucking impossible. With the 4-D picture in his hand, he fires a look at me that could kill and probably would. His voice raises several decibels and turns into an authoritative yell, "I don't know who the fuck you think I am, Granger, but I'll tell you something. I'm not some bloody man-whore who sleeps around with filth."

Of course, I'm right there, arguing back, "And I'm not exactly a pureblood, Malfoy. In case years of working for you have brought about a sudden bout of amnesia, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Hermione Granger and I'm a mudblood. This baby I'm carrying, it's a half-blood. According to you and the Malfoy doctrine, me and this baby, we represent the very filth you disdain. And I represent the filth you claim not to sleep around with, but you do, and you did, every fucking chance you got."

For a second, I really think he's going to strangle me, his hands are flexed and everything. He storms across the living room and the next thing I know, I'm staring up at him defiantly, but I'm literally trembling, shaking like a leaf.

Seizing me by the shoulders, Draco speaks very menacingly and very angrily, "Pureblood, half-blood, mudblood, I think I've made it obvious that it doesn't mean a fucking thing. I fought in that fucking war, I fought against the very doctrine I swore to uphold, and I fought for the rights and the freedom of half-bloods and mudbloods alike."

True.

Like I'm having some sort of fit, I push his hands off me, "W—"

He raises his hand to cut me off, "And do you honestly think that if I thought of you as some mudblood that I would hire you, pay you more than the goddamn minister of magic, and put you in charge of over half of my company and its all its activities?"

Trying again to get a word in edgewise, "D—"

"I hired you because you're Hermione Granger, everything you fucking touch turns to gold, and you get things done. And you know what, I did adhere to one Malfoy rule when I pursued and seduced you all those times. One: Malfoys deserve the best. You're not filth. Even my father thought so, mudblood or not, he always said you were the best…and you are. And this baby will be the best too."

"Is that all you fucking care about, Draco? Being the be-"

"No! That doesn't matter. I don't want this baby just because it will be the best; I want this baby because we made it together and I don't want you to throw it away like garbage. I don't consider us or anything between us garbage, Hermione."

What. The. Fuck?

Astounded. Staggered. Dumbfounded. Nauseated. Destabilized. Flabbergasted. Confused.

Those are probably the words I can use to describe how I feel right now…but the truth is there are many other words and emotions running around in my head that I can't quite describe. I'm so overwhelmed by his words, so struck I can barely breathe. All I can do is stand here and let his words repeat over and over in my head, like a broken record.

Because we made it together? We're not garbage? I meant something to him?

It's quiet when he finishes ranting, except for his rapid breathing and my shaky sighs.

"W-what do you mean by that?" I stammer, trying to find my ground.

"It doesn't matter what I fucking mean," Draco spits coldly, "You've made your goddamn mind up about me when you didn't read the letter and now you've made up your goddamn mind about-"

Blindly, I wave my hands, "You can't just say something like that and not tell me what it means!" I scream at him.

"You're the brightest witch of our generation, you figure that shit out. I'm done trying to get you to understand how I feel about you. I'm done."

My vision is blurred by tears, "I don't want to figure it out, fuck, Draco, just tell me!"

He says nothing, just turns away from me, the ultimate sign of rejection. Still, I find myself quickly studying the angry man standing less than two inches in front of me, scrutinizing every single thing about him, and I come to the conclusion that Draco isn't the man I thought I knew. It suddenly strikes me how I don't know shit about him. He's a stranger to me.

"Draco, I—" somehow, I manage to find my voice through the unshed tears, but he doesn't let me say anymore.

With the picture in his hand, he storms towards the fireplace, leaving me to sit here and wonder just how everything turned out this way. I don't know what he's mad for. I should be the angry one. Nothing about tonight went the way I thought it was going to go. He was supposed to sneer and deny paternity; this was supposed to be an easy one-sided decision…

…and just like that, just like everything, it's all complicated and fucked up. Now I don't know left from right, up from down, it's all spinning and I can't hold on.

