WONDERFUL chapter image by Midnight_Witch at tda.
Chapter One: How Does This Work?
I sighed as I stared down at the unconscious bump in the floor that was my fiancé. Everyone always writes in gushy muggle novels and even wizarding ones about how the girlfriend/fiancée/wife tells the boyfriend/fiancé/husband that she’s pregnant and then he faints. It’s like the textbook response. “I’m pregnant.” BAM! boyfriend/fiancé/husband hits the floor.
However, they don’t tell you how inconvenient it is. In the books girlfriend/fiancée/wife is all ‘aww, it’s so sweet’ but in real life I’m sitting here like ‘oh, Merlin.’ Because, frankly, there are a whole host of things that would be better to do than stare down at my unconscious fiancé. Like send him away to get a pregnancy test, maybe?
Now, referring back to my novels, I seem to remember that the girlfriend/fiancée/wife always gently shakes awake the boyfriend/fiancé/husband. I don’t think that this is the appropriate form of action, though. Not fun at all. And if I’m going to have to deal with a total of nine months of morning sickness, back pain, swollen feet, etc, and then give birth to this baby (which I hear from Fleur and is not pleasant to say the least…) then I’m at least going to have some fun waking Harry up.
My two options right now, as I finger Harry’s wand threateningly, are the traditional bat bogey or just a simple aguamenti. After a few seconds spent in deep thought, I decide that I’ll use the latter because, well, I do love him and waking up with huge bats flying out of your nose isn’t very pleasant at all. Or so Ron has told me.
I flick the wand muttering the incantation and after a few seconds of being doused, Harry starts sputtering and begins to sit up. I stop the water and watch with a bemused expression as he sits up, wipes his face with his hand, then pushes his sopping hair out of his eyes. He’s so cute when he’s all wet. I seem to remember that that’s exactly what I was thinking the night this whole pregnancy thing started…
He looks at me with those huge, green eyes and appears to be thinking about whether or not I was kidding. I reached a hand out and helped him to his feet. Neither of us spoke as we just stared at each other.
Finally Harry said quite simply, “I’m going to be murdered.”
I scowled, “No, you aren’t. We’re engaged.”
“But not married.”
“I’m sure they must have figured that we… you know.”
“I think they blatantly ignore that. They like to think that you are still their virtuous little sister.”
“I haven’t been ‘virtuous’ since I was thirteen,” I rolled my eyes.
“What?” Harry’s eyes widen.
“What?” I ask, momentarily confused.
“You were thirteen!”
“What are you… oh!” I laugh, “No, no, no. That’s how old I was when Fred and George finally corrupted me. You know you were my first.”
He seems to relax, but only a little bit. “You know they are still going to attempt to murder me.” Eh, he’s probably right. It’s really annoying though. I guess that’s what you get when you have six older brothers (yes, six, Fred will probably come back from the dead to kill Harry, too) and two parents who grew up in like the 1800’s.
He looks at me as if he’s expecting me to come up with a solution that will save his neck. I can’t think of any. And I’m not even 100% sure I’m pregnant. “Look,” I say, “I’m not even sure I’m pregnant.”
“Well, being sure would probably be a good idea,” Harry says slowly.
“Yeah.” I look at him pointedly.
“What?” he asks.
I roll my eyes, “So go get me a test!”
He stares at me as if I’ve just asked him to give up his firstborn. Ha. Good example. “Me?”
“Well are you going to send your possibly pregnant fiancée who was violently sick this morning out to get one?” Maybe this pregnancy thing won’t be so bad…
“No, I guess not,” he mutters. “But I can’t exactly go to the nearest store and pick one up. If someone recognizes me as I’m buying a pregnancy test they’ll probably alert the media.”
Damn it. Sometimes, being engaged to the savior of the wizarding world is a bitch. So Harry can’t go buy a test, I can’t go buy a test for much the same reason… hmm…
“Well you’ll just have to buy one as someone else,” I conclude.
He looks at me as he tries to put it together, “Wait. You want me to use the potion to buy a pregnancy test?”
“Do you see any other way?” I ask.
We walk into the cupboard and take out a flask of Polyjuice potion that may or may not have been acquired legally. I sprinkle some random muggle’s hair in it and watch as it turns a dark blue. Interesting.
Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I came up with this idea a while ago; as in right after the war ended when we couldn’t go anywhere without being gawked at. Hermione would make the potion and we’d store it up for when we really didn’t want to deal with all the questions and stares. Then, since my job required me to travel, whenever I was in a different country I would go out into the muggle world and accio some random peoples hair. Then, back in England, we could walk around, go out to lunch, go shopping, etc. as people that no one knew. It was really quite ingenious. Harry and I hadn’t really used our stash much recently but Harry was right, if someone caught him buying a pregnancy test both of our lives would be in danger. His from my oh-so-wonderful family and mine from all Harry’s fangirls.
Who, by the way, really bugged me; apparently saving the wizarding world made Harry the number-one bachelor even if he wasn’t a bachelor. Harry loves me and me alone so those bitches just need to back off. It was the worst after the news that we were engaged spread about a year and a half ago. Death threats got really annoying, and besides, like any of them could take me, anyway. Hmph.
Harry swallowed the potion and I watched as he turned into a man who looked like he was from Ireland. His black hair turned reddish-brown, freckles erupted across his face and arms, and he developed a beer belly. I smirked as he examined himself with disgust, “Can’t you pick people a little more fit, Gin. I feel disgusting.”
“Sorry, I guess its hard to steal peoples DNA when they run the opposite direction,” I crossed my arms.
He sighed, “I’m going to go put on a bigger shirt and then I’ll go.” Then he looked confused, “Where do you get a pregnancy test anyway?” he asked.
“Well I guess at the store. Just go and ask around.” I frowned.
“Great,” he muttered.
I sat on the couch anxiously waiting for Harry to come back. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Harry had been gone only forty-eight minutes and twenty-two seconds (not that I was counting) and I had run out of things to do to busy myself. I’d written to Hermione and told her that I felt better and was sure that it wasn’t contagious but would drop by at around dinnertime. She wrote back and told me that that was fine and that she was watching Dominique and Victoire until eight to give Bill and Fleur a night alone. That had taken a total of fifteen minutes. Then I had cleaned the kitchen the muggle way, organized the fridge, and tried to read the latest Witch Weekly. But now I was on the couch about to go crazy. How long did it take to buy a pregnancy test?
I put my hand on my belly and stared at it. It didn’t look bigger. How many weeks until you started to show? I wasn’t sure. The conception incident was about eight weeks ago.
Could I handle a baby? I’d have to quit Quidditch. But I’d been playing for almost six years. Maybe it was time to try out in a different career, to retire. Would Harry be upset that we were having a baby now? I mean, it certainly wasn’t planned. We hadn’t even talked about having kids, well, not really. I mean we’d mentioned it a few times when Teddy stays with us or when we see our nieces or nephew, but we never really discussed it.
And this apartment, even though it was pretty roomy, only had two bedrooms. One was mine and Harry’s and one was for Teddy. If we had another baby, we’d probably move into an actual house. Everything would be really complicated. We’d have to set a date for the wedding: a task that hadn’t been achieved in nearly eighteen months what with my schedule and Harry and Ron heading the auror department and revolutionizing the Ministry.
And we’d have to find a way to tell my family.
I hear the fire start up again and jump to my feet. This results in a slight dizzy spell but I watch as the fire turns green and Harry, now turning back into himself, steps out with two bags.
“Finally!” I exclaim rushing forward to grab the bags. One is from the potions store and one is from a muggle store. He bought me a muggle pregnancy test, too?
“I bought you a muggle one and a wizarding one so that we could be sure,” I told me once he was completely himself. I look the tests out of the bags and stared at them.
This was going to be it; it would be absolutely final after I took them. I stood still as the realization hit me. I didn’t know that I was crying until Harry asked me what was wrong.
I shook my head and looked up at him, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I hated crying, it made me feel weak and vulnerable. But what if Harry didn’t want to have a baby? What if we were ready? What if I was a bad mother? What if Harry hated me for getting pregnant now? No, he wouldn’t, its ridiculous for me to even think that… right?
“Ginny, are you okay? Do you feel sick again?” He looks worried as he grabs the underside of my arms to help steady me. I shake my head again. “Then what is it?”
I look into his eyes and when I find my voice say, “Are you mad at me?”
He looks really confused, “What? No. Why would I be mad, Ginny?” he asks softly.
“Be-because I might be pregnant,” I stutter.
