Syngnathidae
by Fiiish

Rating: PG13
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 6
Genre: Humor
Status: In progress
Length: 7,803 words in 2 chapters
Published: 25 Sep 2007
Last updated: 30 Sep 2007

The Syngnathidae family of fish have the unique characteristic where females lay their eggs in a brood pouch on the
male's chest, and the male then fertilizes and incubates the eggs. It is the only family in the animal kingdom to which
the term "male pregnancy" has been applied. New chapter + reuploaded the 1st because of the rabid question marks.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/7678/

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1. Bump!

Note: Umm, this may or may not be crack. Or it is. Anyway, Teddy was originally in this but I liked it so much I deleted
him to save for another story. So this fic doesn't follow Book 7.

- - - - -

The Syngnathidae family of fish includes seahorses, the pipefish, and the weedy and leafy sea dragons. This family of
fish have the unique characteristic where females lay their eggs in a brood pouch on the male's chest, and the male then
fertilizes and incubates the eggs. It is the only family in the animal kingdom to which the term "male pregnancy" has
been applied.

- - - - -

Harry stared at the peculiar object Luna was holding out to him. He knew, deep down inside, that coming to Ron and Luna
for help wouldn't turn out well. It wasn't like he had many other options, though.

Luna was shaking it at him now, trying to recapture his attention. Harry considered it, and then wisely took a step
back.

“What is that?” he asked finally, deciding that it didn't look particularly fun and he'd rather keep his distance.

“It's a strap-on belly,” Luna said simply. “You just fasten it around your middle and it sort of simulates a pregnancy
for anyone that wants one."

Harry snorted. For anyone that wanted one. He would have liked to see just how many deranged people were on that list.
It looked like a big, brown, round pillow with four belt straps hanging from it. He thought it looked more like a
torture device than a pregnant woman's belly. Which… arguably…

Harry hesitantly took it from Luna and nearly dropped it. “Bloody hell! No way is it that heavy in real life!”

“That's the actual weight about nine months along, yes,” Luna assured him. “And I think that this would be a wonderful
way to show Hermione you're sorry.”

Merlin, the things Harry allowed himself to consider for love. It was his own fault, though. He had become short with
Hermione first, and then the tiny matter was blown completely out of proportion. She was pregnant, emotional, bored and
chronically hungry. His job as the loving husband was supposed to be to support her, not yell and get banished to the
couch.

"Want to try it on?"

Personally, Harry thought Luna was mad, but he decided to humor her anyway. He heaved the heavy pillow over his abdomen
and fastened the straps behind his back with Luna's help. His first thought was "ow,” but after a few seconds of
twisting and moving, he figured it wasn't that bad. He didn't know what pregnant women were complaining about. Sure,
there was morning sickness and cramps and all that, but still. Obviously the weight wasn't something to whine about. He
dropped down and did a few half push-ups, hindered by the belly hitting the floor.

“Not bad at all,” Harry commented, pulling his shirt out from underneath it and stretching it over the bump. “Though I'd
have a little trouble doing lunges and touching my toes, but really, who does that on a regular basis anyway?”

“So you'll use it?” Luna asked, her blue eyes wide as if she were surprised he had gone all the way to their house to
ask for advice and had actually taken it. Which admittedly, Harry didn't often do. “I think you should.”

“I'd listen to her, mate,” Ron called from the kitchen, his mouth full of bacon and eggs. “Hermione's real ticked at
you. Ginny said you're an idiot for getting short with a pregnant woman.”

Harry had lost his temper dealing with Hermione the previous night. They had gone nearly nine whole months of pregnancy
without so much as a disagreement over toilet paper brands. To most people that was an incredible feat, but Harry still
felt horrible. It was just that he'd been walking on thin ice all that time, something was bound to blow up. It was also
so unexpected. The two of them had been preparing for months and thought they had everything covered. It was a
reasonable thing to assume, seeing as Hermione was known to prepare thoroughly for every little thing and take notes
stacked thicker than the actual textbook.

“It was very foolish. If you wanted lifelong misery, you would have been better off grooming the jutenas of a
Glavisaurus.” Luna nodded. Harry blinked at her. Well, she had been relatively normal up until just then. It was always
a little unsettling whenever Luna spoke like everyone else.

“Doesn't this, I don't know, cheapen the `miracle of birth' or something?” Harry wondered. “What if she finds this
offensive?”

“Nah, it's funny,” Ron said, walking into the room with them. He was carrying a plate of bacon as if he couldn't bear to
part with it.

“But what if she thinks I'm mocking her?” Harry swiped a strip of bacon from the plate, earning a horrified look from
Ron.

