Syngnathidae

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Day Two

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Harry's first thought was that he was having a very hard time curling up. His entire childhood, from as far back as he could remember, he'd slept scrunched up on his side in that tiny cabinet under the stairs at Privet Drive. The habit stuck with him to the point that he had trouble sleeping if his knees weren't close to his chest or if his legs weren't shaped around Hermione's. He flipped over and attempted to gently cuddle Hermione's sleeping form closer, but even that proved impossible.

"Bloody hell," Harry said, looking down and staring at the lump he'd completely forgotten about. It was different now, no longer just a round brown pillow strapped securely to his abdomen with nylon straps and magic. He'd gone to bed shirtless, after having to wrestle his way out of his red t-shirt the day before, and in that time Luna's strap-on belly had magically melded into his skin! His formerly flat stomach and skinny waist and stomach now looked like Hermione's. His body appeared to have absorbed the thing over night! He choked on his own gasp.

"Holy - Hermione? Hermione, wake up!" He tapped her on the back urgently.

"Whassamatter?" Hermione muttered, still mostly asleep.

"I'm pregnant!"

"Congrats."

"Hermione!" Harry hissed.

"What?" Hermione groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She raised her head and craned her neck around to look at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Look!"

Her sleepy eyes turned downward lazily and all of a sudden, she was wide awake. At first she looked confused, but when comprehension dawned on her face she turned away from him and started to shake. It took Harry a moment to realize she was holding in gales of laughter.

"It's not funny!"

That broke straight through Hermione's dam of self control, because it was in fact completely hilarious. Hermione's unruly morning-hair hit the pillow hard as she cracked up into a fit of high-pitched giggles.

"Oh, my, Luna's a genius," she gasped.

"She is not!" Harry said, angrily pushing away from her and leaping out of bed. He nearly collapsed at how hard it was to just do that and his hand flew to his lower back. "Buggering son of a..."

"Yes, a pregnant individual ought not do that," Hermione nodded sagely. "That is amazing, though. It looks so realistic! And a bit disgusting, considering that you're a man. With... hair and things." She cocked her head. "It's like a big beer belly. Oh, that's right, now I remember. You look like my Uncle Albert."

"That pudgy fellow who challenged George to a drinking contest at our wedding?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that's him."

Harry groaned. With all due respect to Hermione's family, Uncle Albert was not a pretty man. He began opening a few drawers and peering in. "None of my trousers are going to fit!"

"I've got a few - "

"I am not wearing maternity clothes!"

"Well, then, wear your sweats."

"Those won't fit either," Harry admitted, knowing that even his most elastic sweats wouldn't expand that much.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?"

"Do you not remember the incident with your blue Saturday smart-casual cocktail event bra?" Harry winced, unsure of why he brought it up. Hermione was very particular about her carefully categorized underwear. Some good had come of the...incident, though. Since Hermione had been pregnant, her breasts had become noticeably larger and the fact that Harry couldn't reduce the bra's size back to normal without forcing it to lose shape actually worked out. But Harry learned never to grow or shrink clothes ever again.

"Well, either try my clothes," Hermione eased out of bed slowly, demonstrating to Harry how it was done, and opened the closet. "Or else strut over to Luna with your tail between your legs. Either one is fine with me."

She knew perfectly well he'd do no such thing, the smug little know-it-all. Half an hour later, Hermione sat across the breakfast table from Harry, who was wearing bright purple flower-print maternity bottoms. He'd opted for purple over pink, seeing as the purple had a bit of blue in it to salvage his masculinity. Hermione had kept the navy pair for herself, citing them as her favorite even though he couldn't remember her ever preferring them before. No matter how much Harry tried to literally "charm the pants off of her,” she remained unmoved, fully enjoying her sick, sick joke.

"They're comfy," Harry said stubbornly.

"I always thought so," Hermione smiled.

They ate their eggs in relative silence for a bit, Harry berating his own character for being so bull-headed and refusing to get the belly removed.� But he couldn't back down now. He'd survived all of yesterday triumphantly with it on. Granted, he was off work and had spent the entire day doing paperwork, listening to the Quidditch game over the wireless, and helping Hermione rearrange the new baby room.

"So what are you up to today?" he asked pleasantly. "I think we're about done with the nursery, right?"

