I am not good at medical explanations, as you will see in this chapter :P Thanks to everyone who reviewed or put me on alert!

A few hours later, judging by the way the sun was no longer burning patterns into his retinas, Harry heard a timid knock on the door. He froze, sitting up in an instant, his hair a fluffy mess on top of his head. Who was attempting to talk to him? He would have thought that they'd leave him alone for at least a day. He wasn't sure whether to say 'come in' or tell the person to bugger off, so he settled for saying absolutely nothing.

Molly came into the room, her eyes down and wringing her hands nervously.

"Harry, Healer Jacobs is here to see you. I thought… I thought that you might still be up to seeing him today, but if you're not, then I can send him away…" She trailed off, coughing. Harry could practically hear the reluctance in her voice. She wanted to run away and never have to speak to him again. He was a disgrace, wasn't he? God, Oliver had been right. He shook his head, and Molly seemed to take this as an indication that he was fine with the Healer coming in.

The man was tall and stern looking, and Harry could feel himself shrinking away. Trust St. Mungo's to send the scariest looking guy they had on their staff. Black eyes looked out at him from a weathered face which was half obscured by a bushy brown beard. Harry's mouth opened in horror and he barely resisted the urge to scuttle under his blankets. Molly coughed again lightly and left the room, mumbling something about making lunch.

Harry was let staring at Jacobs, not quite sure what to say. The man was scrutinising him through wire-framed glasses and an uncomfortable silence was developing. Just when Harry couldn't take it anymore, and was opening his mouth to say something, anything, the Healer began to speak.

"So, Harry, I hear you've been feeling a little bit under the weather recently?" Harry couldn't believe that a voice so gentle and reassuring could belong to such an imposing man. He felt, quite suddenly, at ease, although he was still worried over what was wrong with him.

"Could you tell me what you think your symptoms have been, then? Just tell me how you've been feeling poorly, and I'll try and work out what could be wrong," Jacobs continued, smiling at Harry; his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"Um, well…" Now that he had the chance to figure out what exactly was wrong with him, Harry couldn't think of what to say. What if the Healer just thought he was exaggerating? What if he thought Harry was just being a drama queen? But, taking a deep breath, he decided to get it over and done with. After all, the Healer wasn't going to repeat what he said to anyone, was he?

"I get sick a lot… like, mostly in the morning, but it happens all the time, 'specially when I smell Molly cooking some stuff in the kitchen or whatever. Sometimes it's hard, 'cos I'm tired a lot, and I… can't get to the bathroom in time. I also…" here he blushed, "I need the… toilet a lot." He stopped here, hoping the doctor wouldn't want him to elaborate. When the Healer merely nodded, Harry went on, just knowing that the doctor was going to diagnose him with some kind of cancer. "And… my stomach's getting… bigger, and it's all hard and stuff…"

Harry trailed off, looking down at the bedcovers, trying to avoid Jacobs's gaze. When the Healer said nothing, Harry chanced a look over at him, only to see that he was writing down things in a notebook and frowning sadly. It was cancer, wasn't it? Harry thought with a shocked jolt. He had never heard of wizards getting cancer, although maybe he could because he was part muggle… He cleared his throat, hoping to bring the man's attention back to him, and it succeeded. The man looked grave.

"Does the area around your nipples feel at all tender or sore?" Harry blushed, but nodded.

"I thought that that was just from when Ron hit me in the chest when we were playing Quidditch, though…" The man's eyes shot up.

"You've been playing Quidditch? With Beaters?" he asked incredulously, scribbling away in his notebook.

"Well, yeah. Sometimes I don't feel so bad, and I go out to play…" Harry couldn't see what the matter was. He didn't always feel like rubbish.

When the doctor had finished making notes, and comparing them to other notes, he sighed and looked at Harry seriously.

"Harry. Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with a male at all in the past two months?" Harry's previous blush escalated until he was sure that his whole head had gone bright red, like Uncle Vernon's used to when he was really mad. Were the Weasley twins sure that this wasn't another of their 'embarrassment' range? But when Jacobs looked pointedly at him, Harry had to respond feebly,

"Well, yes. Um, June 10th." He'd been reminded of the date quite viciously this morning, so he was quite sure that that was the exact day.

"Right. Well, if you'd wait for just a moment, I need to firecall St. Mungo's for some equipment and talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." He stood up, putting the notebook into a pocket and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Harry could hear voices outside of the door, and he paled, wondering if Molly or Arthur had been listening. Not that they'd heard anything they didn't know of course.

Waiting for Healer Jacobs seemed to take a million years, even though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Harry was wringing his hands, and didn't seem to be able to stop. He had cancer, he had cancer, he had cancer… with the mantra running through his head, Harry didn't even notice when Jacobs came back into the room, holding a very strange looking wand. It was a light blue in colour, and seemed to be made out of some kind of stone… Harry had no clue what it was, but he wasn't about to say so.

"Lie back on the bed and unbutton your shirt, please." Harry took it off nervously and lay back, pushing his duvet off the side of the bed and reminding himself that this was only a doctor, and not some kind of pervy old man. Jacobs placed a warm hand on his slightly curved stomach and pressed down gently, obviously feeling resistance from the other side. He lifted the strange wand and muttered a spell, resulting in a blue glow falling over Harry's abdomen. The glow slowly turned a shade of turquoise, and this seemed to confirm the doctor's suspicions, as he sighed and the light went out.

"It's cancer, isn't it?" Harry blurted out, unable to stop himself any longer. The Healer chuckled and shook his head.

"No Harry, this isn't something that can be cured simply." Harry's eyes widened. He was going to die? Jacobs must have noted his anxiety for his next words were mildly reassuring.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. Now, would you like me to call in your parents?" Harry had never heard them referred to as such, but he supposed it was true. After all, they'd looked after him for the past four years, and they were as close to parents as he'd ever had, even if they didn't want him anymore. He nodded his head, and the Healer went to the door, where he beckoned in the eldest Weasleys, who were pale and nervous looking. Molly rushed to his side and hugged him, then sat down by his side, clutching his hand. Arthur squeezed his shoulder briefly, and sat on his other side, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. Harry was close to tears, as he didn't know how he'd ever doubted the Weasleys' love.

"Harry, I know you're worried about what we think, son, but don't wind yourself up. Molly and I and all the kids love you just as much as we always did, okay?" Harry sniffed and nodded, unable to speak for the lump in his throat.

"Harry, there is a reason why the wizards speak of seventeen as the age children become adults." the Healer began. "Under the age of seventeen, magic has not yet settled in the body, and can be transferred quite easily to another person. Sex is one of the times when this can occur. In essence, a part of your magic detaches itself from your magical core and goes towards the other person." Harry was confused. So… he was sick because he'd accidentally given Oliver some of his magic? The Healer continued.

"Now, if you had been the dominant in the partnership," Harry's ears began to burn, "this is where it would have ended. However, judging by the results before us today, this was not the case. Where the detached part of your magic reached the semen that entered your body," Harry couldn't stop himself from letting out a small groan at the word, "an interesting reaction would have taken place. Now, I'm sure you're not interested in the magic behind this at the moment, but it ends with your magic merging with the semen, the essence of your partner, and moving back into your body." Molly gasped, but Harry was still lost.

"I don't get it… What exactly does that mean?"

"It means, Harry, that you're pregnant." A few seconds, then,

"WHAT?"