Disclaimer-Of course I don't own Harry Potter, what gave you that idea? *burns various boxes of bootleg "Harry Potter goes Funky Reggae" shirts* Damn…it worked so well with the Simpson's…
Author's Note: Once again, thanks for the reviews- they really do help. Harry finally finds out in this chapter! (It's about time, eh) I'll really try to add more fluffy/mushy/romantic scenes in the next chapter, alright? It's past midnight now, so I really have nothing else to say (besides "God, I'm so tired my eyes are burning…") except for read and enjoy!
Nine More Months To Go
Chapter Five
Now, never, in all of the fourteen years that I'd known the Weasleys, have I ever been nervous or afraid to enter the Burrow. Not even that one time that I was posed as a male stripper at Alicia Spinnet- no, Weasley's bachelorette party…but that's telling you too much, no? Though low and behold, after years of being apart of this one, big, happy Weasley family, I'd still been standing out here at the front door, frozen with fear or what -not, and that unnerving scent of rice pudding really wasn't making it any better. I mean, it's not like I was visiting my in-laws or anything, all these people actually enjoyed me and for the most part (or at least some part) were sane.
Of course, my pal Ron was at my side for all of this, or close at least, as he scampered after lawn gnomes in his semi-drunken stupor. Of course, he had to stop sooner or later. His attention span wasn't that long, you know.
"…Harry…Harry, I'm freezing," Ron rubbed his forearms feverently as if to illustrate his point. "Stop being ridiculous and go in,"
'Really Well there goes the alcohol rush…' I thought, watching Ron rub his thighs fiercely through his skin-tight leather pants to generate some heat.
"-Well of course you are Ron, I would be too if I was wearing Hermione's shirt; your whole back is exposed…" I muttered observantly causing Ron's eyes to grow about the size of dinner plates.
"This is Hermione's?" He inquired in a innocent, bewildered fashion, tugging at the satin shirt tentatively as if just realizing what a tight fit it was. "I thought it was a muscle shirt!" Ron wailed hopelessly.
Puh…Ron just refuses to admit that he enjoys to cross-dress, as if any sixteen-year-old brother would insist on giving his sister's closet 'inspections' so often without a plausible reason…
"You said it was yours!" Ron protested bitterly, as if it was solely my fault he was in dire need of psychiatric help.
"No," I corrected him shortly, eyeing the doorknob anxiously for about the hundredth time this hour, "I said I enjoyed it the most. Look, I can even see your nipples! …Mate, do you ever shave your chest…?" Quite a disturbing image that was, I might've had nightmares about great, red haired monster gorillas if I hadn't looked away…
"-Stop looking at my nipples!" Ron shouted defensively, shielding his broad chest firmly, eying me warily from under his nose. Like I was the one with issues.
"Y-You think anyone will notice?" He hurriedly changed the conversation from the subject of his nipples, and good thing too, because from that certain light, it looked as if he had three and my friend the triple-nipple was the last thing I needed to think about when I was already under such anxiety.
"Of course not Ron, Ginny only gave Hermione the shirt and Hermione only wears it every other weekend over here but I'm sure no one will notice…" I replied reassuringly patting my buddy on his partly bare back causing him to shudder indifferently.
"Well…if you say so, Harry…well lets go in already, I'm starving…and I smell pudding!" Ron flashed an odd grin for a moment before turning to me.
"…Alright then…" I said, grasping the doorknob firmly.
"…Harry…" Ron said blankly, after a moment of me frozen with my and on the handle.
"-Any minute now, Ron! Don't rush me!"
_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_
Of course when we actually did enter, something rather…odd was stirring in the air…besides the rice pudding. First of all, there was none of that constant chatter that I've become so accustomed of. Also, no laughter and not even the tiniest hint of an explosion…Something was obviously wrong. Ron however, isn't as observant as I of his own home. Seeing nothing wrong with the scene before him (Fred and Mrs. Weasley staring at my dearest 'Mione absolutely gob-smacked while Ginny silently went into convulsions in the corner at the rate where someone would surely have to cart her off to St. Mungo's if she kept it up) Ron mumbled his greetings and sauntered off to the kitchen (Yet another surprise from my dear old buddy) to discover the source of the delicious scent. Typical Ron. Or should I say typical me for fretting too much to follow him…?