"Well, I was going to do a bit of shopping - we need to buy a few toys. I know once the baby is born we'll be flooded with loads of presents, but it would be nice to give him a few starter toys - especially if the likes of George Weasley are going to be presenting our son with something." Hermione shivered.

"Didn't Ron give us a stuffed toy?"

"I refuse to give our child a mint-in-box limited edition 'Weasley is Our King' doll."

Harry snickered.

"Are you really in a position to laugh?" Hermione raised and eyebrow at his purple flowered pants and pregnant belly.

"Either laugh or cry, love," Harry winked and Hermione snorted. "Is that all we need, then? Toys? We can get them anywhere."

"No, we'll need to go to a baby store. I'd also like to get a breast pump."

"Okay we can drop by a - " Harry choked on his food and gacked up everything he'd just shoveled into his mouth. Hermione hurried around the table to pound him on the back. "A what pump?!"

"A breast pump," Hermione said tolerantly, rubbing circles in his back. "It's better for a baby to drink the mother's breast milk over whatever technology or magic has cooked up, and I can't guarantee I'll be around 24/7 for the next year or so. So I'd have to hook up the pump to one of my - "

"Whoa - whoa!" Harry shook his head violently. "We don't need that image over the breakfast table, thanks."

Hermione smirked and returned to her chair. "All right."

Silence.

"So...so you just attached your...self to a pumping machine?" Harry inquired quietly, the idea freaking him out more than a little bit. The image of Hermione hooked up to something like a cow on a dairy farm made him more uneasy. "That's safe?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course it is. I'd be controlling it myself, so I'd know what's comfortable for me. Besides, it's more of a sucking action than a pumping one!" She smiled and then saw his expression. "It's sweet that you're worried, but really you don't need to.”

Harry put down his fork and edged his plate away, not quite at ease as what Hermione was probably aiming for. "Yeah."

"What? Is the big, strong Boy-Who-Lived scared by an ickle plastic pump?" she teased, obviously trying to make him smile again. Harry grinned despite himself. If she wanted to tease...

"No, it's just we may not need to bother buying one," Harry said impishly. "Ron's got a little thing for himself just like that you might be able to borrow."

Hermione looked at him blankly. Harry waited a bit, knowing Hermione's mind wasn't quite so far deep in the gutter as his was. It took a few seconds, but the inevitable look of comprehension that Harry absolutely loved finally dawned on her face.

"Oh, my God."

It was Harry's turn to be smug. "You made fun of me first!"

"Oh, my God, that is most certainly not the same thing!"

Harry snickered. "I'm sure Ron doesn't use it - ow!"

Hermione had gotten up and whacked Harry on the shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. "Prat." She stormed upstairs. For a brief second, Harry wondered if he should apologize. Only just a moment, though, because he realized that Hermione hadn't slammed their bedroom door as she would have if she were really angry. She'd left it open, which was always meant as both a challenge and invitation. He floated their plates into the sink and charmed them to clean themselves, so that he could rejoin her.

"I really think something should be done about my clothes," Harry said conversationally and a little bit winded from climbing the stairs. The belly was getting heavier every day.

Hermione shot him a dirty look and proceeded to wash her face in their washroom adjacent to the bedroom.

Deciding that Hermione wouldn't help him, he faced the mirror, seeing for the first time that morning just what he looked like as a pregnant man in floral print maternity pants. "Bloody hell."

"Bloody hell is right!" the mirror quipped. "Are you pregnant, sir? I knew the missus was quite liberated, but - "

"Shut it," Harry scowled and aimed his wand at his pants. If Hermione didn't have anything flower-less he'd just change the pattern. That was usually bigger than stretching and shrinking clothing in theory, though he'd admittedly never tried. Unfortunately, the first swish and flick made the flowers become three dimensional, sprouting out of the legs and drooping to the floor. The second attempt turned them a horrible plaid pattern. The third made the pattern disappear completely and became one solid color that seemed to be a mix of brown, purple, and whatever Hermione had thrown up last week. The mirror snickered.

"Oh, my word, that's hideous."

"You know, I think I can deal with seven years of bad luck," Harry threatened.

"Harry, dear, it seems you're becoming emotional," Hermione called cheerily from the loo. Either being clean lightened her mood, or it was the fact that Harry was getting his come-uppance for the Ron pump joke.

