Title: Boy-Who-Lived: Father-To-Be

Author: SweetMercy (my first fic under this name! yay!)

Rating: M

Warnings: mpreg, slash, has naughty swear words!

Pairings: RL/HP BUT has references to DM/HP, SB/HP, and DT/HP.

Summery: One day in the summer after Harry's 6th year, an article appears in the paper that turns his world upside down. Knowing that most of what was said in the article was true, Harry fears seeing his friends and the rest of the Order. But, just like everything else, life has to go on, and Harry returns to school to face the music.

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! Glad you liked it! This chapter, however, is boring but necessary (did i spell that right?). I would have made it longer but it just makes sense to have this chapter on its own. As some of you may have noticed, this is a romance/mystery, the mystery bit may explain some things in the first 5 chapters or so.

Chapter 2: Rescue

Harry re-read the article again and again, trying to get it to sink in. It seemed impossible. How could this be real? How could this have happened? The whole world knew. Everybody.

He couldn't believe they had done this to him. Didn't he have the right to privacy? Wasn't the Ministry supposed to be making sure stupid articles like this didn't end up in the paper about him? Weren't the Order supposed to be keeping all magic folk away from Privet Drive? God damn it, why wasn't anyone doing there job!

He looked back at the picture again, heart sinking. The only reason he was outside looking like a balloon was because his Uncle had made him come along, refusing to leave him alone in the house in case those 'magical freaks' turned up to interview him; what would the neighbours think? Harry had argued that by going outside the neighbours might see him anyway along with the rest of the muggles. But his Uncle had dragged him out and, once in London, had left Harry in the car whilst they did their shopping, but the damage had still been done thanks to some bloody reporter who wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place! Why bother, right? And it was only the first day of the summer holidays as well. It was bad enough that the Dursleys were treating him like something from a freak show!

And what was this shit from Malfoy? He was always trying to feel me up…Why the hell would Harry do that? I mean, yeah he and Harry had had something going for the shortest time ever last year but he had never felt him up! But he wouldn't think about that right now…

And why the hell would the world believe that anyway? And the paper calling him a slut! Ha! Cry for help? For attention? Why the hell would he get pregnant for attention? Had the world gone completely mad?

In his anger Harry screwed up the paper up and chucked it across his room where it bounced off the wall and landed softy on the floor where Harry continued to glare at it as if daring it to come closer. He could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes. Why did everything bad always happen to him?

The truth was that yes, Harry Potter was indeed pregnant. But he didn't know exactly how far gone he was. He hadn't even realised he was pregnant until he started gaining all this weight around his belly and he was constantly throwing up and having these weird cravings for foods he didn't even know were food.

And the paper had also got right that yes, the reason Harry had been 'showing' was because he wasn't able to do magic outside of school just yet and he really hadn't wanted to risk it in case the Ministry wanted to know why he was doing a Glamour charm everyday.

And yes, Harry did wonder if could juggle a baby and fight Voldemort at the same time. He was worried God damn it! He had no one to talk to about this! 6 months (if he was in fact 6 months) he had gone without asking for help or advice. He had gone through all this on his own because he was so damn ashamed of himself! The father didn't even know!

But Harry had reason for not letting the father know, which was another reason he was so ashamed of himself. The truth was, he didn't even know who the father of his baby was. Oh, he knew who the possible fathers were, but he really didn't want to make himself think about all that. Not now. Not when he had bigger things to deal with. Not when he was alone and pregnant with no one to help him.

With all that hanging over him, Harry slowly crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over his head, now defeated by the tears that were slowly tumbling down his cheeks.

"Harry, wake up."

"He's sound asleep Albus. Maybe we should just set off a loud noise…"

"Come on Harry, it's time to go."

"Clearly, this ain't working Albus. If you'd just let me…"

"Harry, Harry wake up. We have to go now."

"Have you got a whistle or something? Or a fire cracker? That should wake him up. Or you could just yell a little louder, old man, 'cause you ain't gonna wake no one up by whispering."

"Mundungus, please be quiet."

"What's the point in being quiet when we're trying to wake him up?"

