How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sprog

granger_danger

Rating: PG
Genres: Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 03/11/2009
Last Updated: 03/11/2009
Status: paused

Hermione has been feeling odd lately and thanks to a surprising encounter with her mother and a very peculiar friend, she suddenly finds herself in the middle of a most unsettling situation: Is she pregnant? A waiting game ensues in the longest week of her life. Find out what happens when her male friends decide to be helpful, Harry remains clueless and Hermione ponders the logistical complications of visions. Brief mention of R/Hr. Other pairings include R/L and perhaps some D/G. Read and Review!

Chapters

1. Fogging the Future

1. Fogging the Future

The actual title of this story is The Logistical Complications of Visions or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sprog. Portkey thought that was too long of a title, so here you go. This is my first attempt at a purely humor piece here at Portkey. I am usually an angtsy writer, but this little plot bunny hasn’t left my head since it first hit. I’m working on another story as well, but felt a little humor would do some good.

This first short piece is a testing of the water, if you will, so please Read and Review! If you enjoy it, I’ll continue. Simple as that, yes?

As always, JKR owns it all. Warner Brothers leases most of it and me? I own my socks and this idea. But hey, they’re nice socks.

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Thursday – 12:28 PM.

“I had a vision last night.”

Hermione lifted one eyebrow in acknowledgement as Luna’s dreamy voice filtered through the chatter of the restaurant they had chosen for lunch. The older witch didn’t have a particular affinity for this small pub, but the blonde had insisted that she would adore the penne and having had no distinct pull towards another choice, she had easily relented.

“You mean a dream?”

Her eyes continued to dance across the dessert menu in front of her, and some small part of her wished the restaurant would just be silent. She had had a hard day at work already, and it wasn’t even half way over. Harry had been out on assignment for the past two weeks, and the thought of suddenly being left behind while he was in danger not only terrified and made her anxious, the loneliness she felt in her bed at night was taking its toll. Honestly, the last thing she wanted was a theoretical conversation with Luna on the benefits or lack thereof of the dignified art of divination.

It wasn’t as though she scoffed at the younger witch. It was true that the two women hadn’t always seen eye to eye on things but after the horrors she had been subjected to during the war, Hermione had given up most of the hard wired and rigid thinking that often characterized her childhood and began to experience life with a lighter sense of ease and enjoyment. Harry had helped with that immensely of course and Luna had become one of her closest friends rather playing a large hand in finally opening up both she and Harry’s eyes to what lay in front of them. The fact that she was stunningly brilliant and engaged to Ron only served to solidify their bonding. The complete reversal of roles had happened haphazardly after the war had ended; after Hermione and Ron’s brief attempt at a relationship collapsed one night in a fumbled attempt at intimacy.

It had taken a drunken night at a pub in celebration of Ron’s decision to try for professional Quidditch to get them to the point of no return. After sloppy and stumbling kisses in the hallway of Hermione’s flat; after stumbling through the doorway and into her favorite potted plant successfully shattering it; after an entirely detrimental accidental kneeing of Ron’s tender area as they maneuvered into a chair and tried again to proceed – they decided to slow things down to a leisurely pace.

When Hermione had started in on instructional kissing, Ron had merely stared at her in silence. They had broken into laughter moments later at the absurdity of their attempt, called it friends and went their separate romantic ways.

It was actually through her prodding and general insistence that Ron had gotten the nerve to ask Luna out culminating in a whirlwind romance lasting seven months before the dinner party celebrating Neville’s acceptance as a mentee of Professor Sprout at Hogwarts. During a particularly lighthearted conversation about the announcement of Fleur’s pregnancy, Luna had easily stated that she and Ron were going to have multiple children but would wait until the full moon cycle of the Blimpering Humdings happened in the next decade.

It signified good health towards families, after all.

The room had fallen silent upon this declaration, all eyes swiveling to the infamously tempered and easily embarrassed red head. Harry was so taken with shock that his spoon had stopped halfway to his mouth, leaking soup over the sides. Hermione had merely pushed it back into his bowl as she continued to gaze at their best friend.

Luna had continued to unknowingly sip her soup before looking around the suddenly silent table with an air of interest, “I thought there were Hornpeaed Crewslags here. They like to hang around dinner parties and steal coherent thought, you know.”

It was upon this statement that Ron had broken into chuckles. The air immediately lightened around the guests as he merrily shook his head and ladled another spoon full of soup into his mouth. “Well, if that’s the case, then why even bother waiting? We might as well go ahead and get married now.”

Luna’s serene smile flitted across her face as she stirred her soup and glanced up. “Oh yes, Ronald, I think I would like to marry you now.”

Ron smiled around the half chewed piece of bread in his mouth. “Good. That’s settled then. Hermione, toss us some more toast, yeah?”

It was Harry’s hand upon her own as he pushed her half raised spoon back into her bowl that had snapped Hermione back to reality.

And thus, the engagement of Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood had commenced.

“No, not a dream. A vision. They are entirely different things you see. A dream is an unconscious manifestation of brain signals and subconscious yearnings. It usually signifies a metaphorical desire of some sort, probably stemming from an unresolved issue that…”

“Luna?”

The blonde stopped short as Hermione glanced up from her dessert menu.

“I know what a dream is. I was merely pointing out that the idea of …” She stopped, closed her menu, took a deep breath and smiled. “You know what, never mind. What was your vision about?”

Luna’s blue eyes twinkled as she reached for the center bowl of bread and began tearing a chunk away.

“Oh, you‘re pregnant.”

She popped the bread into her mouth and leaned back into her chair with a wave of her hand as if one merely blurted things of this nature out of the blue on normal daily occasions.

Hermione felt herself redden slightly at the notion and could not stop the small disbelieving chuckle that escaped her lips. Dark eyes darted around at the fellow diners, who were paying no attention to the two females.

“What?”

The question had come out more as a scoff than anything. Luna merely raised her eyebrows, leaned forward and raised her voice.

“Pregnant. With Harry’s baby. Did I not say it correctly?”

She suddenly turned widened eyes to the air about them, reaching her hands up to clasp around something that wasn’t there.

“I knew I felt a wrackspurt flying around here.”

Hermione snatched the younger woman’s hands out of the air and tossed a furtive look towards more than one table who were now watching the two with raised eyebrows. When she spoke, her voice was low and rushed.

“I heard you perfectly well, but come on Luna… you can’t possibly believe that I’m pregnant. I mean, Harry and I… well… there are particular ways that we… and I don’t even believe in visions anyway.”

Hermione’s words tumbled out of her lips quickly and without pause.

Luna merely turned smiling eyes back to her once again.

“Of course I can, and given Harry’s history with visions in the war, I thought you of all people would understand their logical significance. It seems perfectly natural to me given the nature of your relationship, but I suppose if it makes you more comfortable to believe it, perhaps it was merely a dream, after all. Oh look, the food is here.”

Luna retrieved her plate with a small thank you to the waiter, twisted pasta around her fork and began humming with oblivious glee. Hermione gaped at her in disbelief for twenty solid seconds before slumping back into her chair and feeling quite like she had just eaten a Hornpeaed Crewslag after all.

Briefly it occurred to Hermione that she had just gotten her earlier wish. Lunch was a silent affair after that.