My brain told me to handle the subject firmly, to march up to them, grab Hermione firmly by the shoulders and shake her madly until she spills the news. I was suppose to take it like a man, you know, really show my authority, or as Ron calls it, "Manly Athoritah", off of this crude muggle cartoon staring these foul mouthed children animated from cardboard. But who really listens to their brain (Or Ron for that matter) anyway?
"…Urm…Hello…Er…everybody…" I greeted quite meekly, glancing doggedly between the group and Ginny who couldn't bare to contain her laughter at the sight of me…for the second time today, leaving me with the idea I should become one of those pathetic weirdoes who cake layers of make-up on and live to mentally disturb children so they can grow up and spend thousands of galleons on therapy telling about how their parents hired a freak to entertain at their fifth birthday party. A clown, I think they're called.
Molly and Fred glanced up at me with some sort of ill pleasured expressions etched on both of their faces; as if I were some sappy three-year-old that had just been handed a great piece of coal for Christmas, perish the thought. They both just eyed me for a brief moment, making me painfully aware on how stupid I must've looked standing there with that cheesy grin slapped on my face when something was obviously wrong.
"Hello Harry," Hermione greeted in a shaky though falsely cheerful voice. Bless her heart for trying to sound happy before she tells me that my world is going to end.
"Harry, good to see you," Fred finally said, grabbing me and wrenching my hand up and down in a powerful state, "How you been doing? Laying off of the pint, or have you resorted to the Ron-like ways yet?" He inquired, dangerously cheery, and believe me, when Fred Weasley is cheery something is definitely off, especially if he's cheery after nothing's been exploding…
"…No, actually, I haven't had a drink in ages, I'm feeling quite alright really…" I answer untruthfully, the truth is my heart has dropped a few feet to my stomach which is now becoming inflamed by the gastric juices spewing from my liver which happens to be malfunctioning in preparation of my entire body's implosion.
Well…maybe I was over-exaggerating but you get the deal. Fred's expression seemed to fall momentarily, then light up yet again as he turned back to Hermione, who seemed to be too immersed in tracing imaginary patterns into the table to notice my presence. You see where I stand in this relationship…
"You haven't told him," Fred stated, more than asked in an elated way to Hermione, who only nodded jerkily in response causing Fred to release a triumphant though muffled grunt before turning away again.
Told me what? TOLD ME WHAT, DAMMIT?!
"Told me what? Told me what, damn it?" As you can probably tell, loosing grip of my happy little world causes me to loose any inner dialogue I might've once had a long, long time ago…and it causes my eye to twitch, which, with my hair and my sprouting beard causes me to look somewhat like a hopped-up hobo under the influence of instant coffee. Not quite the calm, cool, persona I was trying to hold down.
Hermione then gave me the strangest look, like she was thinking a mix between something like 'Are you sure you want to hear, its not pretty…' and 'You are so screwed if you make a scene…' making me rather confused wondering if I should feel scared or just plain scared, and le me tell you there's a major difference between the two. She got up slowly, ambled over to me and then took my hand tentatively took my hand…like someone had died or something…I tried to think, my parents and Sirius were already ticked off the list, sadly, and Ginny had passed out laughing her arse off so it couldn't be any of the Weasley's and I didn't smell any chicken frying so Hedwig's was okay-
"-Harry, I've got some news…"
"-Good news?" I squeaked hopefully, fat chance though…
"…-Well, it's news nonetheless…"
"Greetings family! I see that we have company tonight Molly," Mr. Weasley announced, saving me from wetting my pants for the second time tonight, though I shouldn't have said that… "Darling, I was looking to start serving dinner for you- yes I am still good for something- but all I could find were these…giant…vats…of…pudding…" He hesitated, rotating his eyes from me…to Hermione…to Fred and Mrs. Weasley…to Ginny…and to me again…
"…Er…should I call someone for her?" Mr. Weasley questioned lightheartedly, motioning to a crimson faced Ginny who had been so caught up in her fits of raging laughter she had literally fallen and couldn't get up.