The dam breaks and I find myself shaking with sobs.

"Why?" I speak in a broken voice, tears pouring, "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

Just when he's about to grab some floo powder and step into the fireplace, Draco freezes and turns around, still very much heated and livid as ever, "I was honest with you, but you didn't want to read the letter! But fine! You want honesty, you got it!" He pauses and stares at me with cold grey eyes, speaking his next words with such intense anger and hate, "I don't even know why the fuck I'm telling you this, but let me be very clear about something tonight, Granger: you're the only women I've ever wanted. Just you. It's always been you."

Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames.

When Ginny comes home an hour later, she finds me on the floor…dissolved in tears.

Cause we are broken

What must we do to restore, our innocence?

And all the promise we adorn

Give us life again, cause we just wanna be home

"We are broken"—Paramore

(The next morning: July 25th)

Reality sinks in and I finally accept the truth about everything.

I was wrong about Draco. I was blind and stupid and I feel horrible.

Merlin, I spent so much time wanting to be something more to him and wanting to provoke something deeper in him. I spent over two years wishing my name invoked emotions in him…and it does. It always has…and I didn't realize I already was important to him. But this miscommunication isn't something I plan to take the blame for, it's both of our faults.

I didn't give him a chance, I didn't listen to all the things he didn't say, and I ignored all the things he did say. I just held it all in until I decided to change my life to spite him.

But Draco didn't try, didn't drop his guard low enough to let me in, and didn't convey…well, any of his feelings. He just held it all in until he combusted.

It may be the crazy hormones or the actual distress I feel, but I begin to cry, which turns into heavy sobs within seconds. I can barely breathe as my back arches and sinks with every labored cry. I'm in pain, and for some unknown reason, I wish for more pain, I want to make myself hurt so I stop thinking about Draco and his damn words. I want to make the picture of him disappear from my mind. I cry until my lungs hurt, my fingers cramp, and my back aches.

"Shh," From the chair beside my bed, Ginny's comforting voice placates my sobs, diminishing them into small hiccupping sighs. She's been there all night just about, listening to me rant and cry. "Calm down," she brushes my hair out my tear-stained face, "It's going to be okay."

I really want to believe her, but I feel hopeless.

Wiping my eyes, I sigh and get out of bed and stand at my desk, staring at the letter Draco sent nearly a month and a half ago.

I gnaw at my fingernails, wanting to reach for it, open it, and read it, but I'm suddenly a coward.

My door makes a creaking sound when Pansy opens it. She just got Ginny's message and rushed from her mother's first chance she got to see me. She rushes over to me and throws her arms around me. I cling to her tightly for a few minutes before pulling away.

Angrily, "Wait until I get my hands—"

Resting my hand on her shoulder to stop her, I interrupt, "He wants the baby…and apparently me too…or at least he did."

Pansy's face goes pale and her mouth drops in shock.

"I know," I chuckle ruefully, "I looked like you did when he told me."

Her voice is shaky, "What are you going to do?"

"I honestly don't know. This is hard. Part of me is thinking, forget him and everything else and have this baby on your own, and the other part is thinking, why bother? My head is messed up, but my heart…" I trail off, tearing up.

She's nodding when her eyes catch the letter. Immediately, she recognizes the handwriting, "Have you opened it?"

Honestly, "I don't think I can, it's been here six weeks, but now it feels like the right time to read it." Ginny joins us at the desk and I look at her, "You read it, Gin."

"But—"

"Please, I can't do it."

Reluctantly, she sighs, picks up the letter, and opens it, pulling out the parchment slowly and unfolding it…

Hermione,

I'm sure hours, days, weeks, and maybe even months will pass by before you read this, but if you are reading this I know that either your curiosity or better sense has gotten the best of your stubbornness…or we got into a huge row. I do not always articulate my feelings and I do not always say the right things at the right time and for that, I apologize. It is not in my nature to express my feelings verbally or be wax sentimental, but I think you should know that you are not a standby woman, you never have been, not to me, and I apologize if I ever made you feel as such. It was not my intention to make you feel less worthy than you actually are. You actually mean a lot to me, but I've never known where I stand with you. I think that we should start over and try again, maybe this time we can be honest with each other.

