AN: Okay, I know I've allowed this story to languish for an unforgivably
long time, and I'm sorry about that. The only explanation I can offer you
is that I've had an awful case of writer's block which I'm only just now
getting over.
I'm not going to reply to all the wonderful reviews I got for the last chapter just now. I'll do that in a separate post later on. I hope to have the next chapter up much sooner than I got this one up. Other than that, all I can say is I hope you enjoy.
Oh, and that this chapter is dedicated to Cameron. You know who you are. Or at least, you should. (; *glomps*
Chapter Six
* * * * * * *
Halloween both arrived sooner than expected and took a very long time in coming.
Harry had reached the end of his first trimester now and was really starting to show. At least, when he dropped the concealing charms Professor Flitwick had taught him. Hermione and Blaise delighted in nothing more than getting Harry to remove the charms and cooing over the revealed bump. Ron, Draco and Dean rolled their eyes at the two, but whenever the girls weren't looking, they'd superstitiously reach out and let their hands bask in the warmth of Harry's child. Harry himself pretended amused exasperation with his friends. Secretly, though, he was pleased his baby so... awed his friends. It... soothed (however temporarily) the ache in Harry's heart at the thought that the child's other father wanted nothing to do with either of them. At the same time though, it high-lighted the fact that it *wasn't* Jason cooing over their child, and Harry was saddened. It was times like those that time dragged.
Time seemed to have sped however, when Harry paused to reflect on what had transpired in the two short months he'd been back at Hogwarts.
His morning sickness hadn't really abated until the end of September, but with the help of the anti-nausea potion Madam Pomfery supplied him with, he managed to keep it under control. It was still a relief when it had subsided; the potions left almost as bad a taste in his mouth as the bile did. Not to mention that towards the end of that month, Harry had begun to think that Neville suspected something. On more than one occasion, Harry had returned to bed in the early hours of the morning after downing the potion and felt Neville's eyes upon him. But when Harry ceased using the potions, Neville ceased to watch him so closely, and Harry shrugged it off.
Harry had been relieved to discover that Dumbledore had only deemed it necessary for the Heads of House and the latest Defence teacher to know about Harry's condition. That covered the most dangerous subjects anyway: transfiguration, potions and whatever Theses Crete, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, might throw at him. Professor Crete was a retired Unspeakable that had applied for the position when he'd discovered that retirement didn't agree with him.
Charms and History presented Harry with no problem whatsoever. And although the cloying scent of the Divination classroom turned his stomach, that wasn't really anything new. In Herbology, Professor Sprout always subtly directed Harry to a bench safely away from any plants that might be harmful to him.
Harry had been worried about Hagrid hovering over him in Care of Magical Creatures, had he known of Harry's condition, and had felt guiltily relieved when he'd realised Hagrid didn't yet know. It turned out it wouldn't have made a difference either way. Hermione, Ron, Dean, Blaise and Draco had taken it upon themselves to do the hovering in that class anyway. They seemed to think that if one of them weren't nearby to help, Harry would end up hurting his child. *Those* classes began to drag interminably, and Harry quickly resolved to tell Hagrid soon about his pregnancy: it wouldn't change anything about his class.
Half the Gryffindor Quidditch team refused to speak to Harry for a week and a half when he told them he was quitting the team. When they realised Ron, their Captain, and Dean, their star chaser, supported Harry's decision, they were included in their field of silence. It was only when Harry said he'd personally select and coach the replacement Seeker that the others started talking again.
The second weekend back, after Harry's first regularly scheduled appointment with Madam Pomfery, they held tryouts. Ron, naturally, as well as Dean, and Draco accompanied Harry to the pitch. Some of the Gryffindors frowned when they saw the Seeker of Slytherin there, but the four boys ignored them.
Dennis Creevey, the fourth year boy Harry had originally suggested, was there, and both Draco and Harry agreed he was good, definitely seeker material. The last student to try out was a fifth year by the name of Amelie Jordan. She was Lee Jordan's younger sister and so abnormally quiet for a Gryffindor that people took little notice of her. Several of the boys that had come to watch the tryouts snickered when she walked onto the field, but Harry quelled them with a glance.
She was as good as Harry had been when he'd started flying, and Harry, Ron, Draco and Dean quickly came to the unanimous decision that she was Gryffindor's new seeker. Harry had immediately set out a coaching schedule for Amelie, every second afternoon and since Harry wasn't allowed within three feet of a broom, Ron and Dean had decided that one of them would accompany him, and do all Harry's flying for him. Draco had spoken up, and said that he would take his turn too. When Dean had asked him why he was so willing to help train Gryffindor's seeker, he'd smirked and said it wasn't worth competing against a seeker who couldn't even pull off a Wronski Feint properly.