“Ginny,” he says firmly, “there is no way I’d be mad at you for being pregnant! That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“But we didn’t plan this; we hadn’t even really talked about it!”
He looks at me like I’m crazy, “And that makes you think that I’d be mad? Gin, none of that matters. If you are pregnant now or if it’s not until three years from now, I’ll never be mad at you. I love you and I will love whatever if in your uterus.” He says as he pulls me into a huge hug. “Unless it’s not mine.” He adds playfully. I hit him on the shoulder then hug him back.
He pulls me away from him way too soon, “Now, go see if we are having a baby,” he smiles.
I look back at the boxes, “How do you work these things anyway?”
He takes the muggle one from me and turns it over, “Hmm,” he says. Then his eyes widen.
“What?” I ask.
His face turns to one of disgust, “It says you have to pee on this stick…” he hands it back to me as if it’s contaminated.
“That’s not funny, how does it really work?” I ask him.
“See for yourself,” he says and trades boxes with me. I look at the back of it and my eyes widen; he was serious. I really have to pee on a plastic stick to find out if I’m pregnant or not. Are you sodding kidding me?
“Ugh. What’s that one say I have to do? Blow my nose on a piece of fabric?”
Harry laughs, “No, this one is practically the same as the other one only you have to pee into this cup-like thing…” he says. He looks revolted. I’m sure I do, too. How am I supposed to come up with that much pee? What do I look like, a fountain? “Well,” Harry says as he hands the wizard one back to me, “have fun.”
I scowl at him, take the two boxes, and walk into the nearest bathroom figuring it was a good thing that I hadn’t peed since I’d gotten sick.
The whole thing was awkward and disgusting. I hope that I never have to pee on or in anything except for a proper toliet ever again; I don’t think Harry will be too upset when I tell him that we are never going camping.
I put both of the tests on the rim of the bathrtub and wash my hands before opening the door. Harry is sitting on the couch in the other room looking extremely anxious. It’s incredibly adorable. His legs are bouncing and he’s chewing on his bottom lip. If I wasn’t so weak and tired and possibly pregnant, I’d run over there and snog him senseless right now.
He hears me walking over and he jumps up, “Well?!” he asks.
“Hold your hippogriffs we have to wait ten minutes,” I tell him.
He sighs loudly and aggitatedly and throws himself back onto the couch. I walk around him and sit beside him.
And we sit there. And sit there. Not talking, both staring straight ahead watching the grandfather clock as it ticks off the seconds and minutes with painstaking slowness. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. I’m about ninety percent sure that I’m pregnant. I guess its just the reality that this test confirms it. Whatever this says is probably right.
What if it says no?
Merlin, will I feel like a wanker. What will I say, ‘Ha, really had you going for a while there, Harry!’ That doesn’t really sound like a good idea.
If I’m not pregnant what will we do? I mean now that this idea is so fresh, will we want to try for a baby? Do I want a baby right now? Will I be relieved?
I feel guilty for even thinking of feeling relieved. Because if I am pregnant then does the possiblilty of relief at not being preganant make me not want this baby? Do I want this baby? Can I handle it?
My thoughts go in circles. Again.
“Has it been ten minutes yet?” Harry finally breaks the silence.
No, it’s been nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Close enough. “Yes.”
We look at eachother. “Do you want to go check?” he asks.
“You can, if you want,” I swallow.
“I don’t care. You can go look.”
“No, really, you go.” I insist.
We exchange another look and break out in smiles, “Okay, both of us then?” Harry suggests.
I nod. We stand up and he takes my hand as we walk to the bathroom. I squeeze it as we walk in. When we get to the rim of the toliet I pull him around so that neither of us can see the results, “Okay, the muggle one will just say ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’ but the wizard one will be black for no and clear for yes.” I explain. Harry nods once.
“Ready?” I don’t mean to whisper.
He nods again.
“On three then?”
I gulp, “One, two…”
He turns and I look around him. We lean over the rim to see the results and stare at a crystal clear potion and in the little circle on the muggle one is the bold word ‘pregnant.’
Even though I was expecting it, I’m still in shock as Harry gives me a faint, not-so-reassuring smile and pulls me into a hug.
