VII. Shotgun

Harry and Ginny exchanged a nervous glance. It was getting late. In a few minutes, everyone would want to go to bed. It's now or never, Harry thought to himself. Ginny must have been thinking along the same lines, because she gave him a little nod.

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, Mrs. Weasley? Mr. Weasley?"

Mr. Weasley looked up from his book, a paperback novel about the lives of muggles. Mrs. Weasley, who had been showing Hermione how to knit a cable stitch, lowered her needles. Hermione and Ron leaned back on the sofa beside her.

"We have something to tell you, Mum and Dad," Ginny said. She took Harry's hand behind her robes.

"Oh?" said Mrs. Weasley, looking at Ginny in bewilderment. "It isn't about that broken cauldron from yesterday, is it? Because I already made the twins buy a new one, and if it was you two—"

"Er, no, it's nothing like that," Harry said. He swallowed hard. He felt like he was going to choke on his own adam's apple. "It's—er—well, you see—"

"We're getting married," Ginny said.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the room. Hermione's eyes widened. Ron's jaw dropped. Mr. Weasley began to blink furiously.

Mrs. Weasley jumped off the sofa. "Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!" she shouted, throwing her arms around them in a bone-crushing hug. "This is the happiest day of my life! I've always thought of you as my son, Harry, and now you really will be!"

"Mum," Ginny sputtered, "I can't breathe."

"Sorry, Ginny, dear. I'm just so happy!" she wiped a tear from her eyes. "I'm so proud of you two!"

"Congratulations, mate," Ron said, shaking Harry's hand. He looked utterly shocked.

"Thanks," Harry said sheepishly.

Mr. Weasley pumped Harry's hand up and down. "Welcome to the family, Harry! Welcome!"

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck.

"We'll have to start planning the wedding," Mrs. Weasley said, a happy glow all over her face. "There's so much to do! And we only just finished with Bill's wedding. Well, there's plenty of time. You'll want to wait until June, until you finish school, Ginny, of course—"

"Actually," Ginny said, "we were thinking of having the wedding a little sooner."

"What? Sooner? How much sooner?" Mrs. Weasley said. "Like during your holidays?"

"Er," Harry said. "We were thinking of maybe, er, next week."

The room fell silent again. Everyone was staring at the two of them with surprise. Harry definitely felt that blush creeping into his hairline.

"That soon?" Mr. Weasley said. "That's—that's much too soon. We'll never be ready in time. I understand that you're eager, but there's plenty of time."

"Actually," Ginny said, "there isn't. I'm pregnant."

Another silence. This time, the looks of shock were not happy ones. Harry looked at his shoes. He wanted nothing in the world more than to leave that room. He'd rather face Voldemort again than be facing Mrs. Weasley right now.

"You're WHAT?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"You did WHAT to my sister?" Ron shouted.

"Oh, my," Hermione said, her hand over her mouth.

Harry risked a look up. Mr. Weasley's face was turning violet.

"I'll—I'll—" he sputtered.

"Dad," Ginny said, "are you okay?"

"I'll—I'll—" Mr. Weasley sputtered again.

"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione said.

"I'LL KILL HIM!" Mr. Weasley shouted, launching himself at Harry. Harry felt Mr. Weasley's hands close around his throat. Harry fell backward under the weight, onto the armchair behind him. His vision was filled with little flashes of light.

"ARTHUR! ARTHUR, NO! GET OFF HIM!"

Harry gasped for breath, feeling as though his windpipe had been half-crushed. He felt someone pull Mr. Weasley away. He shook his head, trying to clear the rush of blood that filled his vision.

"You can't kill, Harry, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"That's right!" Ginny said. Harry felt her pat his head.

"Because that's MY job!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

This time, the armchair fell backward. The last thing Harry remembered before he blacked out, was hearing Hermione and Ginny shouting "Mrs. Weasley! Let him go! He's turning blue!"

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My answer to all those Harry-gets-Ginny-Pregnant Fics. Hee hee hee.