A/N: Hey fellow readers! This is my first ever fanfiction, so I'm really not sure what the response will be like. I've based this situation on something that my best friend has experienced over the past year, as she was also pregnant, but of course she isn't a witch. She doesn't mind me writing this though, in fact, she's having some input in this story also. But understandably, I have changed a few things, but the main idea was based on her experience. Anyhow now the formalities are over, enjoy the first chapter!
Disclaimer: My initials are not JKR, therefore I don't own anything.
I had always laughed at the little girls who cried in the bathrooms of Hogwarts. I mean, of all the places and they go and cry in a toilet cubicle? I have never understood them.
Until now that is. Because it seems as if I have joined the group of little girls who have cried in a toilet cubicle. Though, I’m 99 percent sure that their reasons are different to my reason. The biggest problem that those twelve year olds have had to face is the prospect of their first detention.
I’d be laughing right now if I had a detention. I’d be laughing if I fell down the steps of the Astronomy Tower. I’d even be laughing if The Giant Squid squirted ink at me, while swimming in the Black Lake.
I’d laugh at anything right now if my problem were as trivial as those.
But no, my problem isn’t as simple as those. Instead, mine is a life long contract, which I signed when I shagged James Potter.
That is why I’m not laughing. It’s not everyday that you find out that you’re pregnant.
Pregnant with James Potter’s baby.
We’re best friends for crying out loud. At no point did I expect a baby coming into the equation.
Which is casually lying in my womb, chilling.
Does it even realise the distress that it is causing me?
I pick up the pregnancy test, which I chucked on the floor 10 minutes ago. Funnily enough, it still has the same 8 letter word on the screen, which seems to be screaming at me.
The only thing that I’m positive about is the fact that I’m never going to leave this toilet.
I pick up the white stick again. It still reads positive but also two words, which I hadn’t noticed before. I swear they have only just appeared. Or maybe the test is tricking me?
Eight weeks is two months.
Which means that the test isn’t tricking me because if I count correctly, it means it was our first time.
Only one time.
Which means...I’ll be a mother in 7 months time.
7 MONTHS TIME?!
This is my cue to panic. This cannot be happening to me.
He and his big ego practically promised me that nothing like this would happen.
‘We won’t need a condom? I’m an expert on Contraceptive Charms, love.’
Yeah James, your Contraceptive Charms work amazingly, love.
And now we’re going to be parents because James Potter’s Contraceptive Charm worked ‘amazingly.’
And I put my trust in James Potter and this is where it leads me.
Twelve years of friendship, one steamy sex session later and I’ve been knocked up at the age of seventeen.
Oh my lord.
I have traded my education and social life for a quick shag, which lasted 10 bloody minutes.
My breathing picks up. Of course, this cannot be happening. Maybe this is a dream. Yes, it must be a dream because I have never been one of those girls who cry in the toilets. I have never been one of those girls who crave all the attention from boys and get knocked up.
Thank goodness for that. I’ll admit it, for a moment, this all seemed really realistic. I actually thought I was pregnant. Such a silly mistake!
You can wake up me up now, brain. I’ve figured you out, so the joke is over!
Anytime soon please?
“Move out of my bloody way!” A voice echoed down the corridor.
Oh shit. That voice only belongs to one girl and she never appears in my dreams.
“GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU SILLY ELEVEN YEAR OLD. WHY ARE YOU EVEN CRYING? YOUR LOVE LIFE IS FAR FROM OVER, SO MOVE IT!”
Yes, that definitely is her.
“Dom, she’s in fourth year! You can’t scream at her like that!”
Oh there’s my other best friend.
“Well obviously I can, Rose, but our best friend is crying in a cubicle, which she swore that she would never do, and you’re worrying about an eleven year old? Please Rose, sort out your priorities women.”
“She’s actually fourteen but-“
“Eleven? Fourteen? What’s the bloody difference?”
There was the unmistakable sound of Rose sighing as they entered the bathroom.
“Katy Owen. I distinctly remember you saying you would never cry in a toilet cubicle.” Dom shouts through the door.
I’m not going to answer that.
“Not answering me will not help your problems, honey. So it would be a good idea if you spoke to us.”
I’m still not going to answer you.
“Don’t make us come in there!”
I’m used to your empty threats anyway, Dom.
“We’ll get James...” Rose spoke from the other side of the door for the first time. Knowing Rose, these words were not an empty threat and I cannot face the possibility of seeing James. Not now. Not ever.
“DON’T YOU DARE.” I scream, quite panicked.
“Now that’s the response we’re looking for.” I could practically hear Rose smirking.
Now I’m 100 percent sure that this definitely isn’t a dream, I’m pretty sure of that. Dear God, what did I ever do to you? Do you take pride in making my life a living hell? I bet you’re sitting on a cloud up there with a smug little smile on your face, planning something that will ruin my life forever. Well, if you chuck me lemons, I’ll just go and make lemonade.
But if this isn’t a dream, it must mean that I’m definitely-
I think Dom and Rose have both just confirmed my worst nightmare.
I looked up to see Dom kneeling on the floor looking under the door. He eyes focusing on the plastic stick on the floor. Above her was Rose, looking over the top of the door, obviously standing on Dom’s back and her eyes were also focusing on the white plastic stick.
“You are in so much shit.” Dom stated bluntly.
Thank you, Dom. You never cease to amaze me.
“You’re having a baby.” Rose whispered, quite horrified by the thought of it.