"Draco, please, I just need some time!" her voice got quieter. "I'm not sure if we'll work."

Those were the words that broke me. Those words tore my heart out. Those were the words that caused me to be here, sitting on the edge of this building. No, I was not drunk; I was not crazy; I was simply heart broken. My love for the one girl, the one woman, who I thought had loved be back, was still thriving, even though she loved me not. She loves me not, I thought to myself, how ironic. The note in my hand was basically the last thing holding me to Earth, tying me down. It had arrived by owl this morning:

Draco

Please, please, please give me another chance. Can we talk? Tonight, at my house?

Thanks,

Hermione.

Should I give her another chance? Or not? I don't even know anymore. All I know is that I want to push myself off this building, no magic involved, and live to see her face twisted in pain as she stares down at my broken body, my broken soul, from the window of her house. Yes, the building I am currently contemplating upon is the building across from her house.

I close my eyes as a blessed wind picks up and gently caresses my face, much like her hand used to do a mere seconds before we became intimate. Thinking of all those times almost makes me want to cry. We showed our love for each other in many ways, and actually making love was probably our favorite way. I can almost feel her light fingers making trails across my neck, her nails gently scraping my skin, making the goose bumps rise-

"Draco?" The voice of my angel whispers quietly. I must be imagining this. It can't be true. This wasn't how it was planned. I sigh, and reply, "Yes?"

"What exactly are you, erm, doing here?"

"Contemplating my death."

"Oh." A quiet exhale of held breath issues behind me, and I turn ever so slightly as to rest my knees against my chest.

"Draco, I have to tell you something. Please come down," The little corner of my brain that occasionally comes out to voice its opinion crawls out. I get down from the ledge, and sit against it. "What is it?" I admit it, my voice comes out a little harsher than was intended.

"I'm pregnant."

--

"What did you say?" I can't help that my voice comes out cracked; if I heard that right, she just said she was pregnant. Maybe it isn't mine. Maybe she's just informing me.

"I. Am. Pregnant."

"And this concerns me how...?" Evidently those pregnancy hormones were kicking in early; true, she didn't look the least bit pregnant, but her face started to get red, and her fists balled up at her sides. "Draco Malfoy. I am pregnant and it concerns you SINCE YOU ARE THE FATHER!"

Ah. So that's how it concerns me.