On an afternoon in the middle of October, it had been Draco accompanying Harry to the training session. That day Harry had decided Amelie was ready to be coached through the Wronski Feint. Harry began by going through the theory of it all with Amelie. Barely ten minutes into Harry's lecture, Draco had grown bored and wandered off down the stands, leaving his broom propped against Harry's knee. Twenty minutes later, during which time Harry had finished his lecture and watched Amelie through two trials runs of the Feint, both of which she botched, Draco was still not back, and Harry was getting impatient. Another ten minutes later, and Amelie had almost plowed into the stands when she turned the wrong direction and then pulled out of the feint far too early twice in a row. And Draco was still absent. Harry began to toy with the other boy's broom. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to simply fly up there and show Amelie why the way she gripped her broom at the beginning of her dive was all wrong. It wasn't like he was actually going to *do* the feint, or anything.
His mind made up, Harry stood and bade the broom hover. He had been just about to swing his leg over the broom when a voice interrupted him.
"Mr. Potter, you're not actually planning to *fly* that broom, are you?"
Harry had frozen and swivelled slowly around to face Professor Snape. The man was standing two rows above him, his lips in a thin white line, his worst glower on his face. Harry had flushed guiltily.
"No, sir," he had muttered, and Snape had responded: "Of course not."
His voice had lowered so that Amelie, hovering some metres above them and watching with avid interest, wouldn't overhear. "Of course, the great Harry Potter would never break a ban imposed upon him with his own safety and that of..." Snape paused and his eyes flickered to Harry's mid-section, "others... in mind."
At that, Harry had felt unaccountably angry with Snape. How dare this man judged him on his notoriety when he knew *full* *well* that Harry had never asked to be famous! Before Harry had managed to summon the breath to snap at the man, Snape was gone with a last glower and a swirl of his robes. Harry kicked the bleachers, swore when he stubbed his toe, and called off the rest of practice for the night. Amelie hadn't been game to say anything to him.
The one thing Harry couldn't hide, and everybody saw fit to comment upon - except, strangely enough, Snape - was Harry's new clumsiness. He couldn't seem to go a day any more without stumbling at least three times. And when he stood up from the table, or sat up from lying down too quickly, his head would spin and his vision briefly darken. He'd have to reach out suddenly and steady himself. He soon learnt to move more slowly when standing, or rising from a prone position. Madam Pomfery assured him that the dizziness was all to be expected and that there was nothing to worry about, and Hermione confirmed it with the further research she'd done of pregnancies in general.
But there was nothing Harry could do about his general sense of being perpetually off-balance. It was like coming off a fast carousel and having the world tilted slightly off kilter. Only it was permanent. Seamus found it hilarious and was heard to say on more than one occasion that it was a good thing that Harry'd quit the team, else he'd likely fall off his broom in mid-air. Then first time he'd said that, Dean had thumped him for it. But Harry didn't really mind the taunts. He was more worried about falling and hurting his baby. Harry was terrified that he would miscarry and lose the only chance he had of having a child of his own body.
But the main reason Harry half-dreaded, half-greatly anticipated Halloween was because Sirius would be visiting that night.
The second day back at Hogwarts, Harry had headed up to the Owlery with a letter clutched in his hand, detailing his current condition. He had fully intended to send it, thinking it would be easier that way. But at the last moment, he had chickened out on sending it. Or come to his senses. He couldn't decide which. In the end, he had used the supply of parchment in the Owlery to scribble a short note to his godfather, saying that he needed to see him, that there was something he wanted to tell him, but not to worry, he wasn't in any ... danger. He had been going to write 'trouble', but had thought that Sirius would probably view this as trouble. After all, he looked upon Harry as his son, and Harry wasn't more than seventeen years old and had been knocked up and dumped.
Harry didn't think Sirius would be inclined to take the news calmly.
* * * * * * * *
Under the cover of his invisibility cloak, Harry crept along the wall behind the backs of the students as they all piled into the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. The only people likely to miss him from the Gryffindor table would be Ron, Dean and Hermione, and since they already knew where he was going, it was the perfect time for Harry to sneak out to meet his godfather.
