Chapter 1 : Prologue: Better Believe It
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FREAKING AMAZING CHAPTER IMAGE BY Midnight_Witch
AT TDA. SHE'S MY HERO.
Prologue: Better Believe It
It was three hours into a drilling, Friday early morning practice – during which the captain of my team, Gwenog Jones (yes, she was still playing), decided once again that it was her mission in life to work us until we passed out – when I actually thought, for the first time, that I was going to pass out. Then I realized that it wasn’t just the feeling that I was about to faint and fall from my broom, but also that the small breakfast I had had that morning consisting of a bowl of oatmeal was about to make another appearance.
I finished the complicated maneuver by passing off the quaffle then high tailed it to the side of the pitch where I proceeded to puke my guts out. Wonderful, really.
As I was retching unceremoniously onto the sidelines, I was vaguely aware of a whistle and then of Gwenog standing behind me. I finished, wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my practice kit, then leaned on my broom as I turned, humiliated, to face her.
“You okay, Weasley?” she asked, concerned. She was really nice, actually, and off the pitch she was one of my good friends.
“Yeah, fine,” I said as I cursed my throaty response. Water would be awesome right now, I really hate the feeling of sick in my mouth and my now extremely dry throat.
She raised an eyebrow at me, “You look like you are about to pass out,” she observed.
She had no clue how close she was. Everything was spinning. It made my stomach churn again, “I’m… fine…” I said as I tried to mount my broom. I was about to push off when suddenly I was forced to drop my broom and turn back and puke. Again.
“Like hell you are,” Gwenog remarked when I was done, “you are taking the rest of the day off.” She told me.
I wiped my mouth, again, and turned to face her, again. I shook my head. Then stopped because it was making everything worse. “No way.”
“Don’t make me order you off this pitch, Weasley. You’ve never missed a practice so missing the rest of this one because you just puked up –” I fought back nausea “– your innards will not be a big deal.”
“But –” I fought, even though I knew I lost.
“Take your arse, and get it off the pitch,” she ordered.
I threw her a really confusing look (it was confusing because it was half hate-filled and half grateful) and, using my broom as somewhat of a cane, made my way off the pitch.
As I entered the locker room I was in deep thought over what made me sick. I’d felt a little weird for the last few days, but never actually barfed my guts up.
After I changed into my sweats I’d worn over to practice and slipped on my beautiful engagement ring (I didn’t like to practice in it, I was afraid of losing it), I apparated back home then collapsed on the couch. I didn’t really mean to throw myself onto the couch, I just sort of fell. Then my stomach lurched and I weighed the chances of vomiting again. I decided I could hold it in. Mainly because I didn’t think I had the energy to get up and go to the nearest place I could barf. Though that potted plant wasn’t that far away…
“Ron, I told you I’d meet you at work!” I heard someone say as they walked down the stairs to our two story flat. “Seriously, I wouldn’t randomly apparate into you and Hermione’s place at eight in the morning unless I had seen one of you leave the flat first,” Harry’s voice was getting closer, but if I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t Ron I might have had to excuse myself to the nearest potted plant. “Especially after that one time when I heard strange noises coming from the bedr –” I opened my eyes and saw him standing in the doorway to the living room. “Gin?”
I smiled at him weakly.
“You look terrible!” he said as he hurried over to me. See how complimentive my fiancé is? He saw the look I was giving him and quickly amended, “I mean you are all pale and sweaty and,” he got closer and winkled his nose, “do you smell like vomit?”
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
“Oh, Gin,” he said, “what can I do? I’m calling Ron and telling him to cover for me today.”
I finally realized I needed to talk, “No, don’t stay home because of me. I’m fine.”
“Then let me see you stand up,” he challenged.
“I hate you.”
“I’m taking the day off. After I take you to bed,” he said. I hated it when I couldn’t help myself, but I allowed him to carry me bridal style up the stairs and to our bedroom. He lay me on the bed and then ‘accio’d me a trash can to barf in.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Do you need anything?”
“Water?” I asked. He smiled and left me alone. I relaxed and rested my hand on my stomach. Unbelievably, it was feeling a little better. It wasn’t churning anymore at least.
What, I thought, would make me sick? I hardly ever get sick. Last time I actually got a stomach bug was almost three years ago when I was nineteen and had gone to Scotland for a Quidditch match in the middle of some epidemic. As far as I know, no one I knew had had any sickness lately. If they had, I would kill them for giving it to me.
By lunchtime, about four hours later, I woke up feeling as good as I had felt previously that week. Meaning that I was still not feeling one hundred percent, but I was well enough to get up and do what I needed to. After brushing my teeth to get the horrible taste out of my mouth, I walked downstairs and found Harry in the kitchen making a sandwich for lunch. Then I realized I was starving.
“Can you make me one of whatever you are making?” I smiled at him.
He turned around, looking confused, “You are aware that about four hours ago you were incredibly sick to your stomach?”
I nodded as I walked over to him, “And by some miracle now I feel so much better. And hungry. Really hungry.”
Harry just studied me trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I sighed, “I’m fine now. I just feel a bit off, but if you don’t let me eat I will have to hurt you.”
He finally shrugged and smiled slightly as he pulled out two more slices of bread and magicked over cheese, ham, and lettuce. I put together my sandwich as he finished his and walked over to the bar table we had and sat on one of the stools. I finished putting together my sandwich with the materials I had then, as I magicked the materials back to the fridge, decided that I wanted mustard. I took it out on my way to sit by Harry.
