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"Rose, are you even listening to me?"
"Hmm? Of course, Mione. Every scintillating word. Something about... the properties of a particularly stubborn charm, wasn't it? Or perhaps the optimal brewing temperature for a particularly noxious potion?"
"It was about the optimal time to tell someone something incredibly important, you absolute menace! And you're stroking Salazar again, aren't you? He looks entirely too comfortable draped around your neck like a verdant scarf."
"He *is* comfortable. Aren't you, my little green noodle? *Hsssss.* See? He agrees. And how can I be a menace when I’m practically a saint? I mean, I faced a dragon, Hermione. A *dragon*. For Hogwarts. For glory. For… well, for the sheer thrill of it, if I’m honest. And for you, obviously."
"You faced a dragon because you were forced into a dangerous, ancient tournament, Rose! Not because you're a saint. And don't try to distract me with your heroics. This is far more serious than a Hungarian Horntail."
"More serious? Is there anything more serious than a beast that breathes fire and could turn me into a pile of crispy Potter flakes? Besides, what could possibly be more serious? Did Snape finally explode a cauldron? Did Ron eat all the treacle tart again?"
"No, Rose, it's not Snape, and it's not Ron. It's… it's us."
"Us? What about us? Are we out of pumpkin juice? Did someone steal your favorite quill? Because if they did, I will personally hunt them down and transfigure them into a particularly lumpy toad."
"No, we are not out of pumpkin juice, and my quill is perfectly safe. It’s about… that night. Before the first task."
"Oh. *That* night. The one where you came to my bed, all flustered and worried, and then… well, then things got a little… *steamy*. And naked. And absolutely, unequivocally glorious, if I do say so myself. You were magnificent, by the way. Utterly magnificent. *Mmmph*."
"Rose! Don't be crude! And don't try to change the subject with your… your suggestive compliments!"
"Suggestive? Mione, I'm practically painting you a portrait of erotic perfection with my words. I’m just being honest. You were. Are. Magnificent. And that little moan you made when I… *mmph*. It’s been replaying in my head ever since. *Mmmmmmm*."
"Stop that! You're incorrigible! And you’re turning red, which is ironic, given your hair."
"It’s just a little flush of… well, of remembering. You know. The way your fingers tangled in my hair. The way your breath hitched. The way you tasted like… like starlight and forbidden secrets. I’m just saying, it was a night for the ages. A truly excellent distraction from dragon-induced anxiety. Perhaps we should make it a regular pre-task ritual? Though I don’t fancy facing another dragon anytime soon, to be honest."
"Rose, this isn't a joke! This isn't a casual memory to be relived with a smirk and a lewd suggestion! This is… this is life-altering."
"Life-altering? Mione, you’re scaring me now. Did Voldemort get a new nose? Is Dumbledore secretly a Squib? Did I accidentally turn Neville’s toad into a sentient, singing pineapple?"
"No, no, no! It’s… *sigh*. Just listen. Please. Properly listen. I… I missed something. Something important. In my calculations. In my understanding of… of how things work. Even with all the research I did, all the books I read, there was a variable I didn't account for."
"A variable? Are we talking about a new spell? A complex potion ingredient I’ve never heard of? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve mastered the art of accidental magic, so if it’s something like that, I’m probably already doing it."
"No, Rose, it’s not magic. Not exactly. Well, it *is* magic, but not the kind you learn in Charms class. It’s… biology. And magic. Combined. And it’s… it’s me."
"You? What about you? Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale. Are you sure you didn't overdo it with those extra-credit essays? I told you, Professor Flitwick would never know if you just… accidentally misplaced one of them. For a few days, at least."
"No, I’m not pale from overwork. I’m… I’m pale because I’m terrified. And excited. And completely, utterly overwhelmed. Rose, I… I think I’m pregnant."
"…What."
"I know. I know it sounds… impossible. Unbelievable. But I’ve checked. Multiple times. With every diagnostic charm I know. And I even… well, I even got a Muggle test, just to be absolutely certain. And they all say the same thing."
"Pregnant? But… but how? We… we’re both girls, Hermione. That’s… that’s not how it works. Is it? I mean, I know magic is powerful, but… I thought that was one of the few things it couldn't do. Not without… well, without a bit of extra help from a boy, or a very specific potion, or… *eep*… a ritual involving unicorn blood and moonbeams. And we definitely didn't do any of *that*."
