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    Summary

    “You can’t get pregnant from kissing,” Harry said in fervent tones.

    “Well, no, not usually,” Healer O’Toole agreed. “But, you see, you have unusual stores of latent magical power. And you of all people should know how important wishing magic is. If you had any genetic material at all in your body from another person and you wished to be pregnant with that person, well, I daresay your magic would do the rest of the work.”

    Harry had a fixed expression on his face. Ron had a bad, bad feeling. Harry had only had eyes for one man for months.

    “No.” Harry said, but now he sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. “No, that’s not possible.”

    “Harry James Potter,” Ron said, his voice deadly quiet. “When the fuck did you start snogging Draco Malfoy?”


    Or, Harry Potter is exceptional. Everyone always said so. He didn't realise just how exceptional until he wished himself pregnant on his first date. A story of doing everything perfectly out of order.

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