A/N: Actually, this one's also dedicated to my (non-FP) friend Allison. I went through a few videos of her the other day (her husband likes to record every moment of their lives, which can be very amusing) and I discovered her reaction to getting pregnant. So I thought I'd take that journey through the eyes of a book couple and see where it takes me.

Yes, it's canon again. And parts of it are mildly fluffy. So I know at least one Slytherin who might not be so willing to go through this. Bear with me, eh?

Oh, and in defence of Allison, I'm pretty sure neither she nor her relatives reacted the way I've depicted them to. That's all fictitious.

Disclaimer: Did you know that if you make my nameinto an anagram, it spells something that looks nothing like J.K. Rowling? Still don't own it. Also, don't own the quote (obviously).

You don't seem happy. I know you're happy, but it's just . . . it's just too weird right now. Because . . . nothing changed. Except . . . a plus sign.

Math will never be the same.

-Allison E.

He whisked her slender body into the room, kissing her forehead, her neck, her lips. She giggled, carried by his strong arms with her own around his neck . . . and for once, not in a threatening manner. He was the love of her life, and at long last, they were going to get some privacy in that.

"Well, Mrs. Potter, this has been a day of passionate vows, passionate kisses, and passionate tears. Now," Harry winked at her. "we can have a chance at some passionate—"

"Hello, Master and Mistress Potter!"

"BAH!"

Harry jerked in surprise, consequently dropping his new wife (fortunately on the white, silky bed, as opposed to the hardwood floor). "Kreacher!"

A familiar sagging face peered out from beside the closet, its large eyes seemingly bright and helpful. Still, a small smirk could be detected in its aging lines.

"Master Potter was hoping that his room would be suitable for his special day, so Kreacher has been working all days with the other house elfs to make it so. Kreacher hopes this is enough."

"Yeah . . . yeah, Kreacher, it's perfect. Thanks. But . . . er . . . could you go back home now? You, er, deserve a break. And, you know . . ." Harry glanced pointedly at the bed and the slowly recomposing woman on it. Kreacher's ears perked up.

"Oh, of course, Master Potter. Whatever you is wishing, Kreacher wants. Kreacher hopes for good luck to the both of you."

Winking, Kreacher snapped his fingers and disapparated. To Harry's immense relief.

"Now," he sighed. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Well, wifey—"

"Wifey?" she interjected.

"You know you like it. As I was saying, wifey, you look spectacular in that dress. So elegant and clean. But as people love to say . . . it's what's underneath the dress that counts."

She laughed.

"What?" Harry asked, disappointed as he sat down on the head next to her. "You don't think that makes me sound charming and sexy?"

"Actually, it makes you sound like a creepy prat," she explained, smiling. Then, seeing the look on his face, she laughed and kissed him. "But you're my creepy prat, so that's all right."

He grinned and embraced her, leaning down against the pillows as his hand slid down to her waist.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Ginny Potter."

"I'm not saying it's probably serious or anything. I just think you ought to check it out. You've been sick for the past few weeks now, and it doesn't seem like anything's changing that. You need to see a Healer."

"I do not." Ginny pursed her lips, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass . . . or at least for Harry to be covered in her vomit. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"But what if you've caught something?"

"If I'd caught something, we would have been able to fix that by now. I'm just getting dizzy, and that's messing with my stomach."

Harry closed his eyes. Never try to reason with an insane woman. "If you're getting dizzy, Gin, it's something we need to check out."

At that moment, something occurred to him.

"Gin . . . what if you're pregnant?"

She looked at him. She looked at her belly. She looked out the window, where a dog chased a squirrel up a tree and was now barking at it with quite a bit of menace.

"I'm not."

"How do you know?"

"I'm just not."

"You don't know that, though."

"Harry James Potter, for the last time, I am not pregnant!" Ginny shouted, surprised to feel tears well up in her eyes. "I'm not ready to have a baby! We've only been married a month! How are we supposed to deal with a damn child? I can't even get you to stop throwing your socks on the counter at the end of the day, we only just got back from Sweden, people are going to think it happened before the wedding, and for that my mother is going to kill me!"

The dog, frightened by the sound of such a raised voice, had bounded away. The squirrel had scurried further up the tree.

"Ginny . . . Ginny, hon, calm down—"

"Oh, that's easy for you to say!" she screamed. "You don't have a freaking baby in your uterus!"

"Only because I don't have a uterus." Harry pointed out lamely. This did not help matters.

"Oh, that's right, you don't have to live with this problem! Your work here is done! And now you're going to run off and leave me here all alone to deal with this myself while you're out boinking Cho Chang without a care in the world! Potter, you are such a pig!"

Harry blinked. Things were not going his way.

"Ginny," he began calmly, forcing himself to look straight into her eyes (this was only dangerous because they looked about ready to kill him with a single glance). "I haven't spoken to Cho Chang in years. I don't know where she is right now, except that she's married to Roger Davies. And even if I did know what had happened to her, I wouldn't want to be with her. I don't love her. To be honest, I don't even like her that much. I love you."

She bit her lip, her chest heaving as she tried to overcome the intense emotion that had suddenly taken her over. The rational part of her mind (which at this point was a bit small and cowering in a corner from the rest of her mind) knew that Harry was right. This was not his fault. But he wasn't finished.

"And maybe you're not pregnant. Maybe there's a different explanation for this. But, still, Ginny, I think you should check it out. For us."

"We're not pregnant," she countered defiantly. He sighed, realizing he was never going to win this, and let her run to the bathroom to watch today's meal of cherries and tomatoes (she was having an odd appetite these days) come back in reverse.

As Harry puttered around the kitchen, wondering what he had done to nearly be slaughtered by his own wife, Ginny sat down on the bathroom floor, head against the door, suddenly very exhausted. Well, that was probably because of all the yelling. What was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes for a few moments and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was true. She didn't think so, but still . . . she was curious. Reopening her eyes and straightening up a bit, Ginny took out her wand. Few times it had failed her before. It couldn't fail her in this.

Positive is yes, negative is no. She kept that thought in her mind, imagining the outcome as she performed the spell. She took in a breath. Positive is yes, negative is no.

Could I be pregnant? She did wonder, watching as the pink haze appeared before her, ready to take shape. Positive is yes, negative is no.

With his head banging repeatedly against a cupboard, Harry realized that he hadn't heard Ginny speak for several minutes. "Gin? Ginny, are you all right in there?"

Positive is yes, negative is no.

"Ginny?"

"Oh, shit."