"No, we didn't. But… I’ve been researching. Frantically. And it turns out… well, it’s incredibly rare. Almost unheard of. But there are… obscure texts. Ancient rituals. And a very, very faint, almost imperceptible trace of accidental magic that can… *facilitate* such things. When two powerful magical beings… *connect*… in a moment of extreme emotional and magical intensity… sometimes… sometimes it can happen. It’s like… a magical spark ignites something that shouldn’t be possible. And that night… before the task… with all the fear, and the adrenaline, and the… the sheer, overwhelming love we felt for each other… it must have been enough."
"Love? You… you felt love? I mean, I did. Obviously. A lot. Like, a ridiculous amount. Enough to fill the Great Hall with hearts and glitter. But… you felt it too? That intensely?"
"Rose! Of course, I did! You’re… you’re everything to me. You always have been. Since that first year, when you faced down a troll for me. And then a giant three-headed dog. And then Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake! Every time I look at you, my heart just… *thumps*. And that night… seeing you so brave, so vulnerable, about to face a dragon… I just… I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to give you every ounce of comfort, of strength, of… of myself. And I suppose… I gave a bit too much."
"A bit too much? Hermione, you’re telling me that our… our passionate, dragon-distracting, entirely consensual, and frankly, mind-blowing night of nakedness and snogging has resulted in… a baby? A *human* baby? Inside you?"
"Yes, Rose. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And I’m… I’m terrified. And excited. And I don’t know what to do. Or who to tell. Or… or how we’re going to manage this. We’re fourteen, Rose! Well, you’re fourteen, I’m fifteen. We’re still in school! We’re supposed to be worrying about OWLs, not… not nappies and sleepless nights!"
"Nappies? Sleepless nights? Hermione, this is… this is insane! This is beyond insane! This is… this is a new level of Potter-Granger chaos that even I couldn't have predicted! A baby! A tiny, squishy, magical baby! Ours! *Gah!* Salazar, are you hearing this? My girlfriend is pregnant! With *our* baby! *Hsssss!* He’s looking at me like I’ve finally lost it. Which, to be fair, I might have."
"I know it’s a lot to take in. Believe me, I’ve been taking it in for days. Ever since… ever since I realized my morning sickness wasn’t just a particularly nasty bout of potion fumes. And the cravings! I’ve been dreaming of pickled gherkins and chocolate frogs, Rose! Together!"
"Pickled gherkins and chocolate frogs? That sounds… revolting. But also… oddly specific. So, it’s true then? This isn’t some elaborate prank by Fred and George? Because if it is, I swear I’ll turn them into a pair of particularly ugly garden gnomes and make them sing ‘It’s a Small World’ for the rest of their lives."
"No, Rose, it’s not a prank. I wish it were. Part of me, anyway. The other part… the other part feels… a flutter. A tiny, hopeful flutter. And I can’t stop thinking about it. About them. About… our baby."
"A flutter? You mean… like a butterfly? Or like a really tiny Quidditch game happening in your stomach?"
"More like a tiny, insistent thrum. Like a whisper of something new and impossible. And it’s… it’s already got me, Rose. Completely. I can’t imagine… I can’t imagine not having them now."
"So, you’re saying… you want to keep them?"
"Want to? Rose, it’s not about wanting. It’s about… it’s about a life. A life we created. A life that’s already a part of me. How could I not? How could we not? But… how do we do this? How do we tell anyone? What will Dumbledore say? What will my parents say? What will Ron say? He’ll probably faint! Or worse, he’ll think I’m a particularly well-done transfiguration experiment gone wrong!"
"Ron will be… Ron will be Ron. He’ll yell, he’ll panic, he’ll probably ask if it’s contagious. But then he’ll probably bring us an entire cauldron of stew and offer to babysit, because that’s just Ron. As for Dumbledore… well, he’s Dumbledore. He’ll probably offer us lemon drops and a cryptic prophecy about the future of magic. And your parents… they’ll be upset at first, maybe. But they love you, Hermione. They’ll come around. They have to."
"But the school, Rose! The Triwizard Tournament! You’re still in it! You have two more tasks! And then what? Do I just… disappear for nine months? Do we pretend I’ve contracted Spattergroit and am convalescing in St. Mungo’s?"
