Author's Note: This chapter isn't really anything. I'm just using it as a build-up for later chapters. Besides, I felt I needed to give a little explanation to how that whole drunken scenario played out… also gives out some side info about draco just so he doesn't seem too much out of character. So here ya go ladies and gents!

Chapter 8

"So George said that you and he-"

"Yup"

"And you didn't really-"

"Uh-huh."

"But Ron thought that you did-"

"Yea."

"So he still doesn't know-"

"That's right."

Hermione and Harry were having coffee together at a nearby café as she had just finished telling him what had happened. After George left their apartment, Hermione had denied all of George's lies; everything from supposedly shagging him to carrying his baby. In fact, she swore up and down that she indeed was NOT pregnant (okay, so she told one white lie. But had she been honest, she would've had to witness the throbbing vein in the middle of Ron's forehead).

Harry sighed and leaned back on the metal patio chair.

"Wow. I can't believe—hang on. How does George know?"

"He heard me talking to Draco on the floo network," she replied casually, taking a sip of her cappuccino.

Harry nodded, then suddenly got an odd look on his face. "Malfoy? What does he have to do with this?" Hermione's eyes widened, realizing only then that she'd just given away the paternity of her baby.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

"Oh Merlin! Hermione, are you saying Malfoy is the one that got you pregnant?"

It wasn't a question really; it was more of a plea, telepathically begging her to say it isn't so.

"Well…see, Harry, the thing is-"

"God, it is true isn't it! You slept with Draco Malfoy!" He pointed an accusing finger in her face.

"Shush! People could hear you." She pushed his finger away. "Look, it's not what you think. It was an accident, alright. Just let me explain."

"Hermione, I seem to be having trouble picturing this as an accident. What, did you trip and fall on his penis, or-"

"Ew, no!" She scrunched her face in disgust. "Firstly, please don't make direct references to Malfoy's anatomy like that again…ever. And second, that's not at all what happened. Do you remember that night? The night we were completely drunk?"

Harry thought for a moment, his memory bringing him back. "Yea. It was when I thought I slept with you." Now knowing that they didn't, he felt comfortable bringing it up and discussing it, without the constant guilt and fear of what Ron might possibly do to him.

She nodded. "Yes, that night. Only, I didn't sleep with you…I slept with someone else." She trailed off, eyes shifting side to side.

His jaw dropped. "What the-…why would-…how did this happen!" he stumbled slightly on his words.

Hermione sighed, biting her lip in agony as she recalled the event. "Well…"

FLASHBACK:
Hermione exited Harry's apartment, the bottle of fire whiskey still lodged between her fingers. She hadn't any idea where she was going, or why she brought the drink along. But one thing was certain; she wasn't going back to the apartment her and Ron shared. Not after she caught him with that other woman. She was not willing to crawl back to him especially when she knew she was right. So where to go? The only other place she felt at ease besides her or her best friend's flat: her office.

She was somewhat sober yet half-drunk when she arrived at her office.

"Damn," she muttered to herself as she realized she didn't have keys on her. "Can anything else go wrong tonight!" she yelled at the ceiling above her head. Hermione leaned her back along the closest wall and slumped down to the floor. The offices at the Ministry never looked so dark and deserted before. Then again she's never stayed around late enough to notice. Self-consciously, she straightened out her blue skirt, which was flowing and vibrant but now looked heavy and worn-out. Probably because of the spilled drinks at Harry's.

Hermione traced the small smear of blood on her skirt, a steady sob beginning to grow faintly in the back of her throat.

"Ron, you bastard," she said to herself quietly between tears, the skirt having reminded her of her redhead boyfriend. "How could you?"

She absentmindedly brought up the bottle to her lips when she felt another's presence in the cold room. Even in the dark, she could tell someone was looking at her, watching her in her most vulnerable state.

"Alcohol's not good for you," her unexpected companion said in an almost hushed volume. He was a man, as his voice was deep, rugged, and nearly seductive.

