Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. Well, except the part that me and Stacy thought up. She's an amazing beta reader, and her e-mail's silenceofthemind@hotmail.com if anyone needs one.

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Chapter 1: The Pee Stick

They say you can't get pregnant your first time. Well, *they* obviously didn't do their homework. Because I, Ginny Weasley, did everything in my power to not get pregnant, and it still happened. I took the pill, we used a condom, we even did it standing up! And still his little swimmers seemed to find their way to my uterus. Stupid athletic bastards.

It all happened the last night of my seventh year. I'd been dating this guy, Devon, and we were all celebrating the end of school. Devon lured me into his dorm room and gave me one of his unbelievable sexy smiles. It's the kind of smile that makes you think he can see through your clothes, and likes what he sees. Which, or course, only makes me more confident. So I jumped him right then and there. Well, not really 'jumped.' More like pushed him onto the bed behind him and had my way with him.

I'll save you the gruesome details. It's actually a very personal subject, so I don't want to tell you too much. Let's just say that he was the best I'd ever had... which, I suppose, wasn't much, seeing as I was a virgin.

But that wasn't the best part. The best part was how he made me feel. Call me old fashion, but I'd rather have a guy tell me I'm beautiful then finger me any day. It's just so... orgasmic? I donno, I just get very hot when a guy gives me a once over and whispers that he thinks I'm the most beautiful thing in the world. Not that I'd object to being fingered, but I just think that actions aren't always better then words.

Anyways, the next day was when we left for home. I kissed Devon goodbye, and we promised to owl each other everyday. I also invited him down to the Burrow, which he happily accepted, saying that his schedule was completely open, and he couldn't wait to see me.

Once I got off of the train, and through the platform, my whole family was waiting for me. Even Hermione and Harry. Once my mom wrapped me in a hug and told me how much she missed her little girl, I suddenly felt really guilty.

My poor mother. Her little girl, her *only* little girl, had had sex the day before. I felt so dirty, and not in a good way. Not in the 'I've been a bad, bad girl' way, but in the 'Christina Aguilera dirrty' way. I didn't feel worthy of my mothers love. I was in-pure.

So, naturally, I blamed Devon. The bastard. He'd seduced me! He'd taken advantage of the fact that I can't say no to his I-can-see-through- you-clothes-and-I-like-what-I'm-seeing smiles and come-hither eyes.

"So, are you happy it's all over?" Harry asked me with a smile.

"Ecstatic." I answered, my mood suddenly changing as Hermione and Harry walked next to me. Now that my mother was a few feet ahead of me, I felt like I was floating, and that I had to tell someone about my 'encounter' with Devon.

"Hermione," I whispered; which was actually pointless, seeing that my mother was deep in conversation with my father, and wasn't even acknowledging that she had children.

Hermione turned her head and gave me a curious look.

"I have to tell you something once we get to the Burrow." I whispered, and then broke down in a fit of giggles. Harry and Ron looked at me strangely, and Hermione glanced curiously in my direction.

"What's so funny, Gin?" Ron asked. I had almost recovered from my fit at this point, but abruptly had another one as soon as he started talking.

Boys must hate that. When they're trying to be all serious, girls just laugh in their faces. But it's a kind of womanly trait. We should be aloud to be all happy and giggly for three out of the four weeks. Because one week of being bitchy and crampy can really take a toll on a girl, and she needs a little laughter after that. And it's all the more better when the laughing is directed at someone.

~*~*~*~

Once we arrived at the house, I grabbed Hermione's hand and bolted up to my room. She followed, the whole time firing questions and comments.

"What's up with you?", "Ginny, slow down." and "Ow! Let go of my hand before you break it off!" were comments that Hermione said as I dragged up a rather cramped stairway.

When we were finally in my room, I locked the door and threw myself onto the bed, bring Hermione with me.

I was absolutely beaming. I think Hermione had to shield her eyes, fearing she might go blind if she looked directly at me. She gave me a rather strange, yet curious, half-smile and I just couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I had sex." I said with the biggest, goofiest smile. I was practically bursting with joy.

Hermione just blinked.

"You... you what?" Hermione stuttered, blinking a couple more times and looking as if she'd just seen a UFO.

I stayed silent. It would sound stupid for me to say 'I had sex!' again. I hate it when people ask me to repeat myself.

"Me and Devon... we..." I did a few hand motions, trying to get her to understand.

"When?" She asked. I was very disappointed with her lack of enthusiasm. But, then again, it was probably my fault. When wanting to discuss sex and other things that are 'racy' one normally doesn't go to Hermione. Lavender and Parvati; yes. But never Hermione. I mentally slapped myself a couple times before coming back to reality and answering her question.

"Yesterday." I said. Hermione blinked again.

Well, this wasn't going as planned. It would have been easier just to tell Ron!

Oh God, would she tell Ron? They were best mates, after all.

I mentally slapped myself a couple more times.

"Ginny..." Hermione's voice faded. She looked lost. And that just made me feel even worse.

"Did you use...?" Hermione blushed, and she hadn't even finished the sentence. I felt so horrible for causing her so much confusion and embarrassment, so I finished it for her.

"Yes, we used protection." I said, trying to sound casual and not blush. Well, that was a loosing battle. My voice was barely audible, and I could feel my face heat up.

