I held the thin, white, plastic, fateful object of doom and destiny in my pale, slender, perfectly proportioned right hand, staring at it intensely as the music swelled behind me. In my head I counted down the seconds dramatically…
Just kidding… now it’s154...
Yeah, you get the drift.
Anyway, I stand inside my magic bubble in the girls toilets on the fifth floor. I have to be inside a bubble because I’m way too awesome and hot to ever actually touch a toilet. Luckily nobody else has walked in during the five hours it has taken me to work up the courage to do this pregnancy test.
Because yes, the thin white plastic fateful object of doom and destiny is a pregnancy test. And I am Rose Weasley. So you have caught Rose Weasley taking a pregnancy test. I know what you’re thinking, right: “Rose Weasley? Daughter of two thirds of the Golden Trio? Model student? Head Girl / ALL the Gryffindor prefects (Because they realised I could do the job better than everyone else put together). PREGNANT?”
Well, there are some things you don’t know about me. Firstly, I am a REBEL!
Secondly, I constantly changed tense.
Thirdly, remember that party that James/Fred/Al/Roxy/Lysander/Molly/Lucy/Dumbledore’s ghost/Lorcan/Louis/Dominique/Teddy (who is still at school for the purposes of this story) threw for no reason at all at the beginning of the year? Well, that’s where all this began. You see, normally I bring at least thirty-two condoms to every party I go to - just in case - but for that party I was wearing this totally awesome outfit of this black leather miniskirt with a short black velvet halter neck top which accentuated my huge boobs whilst making the rest of me look slender and perfect, teamed with some seven inch black shiny high heels that my mother uncharacteristically brought me for no reason at all, and this totally awesome outfit had NO POCKETS!
I considered gluing the condoms to my face and then just putting my make-up on over the top so you couldn’t tell they were there, but in the end I decided to go with the ‘natural’ look, where the makeup was actually put straight onto my SKIN! I know, weird right, but I’m trying to make guys and stuff think I’m real deep.
Anyway, so there was this party, and as usual I looked totally hot, and I had no condoms, and… well, I’ll let the flashback explain, shall I?
* CUE UNNECESSARY FLASHBACK*
The party was in full swing when I arrived, seeing as I was always about two hours late - partly for dramatic effect, and partly because my heels were too high to actually walk in, so I had to bum shuffle all the way from the Head’s dormitory. But it was worth it, because when I arrived, everyone turned to stare at me, basking in my awesome glowing beauty. The world stopped turning, the birds stopped singing, and in a distant country somewhere soldiers stopped fighting and all got simultaneously REALLY turned on - I looked
And then I very gracefully and sexily drank twenty seven kegs of Firewhiskey.
And then I had sex with seven different guys.
And then a girl, just for good measure.
*END UNNECESSARY FLASHBACK*
So yeah. I think you can tell I am totally not to blame in any way at all in this situation.
I finished the dramatic countdown in my head, and my heart sunk like a sinking thing, ending up still where it was before but feeling like it was probably at least a millimetre or two closer to my knees, because the little white stick of fateful doom and destiny had only confirmed what I had suspected since the day after that party… I was pregnant with octuplets. And they all had different fathers! Because pregnancy tests can tell you that stuff in the anonymous year I live in, which the author can‘t be arsed to work out.
Cursing in the hottest way possible, I thought back to all the Sex Ed classes we’d had over the years here at Hogwarts. The old curriculum had been scrapped after McGonagall ‘fell’ down those stairs, and Delilah Francium Chapstick McCoy, the new head teacher, had introduced all this stuff like PSHE, when seventeen third years got pregnant all in the same week; Sports, when she realised that 99.9 percent of Hogwarts students were clinically obese, meaning the Quidditch players were now unable to get their brooms in the air; and of course my favourite subject, Art, which this story would not work without because I need an outlet for my amazing irrelevant talents, even though they will never be mentioned again.
Anyway, I, of course, never did the sports lessons, because I‘m too hot for that, but in PSHE we learned about sex and stuff, which was good, because I liked sex. And I remember being taught (through song of course) all the symptoms of pregnancy. I hadn’t got most of them, luckily. I was way too hot to get morning sickness, and I never ate so I definitely didn’t get any cravings. Also, no hair grows anywhere on my body except my head, where it is a luscious red waterfall of… erm… hair… anyway, yeah, so nothing like that. But I had noticed that my boobs had increased three cup sizes overnight, making them officially the biggest boobs in the history of the world. And then I thought I might be pregnant, for no real reason I suppose, but I had to notice for the plot to even semi-advance.
So I took this pregnancy test, and I now know my unfounded suspicions were correct.
Sighing with dramatic frustration, I let a single tear fall down my cheek, showing everyone the pain I felt at this news. The camera panned around me as the music came to a crescendo in a very symbolic-ish way. Once the first tear had evaporated, I let another one fall, this time showing that I was aware of the loss I was going to suffer. Not of the baby - no, I couldn‘t get an abortion or then this story would REALLY have no plot - but of my childhood. Well, I guess being seventeen already, I wasn’t really still a child, but still. This was a mega bummer, is basically what I’m trying to say.
