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A/N: So here's one of my new stories. I really hope that you guys like it. I know that this is really short, but the next chapter, the first actual chapter, is much longer. Please read and then review and tell me what you think.

Oh, and this is rated mature just for caution. I really doubt that it will get bad. I just dont want to have to worry about keeping it safe and stuff. So yeah. =]

My Sister's Fiancé

Intro: My graduation party was supposed to be fun. I mean I successfully completed my education at Hogwarts: cause for celebration, right? Well, according to Grandma Weasley, it was. So despite my insistence that it was not necessary, she threw one for Molly and me. Of all the things I learned at Hogwarts one thing that must have slipped by was that firewhiskey is a tricky, devil-invented substance and when combined with two vulnerable, heartbroken people it's even worse. So about a month after that terrible party I realize that I’ll never be able to completely forget it. Because one huge mistake made me, Dominique Weasley, pregnant with My Sister's Fiancé’s child.

Prologue: Sick

'No, Maman, I don't need to see a healer.'

'I'm quite sure it's only a small stomach bug.'

'No, you don't need to come over. I'm an adult now, remember?'

These are all things I've been insisting to my mother for the past few days. Ever since that rat at St. Mungo’s told her I went home sick a week ago. I'm betting it was Emmelyn; the girl had been my best friend from second year till now when she’s interning with me, and I love her as much (if not more than) my sister but I really wish she hadn't told my Maman.
Anyway, now, as I sit on the rim of the tub in my new small flat with my head in my hands, I'm quite sure that it is not a simple stomach bug. I'm about seventy-five percent sure that it's morning sickness. In approximately three more minutes I will know for sure. Well, as sure as that cheap stick muggle test can be. I wasn't going to go buy a wizarding pregnancy test. The eighteen year old, unwed, just graduated daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, niece of Harry and Ginny Potter, buying a pregnancy potion was definitely something that the media would have a field day about.

And I wasn't really planning on telling anyone. Especially considering who the father was.

Well, most would probably assume it was my exboyfriend Chandler Wood's kid. So maybe that wouldn't be so bad... well it definitely wouldn't be as bad. However when the kid was born and his hair changed color within minutes, they might get a bit suspicious.

I groaned.
Damnit, why'd Grandma Weasley have to throw that bloody party? My family likes to celebrate too much. I told her that being the second/third (I graduated with my infallible, insufferable cousin Molly) Weasley child of this generation to graduate Hogwarts was not that big of a deal. And I wasn't in the mood that night anyway. I was tired and a tad depressed after just breaking it off with Chandler. (It was mutual. He was quite fit, a marvelous kisser, and did compliment my looks but he was also going away to Ireland to train for Quidditch so it was inevitable. Long distance relationships suck.)

But depressed and tired and graduated only two days previously I was forced to attend the party at the Burrow. With all my relatives and friends congratulating Molly and I like getting out of school was some huge bloody achievement. Well, considering that four of my uncles and two of my aunts didn't, maybe to them it was.
Mostly the attention was on Molly, thank Merlin. She was going to go into some high branch of the ministry. Fan-bloody-tastic. Again thankfully, growing up in a huge famous family, and being the second daughter/middle child to my own parents, I'd learned how to be invisible even if I was part-veela/gorgeous. So I stood by the door and just watched. Emmelyn was at her own house celebrating with her own family so I felt no need to be social with mine.

I watched as my crazy little cousins had fun and played games. James and my brother Louis, straight out of fifth year, were disrupting everything. I even played with my littlest cousin, Roxanne (she's only three, even though her brother, and my favorite cousin, Fred is sixteen, almost seventeen. He’ll be starting his last year at Hogwarts while I try to puzzle out the real world alone. Anyway, the age difference was explained to me by Fred as 'she was a surprise.'), for a while.

So the party wasn't too, too bad. Until I watched the fight. My perfect one-and-a-half year older sister, Victoire - born on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, more beautiful than I with her long blonde hair contrasting my glossy strawberry blonde, the oldest, wisest Weasley cousin (insert loud cough and snickering here) - was arguing with her fiancé, Teddy. I was close enough to know it was bad but far enough away to not catch what it was about. Most of what I knew came to me later.