The last of the students were filtering into the Hall as Harry slipped through the front doors and down the steps into the crisp evening. Sirius had sent Harry an owl earlier in the day to say that he had arrived at Hogwarts and was currently holed up in the Shrieking Shack, which was where Harry was headed now. He hurried across the lawn towards the Whomping Willow, not bothering to be too quiet, trusting the cloak and the fact of the Feast to keep him from notice. Snatching up the branch he'd by the tree that afternoon for this exact purpose, Harry prodded the knot at the base of the tree that froze the branches.
He dropped the branch and ducked into the tunnel mouth, stumbling as he went. He slid the cloak from his shoulders halfway along the tunnel and folded it over his arm. He had barely emerged out of the tunnel into the Shrieking Shack when he was enveloped in a tight hug. Harry squeaked as the air was forced from his lungs, and batted futilely at Sirius's back - the only part of him Harry's hands could now reach.
Sirius finally released his tight hold on his godson only to step back, grasp Harry's shoulders and appraise him from head to toe.
"You look well enough," he said, turning Harry in his grip.
"Getting a bit fat," he added, poking at the small bulge that was visible beneath Harry's muggle clothing.
"Sirius!" Harry jerked out of his godfather's loosened grip.
Sirius looked slightly affronted, "What? You sent me a letter saying that you needed to see me, to tell me something in person. I got the impression it was rather urgent." His expression turned serious, "What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Harry."
So much for not mentioning the word trouble in his note. Harry was suddenly terribly nervous about telling his godfather about the baby. Instead of giving the man a direct answer, he flopped down onto a shredded cushion, and said - rather sullenly - "What makes you think I'm in any trouble?"
Sirius sat down across from him and regarded him soberly, "Harry, you're a resourceful young man. You have a good group of friends, just as bright and resourceful as you, if not more so. You've always relied on yourself first, and them second, to solve any troubles in your life. So when you send me an owl saying that there's something you to talk with me in person about, I start to worry." He leant forward and places a gentle hand on Harry's knee.
"I know there's something important going on, Harry. And, whatever it is, I'm more than willing to do whatever I can to help you. You should know that."
Harry turned his head away, still feeling unaccountably nervous and unsure. "I'm pregnant," he whispered.
"Pardon?" Sirius said, "Sorry, Harry, I didn't hear you."
Harry closed his eyes and whispered a little louder, "I said 'I'm pregnant'."
Sirius blinked, "What?"
Harry gritted his teeth and spoke loudly, "I *said* I-"
"No. No, I heard you Harry," Sirius interrupted him, "I just..." He trailed off.
Harry cracked his eyes open and looked at his godfather. Sirius simply sat there, his hand still on Harry's knee, a shocked expression on his face. The silence stretched and Harry began to find it unbearably uncomfortable. He shifted, pulling his knee out from beneath Sirius's hand and opened his mouth to speak.
Sirius beat him to it, a dazed expression still in his eyes.
"Wow," he murmured in an awed voice, "I'm going to be a grandfather... A god-grandfather, I mean. Or is it grand-godfather....?"
Harry stilled, staring at his godfather in surprise, "You... you mean you... don't mind?"
Sirius blinked and finally focused on Harry again, "Mind?" A huge smile spread across his face, "Why should I mind? This is fantastic!"
Sirius gathered Harry in a tight hug. Leaning back again, he stretched Harry's shirt across his abdomen and beamed down at the revealed bump. "That's the third generation of Marauders there. Wait until Moony finds out!"
Harry began to smile tentatively. He couldn't believe Sirius was taking it so well. He had been sure Sirius was going to go of his head at him. He glanced up at Sirius form under his eyelashes, "You're not mad that I'm pregnant at only seventeen?"
Sirius paused, and his smile faded a little, "I'm not too happy about it, Harry, but I know how male pregnancies work. I know that you love this little one's father," he said, resting a hand over Harry's unborn child. Harry felt a glow of warmth emanating from the baby.
"Yeah, I do," Harry murmured, smiling sadly. But Sirius had missed Harry's tone as he jumped to his feet and started pacing the room.
"There's so much to do!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "Right. First things first. When's the baby due?" he demanded of Harry.
"Easter," Harry replied, "But -"
Sirius cut him off, "At least we have plenty of time until then. But there's still so much to do! We'll have to find you somewhere safe to live after Hogwarts. Dumbledore can help with that. I presume he already knows?" Harry nodded, but Sirius didn't seem to require an answer as he rambled on. "But that is still a long time away. Before that's there so much else.