Hoping nobody would notice that I’d been gone for several days, I vanished my protective bubble and hurried out of the bathroom. As I turned the corner I spotted a first year coming toward same, and my pregnancy hormones teamed with my redhead mentality meant I was allowed to skip from sad to mad with basically no warning, so I decided to take out all my anger towards the eight different fathers on this child.
“YOU!” I screeched sexily, my eyes bugging out in the most gorgeous way possible. “SHUT UP! SIT DOWN! WHY DOES NOBODY RESPECT ME FOR THE DEEP AND PERFECT INDIVIDUAL I AM? WHY DON’T YOU JUST JUMP OFF THE ASTRONOMY TOWER AND DIEEEEEEEEEE!”
I then realised I’d been angry for at least thirty seconds, so I had to switch to insanely happy. I patted the first year on the head as I skipped past his unconscious body, and made it half way down the next empty corridor before bursting into viciously sexy tears.
I stayed in that corridor for a few days, before deciding to make my way back to my dormitory where I could wallow in my sexy misery alone, with only my millions of admirers for company. When I got there Scorpius was sat by the window, studying for some boring subject because he’s such a NERD. He turned and looked at me, and his eyes bored into my gorgeous soul. His eyes were this gorgeous shade of… well, I guess it was… umm, really it’s kind of indescribable, but… anyway, it was sexy. Not as sexy as me, but sexy in an inferior way, which was okay because NOBODY was ever as sexy as me. I could tell he desperately wanted to tell me something, but he had taken a vow of silence due to the authors complete lack of incentive to give him a personality. This didn’t stop me from loving him, however. Ours was a forbidden love between two sexy enemies, who passionately hated each other in a very sexy, loving, forbidden sort of way.
So I went over to him and had sex with him in a chair to cheer myself up.
After we were done I went up to my room and decided it was time to tell all the fathers. I quickly had sex with the random guy waiting in my bed, and then got straight to it. I wrote a very deep and meaningful letter, which expressed all my hidden inner pain and suffering in the most sexy way possible. It said,
Rmember when we hd sexx at tht partay? Well I is up the duff. One of them iz yorz. Lol, jus thort u shud no.
After confirming that this was a beautiful piece of literature sure to stir deep emotions within them, I made eight copies and used an extremely complicated spell which I made up on the spot to send one to each of their individual beds, along with a picture of me looking deep and meaningful in my underwear, so they remembered who I was.
I then got changed into my sexy pyjamas, kicked a few guys out of my room, and went to bed to poignantly cry myself to sleep.
The months flew by, like a bird, or a hippogriff, or a guy on a broom going really fast. Time passed like something that was passing. And soon I was home for the *insert generic holiday* holidays. I knew I would now have to tell my parents about my pregnancy, and also about the fact that I had conveniently forgotten to attend any of my lessons for the past few months because I was so busy looking deep and crying in various different locations for heartbreaking montages. But to be honest, I was more worried about what I was going to wear on the train. I had to look hot, of course, but also like I wasn’t really trying, because I wanted to look sophisticated, so that people would respect me. Luckily I hadn’t gained any weight from the pregnancy, except in my boobs, so I was still skinny and sexy like usual. In the end I decided to slum it, and just threw on an old leather catsuit and some run-of-the-mill silver stilettos. Hey, I had to show guys that there was more to me than my looks, after all. I was a deep person with deep problems, not just a sexy famous awesome party-loving foxy redhead.
When we arrived back at our mansion, my brother immediately went to his room to apply more eyeliner and listen to metal music, leaving me alone with my parents. After a quick double shot of vodka, I announced my news.
“Mum, Dad, I am pregnant with octuplets,” I cried, throwing my head back and allowing my hair to blow in the spontaneous sexy and dramatic wind that had appeared in our kitchen. They gasped, partly in awe of the beauty they had somehow created, but mostly in horror that their seventeen year old daughter was knocked up.
My mum burst into tears and then sort of faded away to allow focus on my dad, who went green and started to grow, bursting out of his clothes and growling. It was really lame.
“WHO IS THE FATHER?” he growled. I couldn’t be bothered to list off all the names, some of which I couldn’t pronounce, so I just said;
“Scorpius Malfoy, the sexy mute son of your worst enemy.”
My father apparated away and retuned a few seconds later with Scorpius, who he then set down next to me. I was glad that Dad seemed to be thinking rationally, as I could tell that despite being massive and green he was ready to have a serious conversation about this with me and Scorpius, thus treating us with the respect two sexy, mature people like us deserved.
But then he punched Scorpius through the wall, and I decided that it might be better to let him calm down a bit.
Thankfully my parents soon came around to the news, and even bought me a mansion to live in with the babies and all the fathers, who I introduced them to over dinner.