"No! No disappearing! We face this. Together. Like we face everything else. Trolls, dragons, dark lords, evil professors… now, a baby. It’s just another challenge, isn’t it? A slightly… squishier, more demanding challenge. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. We’re Rose Potter and Hermione Granger, for Merlin’s sake! We’re basically unstoppable when we put our minds to something. Especially when it involves protecting someone we love."
"Someone we love… Rose, you really mean that? You’re not… you’re not angry? Or disgusted? Or… or wanting to just pretend this never happened?"
"Angry? Disgusted? Hermione, how could I be? This is… this is overwhelming, yes. Terrifying, absolutely. But also… it’s… it’s incredible. It’s a miracle. Our miracle. And I… I want to be there. Every step of the way. If you’ll let me. If you’ll let me be… well, a mum. Or a co-mum. Or whatever we’re calling it. I don’t know. This is all new territory. But I want to explore it. With you."
"Rose… *sniffle*. You… you really mean it?"
"Every word, Mione. Every single one. And I promise you, we’ll get through this. We’ll figure it out. We’ll read every book, consult every expert, break every rule if we have to. And we’ll raise this baby to be the most brilliant, most powerful, most utterly charming little witch or wizard the world has ever seen. Probably with your brains and my… well, my knack for getting into trouble. They’ll be unstoppable."
“Oh, Rose… *moan*. I… I was so scared. So utterly terrified. I thought… I thought you’d hate me. Or leave me. Or think I’d ruined everything."
"Leave you? Hermione, you’re the smartest, kindest, most beautiful witch I know. You’re my girlfriend. My best friend. My everything. And now… now you’re carrying our child. You’re more incredible than ever. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever. We’re in this together. Always."
"But… the tournament, Rose. The tasks. What if something happens? What if you get hurt? What if… what if you’re not there for us?"
"I’ll be there. I promise. I’ll be careful. More careful than ever. I have to be. For you. For our baby. This changes everything, doesn’t it? The stakes are… astronomically higher now. It’s not just about me surviving anymore. It’s about me surviving for you. For them. I’ll win this tournament, Hermione. Not just for glory, but for our future. For a safe future. And then… then we figure out how to be parents at Hogwarts. Or how to explain to Dumbledore why we need a private wing in the Hospital for a nursery."
"A nursery? Rose, you’re already planning nurseries? We haven’t even told anyone yet! And what if… what if it’s a girl? Or a boy? Do we have names? Do we have… tiny robes? And little wands?"
"Woah, woah, slow down, Mione. One step at a time. First, we breathe. Then, we panic. Then, we make a list. A very, very long list. Of everything we need to do. And then we do it. Together. And yes, we’ll think of names. And tiny robes. And maybe even tiny flying broomsticks, if I can figure out how to charm them for safety. This is… this is actually happening, isn’t it? I’m going to be a mum. You’re going to be a mum. *Huuuuuum*. That’s a nice hum, isn’t it? A mum-hum. Or a parent-hum. It feels… surprisingly right."
"It does, doesn’t it? It feels… right. Even though it’s utterly mad. And impossible. And terrifying. And I’m still craving those pickled gherkins, honestly."
"Alright, pickled gherkins it is. And then… then we start planning. And maybe… maybe we snuggle a bit more. For comfort. And for… well, for future inspiration. After all, practice makes perfect, doesn’t it? Even if it leads to unexpected, adorable, tiny miracles."
"Rose! You’re impossible! But… *giggle*… yes. Snuggles. And then, a plan. A very, very detailed plan. Because if anyone can plan our way through an impossible magical teen pregnancy at Hogwarts, it’s us."
"Exactly. And maybe… maybe we should start by telling Ron? Just to get his inevitable fainting out of the way. It’ll be less messy if we catch him before he hits the floor."
"Oh, Merlin. Ron. I hadn’t even thought about Ron’s reaction. This is going to be… eventful, isn’t it?"
"Beyond eventful, Mione. Beyond eventful. But we’ll face it. Together. Just like everything else. And hey, at least we’ll have a fantastic story to tell our… our little miracle. Someday. When they’re old enough to understand that their mums are completely insane, but utterly devoted."
"Completely insane, definitely. But devoted? Yes. Utterly devoted. To them. And to each other. *Sigh*. Come here, you big, red-headed, dragon-slaying disaster. You’re going to be a father. Or a… a mother-father. Or something. And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else."
"Neither would I, Mione. Neither would I. Now, about those gherkins…"