Hermione Granger sat on her bed crying and occasionally wailing, "WHY ME?!" She held a crumpled parchment in one hand that was the cause of this odd behavior. It was a letter from the Ministry of Magic informing her that a marriage law had been passed and she had to be married to another wizard within a week and gave a list of eligible and more than willing bachelors. Apparently no one in the government was bothered by the fact that the marriage law was a gross abuse of power and violated the rights of the people involved. The reasons for said law were vague: something to do with inbred purebloods, saving the world from Voldemort, and resolving issues between purebloods and the rest of the wizard population. It neglected to mention how the marriage law would solve these issues, but no one seemed to have a problem with that.
Hermione was the only Hogwarts student affected by this law; for some clichéd reason or another, she was older than all her classmates. After about five minutes of despair and wishing she was dead, Hermione got over it and started browsing the list of suitors.
Remus Lupin… Boring! Sirius Black. Wouldn't that be necrophilia? Hmmm… I could've sworn Crabbes and Goyle were gay. Draco Malfoy? I knew he always wanted me! Who else? What the… Lucius Malfoy? But he's married! Hey, Tonks is a girl! That's not even legal in England!
Eventually, Hermione chose to marry Professor Snape, despite the fact that he shouldn't have been on the list because he's half-blood. She didn't particularly like him - in fact, she hated the man – but after dismissing all her other options she didn't leave herself with any other choice. Actually, she could refuse to marry and start protests and rant about her rights, but that would be too in character. This is fan fiction.
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Meanwhile, Harry Potter was in the bathroom throwing up. This was becoming a regular thing; every morning for the last week he had made a mad dash from his bed to the nearest toilet and hurled his guts out (not literally). At first he'd thought nothing of it. Maybe he'd eaten something that disagreed with him, or he'd gotten the flu, or something equally logical. But now Harry was forced to face the ridiculous truth: he was pregnant.
He'd been having a steamy love affair with Draco Malfoy. He hated the arrogant git and Draco despised everything about Harry (not to mention they were both straight), but that didn't stop them from doing naughty things in the room of Requirements every Saturday night. They never used protection because they had thought that men couldn't get pregnant. But apparently Harry had some ovaries hidden up his ass, because now there was a Potter-Malfoy crossbreed growing somewhere inside of him.
Harry crouched next to the toilet and pondered. He was not pondering about how exactly this was physically possible; he was pondering the ways he could inform his blond lover-boy about the current situation. And he couldn't come up with anything believable.