Hi. We—the high-on-sugar, slightly insane, awake until midnight authors—would like to make a few things clear before you read the story. Which we trust you WILL do. This takes place before Harry's birth but after the gang are out of school. That is all. Read on.

Remus sighed. This was not just any sigh, normally emitted over his daily difficulties of fighting evil or worrying over transformations or making jam. No. This was an altogether different sigh, a sigh gathering up his emotional longings into one loud swoosh of air.

Sirius grumbled from next to him. "Moony," he glared, "is that really necessary? You've just breathed the cinnamon off of my toast."

"Sorry," his boyfriend said wearily and prodding at his cereal. He did this with such apparent sadness, that even Sirius, the epitome of night owls and scowling over coffee, knew that something was afoot.

"What's up?" he said quietly.

"Nothing." He inhaled to sigh again, but Sirius beat him to the chase.

"Nothing's wrong. Right. Remus, even in my morning state, do you honestly think I'm that dim?" There was a short silence. "Don't answer that."

Remus smiled crookedly from across the table. "No, it's nothing. Really." He forced a bite of cornflakes.

"Remus, love you though I may, if you don't tell me what's wrong in the next five seconds, I'm going to track down Mrs. Weasley and tell her what really happened to that 'stolen' chocolate mousse last Christmas—"

"I want to be a father," Remus said hastily. Sirius stared.

"And what do you intend to do about this?" he intoned, very, very slowly.

Remus put his spoon back in his cereal bowl and rose to empty it into the sink. He turned back as hot water ran into the soggy brown flakes. "How much do you love me?"

Sirius looked suspicious. "Not enough to let you leave me cold for some whiny tart who's willing to get knocked up for the sake of having some other woman's brat to tear around my household." He shoved his toast around his plate, even more miffed as he realized that he'd subtly referred to himself as a woman. Really ironic, seeing what was coming.

"Oh, no, love, it's not like that at all," Remus laughed, sitting down next to the now-pouting Sirius. He removed his hand from the sugary toast plate and held it between his. "You see, I've been talking with Professor McGonagall…."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Sirius snatched his hand back and pointed it menacingly at Remus. "If anyone's getting turned into a woman to get knocked up, it's you, Mr. 'I want to be a father!'" He tried very hard not to think about how strange that had sounded.

"Well, I'd love to be pregnant, but I can't do it," Remus sighed. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf, you see."

"That's not occupational!" Sirius seethed, shaking his hand. Remus smiled, amused.

"You've gotten sugar all over me, you know."

"My heart bleeds."

"All right, then," Remus said in disappointment. He halfheartedly sipped his tea. "That's fine. If you feel that strongly about it….all right." He sipped his tea again. "I guess I'll just grow old and lonely, never having heard the pitter patter of tiny footsteps in the vast and empty rooms of this old house."

He managed to look so pitiful that Sirius didn't have the foresight to say, "you'll have me, you miserable old twat!" Instead, he began to vaguely wonder if his lover had the ability to summon tears on demand. It was a weak moment. His judgment teetered and he suddenly heard himself say, "Moony, don't look so sad. If you really want to, we can owl Professor McGonagall after breakfast.

Remus's face lit up like a sudden sunrise and Sirius instantly regretted his words. "You'll do it? You really will?"

"If it would really make you happy…."

"Thank you, Sirius. Thank you so, so much!" Remus beamed with excitement and threw his arms around Sirius, who choked on his tea with the impact. Remus began to babble. "Oh, this will be wonderful! Maybe we'll have a little boy, and he'd look just like you! Or a little girl, who'd also look just like you! Or maybe we'd have twins! And they'd look just like you! Eat up your toast, now. You'll need your strength." He kissed him on the top of his head. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Sirius said grudgingly. "Now get off me, you twat, you left the water running."

Remus pranced off to the sink. Sirius bit into his toast and thought, a little morbidly, that he already liked behaving like a woman.

"Now, I assure you, this is perfectly safe," McGonagall commented, leaning over her desk in a half-comforting, half-conspiratorial way. "And I will of course be able to turn you back after your successful delivery."

Sirius paled. "Don't talk about it," he mumbled. "I'm already questioning my sanity in agreeing to this."

Remus patted him on the back. "It's all right, sweetie. Nothing bad's going to happen."

Sirius grimaced. "Don't call me sweetie."

McGonagall stifled an unladylike giggle. "Would you like to affect the transformation now, or would you prefer to wait a while to get used to the idea?"

Sirius shut his eyes tightly. "Just get it over with," he said tensely.

McGonagall shrugged. "If you'd make you way to that closet, please."

Sirius looked at the closet suspiciously. "Is there anything important about it?" he asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "I merely assumed you would rather be alone with yourself for a while before emerging. To get used to being a woman."

"Don't remind me." Sirius got up and went into the closet. "I hope this won't impede the spell."

"Don't question me." McGonagall's voice held some of it's old steel as she stood up. Sirius closed the door and stood in the dark, wondering whether he should just kill himself now and spare them all the trouble. But, he reminded himself, then he'd be a dead woman. Not how he wanted to be remembered. Anyway.

"How do you feel?" came Remus' voice fromm the other room. Done already? Sirius looked down and, for the first time ever, could not see his feet. Damn. This would take some getting used to.

"Weird. And I look weird in male clothing."

"Oh, that's all right, dear—I've got some old robes in the back. You can come out now."

Sirius was about to turn the doorknob when he stopped and thought. Now McGonagall was calling him dear? The world had truly gone mad.

Somehow that thought made him feel less alone. At least he wasn't the only one. He stepped out.

"Wow," Remus said in a small voice. "Wow."

Sirius glared at his lover. "Don't all compliment me at once."

"No, you're beautiful!" Remus voice has become curiously high-pitched.

"Wonderful. You sound surprised."

"No, Sirius, you're absolutely gorgeous as a woman!" Remus then noticed Sirius' glare. "What? I like women."

"How very comforting coming from my boyfriend."

"I like men too," Remus said thoughtfully. "But mostly I just like you."

Sirius took in the how sweet look on McGonagall's face and sighed. "Twice as many chances for you to cheat on me and half the reason to. Does anyone have a mirror?"

McGonagall wordlessly shoved one into his hand. Sirius took one look and decided that, no matter their sexual preferences or sanity, no one would cheat on him. Hell, he wouldn't cheat on him. He suddenly found the mirror yanked out of his hands. "That will be enough of that," came the Transfiguration teacher's reprimand. "How about a change of clothing?"

Twenty minutes and one robe later, Sirius was beginning to feel better about this. It was interesting, really. He hadn't seemed to have changed that much—except that his face was slightly different, his five o'clock shadow had disappeared, and he had breasts. And presumably a womb, etc. He tried not to think about that and concentrate on his appearance above the waist.

"How do you feel?" Remus said thoughtfully, tightening his fingers around Sirius' hand.

Sirius examined his—her—situation. "Considering I'm a girl and I'm wearing my old Transfiguration teacher's robes—which are, by the way, far too small in the chest—not too bad."

Remus smiled. "Now, now, don't go trashing McGonagall's figure," he said. "She's given us our dream."

"Your dream. My nightmare."

"Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

Sirius looked at his boyfriend and realized that, in order to do so, he had to look down. Somehow, the spell had also made him taller. He smiled. Perhaps they'd try their hand at conception tonight. Things were looking up!

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