three little words ; 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

5. I Made a Mistake

Draco

I'm pregnant.

Hermione

"Bloody hell," he muttered, leaning back in his velvety chair in his room. Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a large sigh. It didn't sit right with him that Hermione would bear another child with him. He could only imagine the worst that he must be doing to her. He couldn't get her out of his head, he couldn't stop thinking about those beautiful words.

"I loved you," she'd said, "I still love you, and I always will."

Surely she still wanted him? Surely she still wanted to be with him? Didn't he deserve a second chance? He'd never truly left her, he'd honored their agreement. But now, two years later, she clearly didn't seem to need him, no matter how much he wanted that to be false.

A knock on his bedroom door caused him to frantically fold the letter up and shove it in between two books on his bookshelf, one of them being his diary. He hadn't written in it for days. It felt like weeks.

"Draco, dear?" his mother poked her head in the doorway, a kind smile on her face. "Someone's here to see you. She's a 7th year, just finished at Hogwarts. Her name is Astoria Greengrass."

He nodded his head. "It's okay, you can let her in." Whatever she wanted from him, he was going to be very careful about giving it to her. It wasn't everyday that someone came to the Malfoy Manor, requesting the presence of Draco. And he was sure that it probably wasn't for a nice "hello."

The girl that walked in was tall, just tall enough that she could have been taller than him if she held her head high. She was extremely slender, yet soft in a way that appealed to him. She knew how to hold herself; she entered the room and her piercing eyes demanded attention. They were a cold seaweed green, and her nose was pointed, giving her a mean look. Her hair was a dark brown, curls causing them to bounce as she walked. She held her hands in front of her, clasped and looking remarkably like an adult.

"I've heard about you," she says, and her voice isn't high and squeaky, but smooth and hard.

"Oh?" Draco stood up, meeting her and reaching out with his hand. She shook it, and Draco was surprised to find her hands cold. In fact, they were icy. As an instinct, he wrapped his other hand around hers in an attempt to warm it.

She smiled. "Sorry, my hands are always cold."

He shook his head. "It's fine, I promise." Dropping his hands, he cleared his throat. "Why did you come here?"

"I was sorted into Slytherin, just like you. I was told that you would be just like me."

He knit his eyebrows. "Like me? Who told you this?"

"They requested that I keep that anonymous. I've been looking for someone like you, someone that I can grow to be comfortable with, someone that I can grow to love, and have the same in return."

Draco gulped. "You're here because of love?"

She nodded. "My advisor told me that you have lost someone that you care about. I know that you want to be loved." She stepped forward and placed her hand on the space above his heart. "I can be that person."

Beginning to feel sick, he yanked his hand away. "Who exactly, dare I ask, has been telling you this?"

"She--sorry, they--said that it would be best if you didn't know."

She. What woman could possibly know? It could've been Hermione, it definitely could have. But then there's his mother, the only person he told about his feelings for her. She had to have had the influence, this girl wouldn't have hesitated to hurt Hermione. She wouldn't have listened to her. That's how all Slytherins were. Except for him.

"Sorry," Draco snapped, "but it seems that you have to leave now. I'd walk you out but I have something I need to do."

The girl, Astoria, looked a bit shocked. "Are you sure? If you need someone to stay and help, I'd be honored to."

"No," he hissed, putting a hand on her shoulder to gently push her out of his room. "I need to be alone right now. Surely, since you're so much like me, you'd understand." He didn't even wait for her to nod or say anything before slamming the door in her face.

He puffed out a huge breath. His mother had put her up to this. She wanted him to be happy. But life with her would have been dreadful and full of guilt. He wouldn't be able to live with himself, knowing that he had to live with the fact that he left Hermione, right after she confessed her very real love for him. Everything was getting in the way now. He had to do something, whether it be involved with Hermione or not. He had to fix what he'd wronged.

Draco, in a fury, threw himself against the bookshelf against the wall and clawed at the books sitting there, throwing them one by one into the fire blazing in his fireplace. He reached down for another, and when he looked at it, it was his diary, his thumb on top of Hermione's letter. He gripped them both tightly, preparing to toss them into the flames, but something stopped him. He lowered his arm, carefully setting the objects on his desk, and cleaning up the mess that he made.

"Hermione, what have you done to me?" he grumbled, collapsing in his chair.

He could feel the tension in those words she'd written, the two words that changed everything about his mission. If she was pregnant, then that was another child that would have to suffer the heartbreak of losing their father, their flesh and blood, to a man who made all the wrong choices and was now trying to make up for it. They couldn't go through that, he'd gone through enough pain as it was, and he couldn't bear the fact that he'd have to watch those two children be in pain. Instead of being hurt, he'd be the one doing the hurting.

But no matter how hard he tried to forgive himself and let it go, to convince himself that he did the right thing to release her from his bonds, he couldn't ignore the sense that she was in danger. And if not currently, then she would be soon.

"Bloody hell," he said, sighing again. "I've made a mistake."