"You'll have to find out the gender as soon as possible and choose your baby's names. Then we can start organising the naming ceremony. Being who you are, you won't want to leave that until more than an hour after the birth, so we'll have to be prepared.
"We'll have to go shopping of course. You'll need to buy baby clothes, and nappies, and bottles, and furniture. How do you feel about a wet nurse? Or would you prefer to feed your baby yourself?
"But the first thing we will have to deal with is the nuptials," Sirius paused in his pacing and looked at Harry, "Have you and your boyfriend talked much about that yet?"
Harry gaped at him. He couldn't believe how enthusiastic Sirius was about his godson having a baby. Going on about living arrangements, purchasing baby items, a naming ceremony - what was that anyway? But then... Nuptials? Sirius expected Harry to get married?
Caught speechless, Harry wordlessly shook his head at his godfather.
Sirius hitched his shoulders briefly and started to pace again, "Well, you'll want to do that straight away. It shouldn't be too hard -"
"Sirius..." Harry tried to interrupt.
"- to find a celebrant. Of course, it will have to be someone we trust. Maybe Arthur Weasley. He works for the Ministry, and -"
"Sirius!" Harry tried again.
"- that should qualify him to preform the ceremony. You probably won't want to invite many people, will you? You'll have to -"
"Sirius!" Harry shot to his feet and grabbed his godfather's arm. "There won't be any wedding."
Sirius finally paused, "Nuptials, not wedding; it's not the same as the muggle ceremony. And of course there will be nuptials. You don't want your baby growing up a bastard, do you?"
"No, I don't, but -"
"See? Then there's nothing to worry about. You obviously love your boyfriend, or you wouldn't be pregnant, so no buts about it," Sirius proclaimed.
"*But*," Harry stressed, "It's not my choice."
Sirius turned to look at Harry, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry dropped Sirius's arm and wrapped his own around himself, "It means there won't be any wedding, or nuptials, or whatever you want you call it. It means that we're not together any more."
Sirius spluttered, "Not... what? Not together...? But..."
Harry tightened his arms about himself and looked away, "He dumped me when I told him I was pregnant."
When his comment was met with silence, Harry looked back. Sirius's face was suffused with blood, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
"He... dumped... you?" he choked out, and when Harry nodded dully, Sirius became a whirlwind of motion. He grabbed Harry's shoulders as though to shake him, but thought the better of shaking his pregnant godson, and letting go, kicked a broken chair leg across the room instead.
"Where is he? *Who* is he? He can't do this! He can't just leave you like that! You will be bonded, even if I have to hold a wand to his head to get him to the altar -!"
Harry paled, "Sirius! No! You can't do that to Jason!"
Sirius snarled, "Jason, is it? Well, we'll see. No self-respecting wizard gets his partner pregnant and then refuses to commit. *Especially* not when said partner is *my* godson -!"
"Sirius," Harry interrupted in a soft voice, "Jason isn't a wizard; he's a muggle."
Sirius froze and turned slowly to stare at Harry. "A *muggle*?"
Harry hurried on while he had the chance, "Jason doesn't understand about our world. Hell, half the time, even *I* don't really understand it. He wouldn't fit in here and -"
Sirius recovered himself then and rode over Harry's words, "I don't care if he's a muggle. I don't care if he's a goddamn *vampire*! He has a responsibility to you, and *by Merlin*, I'm going to see he lives up to it!"
A tear escaped down Harry's cheek and he whispered, "Please Sirius. Don't push this. It wouldn't be fair. Not to him. Not to me.
"And it definitely wouldn't be fair to my baby. I'd rather my child had only me than two parents, one of whom resented him or her. Jason doesn't love me, and he was horrified at the thought of a child. He'd end up hating us, and I don't think I could stand that.
"So please," another tear streamed down Harry's face, "Please leave it alone."
Harry didn't even try to stop the tears now, and for a long time, his quiet sobs were the only sound. Slowly, a hand reached out and brushed the tears from his cheeks.
"Okay," Sirius whispered, gathering Harry into his arms and holding him tight, "Okay, I won't try to get you to bond with this Jason. You deserve to be happy. I just wanted you to have the perfect family."
Harry wrapped his arms about his godfather's waist and clung tight, letting his tears flow freely. Sirius just held him like he would a child, rocking him and whispering soothing nothings into his hair.
* * * * * * * *
Over an hour later, when Harry left, he didn't even notice that the stick he had left at the base of the Whomping Willow was snapped into pieces, almost as though someone had taken out their frustrations on the hapless piece of wood.