"Nah…I'm fine Daddy…Just admiring the view," Ginny stated quite airily, still slightly amused at the whole matter.
"…Right then…I'll just assume that everybody's haven't gone mad and serve dessert before Ron here hurts himself…" Mr. Weasley muttered, sauntering back into the kitchen mumbling on about how Ron had been setting a bad influence over Ginny ever since he could talk.
"I should help, I'm starving…" Hermione announced, fleeing to the kitchen once again in pursuit of Mr. Weasley.
"Wait, what about my news? And…I thought you hated all puddings!" Clearly, my 'athoritah' just wasn't getting through to her. But of course, no one responded, as all that was heard
through the shut door were incoherent things sounding much like '…Ron, what the hell are you doing in my shirt?!' or 'Is there something you'd like to tell me son?'
_~_~_Somewhere…_~_~_
Young Artemis Granger, the youngest of the Granger children at eleven years old, scurried as swift as his worn out legs could carry him, silently cursing himself for not riding his Jetstream 4000 broomstick (never mind the fact that he was in an area heavily occupied with muggles) along with cursing his older siblings being to immersed in their 'work' to give him a ride. Arriving at his destination, about ten blocks down from the Granger residence, he hurriedly took a sharp intake of air, calming himself, and rattled the doorknob, prepared to pick a lock like he had been trained to by his friend in the prank business at Hogwarts. To no surprise, the door slightly swung open.
"Nestor…! Hey, Nestor!" he called out into the seemingly barren house, gingerly taking a few steps towards the living, finding it empty and then trudging on through the empty house, "…Jenny? Spock…Leia, is anybody here?"
"…Artemis, is that you out there?" A raspy voice questioned, coming from the room at the end of the darkened hallway, Nestor's office.
"Yeah, Nessie, it's me." Artemis replied, feeling quite relived as he started on his way down to the office.
"Oh," came Nestor's voice, sounding a bit dejected, "I thought it was someone important. Well, piss off, I'm busy now," Nestor commanded just as Artemis threw open the door, ignoring his orders as usual as most members of the family did.
Artemis nearly flew through the dust caked room and hurled himself into a swivel chair directed right across from Nestor who didn't bother to look up as he remained hunched before an illuminated computer screen. Nestor looked like he hadn't left the room in ages, something Artemis could fully believe. His usual curly, light brown hair was dishelved extremely and almost covering his bloodshot eyes, and also you could see traces of a beard appearing on his pursed jaw telling that he hadn't shaved in days. Artemis gazed in awe at the various leather-bound novels which garnished the bookshelves covering the entire room also lined with sci-fi memorabilia and dolls which Nestor had spent years trying to convince people were action figures…
"…Where's Jenny…and Spock…and Leia?" he inquired out slowly about the whereabouts of his brother's wife and their two young children, Leia, a two-year-old and Spock, his nearly newborn infant, returning his eyes to his brother behind the computer screen, temporarily forgetting his reason of rushing there in the first place.
"With her mother…or our mother, I forget…somebody's Mum, I'm sure…" He replied in a dry, monotonous voice, obviously having more important matters than his wife and two little children on mind.
"Er…are you okay…?" Artemis questioned tentatively fingering through a pile of important looking documents which were strewn carelessly across his brother's desk.
"Tell me…how does this sound?" Nestor inquired suddenly, snapping out of his trance. He peered over his computer monitor and met his youngest sibling's eyes.
"How what sounds?"
"The start to my newest novel, this!" Nestor explained, sounding quite exasperated as he tousled his hair dramatically.
"…What?" Artemis asked yet again, feeling quite dumfounded at Nestor's erratic behavior, clearly getting Nestor feeling quite irritated for Artemis' ability of not catching on.
"Are you just really thick or something boy? Look!" Nestor demanded sternly, whipping around the computer monitor and pointing to the single cursor which was blinking incessantly after the one word that tainted the screen, 'This'.
"…Oh…" Artemis replied, realization dawning on him, "Er…I think you should start with something fresh like 'Mr.' perhaps." He suggested thoughtfully, "What's the story about anyway?"
