Hermione's POV
xxxxxx
I could hardly believe it. The pregnancy test was all wrong, I know it! I can't believe... I never expected...
WHY ME?
I'm always a responsible person. I at least made sure he had protection, for Merlin's sake! And now what? I'm pregnant? No. I refuse to believe it and I certainly refuse to be a muggle statistic.
It's been three days since I tested myself for pregnancy... and I'm too scared to try again. What if the results are the same? And again, what if they're not? What if Malfoy caught me like that again, a mess on the bathroom floor?
I shivered. Malfoy.
He didn't spread the word, as far as I know. People have been treating me normally and Harry and Ron haven't had a spazz attack. I suppose I should thank him for keeping his mouth shut, but then again, I could also slap his cold blooded face and throw him every cuss word in the book.
It wasn't hard avoiding him in the past three days. He sort of ignored me as well, and that was completely fine with me. We spoke when he had to, and that was it. Neither of us brought up the subject of the other night, and all was supposedly forgotten. Supposedly, that is.
I was sitting on the couch of our living room, doing my homework like every Friday afternoon, while Draco kept his distance in the kitchen, holding an apple, while reading an open textbook on the counter. I felt him glance my way every now and then, and I flinched. I truly hate that boy.
Although I was glad he never brought it up, it was intensely awkward between us. Sometimes I wish we would both just get everything it out in the open. Well. Not everything, of course.
"Hey, Granger?"
Oh darn. I knew wishing stuff like that was never good.
I sighed. "Yes?" I never turned around to face him.
"Can we talk?"
I didn't like his tone. He sounded serious. I suppose I had to lighten the mood.
"We're talking right now, Malfoy. It's what we call it when people exchange words," I told him testily.
Somewhere between the silence that followed, I'm sure he stood up from the stool he was seated on and took a few steps my way. Frightened out of my mind already, I closed my textbook shut, and backed off quickly towards the door of my room. He stopped, and looked at me oddly.
"Seriously, what's wrong with you, Granger?"
I would never tell him.
"What's wrong with you? Isn't it more than a little obvious I want to be alone?"
He exhaled slowly.
"Well, I'm sorry for wanting to know if you're okay," he said harshly. "Sheesh."
I touched the knob on my door. Although surprised I was that he even cared about my well-being, I couldn't stand being in the same room as him sometimes. I looked at him indifferently.
"Since when did you care?"
And I slammed the door shut on him for the millionth time.
Night time... I used to love it. Now, I really hate it.
It used to be a time where I could stay up till the early hours of morning and read, or write, or talk to myself about anything. Night times were especially for me, and when the joys of it were taken away from me, I usually cried myself to sleep. The reading and writing and talking was replaced with nightmares.