Hermione looked up, surprised, and stopped sniffling for a moment. She watched the man's shadow loom closer passing by the other office doors until he stepped onto a small area of the corridor where a dim light revealed that silky yet disheveled hair which belonged to one of the executives of the Ministry: Draco Malfoy. He stood there supporting himself with one leg while the other looked as if it would give any minute now.

She realized just by his stance that he wasn't trying to be seductive; he was drunk as well. Maybe the flask in his hand kind of gave it away too.

He was staring at her curiously for a good minute or so before he decided to approach closer.

"Wudda you doin' here 'Ranger?" he asked, his speech very clearly slurred.

"What do you care!" she barked, burying her face in her arms and sobbing madly. "This is great, just bloody perfect! All I ask is for some solitary space to grieve and what I get is Malfoy, witnessing my depressive behavior."

Draco leaned his shoulder on the wall Hermione was propped up against and slumped down beside her. He leaned forward so his forehead almost touched her temple.

"You're drunk," he stated, taking in the alcohol he smelt in her breath.

She lifted her head; just enough to give him a cut-eye stare. "So are you."

He grinned mischievously. "I know."

He hung his mouth open to chug what vodka was left in his flask, and gracelessly wiped his mouth on the unbuttoned sleeves of his dress shirt.

"So, Guh-ran-ger," he continued, annunciating every syllable though not in his usual taunting drawl. "This must be the first time I'm seeing you drink. And since I doubt very much that you're one of those compulsive alcoholics who prefer to drink by their lonesome, I'm going to assume that you are upset." His dilated pupils rolled around in his sockets involuntarily as his head wobbled while he spoke; he reminded her of a bobble-head doll she'd gotten Ron one Christmas as display for the dashboard in his car.

"So what is it? What's getting Hermione Granger's knickers in knots?" Even as a drunk he was crude.

"My knickers are not in knots, I'll have you know," she replied defiantly, hoping that'll get him to stop questioning her. "Besides, what makes you think I'd confide in you anyway?"

He stared dismally for some time before making himself comfortable on the floor he sat on. "Well, well, well. Mind you, you aren't the only one drowning your sorrows this fine evening." He gestured to the flask in his hand which Hermione quickly glanced at.

"I just found out my own wife is trying to kill me."

Hermione nearly spat out the whiskey she just poured in her mouth, fighting the reflex, the liquid instead gurgled in her mouth before some of it dribbled down her lip and splattered on her lap.

"Pansy's trying to kill you?" She was gazing at him with seriousness.

Draco only nodded. "I think she found out about my illicit affairs or something. Then again, Millicent did warn me about my dear wife saying something along the lines of wanting to claim all my fortune…" he scratched his head uncertainly. "Or was it Blaise that mentioned it?"

"That's horrible!"

"Not really. I'm just disappointed I hadn't thought of it first." He nonchalantly shrugged it off like it was nothing.

"You would actually kill your own wife?"

"No, not me. I'd hire someone, I can afford it."

Hermione turned away from his piercing grey eyes and stared ahead, appearing to be thinking about something else. "I caught Ron kissing another girl," she said finally, her voice eerily steady and emotionless. Her frozen expression also matched her stiff tone. She hardly looked like she felt anything at all. After all that crying, there was nothing left.

Draco just kept his eyes on her, not saying a word, barely even moving.

Hermione snapped her head back to face him. "But I suppose it's better than having my significant other attempting to send me to an early grave."

Suddenly both of them broke into grins and began giggling madly.

"What are you giggling at?" Draco asked in between breaths.

"Nothing. What are you giggling at?"

At this, for reasons unbeknownst to either, they doubled over laughing harder than before. The conversation turned to complete nonsense before they stumbled in Draco's office, and he wound up sweeping all papers and materials off his mahogany and very expensive desk, where Hermione and himself engaged in sexual activities; activities which neither would've done to each other had they been sober and aware.
:END FLASHBACK

The entire time she was telling the events of which happened, her eyes were cast on the table, too uncomfortable and awkward to look her best friend in the eye. But as she finished her story, her eyes moved up slowly to look into his. Harry's face was scrunched with disgust and horror. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Sorry I asked," he mumbled under his breath before picking up the menu to scan over it, trying in failed attempts to busy his mind with something else…anything else.

