[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 3 : Chapter Two: Showers
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 27|
Background: Font color:
Chapter Two: Showers
“What brings you here today, Ginny?” Healer Corner looked at me as he walked in holding my chart. Yes, fucking Michael Corner my first boyfriend and subsequently my first ex-boyfriend who then shacked up with Harry’s first girlfriend… yes, this is how my life works. Lovely, I know.
I sigh and try not to snap at him, “What do you think brings me to a maternity healer, Michael?”
“You were always a fiesty one, Ginny,” he chuckled.
I will not hex him, I will not hex him… I put my best fake smile on, “Yeah… anyway, I need to know what I can and can’t do, when I’m due, what to do…” I trailed off as he just looked at me. I sighed again, trying to remain calm, “Actually, is there anyone else that could talk to me?”
“Er – I don’t see why that would be necessary,” he stuttered looking away from me for the first time in a few minutes. I thanked Merlin that I was just in sweats, a baggy t-shirt, wet hair, and no make-up after practice.
“I would be more comfortable is all,” I gave him the smile that I used to get him to fancy me in the first place.
“Er – fine, I’ll see if Healer O’Neill is available but –”
“Thanks,” I cut him off. He frowned at me, but left the room. I laid back on the cold bed and closed my eyes. This whole situation was giving me a headache… and I felt like I was going to puke.
Practice had been a bit off today – and by that I mean that I’d been yelled at three times for paying more attention to the bulgers than to the formations I was supposed to be executing. A few more practices like that and I wouldn’t have to take myself off the team…
I sighed frustratedly, why did this have to happen now? Just when my career was really beginning to lift off? I put my arm over my eyes to shield them from the white light of the hospital room as my stomach lurched and my head throbbed at the exact same time. Bloody-freaking-perfect. In about three seconds I was going to have to find something to retch into…
Three seconds over – I rushed to the trashcan by the door just as I hear a faint knock and the door opens.
Fantastic. This day is simply phenominal.
I finish puking my guts (or, more realistically, my breakfast) into the bin and find that the lady who walked in (in white trainers, from what I saw down here) was handing me a cool cloth.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I accept it and wipe my mouth first, then turn it over to run across my sweaty forehead. I wave my wand and vanish the sick from the bin and stand up. “Sorry about that.” I croak.
She chuckles lightly, “It’s no problem, dear.” She says as she procures a cup of water and hands it to me. I gulp it down thirstly – I’ve already scarred this woman, why stop now?
When I finish the water, I take a look at her and realize that shes older – maybe a few years older than Charlie – and has a kindly look about her. I already feel ten times more comfortable than I had with Michael.
“Why don’t you sit down, you still look a little weak,” she points to the small cot I had been laying on and I nod and sit down. “I’m Healer O’Neill.” She offers her hand. I take it, “Ginny.”
“So, I see this is your first visit to the Maternity Ward,” she comments looking at my chart.
“About how far along would you guess you are, if you can pinpoint such a thing,” she adds, winking.
I laugh, “Two and a half months, I think,” I tell her. “I know that was one of the only times we forgot the charm, at least.” I color a bit.
She grins, “Heat of the moment?”
“Something like that,” I tell her, grinning and blushing. For some reason it’s not awkward talking about my sex life with this lady. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t brought up the fact that I’m “shagging the savior of the wizarding world” and “oh merlin, how is it?”
Stupid fan girls. I hate them.
“So, I’m guessing you would like the normal work up and run down, then?” she sets my chart down on the table.
“Er – sure,” I say uncertainly.
She laughs, “That just means that I need to do some blood work to make sure everything is going alright, that I’ll give you some potions to help take the edge off of the sickness and make sure that you and your baby are getting the nutrients you need, and then I’ll tell you the precautions you ought to be taking.”
“That sounds perfect.”
An hour and a half later, burdened with three bottles of potions, six pamphlets on “What To Do When You’re Due!” and the knowledge that my Quidditch career was over, I slumped back to my flat.
Yes, I was a bit ticked that I could no longer play quidditch (okay, so a little more than a bit…) but I was also peeved that Harry was right. And that Harry could just go on living his life the way he wanted whilst I lugged this kid around for seven more months. Women sure did get the shit end of the stick, if I do say so myself.
Walking out of the fireplace I dumped my bag from the hospital on the kitchen table and went to get something to eat. Healer O’Neill had given me a dose of the potion to help morning sickness and with that gone I was starving.
