Hey, it's Alethea! Wow, over a hundred views! Thank you guys so, so, so much! Here's chapter 3! Make sure to favorite, follow, and review!
But things do get worse.
"I EFFING HATE THROWING UP!" I shout at Luna. It's September and I'm back at school. It was weird to take the train without Harry. It would have been nice for Harry and I to have our own compartment, to make out on the way to school, to hold hands in the hallways on the way to potions class.
But instead, Harry's off god knows where doing god knows what to kill Voldemort. And I'm in the girls' restroom, throwing up for the third time this week.
"You don't have a fever," she tells me airily, bending to feel my forehead as I kneel over the toilet. "Maybe it's a gringlehopper."
"A what?" I ask before shoving my face back into the bowl. Regurgitated eggs and bacon aren't pretty.
"A gringlehopper," she repeats. "It's a purple and yellow spotted bug that burrows in your sinuses and triggers vomiting. Oh, and diarrhea. Do you have diarrhea?"
"Not that I know of," I tell her. I back away from the full toilet and lean my head against the wall of the stall, sitting on my butt with my knees pulled up to my chest. "I don't think it's a jinglehopper."
"Gringlehopper," she corrects. "Maybe you have the flu."
"I don't think so." I take a deep breath. "I'm not achy or anything."
"Maybe you have dragon pox," Luna suggests. She folds her hands in front of her, standing in the doorway of the open stall. We're in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so no one else is bothering us.
"No pox," I remind her, holding up my arms to show that they're not decorated with the red and green pox frequently associated with dragon pox. "Do you think I should go to Madam Pomfrey? Maybe it's an elfin virus."
"I know what's wrong with her," Moaning Myrtle says, floating over us on her back, her voice slow and amused. "And you don't want to tell Madam Pomfrey!"
"Go away, Myrtle," I hiss at her, closing my eyes and taking another breath.
"If you say so…" she flips over, then falls into the stall, sitting on the toilet seat. I can still see my own vomit through her ghostly form. That thought makes me nauseas again. "Don't you want to know what's wrong with you? I know what's wrong with you."
"Stop saying something's wrong with me!" I groan, running my fingers through my hair. I knock my head back against the plastic wall, shaking the whole bathroom structure. "I still feel sick. Help me up, I've got Care of Magical Creatures class in ten minutes."
"Goodbye." Myrtle floats away through the walls, cackling evilly.
"Ginny," Luna says while we walk down the stone hallway, "maybe Myrtle did know what's wrong with you."
"There's nothing wrong with me!" I shout at her, causing several heads to turn toward me.
With that, I throw up again, this time on the floor in front of everyone.
McGonagall was part of the crowd who watched my public humiliation, and she makes me go to see Madam Pomfrey, despite my protests.
"Ms. Weasley, I believe it's painfully obvious what you're ailment is," she says solemnly, bringing a clipboard in hand, her quill flying across the paper of its own accord.
"What is it?" I ask, sinking back into the chair she made me sit in.
"You appear to be…pregnant."
"Excuse me?" I laugh. She doesn't join me. "No, that can't be right."
"So, you aren't sexually active?" she asks, eyebrows raised.
"Well, I mean, not…" I take a deep breath, remembering good days with Harry last summer, just us in the treehouse in the woods behind my house. "Not anytime recently."
"It appears that the last time you were, you conceived a baby," she informs me, as though I don't know perfectly well just how babies are made. "When do you assume that you got pregnant?"
"I don't know." I try to think. "Maybe…um…I don't know. June, I suppose."
"That makes you nearly three months pregnant, Ms. Weasley!" She crosses her arms angrily. "I'm extremely disappointed in you and- who's the father?"
I hesitate, unsure of whether to tell or not. Harry tried to break up with me to protect me. How would he feel if word got around that he has a child that the Death Eaters can use to hurt him? Will he hate me if he hears about the baby from someone else? It's an accident, this baby, and what if he doesn't want me to keep it? How am I supposed to know either way if I can't talk to him?
Do I even want to have a baby on my own? What if Harry dies and I'm all alone with the baby forever? What if I have to be a single mother?
"I…" I bite my lip nervously.
"You do know, don't you, Ms. Weasley?" she looks scandalized over the possible fact that I've been sleeping with so many people that I don't even know the identity of my baby's father.
"No, I know who it is, I just…" I start to sniffle. Finally, I whisper, "It's Harry Potter."
"It's who?" she asks, her eyebrows raised.
"The father of my baby is my boyfriend, Harry Potter," I say loudly. "I'm having Harry Potter's baby."
It turns out that despite Madam Pomfrey's disapproval, it's even harder to tell my family.
"Mum, Dad, I have…something to tell you," I say slowly. Professor McGonagall called my parents to school, to inform them before we have to tell the headmaster. God, I can just imagine how Snape will mock me for being pregnant with Harry Potter's baby out of wedlock.
"Yes, Ginny, dear?" my mother asks, sitting on the edge of one of the armchairs in McGonagall's office.
"Mum, I'm pregnant," I spit out. "With…with Harry's baby, and I want to keep it."
"Ginny, dear, I don't know if that's an option," my father replies softly. "You're not just pregnant, you're pregnant with Harry Potter's baby. That instantly makes you and the baby a target."
"It's still my baby," I remind them. "I'll protect him, or her, with my life."
"Still, Ginny," Mum adds. "Once you start showing, people are going to inquire about the father, and I don't know if you should tell them. Maybe you should leave Hogwarts and come live at home."
"If that means I can keep my baby," I agree.
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