The rest of the day was spent discussing what to do; and, because we had no clue what do to, no conclusion was met other than to keep our mouths shut – for Harry’s sake. Finally, at six, Harry and I apparate over to Hermione and Ron’s house. I was so relieved to get out of the apartment and have someone else to talk to other than Harry (not that I don’t love him dearly and with all of my heart…), that I nearly ran into to house without knocking.
Which was only okay because there were two toddlers in the house and therefore my brother and best friend would not be doing anything that I wouldn’t want to walk in on. Again. Because believe me, one time is more than enough, and after the second time I was scarred for life. But, really, the second time was in the bathroom at the Burrow. Ron and Hermione must be sex addicts or something. It’s a wonder she’s not pregnant… not that it would matter much if she were, anyway. One, they’re married so our parents wouldn’t give them any disappointed looks (for Merlin’s sake, it’s the twenty-first century!), and two, our brothers would just congraduate Ron on ‘getting some’ rather than kill his spouse. Being the only girl from a family of guys is so unfair sometimes.
“Hermione? Victiore? Dominique? Your real favorite aunt is here!” I call as soon as I’m through the door.
“You are not their favorite aunt!” Hermione calls back from the kitchen.
“We’re in the kitchen!” Victiore yells to inform me as I enter the kitchen.
“Thank you, Victiore,” I say, smiling. She turns around in her chair and jumps off of it, her long white-blonde hair streaming behind her as she runs over and fastens her five-year-old arms around my waist. I bend over and pick her up, “My, you’re getting so big!” I tell her.
“That’s what Maman says,” she tells me, staring at me with her huge pale-blue eyes. “but Daddy says that me and ‘Nique are still his baby girls. But I say that I’m a big girl now, but not big enough to walk all the time.”
“Is that right?” I ask her, laughing at her ranting. Dominique has turned in her high chair away from Hermione who was trying to persuade her to eat her applesauce.
“A’Dinny!” she screeches reaching out her hands for me to take her.
“Here, ‘Toire, go to Uncle Harry,” I tell her and pass the enthusiactic girl to my husband who spins her in a tight circle, causing her to giggle loudly.
“I am so their favorite aunt,” I tell Hermione as I pull up a chair and sit down beside her. Dominique is throwing a fit to get out, reaching her arms out to me and kicking her legs against her seat.
“Shut up,” Hermione sighs as she takes the appleauce off the tray so that I can calm Dominique.
“Don’t get food in your pretty hair, love,” I tell her, pulling her sauce-covered hands away from her wild strawberry-blonde hair.
“Ou’” she cries. Oh, it breaks my heart when she cries; Dominique’s eyes are blue, too, but a deeper blue than Victoire’s. Both of the girls are so beautiful that its nearly heart-wrenching to see them upset. As one could imagine, they have Bill completely wrapped around their tiny fingers. As I stand up and lift Dominique out of her high chair, I see Harry sitting on the floor in the adjioned living room playing patty-cake with Victiore. He looks so cute, sitting there cross-legged with the five year old.
Dominique grabs at my shirt and I moan, “Not all over my shirt, ‘Nique!” Almost two years old and she still likes to grab at things. I take her over to the sink and sit her on the counter next to Hermione, who hands me a wet towel. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad I fed them early,” Hermione smiles at me. “I knew as soon as you got here they’d be too distracted to eat.”
“It’s because I’m their favorite aunt,” I tell her.
“You are not!” she says, taking Dominique from me. I make a face at her behind Hermione’s back and she starts to giggle. “See, she’s laughing when I’m holding her.” Hermione says.
I open my mouth to correct her but decide to let her have this one. She and Ron do see them more than I do – something I need to work on.
Hermione and I walk into the room and she sets Dominique down. She toddles over to play with her sister and uncle as we sit down. “Where’s Ron?” I ask.
“Still at work,” Hermione shrugged as Harry and I exchange guilty looks. “Are you feeling that much better already?” she turns to me.
“Erm, yeah,” I struggle. “I think it was just something I ate for breakfast, but Harry wanted to make sure I didn’t need to go to see a healer or anything”
“So overprotective, they are,” Hermione muttered to me so Harry wouldn’t hear.
I laugh, “Too true.”
“I feel bad for any children we might have, eh?” she laughs quietly. “Ron already pulls a freaker when Dominique or Victiore scrape a knee or bump their head.”
I try to act nonchalant, but I’m fairly certain I’m failing. I turn my attention back to Harry, who is tickling both girls – one with each hand. I feel a smile spread across my face as the giggles fill the room.
