She watched Poppy's back, her hands clammy, and her stomach doing flip-flops. If her stomach hadn't already emptied its content, she would've probably thrown up again. Her heart was pounding so hard, her ribcage hurt.

"Poppy, please hurry up," she said. The mediwitch didn't turn around.

"Minerva, even magic requires a little patience," snapped the mediwitch. She didn't mean too but she too was worried about the result. Minerva showed all the regular symptoms. But Poppy prayed that she, they, were mistaken. Five minutes and she held up the flat glass. It was smeared with a little urine and a magic potion that stained the glass green. It wasn't unlike the muggle pregnancy detector, but much faster. It worked the same way.

"Well, here it is," she said and turned so Minerva could see it too. The two women held their breaths. Blue...blue...blue...blue...green.

Minerva fell to the floor in dead faint.

            *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

She woke up, her head spinning and throbbing slightly on the left. Her body felt weary. Slowly she opened her eyes. She could just make out the blurry outline of the mediwitch.

"Poppy, what happened?" she asked softly.

"You passed out for about ten minutes," came the reply. Minerva groaned, the pain in her head dulling a little.

"My head hurts," she groaned. Poppy handed her a small smoking goblet.

"You hit your head hard," Poppy replied. Minerva took a sip of the drink and cringed at the horrible taste. But since it did help with her throbbing head, she drained the cup and passed it back to Poppy. She lay back on the pillow. Just as she was relaxing, she bolted up, her eyes round like saucers.

"Merlin's devilment!" she cried. Poppy wouldn't look at her.

"Poppy, was it a dream?" she asked softly. Poppy shook her head. Minerva fell back onto the pillow. Oh god, it couldn't be happening. She's pregnant. And no question who the father was. She had only been with one man in the last ten years. Mentally counting, she was two and half months pregnant.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered, but her friend heard her. Poppy went up to the bedside and took her hand.

"That's your choice. Do you want it?" she asked. Minerva didn't know what to answer. Did she want this baby? What about the father? She would have to tell him? How would he feel?

"I don't know," she whispered and tears pricked the back of her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Go back to your room, and think about it. But don't wait too long, it gets complicated as the baby gets bigger," said the mediwitch softly. Minerva nodded and headed back to her room. Thank goodness, she met no one, since school was still in session.

Slowly she walked into her empty room. A fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the room a warm and glowing look. She smiled. She loved her room. It was just nice. Comfortable and nice. Just enough for her. Then her gut dropped. But she wasn't alone anymore. She moved with the same slow pace into her bedroom. A smaller fire warmed her room, casting golden shadows across the red satin bed sheet. She stood in front of the mirror. She didn't look like she was pregnant. Steadily her fingers began to unbutton her robes, letting it fall to the ground at her feet. Her under-dress and camisole followed next. Finally, she was left standing in front of the mirror wearing only her knickers. Turning sideways, she tried to look for any signs that another being was growing inside her. Her stomach was still flat, except for the small bump and hardness of flesh, that's all. She rested her fingers on her stomach. Caressing it softly.

It wasn't obvious, but she knew it was there. Another human being. She closed her eyes and imagined that instead of her fingers, another pair, paler and longer than hers, was caressing the small mound. Dark eyes would smile proudly into her blue ones and lips, full and sensual trailing kisses from her neck down to her stomach, whispering word of love and gratitude in between kisses. She sighed and the image dissolved away. That wasn't a fantasy about o come true, nor did she want it too. She knew she didn't have to have this baby. All it took was a little procedure and it'll all be over. No one, except Poppy, would ever know. But she would know. And would she be able to live with herself? How could she wake up every morning and look at herself in the mirror without seeing a murderer? It wasn't her child alone.

But telling the father was the last thing on her mind. As she thought the morbid thoughts, a feeling began to stir deep inside her. A strong feeling. A bond. A bond between her and her unborn child. The child that would grow inside her. The child that she would carry with her for nine months. A tear trickled down her cheeks. How could she even think of killing her baby? Her baby. Her very own little bundle of joy to love and to hold. To cherish, to pamper, to teach... her own angel. Her tears began to flow more freely. Screw the father, screw fate... screw the whole world. This baby was hers.