“It's fine,” Luna assured him.

“So she won't hex me as soon as I walk in the door?”

“No,” his friends said firmly.

“Why do you even have one of these, anyway?” Harry wondered, tugging absently at the strap fastened around his hip.

“Ronald likes it when I wear it in - “

“Oi, Harry!” Ron said quickly. His neck had gone red. "Fancy some breakfast? We still have some eggs in the kitchen."

Harry stared at Ron, then at Luna, who didn't seem the least bit bothered, and then back to Ron again. He was scratching
behind his ears nervously. Harry looked down at the pregnant belly strapped to his stomach for a very long time. Then
his brain twitched.

“What - ?!“

“Nonmobulus!” Luna said suddenly, her wand out from its perch behind her radish-decorated ear. Harry tugged at the
round, brown, sand-filled pseudo-belly. It wouldn't budge.

“Get it off me!” Harry cried, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the buckles.

“Look, mate, it's okay,” Ron assured him. “Come on, Hermione would love that you're doing this for her. She's sick and
depraved like that - “

“She's sick and depraved!?” Harry demanded. “I'm wearing your bloody fetish thing! I can't believe you - oh, my God -
oh, God!”

He backed out of their house, his throat burning, and Apparated home with the Weasley-Lovegood sex object magically
bound to his body. Harry vowed that was the last time he ever went to Ron and Luna for help. Ever. Even if he found
himself being chased by a murderous Crumple-Horned Snorkack, he would refuse any assistance whatsoever from the world's
only leading expert. Standing at his front doorstep still hyperventilating, he tried once again to rip away the straps
in vain. He took a deep breath and resolved that nothing more could be done. It was time to face Hermione.

After Harry had Disappeared, Ron looked at Luna smugly.

“Five galleons says Hermione laughs him out the house.”

“The point is, he will be forgiven,” Luna said sagely, taking Ron's plate and walking back to the kitchen.

“Still, though," Ron followed her and poked her between the shoulder blades.

“All right, well, ten says Hermione will laugh and then show up in the Floo to yell at us.”

"Should we tell him what happens to it at midnight?"

Luna smiled serenely. "Surprises are always more fun."

- - -

Hermione woke up with a headache. The window shade had somehow managed to pull itself up and was letting the obnoxiously
bright morning sun stream into her face, disrupting the first full six hours of sleep she'd had for a very long time.

“Wonderful,” she muttered to herself. She hoisted herself up off her large, empty bed and waddled into the bathroom.
Vomiting wasn't even that disgusting for her anymore. It was more like a chore or waiting in line at the supermarket.
She'd resigned herself to just holding her hair back and waiting it out. When she was done, she washed her face and
brushed her teeth, all the while thinking bad things about her husband, who was probably enjoying his blissful,
non-nauseating sleep time on the lumpy sofa.

“Prat,” Hermione thought out loud as she wrapped herself in a robe and made her way carefully down the stairs.

This bloody baby was going to be born weighing about twenty pounds. It had to. She just couldn't understand why she was
so bloody huge otherwise. She had weighed in at barely six pounds herself and Harry, well, in all honesty chances were
that a man with Harry's slightly-less-than-average size was probably not particularly large as an infant.

Then again, those horrid Dursleys never fed poor Harry well. They never let him play, talk, or be happy in general. He
had pretty much been living with human Dementors his whole life and it was amazing how someone with such a horrible
childhood and even adolescence could grow into such a wonderful person. She'd always heard horror stories about people
who were abused as children growing up to be criminals and rapists and, well, Voldemort. She sighed.

Six hours ago, Hermione had been more furious at him than she had ever been in her entire life. Now, she was already
beginning to forgive him. Her heart ached a bit, and this time she couldn't even attribute it to gas. She wanted to see
his sleeping face. It was pathetic, really.

How could she stay angry at Harry? He had been so patient and near-perfect for the past couple of months while she
carried their child. He'd even bought them a nice new toilet for their bathroom, after she accidentally banished their
old one to Siberia. She never was very good at cleaning the house, especially the magical way, and her attempt at
scouring the bowl ended up scaring seven Muggle adventurers and their St. Bernard. Poor Mr. Weasley had a field day with
that one.

She knew the whole “maternity leave” thing would never work. Her colleagues at the office had to literally chase her out
of the Ministry when she kindly informed them that they were all being ridiculous and it wasn't necessary for her to
take any time off. They had had the gall to call her a workaholic, which was perhaps true, but annoyed Hermione all the
same. She started to suspect it was time, though, when they had to change the locks after forcing her out. Honestly,
suggesting she begin her maternity leave a full two months before the baby was due seemed silly. Just because she was
massively pregnant, didn't mean she couldn't dodge booby-trapped crypts or deactivate exploding tombs like any other
curse breaker. Though the new batch of Celtic burial grounds they'd found did seem just a tad more dangerous, with its
brain-liquefying curses and dragon guards. She did have the baby to worry about.

