Title: One Daiquiri Too Many
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Category: Humour
Warnings: MPreg, Slash. OOC. One-shot. (No beta.)
Challenge: Who's Your Daddy? Challenge over at hpmpreg
Summary: Draco's diets aren't working. grins evily
Disclaimer: Not mine! hides under covers I didn't take it, I swear! I just play with it! (The Potterverse, I mean.)

"Fuck!"

Draco glared at the scale, then picked it up and heaved it out the window. He vaguely heard a loud 'ow!' coming form the outside, but paid it no mind.

"Not fair." He pouted. "Now, I can't go to Milan until I lose this weight," he grumbled while fixing himself an espresso. "And I really needed the relaxation."

He glared at his reflection.

"Sometimes I just hate you."

It stuck it's tongue out at him.

"Look at me! I'm HUUUUUGE!," he twirled around and stuck out his gut to emphasise his point.

Draco was whingning to his secretary about his recent weight gain.

"One, you are not huge, and two, you probably just had too many pints over the weekend."

"Pints?!" he burst incredulously. "I do not drink pints. Beer is icky. And anyways, I didn't go out over the weekend, I was working on that report. But the last time I did go out (which has been longer than I'd like to admit), I drank a few margaritas, some cosmopolitans and a daiquiri."

Jenna giggled. "So you drink girly drinks? You must've had a hell of a hangover."

"I do not drink girly drinks. I drink sophisticated mixed drinks." Jenna rolled her eyes. Fortunately for her, Draco didn't see.

"And, yes. I did have one hell of a hangover, so don't even remind me. I went out on a Friday night, and couldn't get out of bed until Sunday morning!"

"Jennaaaaaa."

Draco strode over to her desk.

"What?" She peered at him over her glasses.

"That diet you recommended me isn't working. It's been weeks and I haven't lost any weight. If anything I gained." He sat in the visitor's chair and pouted.

"Well, maybe you should go see a Healer. To make sure it's not something horrible."

"Only, if you come with me. You know I don't like St. Mungo's."

"Very good news, Mister Malfoy," the cheery Healer strolled into the room.

"I'm not sick?"

"No, no, my dear boy. Not at all." Draco let out a sigh of relief. "In fact, are perfectly healthy. So is your baby."

"My what?!"

"Your child, Mister Malfoy. You're pregnant. But of course you already know that. I'm guessing you haven't told the father yet, to surprise him."

"Nugh.. ehh...," Draco garbled.

"Okay, well be sure to tell the father, Mister Malfoy. He'll be overjoyed at your bundle of happiness," she clapped her hands together. "Oh, I just lovechildren."

"Now, I have another patient to see, so good day, Mister Malfoy," she cheerily said, steering the shocked blond to the waiting room.

Jenna jumped up. "So what did they say?"

"Eeeee.. gerby.."

"Snap out of it," she commanded. "Now what did they say?"

"I'm.. I'm.. I'm pregnant!"

Jenna of course had completely panicked, not helping Draco one bit.

Managing to extract himself from her clutches (and her questions), Draco went to his second most favourite place; the Snitch.

"One daiquiri," he yelled at the bartender.

He mulled over it, mumbling to himself.

"I can't be pregnant. The only people I've slept with in the past three months-, no, year have been females. It's impossible!" He stuck his finger in the air.

"Oh, thank you," he said to the bartender, as he was handed his drink.

"The Healer must have made a mistake. There is no way that I could've gotten pregnant. I would've had to have slept with a guy. Not that I have any problems sleeping with guys, quite the contrary, I love it. No Slytherin hedonist could resist either sex. But, how could I have gotten pregnant without sleeping with a bloke.." He took a large taste of his drink, and racked his brain.

A voice disturbed his thoughts.

"Hey Malfoy."

Draco turned around.

"Weasley?"

"How've you been? Haven't seen you since that night when we were both completely plastered." Ron waved his hand at the bartender to signal that he wanted another beer. "Sorry, I left so early; I had to be at work. Important calls, you know how bosses are."

Draco stared at him with his jaw agape.

"Gah."

Ron raised his eyebrow.

"You okay, Malfoy?"

Draco muttered to himself.

"I'm pregnant... by a Weasley. Oh dear." He thumped his head against the bar.

"What?!"

"Just found out I'm pregnant and I was just racking my brains trying to figure out how I got pregnant when the only people I've slept with in the past year were women. And then you show up, saying you slept with me awhile back...," he trailed off. "That's probably why I don't remember. You said I was completely plastered, and I don't remember what happened that weekend." He sighed and banged his head against the bar, again. "And I'm still pregnant. By a Weasley." He signaled to the bartender. "Another daiquiri. With extra rum."

"Fuck."

Ron put his head in his hands.

"And a few shots of whiskey."

"What the fuck are we going to do?"

"I don't know about you, Malfoy, but I'm getting plastered. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"Right. So I have to watch out for your drunk ass, when I'm the one who's pregnant."

"Then join me."

"And fuck you again? I don't think so Weasley."

"I never said anything about fucking." He ran his hand through his hair. "Just drink your damn daiquiri."

Draco pushed it away.

"That's how I got here in the first place."

Ron and Draco stood in front of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum, Dad. There's something we want to tell you."

"What is it, dear?"

"Um... Draco's pregnant. With my child."

Eyes bulged.

"You-, you're kidding, right?"

Their eyes were downcast.

"No."

Mrs. Weasley was the first one to get over her shock.

"Well," she clapped her hands together. "Now, I get a grandchild!" She scrutinised the two men standing in front of her. "So, is it a boy or girl? What's the baby's name going to be? What are you two going to do? Ronnie, I fully expect you to take care of this child. Are you going to live together? Get married? Have more kids? Are you in love?" And the barrage continued.

"..."

"That's not how you hold her, Ron!"

"So how am I supposed to hold her, Mister Mummy?"

"Like this." And he grabbed their daughter from Ron's clutches.

BURP!

"Ugh! My new Versace top!"

-fin-