I was warming up some left over apple tart when I glanced over and saw the offending object that everyone besides me calls the Weasley Family Calender (I prefer ‘That-Thing-That-Reminds-You-Of-Family-Funtions-You’d-Rather-Not-Attend’ or making clever plays on ‘WFC’ because the former tends to get pretty long). However, its name is the last thing on my mind as I stare at the bane of my existance seeing that today, Saturday, has the words Angelina’s Surprise Girl-Only Baby Shower! 6 pm, The Burrow. Followed by George’s clumsily written George’s Blokes-Only Oh-Fucking-Merlin-You’re-Gonna-Have-A-Kid! Shower (With the Appropriate Amount of Alcohol). 6 pm, Leaky Couldron.
This is how the calender works: if one smaller family (i.e. me and Harry, Hermione and Ron, Bill and Fluer and the kids, etc) were to write something on their own calender with their wand, it will write itself on every calender specified by the author and ring every minute or so until someone in each small family responds to the ‘invitation.’
Percy’s lovely wife Audrey had come up with the idea after realizing that our huge family made it difficult for her little OCD organization problem. Brilliant, she was (note: sarcasm).
Albeit, while planning events was now a lot easier and quicker than sending owls to everyone in the family, it was also pretty damn difficult to get away with ‘forgetting’ things.
Ideal for weddings and due dates and baby showers, not only was this calender the most ideal way to ‘save the date,’ it also reminded each person the of the event the day of with some spell that made you look at the calender or something – I hadn’t paid much attention when she was explaining it years back.
Either way, I knew I did not want to go to this baby shower while Harry was out partying with the guys. Lucky bloke. Though…yes, Angelina was one of my good friends alongside the fact that she was my sister-in-law. And yes, I may have been avoiding a majority of my family recently due to the fact that I’ve been so busy with quidditch and Teddy (keeping a primary schoolaged kid was hard work!). And okay, maybe I had sworn under threat of severe physical punishment by my mother, but I really did not want to go to this baby shower. That should count for something, right?
My food was finally warm so I grabbed the plate and walked into the living room to watch some quidditch on the telly (the wizarding world had finally caught on to the whole in-home entertainment thing – thank Merlin wizarding televisions didn’t run on elecktrity, though; that stuff was unreliable).
I propped up my feet on the coffee table and waved my wand to turn on the telly. The screen came up and I saw that Puddlemere United was playing(/thrashing) the Cannons. Currently, they had the camera on good ol’ Oliver Wood. I grinned as I recalled all of the whining Fred and George used to do about his practices as I happily ate my food.
Though I didn’t remember falling asleep, I blinked my eyes opened when I heard a rustling of papers beside me on the couch. I saw that the telly was off and turned my head to the left and saw Angelina shifting through what looked like…shit.
“They don’t tell you jackshit in these pamphlets about what pregnancy is really like,” she said in an offhanded tone and I groaned.
“Why are you going through my stuff, you nosy bint?”
She chuckles and leans over her fat, seven-month-pregnant stomach to set the pamplets on the coffee table, “I came over to drag you to my baby shower because I knew you were going to try to skip out but I smelled that apple tart in the kitchen and went to help myself when I saw these.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to be a surprise baby shower?”
“I live with George, Gin. He’s been planning is bloke thing forever. Loudly.”
“So I told him to tell the family that you were distracting me and would find a way to bring me over at six,” Angelina explains.
“I hate you.”
“I’m not going to deal with this shower without you. You’re the only one that can reel your mum in.”
I groan again, “You’re fat.”
“You will be soon,” Angelina retorts, narrowing her eyes.
“Merlin,” I sit up. “You can’t tell anyone or I’ll bat bogey hex you to the next century, Angelina Weasley, and I don’t can’t if you’re pregnant.”
“Calm down,” she laughs. “I’m not going to reveal your secret.” she lays her head back on the couch, her long braided hair spilling over the back. “Just be glad you won’t be fat during the fucking hottest months of the year,” she pats her stomach. “At least I’m done carrying this kid early September – when are you due?”
I sigh, still not completely convinced I’ve spared my husbands life for now, “January.”
“You’ve still got a nice long stretch then… have fun,” she snickers.
“Be nice or I’m not going to your baby shower,” I huff.
“You have to; your mum knows that I’m with you and she’ll kill you if I’m late to my own shower,” she grins.
“You are an evil, evil woman,” I growl.