An arm on him shaking him awake softly. Voices talking. A light flickering.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, shielding them from the light that assaulted them. He looked up. Albus Dumbledore smiled down at him, his bright blue eyes dancing in the light. Next to him stood Mundungus Fletcher.

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked groggily, pushing himself up in bed.

"Taking you to Grimmauld Place," said Dumbledore. "Come on. No time to have a shower, just throw some clothes on."

Harry pushed his covers back and rolled slowly out of bed, suddenly aware of the huge bump he was sporting. Trying to ignore it, he stood up and grabbed his robes which were hanging over the back of a chair. Dumbledore smiled then disappeared through his bedroom door.

He fastened his robes in silence, leaving his pyjama bottoms on. He had expected the others to send him letters, yelling at him and asking why he hadn't told them. But he really hadn't thought he would wake up at…he looked at his clock…9:30 at night…quite early actually…to find his headmaster in his room. He really didn't want to have to face the others just yet.

After Harry had gotten all his things together (which didn't take long at all) he went downstairs into the living room, thanking Merlin that his Aunt and Uncle were out at a dinner party and Dudley was busy playing computer games in his room.

"Ready?" asked Dumbledore as he saw Harry enter the room followed by Mundungus, who was carrying most of Harry's stuff. Harry nodded, still uncomfortably aware of how big he was.

"Right, come here then," he said. "Grab hold of this."

Harry's feet touched hard ground but he managed to stay standing up. He looked around and found that he was in the familiar kitchen at number 12. Pots and pans littered the side boards waiting to be cleaned and the remains of a meal were scattered across the wooden table in the middle of the room. The smell of coffee was hanging in the air and he could hear the sound of voices coming from down the hall.

"Mundungus will take your things to your room," said Dumbledore kindly, grabbing Harry's attention. "We, on the other hand, need to talk."

It was then that Harry noticed a copy of The Daily Prophet sat on the table.

Harry nodded without looking up at Dumbledore, that feeling of shame coming back to him. He would have to face the inevitable sooner or later. But if he had to talk to someone about it, the first people he would really prefer to talk to would be…

"Ron and Hermione are upstairs in the drawing room," said Dumbledore and he smiled when Harry looked up. "When you're ready, I'll be in the front room."

As Harry passed the front room, he caught a glimpse of Sirius, Remus, and some other Order members. Sirius looked completely distracted from the conversation around him and Remus just looked plain worried. Harry bit his bottom lip and headed towards the stairs, willing himself not to think about that. He couldn't know for sure, not yet.

He reached the Drawing room, knocked, and entered. Evidently, the room had had quite a makeover.

The room looked much cosier now that the walls had been painted a rich red colour with gold patterned boarders. The doxy-infested drapes had been swapped for dark purple ones and all the broken cupboards and selves had been removed; instead, cabinets of dark pine stood against the walls. All the dark artefacts had been removed and replaced with photos of Sirius's school days, all in bronze frames. The tapestry, however, was still present.

Hermione and Ron looked up from the sofa in the middle of the room. There was a silence in which they all stared at each other for a few moments and Harry could feel their eyes on his stomach. He looked away. Surprisingly, it was Ron who broke the silence.

"We've been so worried about you mate," he said and Harry looked back up at them. "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

"Because I…and you wouldn't have…and I couldn't…" He felt the tears fighting to get out and he bit his lip and looked away again. Hermione, however, came over to him and pulled him into a tight hug which he welcomed gratefully.

"Oh Harry, what's wrong?" she asked softly, as she led him back to the sofa.

"Hormones," he sniffed. But he couldn't lie to them, not anymore. "Oh God, you don't know how much this has been killing me. I've wanted to tell you, really I have, but I couldn't because I was so scared, of what you would think about it all and now look where I am!"

"Oh, Harry, it's ok sweetie," she said soothingly, pulling him into another hug. It was nice, just sitting there, lost in her arms as she muttered words of comfort to him. He held onto her as if he could loose her any minute, savouring the moment he had craved so much; to be hugged, to be comforted, to know that he had somebody with him who cared and who would help. After the tears had died down, Harry reluctantly pulled out of the hug.

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" she asked.