"Well…" Nestor started, stroking the back of his unruly hair carefully as if just realizing the state of his appearance, "I was thinking of taking a break from sci-fi and horror…how does this sound, a story -a series if it sells, of an orphan who's parents have been murdered by an evil sorcerer finds out he's a…wizard…and he goes to this neat little wizard boarding school with secret passages and magic professors and what-not, and get this -he has to defeat the sorcerer that killed his parents to save this secret wizarding world of his," Nestor explained swiftly in one drawn out breath, obviously pleased with himself,
"And as a marketing ploy," he continued, smirking to himself, "I plan to write each book in slow, long spans of years to gather more anticipation and fans so by this rate they'll be busy making the third movie by the time I'm spitting out the fifth book. Genius, right?" Artemis nodded mutely, attempting poorly to mask the disinterested look upon his face. He was one of the few Granger children who really could care less about books.
"And that's not even mentioning the twisted relationships I'm cooking up…" Nestor finished, looking so pleased with himself Nestor feared he might burst.
"…I think…it's been done…but generally…I like it…" Artemis struggled to scrounge up a few good words, remembering his mother's not-so distant warning of not throwing his brother off of his high horse. It could've turned dangerous.
"Ha! Its amazing isn't it?" Nestor exclaimed self-promotingly. "Isn't it hard to believe that I thought of all this while I was wasted and I accidentally stumbled on a train heading to Scotland? I saw this guy who somewhat resembled Mr. Who and it just set my imagination ablaze…" Nestor slackened his posture and leaned back leisurely in his plush chair.
"Anyway…did you just come here to boost my ego even further or do you actually have a purpose -lay your grubby paws on my 1st edition Hans Solo action figure and you're dead- besides harassing me?" Nestor inquired briskly with a slight frown darkening his face, slapping his brother's hands of his messy desk. Artemis was used to taking this brisk, unwelcoming tone from Nestor. Artemis simply figured it was because Nestor had been the youngest- and therefore most spoiled child before he came along…
"…Wha? Oh yeah…I have some news…and I kind of need a ride somewhere and I am -how do you say- poor so there's no use sending me to the train down the road…" Artemis replied slowly, disregarding Nestor's warning as he plucked mini Hans Solo's pistol from his hand despite the fact that Nestor continued watching him with a sort of bitter malevolence.
"…You remember that little pet hamster you had when you were six, you know, the one that mauled my Lord of the Rings lego sets even when I warned him to stop?" He questioned in a docile manner.
"Yeah…the one that ran away right?" Artemis stated, bemused as to why Nestor was bringing up such things at that moment.
"That's what Herm told you, right?" Nestor continued, sending the eleven-year-old a piercing glare.
"…What about it?"
"Well, you remember my famous meatloaf surprise that you just couldn't get enough of…?"
"-Fine! I'll leave your dumb toys alone; just give me a ride to the hospital, now!" Artemis demanded shakily, recoiling away from his desk.
"Who's at the hospital?" Nestor questioned, watching placidly as Artemis rose from his seat.
"Dad is, let's go- here, I took the liberty of swiping your keys-"
"-Why's dad at the hospital?" Nestor asked shortly, a flickering look of concern daunting his eyes.
"Because Mione's having a baby…Come on, if we get going now, we can stop to KFC before it closes-" Artemis pointed out, dragging Nestor by the arm out of the office and through the hallway.
"What? That's odd…she didn't show at all…"
"No, no, no, she's not having it now- Grace just told Dad so now he's down at the hospital with Donnie claiming that 'This is the big one'…again…" he clarified, rolling his eyes slightly as he led Nestor out the front door, not bothering to lock it behind him.
"Oh really then?" Nestor responded, feeling quite amused, taking his time to open the his car as if there were no initial hurry, "One day he really is going to have another big heart attack…" he muttered, plopping down into the driver's seat. "Hurry, up, what time does KFC close anyway?"
_~_Back to the Burrow_~_
You know, I never had the idea that rice pudding could be so delicious…and it was especially easy to take these long, postponed moment s to savor each and every spoonful when you were desperately avoiding to get caught up in this uneasy dinner conversation. Tension might as well had been the side dish…along with whip cream and chocolate syrup.
