Disclaimer:

*sing to old Goldfish jingle*

I love to slash 'em 'cause they're so delicious, I don't own this!

Just the plo-ot.

*nods*

UMMMMMMM, hi! ^.^ I really do love this ficcy. *hugs it tightly* Thanks for your reviews!

                The reason Harry hasn't found out he's pregnant yet is because I REALLY don't want to rush this story, like I usually end up doing.

                Harry, right now, is about a month along, and it's the middle of June, meaning he'll be showing before leaving for school. Don't worry. I know exactly what I'm doing. ^.^ Sorta. ^.~

Chapter Rating: Ummm. I'd say PG for foolish language.

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!!!Last Chapter!!!:

Harry sat back on his bed, trying not to move around too much as he stared at the ceiling. He just hoped Severus knew what was wrong with him. Or could tell him what was wrong with him. Although he did expect Severus to be a bit pissed off with him for not having gone to Madam Pomfrey's like Severus had told him to.

Harry honestly thought it was just a small stomach bug, who knew what was wrong with him?

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Severus looked down at the parchment Hedwig delivered only mere minutes ago with a sigh.

Dear Severus,

I miss you. I haven't been feeling well still, I've been throwing up more often. I'm just sort of starting to think maybe seeing Madam Pomfrey would have been a good idea. I was wondering if there was any way you could find out what's wrong with me.

Love You Always,

H.

                It just figured the boy would be getting even sicker. Wonderful. Severus sighed, thumbing through his potion books on healing and health in general, and found a book entitled, 'Magical (and non-magical) Ailments and How to Treat Them' by Jeslam Carrigan. Flipping through the pages, he nodded to himself, noting that it listed all of the symptoms for each ailment, and snapped the book shut in one hand. Gently petting Hedwig's feather's he took out and owl treat to let her munch on while he started to pen a letter to Harry.

Harry-

I know how much you dislike for me to point out when I am right and you are clearly wrong, so I won't this time. Perhaps next time you'll take my advice. I'm sending along this book, as you'd know your symptoms better than I would. I hope you feel better by the time you return so I won't have to hear your whining. If you need a specific potion made, just owl me via Hedwig. I don't want you poisoning yourself, knowing how abysmal you are at making potions. I miss you as well, these rooms are terribly lonely without someone around to make an intolerable level of noise in them.

Love,

S.

Severus cast a quick spell on the ink so it would dry instantly, and rolled the parchment up into a small tube, quickly fastening it to Hedwig's leg as she silently finished the treat.

"Have a drink," he said pointing to a small bowl of water on the worktable, "and then get out. I have work to do. Make sure you deliver that to Harry, and no one else." Applying a quick water-proof charm on the parchment, he left the workroom, poking his head in a few minutes later, and saw that the snowy owl had taken flight.

Harry sighed into the dirty dishwater; his hands were already becoming wrinkled and pruny as he worked on the dishes in the sink. Aunt Petunia had made him clean out the toilet that evening, and then snapped at him when he told her he wasn't feeling up to eating dinner that evening and avoided the kitchen until the smell of their meal had aired out of the room. With a sigh, he considered his choices carefully.

He had owled Professor Dumbledore earlier about possibly spending part of his summer away from the Dursleys. According to the wizard, the only way would be if he had a blood relative alive, but as it was, all of the Potter line except himself had been wiped out and the less muggles of the Evans knew about the magical realm, the better. Besides, the closer the blood tie was, the safer he was.

This whole blood-relative business made Harry's head spin, and he just wished that something else could be done. As he finished washing the last of the dishes he set to work on the rest of the kitchen, making sure everything was spotless. The cleaner it was now, the less he would have to clean tomorrow.

An hour later Harry climbed the stairs to his bedroom, feeling slightly faint, but ignoring it as he sat onto his small bed, noting Hedwig was back with a smile.

"Hey there girl," he said, standing up, and walking over to her and opening her cage door for her. Gently removing the letter, he opened it to Severus' familiar spidery scrawl. Reading it over, he noticed the parcel sitting on his small desk. With a small smile, he opened it, and took the book over to his bed, lying down.

He started flipping through the pages of the book, mentally crossing off things he might have. He skipped over the few things he knew he couldn't possibly have wrong with him, such as Pernickle's 24 Hour Pickle Allergy, or Pregnancy, or Pruny Toes Syndrome. Who knew so many different ailments started with the letter 'P'? Harry spent a good few hours reading over the book, not finding a single thing that connected with whatever was wrong with him, and threw the book down onto the bed with a sigh.

"S'pose I'll have to try again tomorrow after I get some sleep. I probably skipped a page or something," he muttered to himself skeptically, knowing he hadn't skipped a page while reading. Putting the book in the floorboard along with his trusty cloak, and setting his glasses onto the desk, he burrowed into the lumpy pillow and pulled up his blanket and soon after drifted asleep.

Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily as his Aunt Petunia rapped on the door loudly for him to wake up. Standing up awkwardly, he groped around the desk for his glasses, fumbling to put them on straight. Harry sighed, wishing he had gone to sleep a little earlier, and turned faintly green, running to the bathroom and closing the door quickly, began to vomit into the bowl.

Once his stomach calmed down, he splashed some cold water onto his face and brushed his teeth. After running a comb through his hair he quickly cleaned out the toilet bowl before Aunt Petunia could start screeching at him to do so. Harry hated feeling this sick; he had never felt this bad in his life, at least not from a cold or flu or even a stomach bug.

After washing up and getting dressed, Harry gave another offering to the porcelain god, then, after giving it another cleaning, headed downstairs.

"What took you so damned long?" Petunia asked with a scowl, breaking an egg over a frying pan. Her blonde hair was pulled back away from her face elegantly, but it did nothing to make her face any more pleasing to the eye.

"Sorry Aunt Petunia. I, er… I haven't been feeling well," he muttered, starting to set the table. His aunt gave him a severe look and went back to cooking breakfast.

"You better not have brought back some freak disease," she said snippily. Harry's eyes widened in horror; he hadn't even thought about something like that. What if he had something that sometimes happened to people with magic, but what if it was contagious… and fatal to muggles?! He had heard about things like that from Madam Pomfrey, what with all of the time he spent in the Hospital Wing. Muggles didn't have any of enough magic to fight the disease in their blood.

"What are you looking at? Get back to work!" she snapped, and Harry complied reflexively. The day went on as usual, working most of the day, tiring himself out. He only threw up once more as the day progressed, thankfully. He was getting a little tired of cleaning out the toilet.

Night rolled around, and Harry flopped onto his bed, pulling the book onto his stomach as he opened to a random page, skimming. Throwing up in the morning, slightly larger appetite, etc., etc… Harry had all of these symptoms! Shocked, Harry looked at the top of the page and nearly fainted on spot. Apparently… he was pregnant.

Short, yes. Do I care? No. It looked like a good place to stop at the moment and I had little more to say. Narf.

REVIEW PLEASE! ^.^