"I am not! The bloody mirror's a tosser!"

"Leave the mirror alone, and watch your language!" Hermione scolded. She emerged looking clean, refreshed, and admittedly less pregnant-looking and annoyed than Harry. "I'm nearly full term; our son can hear everything you say! Now let's - what the hell did you do to my maternity clothes!?"

"I tried to change the color," Harry said sheepishly.

"Why puce, though?"

"What the bloody hell is puce?"

"Language!" the mirror interrupted.

"Shut up!"

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Stop yelling! What is the matter with you? You're being very short-tempered today! Here." She tossed a pair of his own trousers at him. "Just wear those. And leave the ones you're wearing on the bed, I hate puce."

"Those won't fit - "

"Yes, they will. I've enlarged them, and when you're back to normal I'll shrink them down myself. Just...please, don't ever charm clothes ever again?"

Harry picked them up and the trousers around in his hands. "Wow, thanks, Hermione!"

Hermione came up to him and held his hands. "It's all right, you're pregnant. You can't be expected to do everything you used to."

"Ha, ha."

"I'll be waiting downstairs," Hermione stood on her toes to kiss him, but their bellies bumped and Harry had trouble leaning down.

"We've got to fix this issue," Harry moaned. Hermione laughed, kissing him on the cheek before heading downstairs.

- - - - -

Harry was used to people staring at him. All throughout his years at Hogwarts, he'd been stared at for both good and bad reasons. These particular stares where definitely of the unfavorable variety, though.

He'd pulled the baggiest shirt he owned over his massive belly, and he even attempted wear a coat in the hot summer weather before Hermione made him take if off before he suffered heat exhaustion. Despite his attempts at covering up though, the fact that he was a skinny fellow with a stomach even rounder than his pregnant wife's could not be denied. They'd opted to put up a few glamour spells to keep their identities secret, as they usually did after winning the war. Merlin forbid a reporter should print the story, "INSIDE: BOY WHO LIVED HAS UTERUS.”

"Where did you say the shop was again?" Harry asked, scratching his now blond hair. Hermione looked at him with eerie blue eyes that made Harry want to look away. It was so un-Hermione that he could hardly stand it.

"Just a block down this way. Why? Are you fatigued? Cramping?"

Fortunately, that snarky brain in there was still one hundred percent his wife. She'd been dishing out the pregnancy jokes and milking them for all they were worth all morning. Harry supposed it was because she'd been stewing on the inside for nine whole months about it, and now had an outlet for her frustration.

Still, she did have reason to be snarky. At first they'd been walking slowly, Harry setting the pace so as not to overexert his authentically pregnant wife. He always had to be extra careful though, not to make Hermione feel babied. She was very sensitive about being slightly less able for some things, just like she always had been. It wasn't long, though, before Hermione had to slow her strides for Harry to keep up.

"No," Harry lied. Hermione didn't seem quite as winded as he did. Maybe females were specially built for the whole pregnancy thing. Keeping his doubts to himself, he walked on firmly, running on pure stubbornness of will. The street they were strolling on, since Apparating and Flooing was out of the question for Hermione, looked too suspiciously clean, classy, and well-kept to Harry. Not because he expected any foul play, but because things looked like they might be a little expensive. It seemed like the kind of place rich and snooty people came to buy overpriced cappuccinos and wear designer hats.

"There it is," Hermione announced, pointing at a shop sign dangling in front of them. Harry looked up dubiously. It was a plain white sign, bordered in blue that read "Bouncing Baby Boutique.” At least the sign wasn't made of gold like all the others.

"What's a boutique?" Harry asked, pretty sure there was a cheaper baby store somewhere else. "That sounds kind of expensive."

Hermione's look suggested that Harry should rethink what he was going to say.

"I mean, isn't that where Ginny gets her hair done? The Something-Something Boutique? You always say Ginny spends way too much on haircuts and stuff."

"Harry, I know perfectly well our financial situation," she said acidly, pulling him inside the shop. "This shop is new. I read about it in the paper and woman at work suggested it to me because it has the largest selection, so just trust me."

