by Harry Potter
“Cut the bloody formality,” a peeved Tonks cursed from somewhere beneath the table. “My legs are asleep.”
Biting back his laughter, Harry waved his wand in Remus and Tonks’ direction and incanted; “Conquiesco Fessus!” A painful sounding thud from under the table told Harry that he had successfully ended the ritual and that Tonks had fallen. Relief was apparent on Remus’ face.
“Very funny, you two,” complimented Remus who was smiling either at a well played out practical joke or the fact that his lover was no longer glued to his bits.
“Oh yeah, freaking hilarious,” Tonks said from her hiding place mirthlessly.
Remus, Harry, and Hermione all laughed with each other while Harry imagined that Tonks was trying to rub some feeling back into her sleeping legs.
“But this is far from over,” Remus warned and suddenly became serious. It was like someone had flicked a switch and Harry and Hermione stopped laughing. “The pranks I pulled on you were just the tip of the iceberg. You two will know true humiliation before I’m done.”
Harry felt very cold. What would Remus do to them? Would it be horrific? An image popped in Harry’s mind of a gender switching prank where he would be called “Harriett” or “Harri” (note the “i” instead of “y”) for short and Hermione would be called “Herman.” The raven haired wizard gulped in fear.
“Okay, off with you two,” Remus said with a cheeriness to his voice. “Enjoy yourselves... while you can.”
***
After Harry and Hermione took their Portkey cushion back to the Gryffindor Common Room, they rushed to the Library and studied as many Detection Charms and Wards as they could. They vowed that they would check every bit of food they ate and every post they received for any hexes or charms that Remus might have put on them.
***
The day after they met with Remus and Tonks (or rather the day after they pulled a prank on the older couple and Remus threatened them), Harry grew concerned over Ron and Luna’s long absence. He had not seen or heard from either one since Gin-Gin’s birthday. So Harry decided to use the floo to contact Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow.
After the flames in the fireplace turned green, Harry stuck his head into them and called out the destination; “The Burrow.” His head spun and spun until he saw the familiar sights of the Weasley kitchen.
"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry called out. "Hello, anyone there?"
A moment later, a not very jolly looking Mrs. Weasley walked into view. In fact, she looked like she was alternating between crying hysterically and screaming in rage.
"Hello Harry," she said somewhat coolly. Normally, when Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry, her voice was usually warm and kind. This new tone made Harry a little worried.
"Um, is everything okay, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"I’m still upset with my youngest son," she said. The anger in her voice was barely contained. "When you and Hermione set Ron up with Luna, I know you two had only Ron's best interest in mind. But there are procedures we must follow."
"What kind of procedures?"
"I really can't blame you and Hermione," Molly stated. "You two grew up in the Muggle world, and it’s such an old custom. You couldn't possibly know about it."
"What custom, ma'am?"
"It just infuriates me!" the Weasley matriarch growled, ignoring Harry's question. "Both Ron and Luna should've remembered! They had no excuse! They had this coming to them, I can tell you,” Mrs. Weasley continued grumbling under her breath and walked out of Harry’s view. He could still hear her seconds later mumbling for a moment; “Silly teenagers, never thinking about what could happen,” then shouting at Ron as if he was standing right there in front of her; “I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT, YOUNG MAN!”
Harry pulled his head out of the floo realizing that Mrs. Weasley was still too upset and wouldn’t give him any information about Ron.
***
This was it; tomorrow was the day that Harry would make love to Hermione! The potion needed for the ritual would be complete and then Harry would have real sex! The idea of losing his virginity was a dream ever since hairs started sprouting out in ‘Harry, Jr.’ s attic. Added to his puberty-long dream of sex, he was going to sleep with the most wonderful witch in the whole wide world!
Of course he was too nervous to bring up his excitement to Hermione. They spent the evening before the ritual sitting on the couch in silence. One look at Hermione told Harry that she was as anxious as he was. After an awkward goodnight kiss, Harry and Hermione went to their separate rooms for the night.
Of course Harry couldn’t sleep. No, he was far too nervous for that. He found himself lying in his bed staring at the clock on his dresser; counting the minutes. ‘Soon,’ he told himself, ‘it will be tomorrow’. And the moment the minute and hour hands touched the number twelve, Harry jumped out of bed and he started to bolt to the door. But then he regained his senses; it didn’t matter if technically it was a new day. What was he going to do; run down to the Common Room and shout up the stairs leading up to Hermione’s room and shout “It’s tomorrow, Hermione, let’s get cracking!”? No, that was just pathetic and sad.
Harry forced himself to lie back down and wait for the morning. He looked at the clock and saw that it was already 12:01; that meant that morning was just a few short hours away! In no time, he’d be making love to his girlfriend. He reasoned that if he actually fell asleep, those few short hours would just fly past.
So Harry closed his eyes and waited for sleep... and waited... and waited. After what felt like nearly an hour of tossing and turning, Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the canopy covering his bed. He tried to calm himself; he figured that he couldn’t sleep because he was too nervous about the ritual and so he pushed the thought of he and Hermione giving each other their virginity out of his mind. Unfortunately, this led to Harry thinking of his performance.