I'm not going to reply to all the wonderful reviews I got for the last chapter just now. I'll do that in a separate post later on. I hope to have the next chapter up much sooner than I got this one up. Other than that, all I can say is I hope you enjoy.
Oh, and that this chapter is dedicated to Cameron. You know who you are. Or at least, you should. (; *glomps*
Chapter Six
* * * * * * *
Halloween both arrived sooner than expected and took a very long time in coming.
Harry had reached the end of his first trimester now and was really starting to show. At least, when he dropped the concealing charms Professor Flitwick had taught him. Hermione and Blaise delighted in nothing more than getting Harry to remove the charms and cooing over the revealed bump. Ron, Draco and Dean rolled their eyes at the two, but whenever the girls weren't looking, they'd superstitiously reach out and let their hands bask in the warmth of Harry's child. Harry himself pretended amused exasperation with his friends. Secretly, though, he was pleased his baby so... awed his friends. It... soothed (however temporarily) the ache in Harry's heart at the thought that the child's other father wanted nothing to do with either of them. At the same time though, it high-lighted the fact that it *wasn't* Jason cooing over their child, and Harry was saddened. It was times like those that time dragged.
Time seemed to have sped however, when Harry paused to reflect on what had transpired in the two short months he'd been back at Hogwarts.
His morning sickness hadn't really abated until the end of September, but with the help of the anti-nausea potion Madam Pomfery supplied him with, he managed to keep it under control. It was still a relief when it had subsided; the potions left almost as bad a taste in his mouth as the bile did. Not to mention that towards the end of that month, Harry had begun to think that Neville suspected something. On more than one occasion, Harry had returned to bed in the early hours of the morning after downing the potion and felt Neville's eyes upon him. But when Harry ceased using the potions, Neville ceased to watch him so closely, and Harry shrugged it off.
Harry had been relieved to discover that Dumbledore had only deemed it necessary for the Heads of House and the latest Defence teacher to know about Harry's condition. That covered the most dangerous subjects anyway: transfiguration, potions and whatever Theses Crete, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, might throw at him. Professor Crete was a retired Unspeakable that had applied for the position when he'd discovered that retirement didn't agree with him.
Charms and History presented Harry with no problem whatsoever. And although the cloying scent of the Divination classroom turned his stomach, that wasn't really anything new. In Herbology, Professor Sprout always subtly directed Harry to a bench safely away from any plants that might be harmful to him.
Harry had been worried about Hagrid hovering over him in Care of Magical Creatures, had he known of Harry's condition, and had felt guiltily relieved when he'd realised Hagrid didn't yet know. It turned out it wouldn't have made a difference either way. Hermione, Ron, Dean, Blaise and Draco had taken it upon themselves to do the hovering in that class anyway. They seemed to think that if one of them weren't nearby to help, Harry would end up hurting his child. *Those* classes began to drag interminably, and Harry quickly resolved to tell Hagrid soon about his pregnancy: it wouldn't change anything about his class.
Half the Gryffindor Quidditch team refused to speak to Harry for a week and a half when he told them he was quitting the team. When they realised Ron, their Captain, and Dean, their star chaser, supported Harry's decision, they were included in their field of silence. It was only when Harry said he'd personally select and coach the replacement Seeker that the others started talking again.
The second weekend back, after Harry's first regularly scheduled appointment with Madam Pomfery, they held tryouts. Ron, naturally, as well as Dean, and Draco accompanied Harry to the pitch. Some of the Gryffindors frowned when they saw the Seeker of Slytherin there, but the four boys ignored them.
Dennis Creevey, the fourth year boy Harry had originally suggested, was there, and both Draco and Harry agreed he was good, definitely seeker material. The last student to try out was a fifth year by the name of Amelie Jordan. She was Lee Jordan's younger sister and so abnormally quiet for a Gryffindor that people took little notice of her. Several of the boys that had come to watch the tryouts snickered when she walked onto the field, but Harry quelled them with a glance.
She was as good as Harry had been when he'd started flying, and Harry, Ron, Draco and Dean quickly came to the unanimous decision that she was Gryffindor's new seeker. Harry had immediately set out a coaching schedule for Amelie, every second afternoon and since Harry wasn't allowed within three feet of a broom, Ron and Dean had decided that one of them would accompany him, and do all Harry's flying for him. Draco had spoken up, and said that he would take his turn too. When Dean had asked him why he was so willing to help train Gryffindor's seeker, he'd smirked and said it wasn't worth competing against a seeker who couldn't even pull off a Wronski Feint properly.