A tiny bell hung over the door tinkled, announcing their entrance. Harry cringed as about half a dozen pairs of eyes swung their way and stared at his obvious bump. Hermione cleared her throat noisily and they all hastily returned to their shopping, only sneaking nervous glances every once in a while. Harry smiled in gratitude.

The store was very quaint and not at all swanky, making it seem very out of place with the other shops. None of the cribs where plated in platinum and the blankets weren't made of Egyptian silk or whatever nonsense the fancy term "boutique" implied. Even the price tags stuck to the items didn't look horribly unreasonable. He had to hand it to Hermione. She knew her stuff.

Something fell off a shelf beside them and they both looked. A young pregnant woman had dropped a plastic baby bottle, distracted by the unusual sight of Harry and his pregnancy. It rolled underneath the lowest shelf on the aisle, never to be seen again. Especially if the store was full of pregnant women that couldn't bend over.

"I drink a lot," Harry snapped impatiently at her. She waddled away, embarrassed. Hermione shot him a deprecating look.

"You shouldn't be drinking when you're pregnant," a familiar voice advised. Harry and Hermione spun around to find Ron, donning a curly black hairdo and a horrid mustache. He grinned. "Nice disguises, guys. Almost didn't recognize you."

"Ron!" Hermione smiled. "What are you doing here? And why do you have a mustache? You look like you're about to tie someone to railroad tracks."

"I figured you wouldn't appreciate a mint condition, limited edition Weasley is Our King with built-in karate chop action. Even if it has skyrocketed in value." Ron rolled his eyes. "So I came to buy a present for my godson for when he's born. And for your information, the birds dig the 'stache."

"That's decent of you, mate," Harry commended him for the thought. For the toy, not the mustache.

"Yeah, well - Merlin's balls, Harry, did it get bigger?" Ron's eyes widened at his bump.

Harry glared. "That's not all." He lifted his shirt slightly. Hermione grinned and gave Harry a light half-hug.

"Harry, I'm starting to think your pregnancy is stealing the thunder from mine!"

"I swear to you, love, I don't want it to!"

Ron made a face. "Ah, yeah, well, woke up with that bump, didn't you? It does that at around midnight."

"You knew?!" Harry snarled, feeling fury start to bubble up in his veins. He grabbed his best friend by the collar.

"A little, yeah!" Ron gasped. “Harry, ow!”

Hermione wedged herself between the two of them as more people began to stare again. "Honestly, you two, stop it! We're in a baby shop! And Harry, are you sure you're all right? You're so…" He was getting overly angry very easily.

“I'm fine,” Harry sighed, letting Ron go. “Sorry mate, I've been in a bad mood lately.”

"It's all right. I didn't know it would get that much bigger, though," Ron patted the bump and Harry smacked his hand away. "Bloody hell. If I threw a rock at it right now, would it stop midair and start to orbit?"

Even Hermione had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing. Harry glared at her and had struggle to keep himself from lashing out at Ron again. He did have an unusually short temper lately. He looked curiously at the belly. It was just a bit of depraved magic, wasn't it?

"All right, then, you two can go find some suitable toys," Hermione said in a strained voice as she tried not to laugh. She tried to kiss him, but again she could only manage to plant a slight kiss on his lips because of their bellies. It was just as well, since Harry could practically taste the giggles on her lips and he had to count to ten to keep from grumbling crankily under his breath. "I'll go find my breast pump now."

"Don't worry, Hermione, we've got it covered - your what?!" Ron blinked.

"You don't want to know," Harry assured him, pulling him away down the toy aisle. "I asked, and it went all downhill from there."

The two of them commenced the toy-hunt, spending a generous amount of time playing with the toys themselves. Wizarding toys were absolutely ingenious. Harry only remembered ever having a few tin soldiers to play with, but the ones he was looking at now were mind-blowing. There were free-flying mobiles, flavored teething rings, and Harry's favorite, stuffed animals that acted and moved around like real animals. He didn't think Hermione would appreciate the dancing monkey getting into her study and prancing around on all her documents, though. He was inspecting a rattle that played classical Mozart when shaken, which he found amusing and knew would tickle Hermione's fancy, when Ron punched him in the shoulder to get his attention.

"Think your kid would like that?"