It was frustrating. When she was frustrated, she became just short of a bitch and Harry had tolerated it for much longer
than Hermione should have expected. She reached the bottom of the stairs, not a simple feat lately, and rounded the
corner into the living room. Harry wasn't there, but there was sufficient evidence that he had been there. Two of the
cushions were squashed lower than one, because of Harry's habit of curling up when he slept. His blanket was rolled into
an unruly ball and stuffed in the corner of the couched between the arm and the cushion. Harry didn't quite understand
the concept of folding. To him, rolling everything up into a ball and stuffing it where no one could see was acceptable.
He did it with everything, blankets, towels, clothes in the drawer…

Merlin, only Harry could have such an annoying habit that she also found endearing. She tolerantly yanked the blanket
from the couch and started to fold it, when the door suddenly opened out in the front hall. Hermione dropped the blanket
and hurried around the couch to meet whoever it was.

“Harry?”

“Hermione? You're up?” Harry sounded startled. By the time Hermione got a good look at him, Harry had turned his back to
her, facing the front door with his head hung low like he was embarrassed about something. She could see that his red
t-shirt was stretched across his back, revealing what looked like a weird harness underneath.

“Harry? Where were you?” Hermione asked. “And what on earth is that thing you're wearing?”

Harry still didn't turn around, which made Hermione even more curious. “Um, okay, just so you know…I can't take it off.
Luna's cursed it on real well, I think.”

“You were at Ron and Luna's this early? Why?”

Hermione stared as his hand flew to the back of his head and began scratching nervously. “I felt really bad about last
night. I still feel really bad about last night. I needed advice. I love you. You know that, don't you? I didn't mean a
thing I said.”

She barely even comprehended the last part of his statement. “You went to Ron and Luna for advice?! Are you mad?”

“Apparently.” Hermione practically heard him roll his eyes. She bit her lip. Somehow, she just knew that something
either very entertaining or very disturbing was about to happen.

“Oh, Harry, it's all right. I'm not angry, and I'm sorry as well. I just wish you could have spoken to me first.”
Hermione tried to peer around his back, but he kept whatever it was firmly hidden.

“I know, but, well, they had an idea,” Harry said, quickly dodging Hermione's line of vision. Him and his stupid
Quidditch reflexes. Hermione tutted impatiently.

“An idea about what?”

“An idea of how I could make it up to you.”

“You don't need to,” Hermione assured him, about to explode just from sheer curiosity in a way only Hermione Granger was
capable of.

“Well, to tell you the truth, if I had known that before…” Harry finally turned around very sheepishly, avoiding
Hermione's eyes.

She gaped at the big, lump underneath his shirt for a good couple of minutes before looking back at up at Harry.

“I'm…I think I'm afraid to ask.”

“It's a fake pregnant belly…thing,” Harry explained, looking as though he wished the floor would open up and swallow him
whole. “To show you that I appreciate you're carrying our baby.”

Hermione forced her mouth to press itself into a thin line.

“See, I know I haven't got the morning sickness and all that, but I reckon this at least gives me a little idea. For me
to sympathize, I mean.”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut harder, using her teeth.

“And I don't know, I suppose this will make us closer in a way. You know, now that I'm able to sympathize even just a
little bit,” Harry continued. “Though to be honest, Hermione, that expression on your face is starting to freak me out a
little bit.”

She couldn't help it anymore. The laughter escaped like steam from a kettle, long and high-pitch. Harry jumped at the
bark of amusement, and Hermione just couldn't take it anymore. Gales of laughter buckled her knees as she reached for
the couch and tried to support herself. She failed, and ended up flopping down on the couch, clutching at her swollen
belly.

“Oh, my God, Harry!”

“I'm glad my heartfelt gesture moves you so.” Harry said dryly, plopping down next to her.

“I - I can't breathe!” Hermione cried, practically in tears. “Oh, my - hahahaha! Oh, this can't be good for the baby…”

“Really?!” Harry leaped to her side and placed a hand on her stomach. “Breathe, Hermione, breathe - “

Hermione slapped him away. “I wasn't serious, Harry! Merlin, you are - you are too much! I can't...ahahaha!”

Harry waited a few moments, tapping his his fingers impatiently against the apparently hilarious bump until Hermione got
the giggles out of her system.

“Finished?”

“Just about, yes.”