On an afternoon in the middle of October, it had been Draco accompanying Harry to the training session. That day Harry had decided Amelie was ready to be coached through the Wronski Feint. Harry began by going through the theory of it all with Amelie. Barely ten minutes into Harry's lecture, Draco had grown bored and wandered off down the stands, leaving his broom propped against Harry's knee. Twenty minutes later, during which time Harry had finished his lecture and watched Amelie through two trials runs of the Feint, both of which she botched, Draco was still not back, and Harry was getting impatient. Another ten minutes later, and Amelie had almost plowed into the stands when she turned the wrong direction and then pulled out of the feint far too early twice in a row. And Draco was still absent. Harry began to toy with the other boy's broom. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to simply fly up there and show Amelie why the way she gripped her broom at the beginning of her dive was all wrong. It wasn't like he was actually going to *do* the feint, or anything.
His mind made up, Harry stood and bade the broom hover. He had been just about to swing his leg over the broom when a voice interrupted him.
"Mr. Potter, you're not actually planning to *fly* that broom, are you?"
Harry had frozen and swivelled slowly around to face Professor Snape. The man was standing two rows above him, his lips in a thin white line, his worst glower on his face. Harry had flushed guiltily.
"No, sir," he had muttered, and Snape had responded: "Of course not."
His voice had lowered so that Amelie, hovering some metres above them and watching with avid interest, wouldn't overhear. "Of course, the great Harry Potter would never break a ban imposed upon him with his own safety and that of..." Snape paused and his eyes flickered to Harry's mid-section, "others... in mind."
At that, Harry had felt unaccountably angry with Snape. How dare this man judged him on his notoriety when he knew *full* *well* that Harry had never asked to be famous! Before Harry had managed to summon the breath to snap at the man, Snape was gone with a last glower and a swirl of his robes. Harry kicked the bleachers, swore when he stubbed his toe, and called off the rest of practice for the night. Amelie hadn't been game to say anything to him.
The one thing Harry couldn't hide, and everybody saw fit to comment upon - except, strangely enough, Snape - was Harry's new clumsiness. He couldn't seem to go a day any more without stumbling at least three times. And when he stood up from the table, or sat up from lying down too quickly, his head would spin and his vision briefly darken. He'd have to reach out suddenly and steady himself. He soon learnt to move more slowly when standing, or rising from a prone position. Madam Pomfery assured him that the dizziness was all to be expected and that there was nothing to worry about, and Hermione confirmed it with the further research she'd done of pregnancies in general.
But there was nothing Harry could do about his general sense of being perpetually off-balance. It was like coming off a fast carousel and having the world tilted slightly off kilter. Only it was permanent. Seamus found it hilarious and was heard to say on more than one occasion that it was a good thing that Harry'd quit the team, else he'd likely fall off his broom in mid-air. Then first time he'd said that, Dean had thumped him for it. But Harry didn't really mind the taunts. He was more worried about falling and hurting his baby. Harry was terrified that he would miscarry and lose the only chance he had of having a child of his own body.
But the main reason Harry half-dreaded, half-greatly anticipated Halloween was because Sirius would be visiting that night.
The second day back at Hogwarts, Harry had headed up to the Owlery with a letter clutched in his hand, detailing his current condition. He had fully intended to send it, thinking it would be easier that way. But at the last moment, he had chickened out on sending it. Or come to his senses. He couldn't decide which. In the end, he had used the supply of parchment in the Owlery to scribble a short note to his godfather, saying that he needed to see him, that there was something he wanted to tell him, but not to worry, he wasn't in any ... danger. He had been going to write 'trouble', but had thought that Sirius would probably view this as trouble. After all, he looked upon Harry as his son, and Harry wasn't more than seventeen years old and had been knocked up and dumped.
Harry didn't think Sirius would be inclined to take the news calmly.
* * * * * * * *
Under the cover of his invisibility cloak, Harry crept along the wall behind the backs of the students as they all piled into the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. The only people likely to miss him from the Gryffindor table would be Ron, Dean and Hermione, and since they already knew where he was going, it was the perfect time for Harry to sneak out to meet his godfather.