Harry looked up. Above them on the very top shelf was a collection of stuffed blue bears. They looked simple enough, but the sign below them said that squeezing the padded foot would make it play soft and soothing lullabies. They could be adjusted so that either everyone could hear, or only the baby. The nose lit up, signifying which mode it was in.

"That could be useful. And, well, it's not made of any of the sixty-seven materials Hermione refuses to let around the baby in case he's allergic," Harry considered. "Okay, then! It says we should get a sales associate to come help us get things off the top shelf."

Ron peered around the aisle at the counter in the middle of the shop. "OI! SALES LADY PERSON!"

"Ron!"

"What?"

The two sales associates at the desk looked up from where one of them was writing a note. A light brown owl was waiting impatiently on top of the till.

"I'll be right there, we're dealing with some business," the young woman said before returning to the parchment. Harry could have sworn he heard one of them say, "Are you sure you want Chinese for lunch? I feel like pizza."

Thoroughly annoyed, Harry pulled out his wand impatiently. "Crappy customer service. Accio blue thing on the top shelf!"

Unfortunately, he hadn't thought about the fact that there were at least two dozen of the same blue bear on the shelf. They all flew down in a blue cascade of stuffed bears and bonked Harry so hard he fell over into a pile of even more blue bears. Ron was practically howling in laughter.

“Bloody hell, mate, Hermione's right! You are a bit short today aren't you?!”

"Are you all right?" the very, very late sales associate who wanted pizza asked anxiously. "Do you need a doctor? You fell pretty hard."

"I'm fine," Harry said angrily, trying to roll his way up. The stupid belly was making it impossible, like being a turtle stuck on its back.

"But...sir...your...your baby might be in distress."

"I don't have a baby!" Harry yelled from the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione appeared in the aisle. "Stop yelling! I told you, the baby can hear you!"

"I thought you didn't have a baby," the sales associate said.

"Her baby," Ron pointed at Hermione. "And, well, his too. But the baby's in her. His is just...um..."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione cut in, helping Harry up. "We'll clean this up ourselves, just like it was. We're very sorry. Anything that's been damaged, we'll pay for. I promise."

"It's quite all right, nothing seems to be broken..." the pizza-craving woman said nervously, looking between the pregnant woman and the pregnant man. "I'll...I'll be...over there." She left in a hurry, and Hermione looked at Harry and Ron furiously.

"I don't want to know what idiotic things you two did just now, but help me clean this up or I'll jinx the both of you!" Hermione hissed, floating the bears back to the top shelf. Harry and Ron followed suit and soon everything was good as new. "Did you two at least find something for the baby?"

Harry held out the Mozart rattle, a stuffed leopard whose spots lit up when it came in contact with a baby's gums, and a soft flying snitch that instantly tripled in size if a baby ever tried to put it in his mouth. Hermione inspected the tags for any popular allergens and after stamping them with her seal of approval, she smiled. "Good job. They're wonderful. I've got some linen as well, so I think we're all set!"

"What about a toy box?" Harry suggested. "To keep all the stuff in."

"Good thinking!" Hermione lauded. "But all the boxes here have corners."

Harry stared at her. "What kind of box doesn't have corners?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "The kind that's going into our son's room. Honestly, Harry, when he starts crawling I don't want him slicing his head open on anything! Do you know that the simplest knock on the head could spell irreversible damage to a baby? And Merlin, when he starts to walk..."

Something about Hermione's expression told him it would be wise not to argue.

"Okay, okay, we'll hold on the toy box," Harry conceded as the made their way over to the desk to check out, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing it. "We can always put them in a sack or something."

Hermione tightened her grip considerably and he winced in pain. "Harry! Sacks might suffocate him! He could very easily just crawl inside and..."

Hermione went on and on about the various ways their son could meet an untimely death, Harry growing more and more uneasy as she continued. The salesperson that wanted Chinese food rang up their purchases, trying very hard not to listen.

"What the bloody hell is that!?" Ron cried suddenly, pointing at a plastic tube funnel and hose thing.

"That's my breast pump, Ron."

Ron didn't say a word for the rest of the day.

-----END CHAPTARR!-----

Note: Sorry, that took longer than expected. I'm lazy and I know, I lied <.< so I won't say this will be updated in a couple days. Even though it probably will :-P

Also sorry for all the random question marks in the first chapter! I think I took them all out now!