“Or I can go alone and just lament to Molly over the fact that the woman that’s pregnant with her other grandchild couldn’t be here,” she shrugs and struggles to stand up.
I sit up, “You wouldn’t.”
She grins, “True, I wouldn’t. But you are coming and we do need to get going so up and at’em, preggers.”
I get up and take my dishes to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. I turn and take a look at Angelina again before mentally cursing, “Why are you all dressed up?” I moan.
“Because you know that Audrey will be there taking thousands of pictures with that goddamned camera.”
A low growl escapes, “You’re waiting while I change.” I she follows me up the stairs into my bedroom.
“Are they making you quit quidditch, too?” she asks me as she lounges on my unmade bed.
“Yes,” I call dismally from the depth of my closet. “They said the sooner the better, too.” I grab a nice loose blue shirt and a pair of nice jeans and walk out of the closet. “When did you stop playing?”
“When I was about three months in,” she tells me. “Which was about two weeks after I realized I was pregnant.”
“I’m about two and a half now,” I tell her as I strip off my t-shirt. She nods sadly, “It was so hard to stop playing – probably one of the hardest things of this pregnancy.”
“You’re so supportive.”
She chuckles, “Just telling it how it is, Gin.”
I shrug on my shirt, “Yeah, well you were also married when you were knocked up so…”
Angelina gasps and then starts laughing, “Oh Merlin, I forgot that you and Harry weren’t even married!”
I turn to face her, “We’ve been engaged for a year an a half and living together for three years!”
“I’m sure that your mum and brothers will accept that, too, don’t you worry,” she says, still laughing.
I scowl as I pull on my jeans and button them noticing how they are a tad tighter than they were previously, “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Please let me be there when you tell them that you’re pregnant,” Angelina says, her voice full of amusement.
“You better hope that you’re not six feet under when I tell them that I’m pregnant,” I mutter and grab her arm and turn on the spot.
“You could have warned me,” Angelina glares at me from the ground in front of the Burrow.
“Oops,” I shrug, trying to contain my grin.
“If this child turns out mental, I’m blaming you,” she says as I help her up and dusts herself off.
“Oh, please. It’s George’s kid, of course it’s going to be mental,” I roll my eyes as we make our way to the front door.
“Like you and Harry’s kid will turn out any more sane,” she says too loudly for my liking as we approach the door.
“Whenever that may happen,” I say pointedly.
She grins and shrugs as I glare at her. Why do I like her?
“Why are we here again, Ginny?” Angelina asks offhandedly.
I open my mouth to tell her (impolitely and with a few curse words) that she dragged me to her baby shower when i remember that I’m supposed to be taking her here indiscretely. I scowl and sigh, “I have to get something from Mum real fast.” I say loudly.
“Maternity clothes?” Angelina whispers, forcing me to punch her in the arm before throwing open the door.
“Mum! Angelina and I are here,” I yell into the seemingly empty house.
“I’m in the kitchen, dears,” I hear my mom call back.
I lead Angelina into the magically expanded kitchen. As soon as she walks into the decorated kitchen beside me everyone calls, “Surprise!”
“What’s this?!” Angelina gasps, perfectly ‘surprised.’ I take a minute to admire her acting skills. The only other girl in the family that could act that well was myself, the worst obviously being Hermione. Seroiusly, that girl couldn’t act to save her life.
“It’s a baby shower – can’t you read,” I tell her pointing to the It’s a Boy! banner that hung from wall to wall over the kitchen.
“Ginny, be nice,” Mum chastises me. All the Girls (other than me, obviously) have now gathered around Angelina. I didn’t really understand the point of baby showers, everyone congradulating Angelina and whatnot. They’ve known she was preggers for almost four months now, have all told her congradulations before, so why have a party for it?
Oh, because my family is nutters about parties. Right.
I make my way over to the kitchen table that is half filled with food and drinks, half with gifts. I reach for a glass of firewhiskey a second before I realize that I can no longer have alcohol.
“Okay, now that everyone is here, it’s time for party games!” Audrey annouces.
I may have to impale myself on one of the posters of the nice crib I spy over in the corner.
Too many ‘party games’ and Angelina-Ginny’s-Pregnant references later, I apparate straight into my bedrom and pull off my clothes on my way to the bathroom. I start the shower and while the water warms up, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t look much different at all.
I turned to the side. Maybe if you looked really carefully at the right spot of my stomach, you could discern a tiny bugle… or maybe I was imagining things. I sighed, pulling my long hair out of the ponytail I’d tied it up in halfway through the night and stepping into the hot shower.