As I sat down with my sandwich and mustard he raised his eyebrow at me, “I thought you didn’t like mustard,” he asked.
“I decided to give it another try,” I shrugged. The somewhat bitter and spicy taste was very appetizing.
I felt his gaze on me for a while longer then he went back to his sandwich. We ate in silence for a while, me savoring the taste of food while my stomach stayed still and acted right.
“Hermione owled to see if you still wanted her to stop by after she picked up Victoire and Dominique from their day care center, I told her probably not because you were so sick, but if you feel better already you can owl her back. She wasn’t picking them up until two,” Harry told me.
“I feel fine now, I don’t know what that was. I must have eaten something bad for dinner last night.”
“You don’t think that it was just a quick acting bug? You don’t want to get the girls sick.”
“I know,” I answered. That was what was keeping me from owling Hermione that minute. I wanted to see my nieces very badly, it’s been nearly two weeks, but the last thing I wanted to do was hand Bill and Fluer two vomiting toddlers. “Maybe I’ll just wait and see if I feel better tomorrow. Maybe we could take the girls to the park before my evening practice.”
Harry looked apologetic. Shit. He had to work tomorrow. “Sorry, Gin, I can’t take off tomorrow. Ron got this huge case in today and since I’m not there I told him I’d take the shift alone tomorrow.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said.
I waved him off, “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl now,” I took a bite of my sandwich, chewed, and swallowed, “Thanks for taking off to take care of me today.”
“You were about to pass out. How could I not?”
“I was not abo-” I stopped talking at the look he gave me. “Well, I’m better now and I don’t want to sit about the house all day acting sick.”
Harry smiled, “Well, I’m not going to let you run around the house screaming or anything of the like.”
“Let me?” I raised an eyebrow. No one ‘let’ me do anything.
He nodded, “You didn’t see yourself this morning. You looked half-dead. You are taking it easy today.” His amazing green eyes bored into me. Merlin, I love those eyes. If anything, I hope he gives those eyes to our children.
I froze as that thought brought back something Angelia had told me nearly three months ago. “If anything, it’s this damn morning sickness that gets me. Didn’t start until after I was pregnant for about two months or so and now I can’t make it past nine without puking. I swear one day I’m going to barf up this bloody baby!”
“Gin?” I heard Harry talking to me but I couldn’t focus, “Hello? Are you okay? Ginny!”
Then came another memory. One that occurred a little over two months ago.
I watched from the bed as he walked out of the bathroom and into our conjoined bedroom. He looked so incredibly sexy. The only light in the room, a small lamp on his bedside table, made him with his messy black hair, half down with water dripping into his face, half sticking up already dried, look like a scene from a movie . He stood in the doorway and shook his head, water droplets flew everywhere.
Sweet Merlin was the boy trying to torture me? He walked over to the dresser and slipped on boxers before turning and walking towards the bed. As he crawled in and leaned in to kiss me goodnight, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I kissed him back passionately and it seemed that at first he was surprised. I couldn’t see why, he was obviously trying to turn me on with his little show three seconds before. It’s not my fault he’s the best looking man on the planet.
Then he caught on and deepened the kiss. His tongue touched my lips and I parted them immediately. I needed to be closer to him. Now. I put one hand on his chest and pushed lightly while using the other to hold me up as I moved on top of him. He lowered himself slowly onto his back and moved his hands down my sides, to my hips. He was driving me crazy.
I felt his hands, warm, lift up my large t-shirt I was used to sleeping in and slide back up my hips, stomach. I broke our kissed and kissed his jaw, chin, neck. I heard him sigh contently then a second later, my back was on the bed and he was on top. Not that I cared.
Hell, the only thing I was really aware of at the moment was the feel of his bare chest. The only thing beside extreme passion that I was feeling was annoyance at the fact that my shirt was making it impossible for me to feel his chest on mine.
As if he read my mind he pulled it over my head and kissed me again. God, I loved this man.
But when it was over and I was laying next to him, our breathing labored, his arm holding me to him, the last thing on my mind was the fact that for the first time we hadn’t thought to use protection.
I blinked and saw Harry’s face come into focus. The frightened look on his face, I’m sure, matched the one on mine. It can’t be. I can’t be. There’s no way. My hand flew to my stomach again.
“Are you going to be sick again?” Harry asked standing up ready to help me to the sink.
I shook my head. Not today, at least.
My mum once told me, well she told Fleur and I was spying from the stairs, that a woman can feel when she’s pregnant before she even takes the test. And for some reason, at this moment, I had a very strong feeling that I was pregnant. I guess this is the first thing I’ll ever be able to chalk up to mother’s intuition.
I looked at my fiancé, who still looked terrified and decided that he needed to know. I also decided that, because it was his job to remember to use that damn contraceptive charm (though I hadn’t been in the mood to stop and take the time, either…), I was going to be blunt.
“Tell me, would you like to be called ‘Papa’ or will the traditional ‘Daddy’ suffice?” I said levelly.
He looked at me wide-eyed while the news sunk in then Harry Potter, the man who defeated Voldemort, the savior of the free magical world, fainted.
As I looked down at him, I thought wildly that if I didn’t know from experience that the man had balls I would have never believed it.
A/N: Tell me what you think, pleasee. I'll love you forever! Should I even continue this or just stick to my other two... haha. (Oh, and note that this is short merely because its the prologue. Real chapters will be longer. :]) The review box is calling your name...
over and outt.