The last of the students were filtering into the Hall as Harry slipped through the front doors and down the steps into the crisp evening. Sirius had sent Harry an owl earlier in the day to say that he had arrived at Hogwarts and was currently holed up in the Shrieking Shack, which was where Harry was headed now. He hurried across the lawn towards the Whomping Willow, not bothering to be too quiet, trusting the cloak and the fact of the Feast to keep him from notice. Snatching up the branch he'd by the tree that afternoon for this exact purpose, Harry prodded the knot at the base of the tree that froze the branches.
He dropped the branch and ducked into the tunnel mouth, stumbling as he went. He slid the cloak from his shoulders halfway along the tunnel and folded it over his arm. He had barely emerged out of the tunnel into the Shrieking Shack when he was enveloped in a tight hug. Harry squeaked as the air was forced from his lungs, and batted futilely at Sirius's back - the only part of him Harry's hands could now reach.
Sirius finally released his tight hold on his godson only to step back, grasp Harry's shoulders and appraise him from head to toe.
"You look well enough," he said, turning Harry in his grip.
"Getting a bit fat," he added, poking at the small bulge that was visible beneath Harry's muggle clothing.
"Sirius!" Harry jerked out of his godfather's loosened grip.
Sirius looked slightly affronted, "What? You sent me a letter saying that you needed to see me, to tell me something in person. I got the impression it was rather urgent." His expression turned serious, "What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Harry."
So much for not mentioning the word trouble in his note. Harry was suddenly terribly nervous about telling his godfather about the baby. Instead of giving the man a direct answer, he flopped down onto a shredded cushion, and said - rather sullenly - "What makes you think I'm in any trouble?"
Sirius sat down across from him and regarded him soberly, "Harry, you're a resourceful young man. You have a good group of friends, just as bright and resourceful as you, if not more so. You've always relied on yourself first, and them second, to solve any troubles in your life. So when you send me an owl saying that there's something you to talk with me in person about, I start to worry." He leant forward and places a gentle hand on Harry's knee.
"I know there's something important going on, Harry. And, whatever it is, I'm more than willing to do whatever I can to help you. You should know that."
Harry turned his head away, still feeling unaccountably nervous and unsure. "I'm pregnant," he whispered.
"Pardon?" Sirius said, "Sorry, Harry, I didn't hear you."
Harry closed his eyes and whispered a little louder, "I said 'I'm pregnant'."
Sirius blinked, "What?"
Harry gritted his teeth and spoke loudly, "I *said* I-"
"No. No, I heard you Harry," Sirius interrupted him, "I just..." He trailed off.
Harry cracked his eyes open and looked at his godfather. Sirius simply sat there, his hand still on Harry's knee, a shocked expression on his face. The silence stretched and Harry began to find it unbearably uncomfortable. He shifted, pulling his knee out from beneath Sirius's hand and opened his mouth to speak.
Sirius beat him to it, a dazed expression still in his eyes.
"Wow," he murmured in an awed voice, "I'm going to be a grandfather... A god-grandfather, I mean. Or is it grand-godfather....?"
Harry stilled, staring at his godfather in surprise, "You... you mean you... don't mind?"
Sirius blinked and finally focused on Harry again, "Mind?" A huge smile spread across his face, "Why should I mind? This is fantastic!"
Sirius gathered Harry in a tight hug. Leaning back again, he stretched Harry's shirt across his abdomen and beamed down at the revealed bump. "That's the third generation of Marauders there. Wait until Moony finds out!"
Harry began to smile tentatively. He couldn't believe Sirius was taking it so well. He had been sure Sirius was going to go of his head at him. He glanced up at Sirius form under his eyelashes, "You're not mad that I'm pregnant at only seventeen?"
Sirius paused, and his smile faded a little, "I'm not too happy about it, Harry, but I know how male pregnancies work. I know that you love this little one's father," he said, resting a hand over Harry's unborn child. Harry felt a glow of warmth emanating from the baby.
"Yeah, I do," Harry murmured, smiling sadly. But Sirius had missed Harry's tone as he jumped to his feet and started pacing the room.
"There's so much to do!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "Right. First things first. When's the baby due?" he demanded of Harry.
"Easter," Harry replied, "But -"
Sirius cut him off, "At least we have plenty of time until then. But there's still so much to do! We'll have to find you somewhere safe to live after Hogwarts. Dumbledore can help with that. I presume he already knows?" Harry nodded, but Sirius didn't seem to require an answer as he rambled on. "But that is still a long time away. Before that's there so much else.