My body instinctively flinched away from the water, but I stood in the spray until I was used to the temperature and it began to relax the muscles in my back. I tipped my head back and close my eyes to let the water run over my face.
I hear the door to the bathroom open, but I don’t move or say anything. I hear Harry as he takes his clothes off and they hit the floor. Four footsteps later the shower curtain is pulled back and I open my eyes and smile at my adorable fiancé. This was the type of shower I preferred.
“How was the party?” I ask him quietly as I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer to me and into the water.
“Your brothers are completely mental,” Harry grins at me as he wraps his arms around my waist and I move mine to his sculped chest. He leans down to kiss me and I trace that patterns on his chest then run my hands up to his shoulders and down his arms.
“I’m sure you fit in perfectly in that case,” I say when we break apart.
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Harry whispers as he runs his hands up my sides then cups my face.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’ll have to prove that you’re the only one that makes me mental.”
I smirk at him and run my hands up and down his arms again before slowing inching towards a more… southern region, “And how do you plan on doing that?” I asked innocently as he closed his eyes.
“Like this,” he said huskily before running his hands all the way through my wet hair, picking me up by my waist and pressing me gently but forcefully against the cold shower wall.
Wrapping my legs easily around his waist as his lips hugrily met mine, I vaguely thought that if I hadn’t already been pregnant, I very well might have been after this shower due to the fact that both of our wands lay forgotten on the bathroom floor.
“What did the healer say?” Harry asked as I lay in the crook of his arm under the covers in our bed. His hand trailed up and down the length of my bare back and I traced his abs. I may have banished all of his clothes down the hallway claiming that they were ‘completely unnecessary.’ And he may have, in return, locked my closet door and all of the drawers of the dresser with his wand.
Either way, I wasn’t all that upset with the present situation. Tricking Harry out of his clothing and/or hiding it was a secret specialty of mine.
He had picked up on and used some of my tactics, too. Hmph.
“You were right,” I admit somewhat grudgingly. “I have to resign from the team.”
I feel him kiss the top of my head, “I’m sorry, love. I know how much you love it.”
I bury my head into his chest and nod, “I feel horrible for not wanting to quit.” I admit.
Harry is silent for a minute and my head rises and falls as he breathes, “I don’t think that that’s bad at all, Gin. Of course you wouldn’t want to quit; your team is rising in ranks and you’re one of their leading players.”
“Does that make me a bad mother, though? The fact that I put quidditch before our child?” I ask him the question that has been bothering me all day.
“It would,” he tells me and my heart sinks. “But you’re not.”
I furrow my brows and move so I can see his face, “What –”
“You’re going to quit, right?” he asks.
“So you’re quitting the job you have doing the thing you love for our baby, are you not?”
“I guess,” I allow. “But I don’t want to.”
“Well if you wanted to, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice, would it?”
“I guess not.”
“So you are already giving something up for the baby which makes you the opposite of a bad mother,” Harry tells me as if he’s just come to the greatest conlusion of his life.
I grin at him, “I suppose.” He kisses my forehead and we lapse into silence again. “The baby is healthy though,” I tell him after a few minutes. “They did blood work. I’m supposed to come back next month for a check up. And depending on how far along I am, they may be able to tell me the sex then, if we wanted to know.”
“Do you want to know?” Harry asks.
I look up at him to gage his reaction, “I think so.”
“Good,” he looks relieved. “I think I would die if I had to wait seven months.”
I nod, “But Harry?”
“Hmm?” he asks, looking at me in the semi-darkness.
“You know we’ll have to actually get married soon, right?”
He sighs and nods, “Your mum’s going to kill us.”
I think about this for a second, “Yeah, she’ll probably go after both of us, but my brothers will all go solely after you.”
“Fantastic,” he groans.
I kiss him on the cheek before laying back on his chest and closing my eyes, “Goodnight, Harry.”
“I love you, Ginny.”
I kissed his chest in response before adding, “They’re still going to kill you.”
A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys! I had such bad writers block on this one for no reason, but I am pretty happy with how it turned out (I think). Anyway, THANK YOU so much for all the reviews, guys! They made me SO happy. Usually, I answer them, but I'm like 300+ (on all my stories combined) behind right now due to school and it's a bit overwhelming, haha. But despite that, I promise I read them all and I love them. They're the reason I keep writing. Thank you so much, guys.
Please continue to review!
over and outt.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories