A/N: Thank you so much for reviewing! And as always, any plot suggestions
are always welcome and encouraged!
NayNymic- Prams are the English version of baby carriages. Much nicer than a stroller....
Chapter II. Rude Awakening
//13th August 9:24 p.m.
Ok, so here I am, middle of Romania, and around two weeks preggers. Me. Draco Malfoy. Son of a Death Eater. Pregnant with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Put- Me-In-The -Pudding-Club's child. I admit it was a bit of a shock, (o.k., a hell of a shock) but now I'm starting to get used to the idea. Hermione came to visit last night, and she suggested I keep a diary. I was a little skeptical, after all, we saw how it turned out the last time someone kept a diary.
But I figure she might be right, so I decided to give it a shot. So far, so good. I haven't noticed much of a difference yet, although Mrs. Weasley assures me I most definitely will.//
14 August 7:13 a.m.
"Draco?" Harry asked. "Are you alright?"
The door to the bathroom swung open, the framework supporting a very green tinted blond with a cold washcloth to his mouth.
"Peachy," Draco grunted through the cloth. "Fine and dandy."
Harry leaned forward. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes." Draco deadpanned. "If you find my stomach at some point while you are in the loo, kindly bring it back to me. I will be in the bed."
After Draco slid back under the bedclothes, Harry trodded downstairs to fix breakfast. Toast and tea, Harry thought. Should be bland enough. He knew this would probably happen, he just didn't expect it to be so soon. For the first time since the birthday wish, reality was beginning to take hold. This was not just something they talked about, this was real. And even though they had discussed adopting at some point, this was something else altogether. This wasn't a choice the two of them had made, only Harry. Of course, Draco seemed to be happy as well, Harry thought, but will he still feel that way months from now. Or even tomorrow...
"Bloody hell!" Harry pulled his hand away from the tea kettle, sporting a nasty burn on his thumb.
"Alright there, Harry?" Draco smiled from the top of the stairs.
"Yeah, just, wasn't paying attention, I guess. You're up."
"I feel better, actually. Really hungry now. What have you got for breakfast?"
Harry pulled the jam out of the cupboard and placed it on the table.
"I made you some toast and tea. Would you like..."
"Is there any tuna fish salad left from last night?" Draco asked.
Harry stopped in mid-stride.
"Tuna?"
"Yeah."
"For breakfast."
"Yes, and what is wrong with that?" Draco asked.
Harry rummaged in the fridge for the leftovers. "Well, don't you think..."
But one look from Draco cut him off. "O...k...," Harry thought. "Maybe not."
Harry brought the container to the table, then turned back to the kettle.
"I didn't know if you wanted anything in your tea this morning, so I..." Harry stopped in mid-sentence. Draco had dumped the leftover tuna onto his toast, and was currently spooning grape jam on top.
Harry felt his own stomach turn as he watched Draco mash another slice of toast onto the gooey mess.
"Uh, Draco?" Harry cautiously asked. "What are you doing?"
"I meatn beakfstt," he mumbled through the crumbs.
Harry sat down on the other side of the table. He made a quick mental note never to eat tuna again. Or jam. And toast may be out too. And it was only the beginning.
//14th August. 10:34 p.m.
Well, today was interesting, to say the least. After being sick as a cat half the morning I spent the other half acquiring a taste for jammy seafood. I think Harry may have been a bit weirded out, but let's think....the fact that I'm pregnant at ALL, how much weirder can it get? Whatever happens, though, we will get through it together. But for right now, I wonder if there are any stuffed peppers left from dinner......//
End of Chapter II.
NayNymic- Prams are the English version of baby carriages. Much nicer than a stroller....
Chapter II. Rude Awakening
//13th August 9:24 p.m.
Ok, so here I am, middle of Romania, and around two weeks preggers. Me. Draco Malfoy. Son of a Death Eater. Pregnant with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Put- Me-In-The -Pudding-Club's child. I admit it was a bit of a shock, (o.k., a hell of a shock) but now I'm starting to get used to the idea. Hermione came to visit last night, and she suggested I keep a diary. I was a little skeptical, after all, we saw how it turned out the last time someone kept a diary.
But I figure she might be right, so I decided to give it a shot. So far, so good. I haven't noticed much of a difference yet, although Mrs. Weasley assures me I most definitely will.//
14 August 7:13 a.m.
"Draco?" Harry asked. "Are you alright?"
The door to the bathroom swung open, the framework supporting a very green tinted blond with a cold washcloth to his mouth.
"Peachy," Draco grunted through the cloth. "Fine and dandy."
Harry leaned forward. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes." Draco deadpanned. "If you find my stomach at some point while you are in the loo, kindly bring it back to me. I will be in the bed."
After Draco slid back under the bedclothes, Harry trodded downstairs to fix breakfast. Toast and tea, Harry thought. Should be bland enough. He knew this would probably happen, he just didn't expect it to be so soon. For the first time since the birthday wish, reality was beginning to take hold. This was not just something they talked about, this was real. And even though they had discussed adopting at some point, this was something else altogether. This wasn't a choice the two of them had made, only Harry. Of course, Draco seemed to be happy as well, Harry thought, but will he still feel that way months from now. Or even tomorrow...
"Bloody hell!" Harry pulled his hand away from the tea kettle, sporting a nasty burn on his thumb.
"Alright there, Harry?" Draco smiled from the top of the stairs.
"Yeah, just, wasn't paying attention, I guess. You're up."
"I feel better, actually. Really hungry now. What have you got for breakfast?"
Harry pulled the jam out of the cupboard and placed it on the table.
"I made you some toast and tea. Would you like..."
"Is there any tuna fish salad left from last night?" Draco asked.
Harry stopped in mid-stride.
"Tuna?"
"Yeah."
"For breakfast."
"Yes, and what is wrong with that?" Draco asked.
Harry rummaged in the fridge for the leftovers. "Well, don't you think..."
But one look from Draco cut him off. "O...k...," Harry thought. "Maybe not."
Harry brought the container to the table, then turned back to the kettle.
"I didn't know if you wanted anything in your tea this morning, so I..." Harry stopped in mid-sentence. Draco had dumped the leftover tuna onto his toast, and was currently spooning grape jam on top.
Harry felt his own stomach turn as he watched Draco mash another slice of toast onto the gooey mess.
"Uh, Draco?" Harry cautiously asked. "What are you doing?"
"I meatn beakfstt," he mumbled through the crumbs.
Harry sat down on the other side of the table. He made a quick mental note never to eat tuna again. Or jam. And toast may be out too. And it was only the beginning.
//14th August. 10:34 p.m.
Well, today was interesting, to say the least. After being sick as a cat half the morning I spent the other half acquiring a taste for jammy seafood. I think Harry may have been a bit weirded out, but let's think....the fact that I'm pregnant at ALL, how much weirder can it get? Whatever happens, though, we will get through it together. But for right now, I wonder if there are any stuffed peppers left from dinner......//
End of Chapter II.