"-So…Er…Ron…where is Ron Jr.?" Ginny, accompanied by Fred's maniacal chuckling, would inquire about every couple of seconds to send Ron into an array of false explanations trying to avoid the fact that two drunken idiots (My mates, Matt and Neville) would probably turn up with him at my front door tomorrow as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tutted on disapprovingly asking things like how did he manage to lose Lavender. But of course Ginny knew that would start again…
"I already told you…" Ron would mumble, slopping more pudding in his mouth.
"Okay then, why are you wearing drag then…?" Ginny would start on yet another row.
Every few seconds or so Hermione would glance at me from the corner of her eye swiftly before returning to her (What was that, her third?) bowl of rice pudding, and ever so often joining in on the tutting attack against Ron. However, after what seemed like a simple few grueling hours, she looked up and actually said something to me, and of course, everybody, including Mr. Weasley who seemed to be in on this little masquerade duping Ron and I, hushed up immediately and turned to me as well. What was this some sort of sane peoples intervention?!
"…Er…What is this, some sort of intervention for sane peoples?!" Yet again, I damn that nonexistent inner monologue of mine.
"…Harry, about the news-" Hermione started off in a no-nonsense, prefect-y sort of voice that gave me the impression that I should really be afraid.
"-Good news!" Mrs. Weasley piped in, trying to make my death sentence seem favorable.
"-Yes, you could say that. You could also say that there's…ah…going to be an…"
"-Addition to our one big happy Weasley family!" Mrs. Weasley announced, clapping her hands together excitedly, ignoring my blank expression while clapping me on the back. After a few seconds of silence things seemingly got too uncomfortable for the men at the tale.
"Er…any drinks? I'm heading into the kitchen…" Mr. Weasley announced, rising from his seat with an offer too good for Ron to give up.
"Dad, could you get me a…light piña colada-don't bother to go easy on the rum- with a side of pineapples, cherries and a whole load of whip cream on the side?" Ron requested sweetly, causing Mr. Weasley to glance at him and then his quite questionable garb with a suspicious look in his eyes which Ron seemed to notice immediately. "Um…better make that a beer, then…" He added in a gruffer than normal voice.
"…Right…I'll be right back then…"
"I'll help Dad; it's not good for the old to over-exert themselves…" Fred concluded, dashing into the kitchen rather swiftly, leaving me with them, and their nonsense.
"Um…Harry…are you okay? You stopped breathing a few moments ago…" Ginny noted, poking at my head slightly with the end of her spoon.
"So let me get this straight, Creevy got you pregnant -out of wedlock, I might add- and he's still living…how?" I questioned Ginny, causing Ron to sputter and choke on his pudding, taking a wrong meaning to the phrase 'One Big Happy Weasley Family'. Maybe my brain wasn't functioning to protect me or maybe I'm just daft, like Ron keeps on telling me.
"I'll kill him, I get that little slick worm, just who the hell does he think he-" Ron started to get quite worked up, pulling up the straps of his-Er…Hermione's shirt all tough and man-like.
"-You're not going to kill anyone yet, Ron-guess again Harry…" Hermione said sharply to Ron, ceasing his outbreak immediately.
"Okay then…Mrs. Weasley, you're not-" Oh don't look at me like that, it could've been possible…kind of…sort of…maybe…
"-Of course she isn't Harry! That's just…wrong," Ginny exclaimed looking a tad bit on the pale side. "I'll give you a big hint…I'm going to be a godmother…"
In my book, that meant two things, and my brain hose to go with the second, still attempting to protect me.
"You mean-?" I gasped dramatically.
"Yes!" All three shouted at me while Ron looked about cluelessly.
"Really?" I questioned, turning to Hermione, who was now grinning weakly.
"So…you're not upset?"
"…Why would I be?"
"So then you're-?"
"Of course I am! When's Luna due anyway? We can plan her a baby shower!"
They looked on at me while Ron choked softly in the corner, like I was the one that'd gone completely out of my mind.
"You moron!" Ginny growled, "How thick can you get, Harry?"