About fifteen minutes after the fight was over Teddy walked over and sat down next to me (I'd migrated out of the 'official party area' to a nearby tree) holding two glasses. He'd handed me one, "Here's to the newly single clan," he'd said. I sniffed the drink. It was that Satan-inspired firewhiskey. I didn't care. I took a gulp and it burned down my throat.

"Single?" I'd asked.

He nodded and reached his hand into his pocket. He fingered the diamond ring he'd given my sister about six months previously. I didn't ask questions. I watched as my cup refilled itself; Teddy was smart.

"Not as good as it sounds, huh?" he said solemnly. I looked out into the forest near the house and took another sip of my drink.

He heard him gulp his. I remember pitying him. As much as I might have slightly envied/thought she was way too worshiped, I knew that Victoire loved Teddy and vice versa. Which was probably more than I could say about me and Chandler. But still, a break up is a break up and it still sucks. A ton.

Let's see... the next thing I remember is him slurring something about how he always did like my glossy red-ish hair. I think I might have told him that he looked really sexy with his blue hair. Anyway, next thing I know we were making out.

Then we were horizontal. On the forest floor. Romantic, right? Then my shirt was gone and so was his. Slowly we drunkenly undressed each other until he had free reign and was inside me. I remember thinking vaguely of how it was ironic I would lose my virginity to the same person that Victoire probably did, but before I could come to the conclusion that what I was doing was bad, wrong, horrible, etc. it was over.
And then I'm pretty sure we both passed out. The next morning we woke up on the forest floor, surprisingly half dressed, and weirdly conscious of what had happened. It was, to say the very least, painfully awkward. Because I didn't love him (like that), he didn't love me (like that), we both knew that, we both accepted that, yet we'd just had sex.

With the unspoken, yet very loud, contract not to tell a soul, we parted ways. Maman and Dad hadn't even asked where I'd been they were too worried about Victoire, who had apparently spent the night at the house. That was when the guilt hit. Hard. Crippling me, making me physically ill.
Somehow, the very next day Teddy and she had worked out whatever the problem was and were back to the happily engaged couple.

So I'd tried to forget it and it was easy enough, going back to normal. Moving out of Shell Cottage and into my new flat that was near St. Mungo's where I'd be interning.
Everything was great until about a week ago when I randomly got violently sick on the job. Saying it was just a stomach bug I went home and, miraculously, it was mostly over by lunchtime.

That'd happened for about five days before I realized what might have happened. It took one of the patient's pregnant wife telling me how excited she was for my mind to make the connection between the sickness and the event that happened a month or so ago. And then it'd taken me two days to get the nerve to buy and take a test.

I sighed; I told Grandma Weasley that party had been a bad idea. The timer went off telling me that the test was finished. My heart went into overdrive.

I lifted my head, ignored the dizziness, and walked over to the sink. I picked up the little stick, took a deep breath and looked down, seeing that little offensive word I'd already guessed staring back at me: 'Pregnant.'


A/N: Dun, dun, dun. My characters, if they ever actually came to life, would probably rebell and kill me for all the crap I put them through. Oh, well. A good dramatic story is fun to write, relieves stress, and hopefully is fun to read, too. I'm going to include a little family tree-like info thing here. About what ages everyone is so that you won't be confused. I really hope that you like this story/idea. Please review and tell me what you think!

~Dominique (and Molly) are 18, just out of Hogwarts.
~Victoire is a year and a half older than Dominique.
~Fred is 17, starting his last year at Hogwarts. Dominique is closest to him. Roxanne is three.
~James and Louis are close in age. They are in 6th year.
~Rose and Al are in 5th year/prefects. Scorpius is Gryffindor.
~Lily, Hugo, and Lucy are in 3rd year.

There. That's about all for now. Oh, in the prologue it is like July-ish and Dominique is like a month into her pregnancy, but in the first chapter (which I will post soon!) she is about three months along and it's the beginning of September. But that's me getting ahead of myself. So yeah. Please leave feedback!!
over and outt.

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