"You'll have to find out the gender as soon as possible and choose your baby's names. Then we can start organising the naming ceremony. Being who you are, you won't want to leave that until more than an hour after the birth, so we'll have to be prepared.
"We'll have to go shopping of course. You'll need to buy baby clothes, and nappies, and bottles, and furniture. How do you feel about a wet nurse? Or would you prefer to feed your baby yourself?
"But the first thing we will have to deal with is the nuptials," Sirius paused in his pacing and looked at Harry, "Have you and your boyfriend talked much about that yet?"
Harry gaped at him. He couldn't believe how enthusiastic Sirius was about his godson having a baby. Going on about living arrangements, purchasing baby items, a naming ceremony - what was that anyway? But then... Nuptials? Sirius expected Harry to get married?
Caught speechless, Harry wordlessly shook his head at his godfather.
Sirius hitched his shoulders briefly and started to pace again, "Well, you'll want to do that straight away. It shouldn't be too hard -"
"Sirius..." Harry tried to interrupt.
"- to find a celebrant. Of course, it will have to be someone we trust. Maybe Arthur Weasley. He works for the Ministry, and -"
"Sirius!" Harry tried again.
"- that should qualify him to preform the ceremony. You probably won't want to invite many people, will you? You'll have to -"
"Sirius!" Harry shot to his feet and grabbed his godfather's arm. "There won't be any wedding."
Sirius finally paused, "Nuptials, not wedding; it's not the same as the muggle ceremony. And of course there will be nuptials. You don't want your baby growing up a bastard, do you?"
"No, I don't, but -"
"See? Then there's nothing to worry about. You obviously love your boyfriend, or you wouldn't be pregnant, so no buts about it," Sirius proclaimed.
"*But*," Harry stressed, "It's not my choice."
Sirius turned to look at Harry, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry dropped Sirius's arm and wrapped his own around himself, "It means there won't be any wedding, or nuptials, or whatever you want you call it. It means that we're not together any more."
Sirius spluttered, "Not... what? Not together...? But..."
Harry tightened his arms about himself and looked away, "He dumped me when I told him I was pregnant."
When his comment was met with silence, Harry looked back. Sirius's face was suffused with blood, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
"He... dumped... you?" he choked out, and when Harry nodded dully, Sirius became a whirlwind of motion. He grabbed Harry's shoulders as though to shake him, but thought the better of shaking his pregnant godson, and letting go, kicked a broken chair leg across the room instead.
"Where is he? *Who* is he? He can't do this! He can't just leave you like that! You will be bonded, even if I have to hold a wand to his head to get him to the altar -!"
Harry paled, "Sirius! No! You can't do that to Jason!"
Sirius snarled, "Jason, is it? Well, we'll see. No self-respecting wizard gets his partner pregnant and then refuses to commit. *Especially* not when said partner is *my* godson -!"
"Sirius," Harry interrupted in a soft voice, "Jason isn't a wizard; he's a muggle."
Sirius froze and turned slowly to stare at Harry. "A *muggle*?"
Harry hurried on while he had the chance, "Jason doesn't understand about our world. Hell, half the time, even *I* don't really understand it. He wouldn't fit in here and -"
Sirius recovered himself then and rode over Harry's words, "I don't care if he's a muggle. I don't care if he's a goddamn *vampire*! He has a responsibility to you, and *by Merlin*, I'm going to see he lives up to it!"
A tear escaped down Harry's cheek and he whispered, "Please Sirius. Don't push this. It wouldn't be fair. Not to him. Not to me.
"And it definitely wouldn't be fair to my baby. I'd rather my child had only me than two parents, one of whom resented him or her. Jason doesn't love me, and he was horrified at the thought of a child. He'd end up hating us, and I don't think I could stand that.
"So please," another tear streamed down Harry's face, "Please leave it alone."
Harry didn't even try to stop the tears now, and for a long time, his quiet sobs were the only sound. Slowly, a hand reached out and brushed the tears from his cheeks.
"Okay," Sirius whispered, gathering Harry into his arms and holding him tight, "Okay, I won't try to get you to bond with this Jason. You deserve to be happy. I just wanted you to have the perfect family."
Harry wrapped his arms about his godfather's waist and clung tight, letting his tears flow freely. Sirius just held him like he would a child, rocking him and whispering soothing nothings into his hair.
* * * * * * * *
Over an hour later, when Harry left, he didn't even notice that the stick he had left at the base of the Whomping Willow was snapped into pieces, almost as though someone had taken out their frustrations on the hapless piece of wood.