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Silver Linings by TheHeirOfSlytherin
Chapter 3: Alexa: When Trusting your Instincts can be a Good Thing
I am going to kill Albus Potter.
I tried so hard to forget what happened between us, but he just had to go on about that night and the lack of protection. My day was going perfectly fine until he came banging on my front door, practically yelling about that tiny little detail.
Thank God my dad was not home to hear it. Or my brother; that would have been horrifying to witness. I imagined a bloody Albus-shaped mess on the hall floor. Then a Kieron-shaped one for killing him before I could.
Because it's been just over a month since it happened and now I'm freaking out. Why? Because I'm late. I am rarely late. And he is sat on my bed, looking ready to shit himself because it's all he's thought about since that night.
I can't help but glare at him as I lean against the door to my bathroom, but he doesn't take any notice. He just continues to sit there, muttering to himself, trying to make himself feel better when his gut tells him otherwise. That's one of the only things that really annoys me about Albus; when he's worrying about something, he over thinks things, to the point where he genuinely believes it and then he tells himself it's going to be okay, even though he's already freaked himself into believing it's not.
That's what he did in regards to this. The moment he realized we had been too drunk to think about protection, he started to worry about the consequences and what to do and he freaked out and yelled at me and now his words are getting to me because I'm late. Have I mentioned that I hate him yet? Because I do.
He throws himself back against my pillows. "Everything's going to be fine, we're okay. We're fine."
"Albus, shut up," I snap. I just cannot take it any more. "I blame you for all of this, by the way. For the sex and for all this worrying, which is really not needed. I also blame my dad for letting you in today and forcing me to listen to you worry, then tell yourself it's fine. Why do you come to my house anyway?"
"It's big, it's nice and your brother doesn't live here anymore so we're always alone now," he mutters. Oh. Not what I expected him to say because it's not the real reason. Well, I can only accept that his sister is way too nosy. "We're gonna be fine."
He jumps up, holds himself up with his elbows. "You're angry."
I nod. "I'm feeling a lot of things at the moment, Albus. Anger is just one of them."
"You're very emotional." He looks terrified. I have a bad feeling. "That's a symptom," he whispers. He ducks before one of my books gets to hit him on the head. Damn him. "Well, it is," he protests, like he's defending himself. I don't want to hear his defense! How does he not get that? "So is feeling tired and nausea and sensitivity in... certain areas."
When he eyes stop at my chest I pick up another book. He has every reason to hide. "Albus, the only thing making me tired and nauseous is you." He slowly removes his arms from his face. I drop the book and try to give him my best 'it's gonna be okay' smile to calm him down. "Now, will you please stop researching all of this. You're just going to scare yourself even more."
"Most is just what I remember from when Vic was pregnant and Mum still has one or two baby books," Al says quietly. I give him my most stern look; he's got to get the message. "I will stop researching." I almost breathe a sigh of relief; finally his madness will stop. "If you do something for me."
Oh, crap. "Depends on what it is," I finally choke out. He just doesn't make it easy for me, does he?
Albus picks up the white, plastic bag he had brought with him and hid under my bed and makes his way over to me. He stops about an inch in front of me, forcing me to look up just to see eye-to-eye, but with heels on it's not by much. He opens it up and pulls out a blue box. It doesn't take me very long to realize to what it is.
"Lexi, please. It's just one test, then we can forget it ever happened and go back to normal as promised," Al pleads with me. I continue to shake my head. How can he do this?
"Where did you even get that?"
"A Muggle pharmacy, it was the quickest option," he shrugs. "I told the woman it was for a friend, which is true."
"Did you tell the woman that you are the reason you think your soon-to-be-ex friend needs the test?" I growl.
"No, I'm not that stupid while sober," he says, rolling his eyes. Oh, he really is. "Please, Lexi. We need to be sure before we can move on. Just take the test, watch it turn negative and we can go back to normal. One test, for me, or I'm going to go crazy."
We stare each other down for what feels like forever, but when I finally look away and see the clock I realize it had barely been five minutes. Glaring, I snatch the box out of his hands and twirl it between my fingers as I try to figure out exactly why I'm doing this. Okay, so he's still my friend - for now - and I don't want this to drive him crazy - yet. We can't bitch about people if he's lost it. And taking this stupid, Muggle pregnancy test will calm him down and show him that everything's fine, that I'm not- that he should stop listening to his gut for everything.
I'm doing it for Albus... And I'm doing it for me. I have to do it, I have to calm me down, too. "Wait here," I mutter, walking away and locking myself in my bathroom.
Once inside, I lean against the door and shut my eyes. I hear him tell himself it's gonna be fine again and the door rattles when he throws himself against it to lean on the other side. I move away and rip open the box, read through the instructions and swing it back and forth in my hands until I have to go. I turn on the tap, I think about rain and water, anything that will get this over and done with.
As soon as I'm done, I bang on the door and open it. Albus follows me into the bathroom and we both sit against the bath tub, the test by our sides, and he's reading through the instructions.
I think about why I'm sat here, on the cold floor tiles of my bathroom, waiting for a pregnancy test to tell me whether or not my idiot friend knocked me up. It never would have happened if I hadn't brought him here or kissed him back, if he hadn't followed me or even kissed me in the first place. If we hadn't gotten drunk because he'd seen an evil bitch snog an arrogant prat. If Albus had had the good sense to know he was better than her.
But he didn't and we did all those things because of it and now here we are. Though, for this situation, I mostly blame his panic attack when he realized what we'd forgotten and his cousin, Louis, for being who he is. He made tests mandatory in the Weasley family, I swear.
"You think it's been two minutes?" he asks quietly.
"Maybe," I shrug. "You should check. You're the one who wanted me to take the stupid thing."
"Or you could. Considering you had to pee on it, I'd rather not."