“Can you kiss me now and tell me I'm a wonderful husband? Because I seem to have misplaced my dignity and self-esteem.”

Hermione scooted over and tried to oblige, but all her attempts failed as both pregnant and fake-pregnant bellies got in
the way. She tried to push Harry's to one side and craned her neck at an odd angle, but she could only successfully
manage to kiss him on the cheek. Harry looked absolutely horrified for the second time that morning.

“You are a wonderful husband, Harry, but you really should have thought this through a bit more,” Hermione chuckled as
she got up. “Why don't you go make us some tea and we can try the kiss again?”

Harry groaned, having been robbed of morning snog session by the bothersome bump, and trudged into their kitchen.
Hermione noted the way he winced as he got up.� There was no way he would admit it so early in the game, but Hermione
knew his back was starting to ache.

When Harry had gone, Hermione went over to the fireplace and tossed in some Floo powder. The flame blazed a bright green
before Ron's head appeared, floating in the flames.

“Morning, Hermione!” Ron greeted her cheerfully, holding what look like a strip of bacon. Hermione didn't feel like
asking.

“Don't you `morning' me, Ron Weasley!” Hermione admonished. “I saw what you and Luna did to my husband and I demand that
you remove that ludicrous thing from him stomach right this instant!”

“Oh, come on, he's trying to show how much he appreciates you,” Ron reasoned. “He feels real awful about last night and
he really wants to do this!”

“But it's ridiculous!” Hermione rolled her eyes. “There is no way a man can handle that, anyway. There's a reason women
are the ones who carry the babies.”

“I'm sorry, what was that you said?”

Hermione swiveled around to find Harry looking quite put out behind her. He had his arms crossed over his chest and
resting on top of the lump. Hermione had to practically stuff her fist in her mouth to stop from laughing again.

“Oy, mate, she's telling me a bloke can't handle pregnancy,” Ron called helpfully. Hermione shot him an evil look.

“Is she, now?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that…”

“How did you mean it, then?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Okay…well, okay, I did mean it like that. But honestly, Harry, you don't need to do
this.”

“No, you don't think I can do this!” Harry accused.

“Harry - “

“See you later, Ron,” Harry huffed, turning back to the kitchen. “I'm going to have breakfast.”

“So you don't want Luna to take that thing off?” Hermione squeaked.

“I'm not just doing this for us anymore,” Harry glared at Hermione. “I'm doing this for all men!”

“Attaboy, mate!” Ron whooped. “You show her!”

“I will!”

“You rock that belly like no other!”

“I am!”

“You're the most bad-arse pregnant man to ever walk the planet!”

“Definite - Oi!”

“See you later,” Ron grinned cheekily. His head disappeared and for a few seconds Harry and Hermione could have sworn
they heard Luna demand ten galleons from Ron in the background.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry this doesn't have to be a contest. I'm flattered, really, that you wanted to do this
for me, but you don't have to - “

She turned around again to find Harry gone. Hermione went into the kitchen, seduced by the smells of eggs and bacon, and
found Harry standing by the sink.

“Hey, Hermione, look!”

Harry turned around. He was balancing a hot cup of tea on top of his bump like it was a small table.

“Nifty, huh?”

“Harry…oh, never mind,” Hermione sighed and poured herself some tea. She took her seat and placed her tea by her plate,
and looked at Harry pointedly, expecting him to do the same. Harry refused, and sat successfully sat at the table with
the tea still resting sturdily on his stomach.

“How come you never do this, Hermione?” Harry finally placed his tea on the table and replaced it with a plate of toast.
He took a piece and bit into it. Hermione watched as all the stray crumbs were caught by the plate resting on the bump.
“Brilliant.”

“You're an idiot,” Hermione snorted, trying to hide her amusement.

“There is a fine line between genius and madness,” Harry said sagely as he finished his toast and put the tea back in
its rightful place. “I really should talk to Fred and George about this. Tummy-Top Table. They'd make a fortune.”

Hermione said nothing, instead watching as the teacup teetered and tottered in its place. Harry reached over to grab
himself a serving of eggs. Just a little more to the right…a little bit more…and…there!

“AHH!” Harry cried out as the teacup tipped over and spilled the hot tea. “Bloody hell!”

Hermione went to go get her wand and soothe Harry's reddening skin.

“And this is just day one,” Hermione winked at him. “Come on, let's get you a new shirt."

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

Note: This will be updated ummm, soon. Two days, I'd say. Three tops.

Beta read by adamolupin. However, I did edit it slightly without her permission **shifty eyes** so any mistakes are my
own. No go read her stuff, she's cool :-D

-->

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2. Chapter 2

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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!

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