If you want to contact me, you know where I am.

Draco Malfoy.

We're silent for what seems like hours.

I think we've all read the letter about six times apiece as if we're going to find all the secrets he wrote between the lines…and I'm not in the mood for any of this. Everytime I read his letter, I feel like the world's biggest git for not reading it earlier. And then I feel like a moron for talking to him the way I did last night. And then I feel stupid and mean. I feel like a bitch and my head hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts. I just need to get my mind off all this.

So I sigh, "I'm going to work."

Ginny sighs, "Her—"

"No, Gin, I need to get out of this house. It's driving me bloody bonkers."

Pansy speaks up, placing the letter back on the desk, "Do you feel well enough?"

Stubbornly, "No, but I'll be fine."

Ginny takes one hard look at me, "Well, I'll fix some breakfast—"

"—and I'll go in with you. Take your vitamins."

I nod. I really do have some of the best friends.

Six hours later and once again, I'm sighing and running a hand through my hair. I'm fine. I have to believe that I'm fine and as long as I can believe that everything else is okay, or at least it will be. It has to be. I don't have any other options.

It's been a busy day for me and coming to work is one of the best decisions I've made thus far.

Lots of patients, lots of emergencies, and a few hurt Quidditch players…all that should equal no time to think.

And it does, sometimes.

I feel like the busiest woman in the world and still I feel like I have too much time to think about him and this baby and everything.

In the seconds I wait in the elevator, my mind drifts back to the argument in front of the fireplace. In the twenty minutes I sip on my tea and wait for the ever-late Pansy Parkinson, I think back to the day I slapped him. I'm sitting next to the very table where it happened. In the hour I have for break, my mind drifts to the picture of the ultrasound he took with him. I didn't need it anyway. I've practically memorized every feature of it.

No matter what I do, it seems he is always prevalent in my thoughts. I'm in a different part of the hospital every hour and still, I can't escape the memories…

I'm on rounds, checking up on the permanent patient when I bump into something or someone, hard.

Startled, I look up and there is Theodore Nott.

I plaster a smile to my face, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yes, I was visiting my uncle. Do you work here?"

Nods quickly, "Yes, as a healer."

He mumbles, "Always thought you could do better."

Offended and aggravated and hormonal, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Being a healer is a very rewarding and important job. If it weren't for me—"

"I just meant that I always pictured you as a dedicated ministry worker."

Snorting derisively, "I've never worked in the ministry and to be honest, I never want to. I'll leave that to Harry."

"Oh, so you two are still friends?"

"Yes, of course, we're the best of friends still, even though so much has happened. Ron too," I feel myself getting a bit emotional at the thought of my boys. Damn pregnancy. I feel my eyes mist and I fan them repeatedly as I think about everything. I don't see them as much because we're all busy, but when we do see each other, it's like we've never been apart. Harry and Ginny's separation makes things a little more tense, but all in all, I'm not choosing sides and I'm not choosing between them. Ginny is important to me, as is Harry.

"Are you alright?"

I wipe my eyes, "Yes, just a bit tired."

…and pregnant.

He steps closer and his cologne makes me want to vomit, "Would you like to go for coffee or something?"

"Sorry, I can't. I'm on rounds for the rest of my shift."

…and I don't want to get belittled again, thank you very much.

A flash of disappointment streaks across his face, "Oh, well…would you like to go to dinner?"

"Again, sorry, my mates and I usually go to dinner together. It's sort of tradition."

…that we're not doing tonight because Pansy and Ginny have dates and I have an appointment with my bed.

"I understand," another streak of disappointment, "well, what about Friday?"