I turn to glare at him, but it's only for a second. He's trying to stay calm and okay, wanting to believe his words that it's all fine completely. But his eyes give him away; he's anxious, scared and stalling. He wanted me to take the test, but he's not so sure he wants to know the answer.
"Together," I promise. I grab some tissue, since he was so kind as to remind me of what I had to do, pass the rest to him, put my hand on the edge of the test and Al copies, so we've both got hold it. "One."
"Two," he goes next.
"Three," we say together, pulling it up.
I let go of it quickly; I'd memorized the instructions long enough while I was waiting to pee to know exactly what that stick means, what it's screaming at me. Albus stares at it, but I don't think he's really looking. He perfected the art of scaring himself shitless over the month and now I'm going to join him.
"Every cloud has a silver lining, right?" Albus finally speaks, but he barely gets it out.
"What's the silver lining in this?"
The pregnancy test falls from his hands to the floor and he leans back against the bath tub; I don't think I want to know his answer.
"Maybe we'll be good parents."
I don't say a thing.
I silently admit, listening to his gut is a good thing.
Oh, yeah, and I am so going to kill Albus Potter.
"I'm going to be a dad... I can't be a dad, I'm way too young... Oh, my God, I'm going to be a teenage dad!"
He's been pacing my bedroom and saying similar statements for the better part of an hour. It's my turn to lie on my bed, only rather than join him in calling out the inevitable I've gone unnaturally quiet. This is so hard to process; this morning I was complaining about how he should stop listening to his instincts (in my defense, he has been wrong a fair few times), now I'm thankful he pushed me for that test. I don't even want to imagine a family member figuring it out before me. And to think, this all started because Al freaked out over our lack of protection. He even researched symptoms for four weeks, which I guess is where I am. I wonder what else he researched...
No! I don't want to know that right now.
"Are you okay?"
I turn to lie on my back and there he is by my side, concern showing on his face. "I get drunk for the first time, in an effort to cheer you up, and this is my price. How do you think I feel?"
That concern turns to pain for just a second, before it disappears and he feigns indifference and looks away. "I'm sorry."
I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. I move to get up and he slides over so I can sit next to him. He knows I'm genuine when I hug him, because I rarely do, so I pull Al to me and we stay like that for as long as I'm comfortable doing so. "It's not all your fault, I guess." I'll blame him again tomorrow. He laughs, but it's not exactly a happy one. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little... scared. But I'm now glad you freaked out last month, told me all this stuff and got the test, if it's any consolation."
"Sometimes my worrying does come in handy," he agrees.
I start to speak, but I hear the front door open and I swear I go paler than I did when I found out I was pregnant; my dad is home. How the hell am I supposed to tell him? It's obvious Al is having similar thoughts, probably about his own family... He has a big family. The closer his footsteps get to my room, the faster my heart seems to beat in my chest. Then he knocks.
"Yeah?" I call out, hoping it wasn't as shaky as it sounded to me.
Dad opens the door, leans against the frame so it seems only the top half of his body is in my room. "Hey. I bumped into your dad at work, Al, he wants to know if you're going home or if you'll be here tonight. I questioned why he still asks when you stay here every Friday, but said I'll pass along the message."
"Right, because Dad cooks on a Friday," he whispers. I think he's still in shock, made worse by remembering we have to tell people and that one of those people is currently speaking to us. "I don't eat that anymore."
"No," Dad says quietly, then he turns to me. "Is he okay?"
"He's not really feeling very well," I only half-lie; he does look like he's going to be sick. "But of course he's staying, it's Friday."
"Right." Dad stands up straight, ready to leave, and points to us both. "You know where the menus are."
As soon as he shuts the door, we both turn to face each other. "I don't think I'll be able to get through the night without him figuring out something is wrong if I stay."
"You have to stay, you always stay," I remind him. "If you don't, he'll definitely know something is up."
"We can't pretend it's a family emergency?"
I want to swipe the back of his head. "He's going to floo call your house to tell them you're staying as usual, he'd be just as likely to call to say you'd be home and he'd probably ask if they were okay with the emergency. Wouldn't take a genius to know you were lying."
"Right. That was stupid. It'll be fine."
"It will be fine." I take his hand and stand him up. "We are going to get the menus, argue about what we want, order take out, give our weekly thanks to Dad for finding a way to piss off my mum by getting a TV and watch a movie and as soon as he's gone to bed, we're gonna talk about what to do."
He nods and agrees thoughout my entire plan until the very end and I resist the urge to shake him. "About what?"
"About how to tell everyone," I answer through gritted teeth. "I don't know about you, but I think others will notice when I get bigger and pop out your kid."
He covers his face in his hands, lets out an annoyed, slightly high-pitched shriek, and nods. "Right, yes, we'll talk about that. I'm sorry, I'm not handling this very well." I move his hands away. "I just don't know what to do."
"I'd be kinda surprised if you did." I raise an eye-brow, put on my best imitation of Nicky. "Anything you wish to share, Mr. Potter?"
It's small, quiet, barely even there, but it's a real laugh and that's the reaction I wanted. I nudge his arm lightly. "Come on, I want Chinese."
"I want curry."
"Tough, you knocked me up; we're having Chinese."
I run when he starts to chase me down the stairs, careful not to fall. "That's not fair, Lexi, I have nothing to use against you."
"Give it up, Albus, you'll never get one up on Lexi," Dad calls from the living room.
Oh, Dad, if only you knew the whole story.
A/N: Al is fun to write when he's freaking out. Louis is such a bad influence... And you haven't even met him yet.
So, it's been about a month and Al spent the whole of it worrying to Alexa, researching signs in hopes of avoiding it. But it's a pregnancy story, so... Ha! I hope y'all enjoyed. I appreciated your reviews of what you think. :)