“Mum, Dad,” I said. “I would like you to meet my children’s many fathers. First, you already know Scorpius Malfoy.” He smouldered at them in a polite, silent, characterless sort of way. Luckily the doctors had been able to re-attach his face, so you couldn’t even tell my dad had hit him anymore. “Also, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, Luna’s children, who are supposedly much younger than me but in this story they are an indeterminable age which allows me to have sex with them.” The twins spasmed at my parents in a way of greeting, and mumbled something about Snorkcacks… or snorting. “Next is Teddy Lupin. As you know he was held back for nine years, so he is in the same year as me. He was in love with Victoire, but has agreed to dump her to be one of my many lovers because I‘m the hottest of all the Weasley children.” Teddy changed colour a few times to reflect his emotions, blatantly ignoring the way Metamorphing is supposed to work, before saying hello. “Also are three random character’s sons. They don’t have proper names, but they are known as Mini Oliver Wood, Mini Ernie MacMillan, and Mini Seamus Finnegan.” The three clones hummed slightly, but they didn’t really have personalities, so I ignored them from then on. “And finally, I would like you to meet the sexiest, most amazing of all my children’s fathers, the child of one of your best friends, because you all conveniently decided to reproduce at the same time, ensuring all your offspring would be the same age… Mum, Dad, this is my lover… Alice Longbottom.”
Alice strutted forwards like she was on a catwalk, did a few poses, and then took off her shirt. Ignoring the problems with basic anatomy, my parents accepted her as the father of their eighth grandchild, as they knew I was way too sexy for biology to apply to me.
Then the random holidays were over, and I went back to school. I was feeling very deep and responsible since I’d told my parents, so I only made out with two people on the train, one of them being Scorpius, who I was practically in a relationship with at this stage.
When we got back to school I quickly won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor single-handedly, and then went straight to bed, tired of all the stares I was getting. Not because I was pregnant - I still hadn’t gained any weight, so nobody knew about that. No, just the stares I was getting from how beautiful I was, and also the fact that I’d not been able to decide what clothes to wear that day, so I’d just not worn any at all. I honestly didn’t see what the big deal was.
Then it was really quickly the next month, because the author lost interest in the story and decided to skip most of the action. So all of a sudden it was a random day, and I was just sat in the great hall, watching all the weaker people than me give in to their desire to eat, whilst I just stayed still whilst looking sexy and amazing, so people kept dropping food because they couldn’t tear their gaze away from me. Then one of the girls got jealous that I was so much hotter than her, and she leapt up on her chair and yelled, “ROSE WEASLEY IS A SLUT AND SHE’S PREGNANT!”
Shocked, aghast, stunned and other words which generally mean I really hadn’t expected that to happen, I burst into very sexy tears and fled from the room as the other students began to throw food at me and send abortion spells in my direction. I ran as fast as my ten-inch heels could carry me - which was actually about a centimetre a minute - until I reached the Headmistresses’ office about a week later. The author had conveniently forgotten what random name she’d assigned the new Headmistress, and couldn’t be bothered to scroll back up and check, so I had to simply refer to her as ‘Professor’ or ‘Sexy teacher lady’.
I miraculously knew the password to the tower, so I burst in straight away. I had to wait a few minutes whilst she finished having sex with Hagrid/Nearly Headless Nick/some random dude, but after that I launched straight into the traumatic tale, complete with dramatic pauses and close-ups of my trembling lips and everything. By the end she was crying with the injustice that such a sexy person as me had to go through something so horrible. She was just offering to expel the entire school for their behaviour when I felt a vague nothingness in my general body type area.
“Oh no! Despite never having felt this before, I somehow know that I must be in labour!”
Since all the dates so far have been extremely vague, and the author really has no idea how long I was pregnant for, it is entirely possible that I carried my eight children to term. I was rushed to hospital, where a very sexy doctor checked my something - EDIT: INSERT MEDICAL TYPE STUFF HERE. He was so sexy that once he was done, I grabbed him by the collar and we had rather unnecessary sex for a few hours. Then he declared it was time for me to give birth. The eight fathers were called in, and screaming with sexy pain, I quickly had my eight children in a very vague manner because the author is a teenage girl and has no idea what the hell birth is like.
After I made out with Alice for a bit, the doctor decided it was time to introduce me to my children. He gave each of them to their respective fathers, and they crowded around me. I craned my elegant, beautiful, hickey-covered neck up eagerly, already pulsating with motherly affection for my offspring, dying to teach them all about the sexy world me and my family lived in. I had already picked out names for my eight girls; Lara, Tara, Amara, Kara, Clara, Zara, Sahara, and Chapstick, (who I had decided to name after the head teacher I will now introduce as my idol for the first time in this sham of a story).
They were already dressed in the mini catsuits I had bought them all with my endless supply of money, and I giggled with excitement as their faces loomed into view for the first time…
And then I gasped with horror, recoiling and trying to shield my sexy eyes from the hideous sight before me.
My children… they… they…
They were ugly!