Would he have the same problem he had when he had first thought that he was going to sleep with Hermione? ‘Flaccid organ’ was such a dreadful phrase to Harry at that moment.
Or perhaps he’d get too excited and finish before the ritual even started, like he had after Ginny’s party. Harry imagined himself cumming in his boxers again when Hermione wasn’t even ready to start.
Or worst yet; would he suffer from both of these situations at the same time? Harry imagined that he would suffer from a panic attack where ‘Harry, Jr.’ would hide under its overcoat and spit out the contents of his baggage in a defensive action, much like how a baby vulture would vomit on its attackers.
Harry took a calming breath and tried to reassure himself; it was just nerves. He reckoned that once the moment came, he’d do just fine. And seeing that he had spent what felt like hours and hours berating himself over his performance, that moment would be just an hour or two away. Harry turned and saw that the clock was now reading 12:14.
This was going to be a long night.
***
Harry ended up having a horrible night. He’d finally fell asleep at a quarter of three, but was plagued by a bothersome dream. It was very similar to a dream he had a few weeks before where he was reading a book on lighthouses on the shore by the sea. But in this most recent dream, the book only contained pictures of lighthouses that had crumbled to rubble and the sea had dried up. What was even more bothersome was that he dreamt Hermione was criticizing everything he did. According to dream-Hermione’s comments, Harry couldn’t even turn the pages in the book properly.
“No Harry!” dream-Hermione snapped. “You’re doing it all wrong! You’ll never finish it if you can’t turn the pages! I guess I’ll have to let you start and finish it myself after you’re done! And here I was hoping you’d be good enough, this just proves that I’ll always have to finish it myself. Or maybe ask Dobby for help.”
But Harry’s worries over that silly dream vanished the moment he entered the Common Room to see the most wonderful vision he had ever seen; a smiling Hermione holding a vial of red liquid - mind
you it would’ve been an even better vision if Hermione was naked instead of wearing some slacks and a blouse like she was, but Harry still liked it.
“Are you ready?” Hermione asked.
And Harry responded by squeaking, “Yes.”
“So am I,” agreed Hermione, although she didn’t squeak. “Let me just go over some Anti-Conception Charms.”
Hermione sat down on the couch and flipped open The Magic of Making Love to one of the pages near the end and quickly read.
“I read up on these before I started brewing this potion,” she said. “But it doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side. I love you, Harry, and I do want your children... but not right now.”
“Definitely,” Harry echoed.
Hermione paused and her eyes bulged.
“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.
“There’s a warning printed in the fine print under the list of Anti-Conception Charms,” she stated. There was a hint of panic in her voice and Harry was instantly worried that she would tell him that they would have to wait another week for the charms to work. He had a very difficult last few hours; he doubted that he could last another week. “It states:” Hermione began to read aloud, “‘If, for some reason you feel compelled to combine The Sticky Widget and Stamina rituals, you will have performed the Prewett Ritual as well - see page 769. This obscure combination of rituals make any and all Anti-Conception Charms moot.’”
“What is this ‘Prewett Ritual’ and why would the charms be ‘moot’?” Harry asked with dread. As Hermione thumbed through the book looking for the Prewett Ritual, Harry wondered what he and Hermione had done to Remus and Tonks. He had simply wanted to prank them, and now he was concerned that something bad had happened.
“Here it is,” announced Hermione and started to read the passage aloud. “‘The Prewett Ritual - named after Guinevere and Sebastian Prewett who were the first to accidentally perform this ritual back in 1784 - can also be created as a byproduct of combining two other rituals, The Sticky Widget and Stamina Rituals. This ritual causes several things to occur. Firstly, the wizard’s healthy sperm output is increased nearly one hundredfold.’”
Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief; he could live with the consequences of tricking Remus and Tonks into performing this Prewett Ritual if all that happened was that Remus came a lot, but he stopped short when Hermione continued to read.
“‘Next the witch’s reproductive cycle is magically altered so that she is...’” Hermione paused in her reading and became very pale. “‘... so that she is ovulating.’”
“W-what?” Harry stammered.
“‘Even if the witch is in the middle of her menstrual cycle, the ritual will cause her eggs to receive the wizard’s sperm,’” Hermione continued to read. Her voice grew weaker with each word. “‘Another aspect of the ritual is that it negates any and all contraceptives and anti-conception methods including all Muggle methods as well. This side-effect will insure that the witch will become pregnant. In other words; do NOT perform this ritual unless you wish to become a parent.’”
“Whoops,” Harry muttered.
“‘Fourthly,” Hermione continued yet again.
Harry was about to scream “THERE’S A ‘FOURTHLY?” but her recital of the passage cut him off.
“‘The Prewett Ritual will accelerate the growth of the fetus by five times, cutting the time of pregnancy down to fifty to sixty days. Note, once the baby is born, the ritual is completed. The new born baby will then grow at a normal rate.”
“So what does that means?” Harry asked on the edge of shock.
“Tonks and Remus accidentally performed the ritual three days ago,” explained Hermione in a monotone, apparently, she too was nearly in shock. “It means that she’s been pregnant for the equivalent of two weeks of a normal term. And that she’ll give birth in another seven to eight weeks - give or take a few days.”