Thinking for a moment on how to get out of this one as well and it flashes in my head, "I'm on call all night."

…which is a total lie.

Borderline offended and angry, "I'm beginning to think you're making up excuses."

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" I ask innocently, lying through my teeth, "I'm a very busy woman and all."

Icily, "I see."

Confused, I ask boldly, "Well, why are you interested in spending time with me anyway?" folding my arms.

"You're easy to talk to, you listen."

…that's all I can do with you because you make no attempts to hide that you don't care enough to listen to me.

I check my watch, I still have four minutes until I have to see my next patient, but I have to get away, now, "I'm sorry, I have to go see a patient. I'll see you around…" I give him one fleeting smile and head down the hall, almost running.

Tell me what you think about, being open?

About being honest with yourself.

Cause things will never be the same.

"Honestly"—Cartel

(Five days later: July 30th)

Ginny invites Susan Bones and Katie Bell over for dinner after an especially rigorous Quidditch practice.

We're all pretty good friends so with my newfound energy, I decide to cook. Pansy nearly chokes when I tell her I plan to cook, but she's being dramatic, as usual. While Ginny gives them the tour of our apartment, Pansy and I chop vegetables for the vegetable fried rice dish I'm making. Every now and then, she'll peek into the oven to get a look at the chicken.

Satisfied, she goes back to chopping.

Pansy picks up another bell pepper, "How are you today?"

"Alright…except that I threw up in a patient's flower vase this morning, but I cleaned it up quickly before anyone noticed."

"Oh, that's just gross!" Pansy exclaims, blanching.

"I couldn't help it," I chuckle at the memory, "It was either the vase or the patient."

Pansy laughs and uses her wand to start boiling the rice. When she leans over my shoulder, she asks, "Have you made your mind up yet?"

Shrugs, "Not totally. Heart says keep it, head says no."

Thankfully, she changes the subject, "I talked to Blaise today."

My ears perk up at the very mention of Draco's best friend, but my response is very dull, "Oh, really? How is he?"

"Oh, he's fine…Draco on the other hand—"

Looking at her, I raise an eyebrow, "What about him?"

Pansy doesn't look at me, instead she's busy chopping vegetables as she talks, "…he's not in a good mood. He fired some girl who tried to flirt with him and he refuses to hire anyone to take your place so he's working extra hard trying to do both your old job and his. Blaise says it's just a mess, not the business, him. Draco told him…about the baby. Showed him the picture and everything. Kind of looked proud about it…Blaise says he really wants you to keep this baby, Hermione."

To be honest, I'm really surprised.

He isn't the type to misplace anger, he isn't the type to open up to his friends, and he's not the type to lose his cool over too much of anything. But he lost his cool all over my living room too so I guess I can't put too much past him these days. I knew he was upset about it, but I didn't expect him to run and tell Blaise. I'm really so stunned about all this that I don't even respond to anything.

I just keep chopping peppers and onions...

...and change the subject, "I read all the pamphlets the doctor gave me, I also went to the library, I've done research on both alternatives…and yes, I told Draco I made my decision, I wish I wouldn't have, but I was so angry at him."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

A voice speaks up from the doorway, "The right decision about what?"

I look over my shoulder at Katie and toss her a smile, quickly replying, "About whether to have ice-cream or cookies for dessert."

Katie looks at me disbelievingly for a moment before setting a smile on her face, walking in, and looking around the kitchen and peering over our shoulders to see what we're doing, "Well, cookies with ice-cream sound good to me…do you all need some help?"

"Don't let her near that stove!" Ginny hollers from the other room and in a flash both her and Susan are standing in the doorway, "That's my only advice; don't let her near the stove."

My eyebrow rises, "Is there something I should know about Katie and stoves?" I wipe my hands with a dish towel.

Katie glares at a smirking Ginny and Susan who is silently shaking her head, before stubbornly replying, "No!"

Trying again, "Umm…Kate?"