“He will be a good dad, though,” Hermione laughs, watching Harry laughing at the girls, his glasses threatening to fall off of his nose.
“I think so, too.”
I opened one eye and gazed tiredly at Harry as he tried to sneak out of bed without waking me, “Damnit.” He curses. “Sorry, Gin. Go back to sleep, it’s only six.”
“It’s six?” I groan as I roll over and rub at my eyes. “Practice is at seven.”
“You’re still going to practice?” I glance over at Harry and squint as he turns on the lamp on the bedside table.
“Er – yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I sat up and ran a hand through my bedhead.
“You’re preggers,” Harry states the obvious.
“Yeah, I know that,” I stare up at him and he looks at me with a puzzled expression that I find adorable. I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp before crawling over and getting on my knees to kiss him good morning.
“Are you sure you should be practicing while you’re pregnant?” he says as I try to kiss him. Really romantic bloke, he is.
I sigh and sit back down, “I have been for the last two months; I don’t know why I should stop now,” I furrowed my brows.
“You didn’t know you were pregnant then, Ginny! What if it hurts the baby? A bludger to the stomach wouldn’t be good, you know,” he starts and I roll my eyes.
“When have I ever taken a bludger to the stomach, Harry,” I step around him and get out of bed. He follows me and leans against the outside of the bathroom doorframe.
“I don’t think you should practice,” he says.
I turn on him, “What? Do you want me to quit the team? Harry, I just started making the big money – I’m not going to quit now!”
“Ginny, you’re pregnant. Do you think they’ll let you play when you’re huge?”
I blink at him. Excuse me? When I’m huge? “Oh, well, I don’t know, Harry. Maybe I won’t be able to fit through the bloody door by then and I’l have to resign because of that!” I say angrily and shut the door in his face.
When I’m huge. Yeah.
“Ginny, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Harry says, frustrated, as he opens the door and lets himself into the large bathroom.
“What did you mean, then?” I ask him. Only it comes out more like “Wha tu-tu mean, hen?” due to the fact that I’m brushing my teeth.
He runs his hand through his hair – a frustratingly cute habit of his – and sighs, “I just don’t think that you’ve thought this through, okay? I don’t think that you understand what this means.”
I spit and rinse my mouth out before talking, “I don’t understand what this means?” I ask incredously. “I’m carrying a small human in my uterus, Harry. I think I understand.”
“Then you don’t get what it means for our life!” he grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Ginny, having this baby starts now, not when it’s born. You have to do all sort of stuff now – think about it!” he looks into my eyes and I sigh.
Why does he think that I’m not thinking about it? This is beginning to frustrate me. Of course I understand that being pregnant means that things change now! I mean, it’s not like I expected life to go about as normal for the next seven months, right?
First of all, Harry is going to be murdered when everyone finds out that I’m pregnant. So, really, he should be glad that I’m going about as usual; the sooner anyone suspects that I’m acting differently, they’ll most likely figure it out. So it’s really better that I keep playing, right? I mean, I understand that I won’t be able to when I’m farther along – like seven months or something – but now? Angelina and Fluer didn’t start showing for a while – three or four months, for sure. I can play until then, right? It won’t hurt to play as long as I don’t fall… or get hit… or cobbed… or… oh, Merlin.
Quidditch is a contact sport.
In the air.
Harry must have sensed the beginning of my reconginition because he smiled, “There we go.”
“Shut up,” I snap at him. “I’ll just see a healer and see what I can do.”
He lets me go and nods, “Okay.”
“But I’m practicing today; one more day won’t kill me. I’ll see the healer after.”
He looks like he wants to disagree, but I send him a look and he gives in.
This is going to be more complicated than I thought.
A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for the support for this story! I'm so glad that you guys like it. I like writing in Ginny's point of view becuase i feel like she's more sarcastic and cynical and funny and such than Dominique is in my other pregnancy story. And just so you know, I don't have some weird pregnancy fetish - I just had a bunch of conflicts that pregnancy could cause in situations like this and My Sister's Fiancé and ideas are hard to ignore, haha.
Als, props to the validating staff! I was able to update all of my stories before the close! Yay! Haha, so Happy Christmas / whatever you celebrate guys! Have a great holiday season! (And make mine greater by reviewing!! Haha.)
over and outt.
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