Hermione, however, was more than happy to let that conversation die down as she too picked up her menu and eyed several items which made her want to drool.

"So, you want me to come with you to your doctor's appointment tomorrow?" Harry peaked up from his menu.

"No, I'm not going to the doctor's. The Ministry organized some big office party tomorrow night and I can't just very well not show up now, can I?"

"Mm-hmm…" Harry nodded but seemed like he stopped listening long ago.

A waiter walked over with a notepad. "Can I take your order?"

"I'll have a burger with chips. No pickles," Harry spoke first, setting down his menu.

"Very good, sir. And for the lady?"

Hermione drummed her fingers lightly on her chin as if she was making the most important decision of her life. "Hmm, that sounds good. I'll have the same. But…is it possible to substitute the chips for something else?"

"Of course. What would you like?"

"Chicken parmesan?" she said in a small voice as if asking for permission.

The waiter raised a brow and was about to open his mouth in response when Harry interrupted him.

"It's alright. Get her both."

Hermione smiled thankfully. "And some extra chips!" she called to the waiter's retreating back as an afterthought.

…………

Harry was about to take another bite of his burger when he raised a contented brow at Hermione, whom was simultaneously taking a big sip of her strawberry milkshake and dipping fries in ketchup only to stuff it in her mouth as soon as her lips left the straw. He's never seen her eat like this before. He's never seen ANY girl eat like this before. The scene almost reminded him of Ron.

Harry chuckled to himself, knowing Ron would probably find her so sexy to see her this way; stuffing her face in a not-so-lady-like manner.

"Uh, Hermione?"

She looked up, shoving the remains of her burger into her mouth.

"Aren't you…concerned…you, um, might start to show?"

She cocked her head to the side in question.

"I mean, you are pregnant. Isn't Ron going to figure out sooner or later that you look…er, different?"

"What are you talking about? I don't look different," she replied between chewing.

Harry scratched his head and glanced down uncomfortably. Telling a pregnant woman that she was beginning to show had to be one of the most suicidal things a man could do. He might as well perform an Unforgivable on himself.

"Well," he began, trying in his mind to formulate the right words as to make it sound as gentle as possible. But as usual, he was drawing a blank. "Not that it matters really…it's just you look, how can I say this…you look very pregnant," he finished finally.

A frown grazed over the brunette's features, quite evidently looking very annoyed with his statement. "Are you saying I look fat?"

Harry's eyes widened; mainly in fear of the clumsiness of his words. "No! Of course not Mione. Never! I just meant you—you're glowing. You know, it just seems you put on some baby weight recently...no big deal-"

"Baby weight!"

Harry gulped. He was never too familiar with the phenomenon also known as the female mood swings, or he just didn't know to act upon them had he ever the opportunity to come across one.

"Well—I…I mean, I didn't mean it that way-" he stuttered carelessly. He bit his lip anxiously.

Self-consciously she glanced down her belly, which wasn't exactly large but rounder in comparison to her once flat stomach. In fact, it wasn't noticeable at all since Hermione wasn't the type to wear tight-fitting tops. But she frowned in discontent nonetheless, in her mind seeing a fatter version of herself. She sadly regarded all the half-empty plates in front of her only several minutes ago she was polishing off like there was no tomorrow.

"You think I'm being too obvious," she voiced, head still cast down guiltily.

"Um, yea. Just a bit though." His voice was small and quiet.

She sighed heavily, picking up the fork once again, refusing to deny herself of her cravings. "Well, I guess Ron's bound to find out sooner or later," she said simply whilst digging the fork into her chocolate mousse and allowing the creamy goodness of the dessert melt onto her tongue.

Author's NOte: yes I realize the pace of my story is awfully slow but it will pick up in the next chapter which conveniently will be posted 2-3 days from now YAYY!

In the next chapter… Malfoy finds a pregnancy test! Plus more on Ron being clueless lol