"It was a very small fire."

"Oh, I see," I look around at all the food and then back down to what I'm doing, "How are you at slicing vegetables for the fried rice?" I move away to offer the job to her. Ginny nods in approval and Susan smiles.

"I think I can handle a little slicing…" Katie blushes, "Oh, and thanks for not asking about the fire."

Smiling, "Not a problem."

Of course, the brash Pansy smirks, "Well, if she won't, I will…what happened with the fire, Kate?"

"There was a pan, popping grease, a hamburger, and lots of flames," she slowly shakes her head as if traumatized by the very memory, "It was really ugly."

"We know," Ginny smiles and gestures to her and Susan, "we were there."

I burst out laughing.

Feels kind of good to laugh about something because all I've been doing lately is crying.

We sit down for dinner twenty minutes later. While they all chatter on and drink their wine, I nibble on vegetable fried rice and chicken, drinking decaffeinated sweet tea.

"How was Parvati's party last night?" Ginny asks Susan, sipping on her wine.

We all were invited, but I wasn't feeling well enough, Ginny flat out didn't want to go, and Pansy was out on a date. Katie, apparently, didn't attend as well. I think what surprises me most is that Susan went. She's always been a bit of a quiet, slightly emotional wallflower, even in school. Over the years, we come to expect that at any social function, we can find Susan posted against the wall, observing everyone and shying away when any man asks her for a dance or anything.

"Nothing bad," Susan assures, "I even danced."

All our expressions are ones of pure shock, but Pansy's voice rings out amongst all our gasps, "You didn't?"

Pleased by our surprise, she nods eagerly, "I'm not kidding. I was just as shock as you all when he asked me to dance. Well, he didn't exactly ask. It was more of a statement." Susan is unabashedly giddy; wanting us to know every detail of last night, "He was all arrogant and that, like he knew he wouldn't have to ask me to dance, that I'd just simply fall into his arms or something. And, oh, Merlin, when he put his hands on my hips to help me. I was on cloud nine!"

Katie holds up her hands, "Hold on for a bloody second, mate! Who is he? And what do you mean he put his hands on your hips? Was he being fresh?" She says the last question teasingly, happy for her friend.

"Haha, I wish," Susan laugh, "I'd probably die of a heart attack if he did—"

Exasperated, Ginny throws her hands up, "Who?"

Big grin, "Dean Thomas."

If we aren't shocked before, we're completely stunned now. Ginny looks confused. Katie's eyes are popping out her head. Pansy's gulping her wine.

My jaw is practically in my plate, "Pretty boy, Dean Thomas? Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Dean Thomas? Are you serious?"

Susan nods, "He was talking to Ron and Seamus, looked over at me, walked over, and asked me if I wanted to dance."

"Wow."

"Yeah, a lot of people from Hogwarts came. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Michael Corner, Cho Chang, Justin-Finch Fletchley, Lee Jordan, Harry and Ron were there too—"

Ginny tenses, but it goes unnoticed by anyone except me.

"—and Draco Malfoy was there too—"

This time I tense.

"What was he doing there? He hates parties." Pansy remarks, looking confused.

"I saw him. He looked around for a second, talked to Blaise for a moment, and left. It was really odd."

"Yes," Pansy glances at me from across the table, "Very…almost like he was looking for someone?"

I kick her very sharply and she winces, pouts, and glares.

Susan snaps her fingers, "As a matter of fact, yes, he was."

I grimace when I meet Pansy's gaze. Our eyes lock, she smirks evilly, I look down at my plate. I don't know where she's going with this and I don't want to find out. I aim to kick her again, but I miss and give up, drink my water, and make sure I send a plethora of threatening daggers to Pansy with my eyes.

Katie smiles and after a few minutes of silence, she turns her attention to me, "Hermione…how far along are you?"

I spew water all over my plate…and Pansy's too.

Susan gasps.

Ginny laughs.

Katie smirks.