“Whoops,” Harry repeated. His simple prank of having Remus and Tonks being stuck in an awkward predicament had just escalated into a life altering event. To Harry’s recollection, Tonks and Remus had only been officially dating for a few months, and now the two were going to have a baby in two months. Would this be a happy thing for the older couple? Or would it be considered traumatic and lead to them being torn apart?
“We have to tell them,” Hermione commanded and Harry agreed. Harry and Hermione, who had the special book clutched in her arms, dashed to the Headmistress’ office and Harry was the first one through the floo. He crashed onto the floor of Remus’ kitchen. Before he could get up, Hermione landed roughly on him.
“You know it’s rude not to ask if you can floo into somebody’s house,” Tonks informed the two teens as she sipped on a mug of coffee. Remus was busy reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and he nodded his head in greeting to Harry and Hermione.
“Is that regular or decaffeinated?” asked Harry indicating the coffee while he got to his feet.
“Regular,” the pink haired Auror replied.
“You’d better switch,” Harry muttered and he helped Hermione to her feet.
“Why?” Tonks asked.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both silently asking each other who should explain the situation to Remus and Tonks. And the two came to a decision on who that should be. You see, Harry was very brave and he reckoned that he should be the one. But Hermione was brave as well, and more to the point; she had a way with words. Meaning that she could calmly explain what happened and ease the older couple into the news. Whereas Harry would blurt out “You’re pregnant. Sorry about that.”
“We have something very important to tell you,” Hermione said gravely.
Obviously picking up on the brunette witch’s tone, Remus folded his paper and suggested, “Let’s go to the parlor then.”
The two couples walked to the adjoining room where Remus and Tonks sat on the couch. Harry and Hermione stood in front of them much like criminals who were just proven guilty had to stand in front of the magistrate as they waited for their sentence.
“You remember that prank we pulled on you?” Hermione began.
“Of course we do,” Tonks responded. “I’m still sore.”
“Well, there’s a problem,” Hermione stated while wringing her hands.
“What kind of problem?” Remus asked calmly.
“Well, our prank had you unknowingly mix two rituals. But when they’re combined a third ritual is performed that we didn’t know about,” admitted Hermione.
“Are we in danger?” Remus asked, who was still calm.
Hermione looked at Harry for support. Seeing that Harry didn’t think being pregnant was “dangerous” per say, he answered, “No.”
Remus and Tonks sighed. It was evident that they both were worried that the teens were going to tell them something along the lines of “you have two days to live.”
“All right then, what’s this third ritual do?” Remus asked and sat back in his chair and looked very calm as if he was listening to Hermione give a school report.
“It’s called the ‘Prewett Ritual’ and it causes the wizard to produce a hundred times the amount of sperm he usually does,” explained Hermione.
“That would explain why you were so messy,” Tonks playfully chided her lover.
“And it makes the witch ovulate,” continued Hermione.
“I might worry about that if I hadn’t placed half a dozen charms on me before we did it,” Tonks said with a smile.
“But the ritual overrides all charms and methods,” Hermione countered.
“Ri-i-ight,” Tonks mocked.
“It does,” argued Hermione.
“I’ll admit that it was a good prank you two pulled,” Remus stated with a happy little smile. “But this is a little juvenile. I expected something more from you two besides ‘You’re pregnant.’”
“This isn’t a prank,” Harry urged. He pulled the book from Hermione’s arms and opened it to the page containing the Prewett ritual an
d handed it to Remus. “Look for yourself.”
“And how do I know that you didn’t alter this book like you did with the copy you gave us earlier?” a still smiling Remus asked. It was clear that he thought that he had caught and sidestepped Harry and Hermione’s latest practical joke.
“But we’re not joking!” Hermione pleaded with tears in her eyes. “It causes the fetus to grow rapidly and you’ll give birth in two months!”
“Okay fine,” Tonks said pulling out her wand. “I’ll end this joke with a Pregnancy Check Charm.”
The Auror wave her wand over her belly and incanted “Concepito Disquisitio.”
A whitish haze appeared over her stomach.
“In a few seconds, it’ll change color depending on whether I’m pregnant or not,” Tonks explained. “If it turns red, which I’m sure it will because this is a weak prank, I’m not with child,” she said humorously. “But if it turns green, well then I’ll need a baby shower, won’t I?”
It was clear by her tone that Tonks was not taking Harry and Hermione seriously.
“And where did you learn that little charm?” Remus asked in a fake disapproving manner.
“I had a near miss back in my seventh year at Hogwarts,” admitted Tonks. “You should’ve seen the look on my boyfriend’s face when I told him I thought I was preg-”
Any further remarks Tonks wanted to make were cut short when the whitish haze turned a rich green color.
“I’m pregnant,” stated Tonks much like someone would state an obvious thing such as “water is wet.”
“Yes, you are,” confirmed Hermione. Harry was a little worried over the Auror’s reaction. It was evident that the revelation of her pregnancy hadn’t penetrated her mind; as if the phrase “I’m pregnant” held no real meaning to Tonks.