"…I wonder where Dad is with my beer…" Ron said, clearly trying to avert the subject.
"Shut up, Ron!" All three of them shouted, seeming more like prowling lionesses at the moment while Ron and I were the helpless meerkat and the warthog…
"Harry," Hermione said after drawing in a deeper breath than necessary as she slowly placed he hand atop of mine. Her cinnamon eyes bored imploringly into my own, filled with compassion and the slightest trace of fear. Her bottom lip quivered uncertainly as she tried to find the correct words to continue and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to reach out and snog her within inch of dear life, to reassure her, to tell her that no matter what devastating blow she was about to deliver I'd still be hers…in spirit I suppose, if it was anything that serious…
"I've been trying to tell you, today Ginny and I found out…"
"…Yes?" I urged on, settling on squeezing her hand reassuringly, encouraging her to continue.
"That I'm…"
"-Pregnant. Yes, with a bun in the oven, she's expecting, knocked-up, fully fertilized, with child -or rather- with your child, do you comprehend or should I elaborate further? Can you understand the words coming out of my mouth?" Ginny finished for her quite speedily. And I thought the suspense would kill me, I never anticipated the actual news.
We all turned towards Ginny blankly, who I just noticed was rather flushed. "Well," she responded to the silence, dropping her spoon in a subtle fashion, "I think we were all dying with suspense there,"
About a million thoughts were teeming through my head, simply bursting to get out despite the fact that it seemed half of my face had lost the ability to move. My voice became stuck in my throat, along with my heart. I blinked rather feverishly, looking utterly lost all of a sudden. I felt light-headed, giddy, and like I was about to vomit all at the same moment.
"Ah…are you okay?" Ginny questioned, noticing my odd expression. She cocked her head to the side and set out to prod me softly with the end of her spoon. "Psst! Oi, Potter…!" she hissed, beginning to look concerned.
Okay? I was more than okay. I didn't have some terminal disease- I was going to be a father…A Father. I remember getting the sudden urge to rush to the highest mountain and bellow it from the hilltops like that Dutch Lady from that ancient musical. Me, Harry Potter…a father.
Oh, bloody hell.
There was a dull and distant sound of silverware and utensils clattering as Mrs. Weasley rushed to my side, along with a smirking Fred who I was sure was cracking some snide joke. I wasn't really sure, since I had engraved the image of the hilltop from that musical in my mind I couldn't help but feel that infectious singing coming on…
A father. Doe…a Deer, a female deer. Ray, A pass of blah blah sun…Me- Oh, what was happening to me? There I was, at the dinner table surrounded by a flock of Weasleys and Hermione who were all desperately awaiting my response and all I could do was sit there blankly, mentally singing a song that annoyed the hell out of me from a musical that featured a lot of annoying kids.
"Harry? Harry, say something!" Hermione pleaded lightly, tugging incessantly at my sleeve. Her brow was furrowed due to her worrying. I desperately wanted to get up and twirl her about, making her forget all her worries, though my body seemed tons heavier, and my feet glued to the ground.
"Where is that beer?"
But wait, I slowly began drifting back to harsh reality. If I was to become a father that meant I would be having a child. As simple as the concept may seem, it only struck me just then. Hermione and I would have a living, breathing, and on occasion -vomiting responsibility. Hadn't I had enough responsibility in school when the impending threat of Voldemort on my shoulders…? When did it end?!
Again, Oh, bloody hell.
"…Mrph…" was all I managed to say for a moment before I came speeding back to Earth again. "Well…Mrs. Weasley this is quite I nice floor you've got here…so firm…tell me, it wouldn't happen to be carpet, would it?"
"…"
"…"
"…Dad, I think that drink would come in handy now…!"
"No…" Mrs. Weasley said briefly, sounding a bit winded, "Its actually wood…"
"Hmm…oh well, smoke if you got 'em…" I muttered quite peacefully before slumping backwards in my chair and toppling over onto the floor, completely unconscious. Actually, I wasn't completely unconscious at first, as I heard Ron's distinct-able voice say-
"Oh goody, I love babies, drinks all around! When do we hand out the cigars?" Well, at least he attempted to make light of the situation.