Pansy literally jumped from her chair, "What the hell, Hermione! I was eating that!"

Blushing and coughing to the point of choking, "Sorry Pans," She gives off a humorous huff and takes our plates to the kitchen while Ginny pats my back until I catch my breath and I smile shyly at Katie who's regarding me with a curious look, "I'm not—"

"Oh, bollocks, you are. I can tell."

"How can you—"

"My sister has seven kids. I can tell, even before anyone else can. You're drinking decaffeinated tea instead of wine, you're picking at your food, you hate Susan's perfume that you claimed to love three months ago, and you're kind of glowing…"

Well, I'll be— "Close to eight weeks, I think."

Susan gasps, "Hermione, you're really pregnant? Wow, that's great! Congratulations!"

Mumbles, "Thanks, but I'm not sure if I'm keeping it."

"Why not?" asks a horrified Susan Bones.

"Loads of reasons. I have another week or two to make a decision."

"What does the father think?"

Numbly, I reply, "He wants to keep it...or he did the last time I talked to him,"

"That's good, right? Who is he?"

Pansy walks back in the room on this and sits down, wringing her hands innocently. Ginny and I exchange looks before I answer, "I'd rather not say…to be honest. I really don't want this to get out, in case I decide not to keep it."

"We can keep it a secret, right? We can do an unbreakable vow if you want."

My eyebrow rises, well, that's a bit serious. "That won't be necessary."

"We promise not to tell, right Kate?"

She raises her hand and puts it on her heart, "I swear."

"You two can't tell a soul," I watch them nod their head. I take a deep breath and just blurt it out, "Draco Malfoy."

The sound of Susan's wine glass shattering against the floor echoes in my ear.

Once they recover from shock, they have a million questions for me.

Are we dating?

Do I think he will change his mind?

When did I find out?

When did I tell him?

What did he say when I told him?

Evidently, Katie always thought something was going on between the two of us, but just didn't know what.

Glad that I've satisfied her curiosity.

I have to inform Susan that no, we are not dating and no, I'm not even certain I want this baby.

She tells me, "between your intellect and wit and his attractiveness and charisma, this baby will be as close to perfect as humanly possible."

I look at her crazy for a moment and chuckle into my glass of iced tea.

Perfect? I think not. We're both clearly very fucked-up people.

After Susan and Katie leave, both swearing their allegiance to keeping this a secret and with threats from Ginny to hex anyone who tells, the three of us sit on the patio of our flat in lounge chairs. They're sipping on strawberry daiquiris and I'm drinking water…with lemon to spice it up.

It's hot out here tonight. Hot and oddly humid. The air is different, but at least there's a slight breeze out here tonight.

The city is quiet…and so are we.

"I owled Luna today," Ginny breaks the almost perfect silence, "Told her everything that was going on…she thinks you should keep the baby."

I take a few gulps of lemon water, "Do you think I should keep the baby?"

"That's not my decision to make."

"You're right, but can I get your opinion? Yours too, Pans."

Pansy and Ginny exchange looks, it almost looks like they're silently arguing on who gets to speak up.

Finally, Ginny shoots one stern look and Pansy sighs, "Okay, okay," she groans and looks at me, "Ginny and I…we think you should keep it. It will be kind of fun having a baby around here and I really like the idea of being Auntie Pansy," she grins at the mere thought for a moment, "and the baby won't be fatherless. I know how you feel about Draco, but he's not deadbeat dad material…but I think you know that already. Once he cools down, you know he's going to be right back here, fighting with you about this baby until he's blue in the face."

I stare up at the sky. She's right.

"I do know that. I've actually been waiting for him to just pop up and scream at me until I decide to keep it. I think the fight he put up to convince me to keep the baby made that very obvious to me. That's not where the problem lies. It lies with me," my voice drips with emotions as I admit in quiet tones and tears rolling down my cheeks, "to be honest, I'm completely and utterly terrified of becoming a mother."