Hermione blinked again. I wanted to grab her shoulders and give her a few good shakes. I needed more of a reaction then that! Why didn't she scream and ask for all of the details? Or yell at me for being so irresponsible?

But, no, she just sat there and continued to open and close her eyes over, and over, and over again.

I was sick of the silence. I had to say something.

"Hermione -"

"Ginny what if you get pregnant?!" Hermione suddenly screamed, her face coming to life and her forehead crinkling up in concern. Her sudden rise in volume made me jump.

"Would you keep it down?" I whispered frantically, as if my mother was on the other side of the door with her ear pressed up against it.

"You need to do it, Gin." Hermione said serious.

"Do what?" I asked, completely lost.

"Take a pregnancy test."

I laughed, but Hermione didn't seem to find it at all funny.

"Ginny, this isn't at all funny." Hermione said sternly.

See?

"Hermione, you're completely overreacting." I laughed again. "I'm not going to get pregnant."

The thought of my stomach being the shape of a beach ball in nine months was hilarious to me. But Hermione persisted, telling me to just be safe and check. I rolled my eyes and agreed.

~*~*~*~

It took Hermione a few weeks to be able to sneak out and get the pregnancy test. She was staying at the Burrow, along with Harry and all of my brothers, and it's very hard to go places without someone seeing you.

I didn't know when to take the test, or even how to take it. But Hermione was a pal, and helped me throughout the whole thing. And I showed her just how appreciative I was for her kindness by being very cooperative.

"You want me to *pee* on this?" I asked with disgust, waving the pregnancy test in the air.

"Yea." Hermione said, looking at me as if I'd just asked her what two plus two equaled.

I opened and closed my mouth a couple times, doing a marvelous impression of a fish. Hermione just put her hands on her hips and looked at me in that strange way again.

I sighed, stomped my foot, and proceeded into the bathroom with the pregnancy test in one fist.

Only to emerge five seconds later with a helpless look on my face.

"Come on Ginny!" Hermione sighed angrily. "Just pee on the stupid stick and be done with it!"

"It's not that..." I said, blushing down to the root of my hair.

"Then what's the problem?" She asked in a voice that made me feel very foolish.

"I... I don't have to pee... at the moment." I muttered, cursing the bathroom gods under my breath. Sure, they could make me have to go to the loo during a Quidditch match, when the nearest toilet is all the way back in the castle. But now, when it was crucial that I pee right then and there, they just decided to turn off the faucet.

"You don't have to pee?" Hermione asked.

I held back the urge to say acidly, "did I stutter?" and just nodded.

"Well... you're just going to have to... force it out." Hermione said. I gave her an are-you-insane look.

"You can't force things like these." I said knowingly.

"Too bad!" Hermione yelled, turning me around and pushing me back into the bathroom. She slammed the door and yelled, "Think about a waterfall!"

I'm sure you don't want to hear about me peeing on a stick. It's truly not that exciting. Let me just tell you that Hermione repeating the words 'drip, drip, drip' from the other side of the door didn't help the situation.

So, about five minutes later, after I had turned on the sink to try and trick myself into having to pee, I emerged from the bathroom with a stick that was covered in my pee. Gross.

I set it down on my desk (which, now that I think about it, wasn't that great of an idea. Now I have pee-essence on my desk), and Hermione and I gathered around it. I didn't really know what I was looking for. I hadn't read the directions on the box because reading instructions is against my religion. Truthfully. Just like it's against my father's religion to ask for directions, it's against mine to read and follow them.

But when a little blue line appeared on the stick, I suppose that was what I was waiting for.

"What's it mean?" I whispered to Hermione, not taking my eyes off of that blue line.

"...I donno." Hermione said. She then quickly went and got the box that the pregnancy test had come in.

"Okay, here it is." She said. "One line means..." her voice faded quickly and I whirled around to look at her.

"One line means...?" I asked hopefully. She looked up from the box and gave me a sympathetic look. That look said everything.

One line meant that I was going to be a mother, Devon was going to be a father, and my parents were going to royally pissed.

Oh shit. My parents. They were going to disown me! I'd have to wander the cold, dark streets of London with nothing but a bag filled with diapers. I'd have to give birth in an alley! My child and I would have to beg for food and clothes! I'd have to grab women up off of the street and ask them to breast feed my baby (since I wouldn't do it; it makes your boobs really saggy and gross).

"I can't tell me parents." I told Hermione, right after she had suggested I'd do just that.

"Ginny, they're going to find out sooner or later."

"Maybe they won't notice...?" I said hopefully. Ah, who was I kidding. My mom has the eyes of a hawk. She can spot a hair cut a mile away, even if it's just a trim! So I'm pretty sure her eyes wouldn't skip over me gaining several hundred pounds (or at least it would look like that).

~*~*~*~

The thing about Hermione is, when she sets her mind to something, nothing can change it. So once she had the suggestion that I tell my parents about my pregnancy, she would nag me and nag me till it was done. I mentally kicked and slapped myself so many times for telling her about me and Devon having sex that I think my mental self is suing me for psychological and physical damages.

A few days after the pregnancy test, Hermione and I were walking into the kitchen when we noticed that both of my parents were in there. I stopped dead, and was just turning to run when Hermione grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me roughly into the room.

I stumbled through the doorway and almost ran into the kitchen table. Hermione stood at a safe distance, draped in the shadows of the doorway. My parents, who were having a pleasant conversation, both looked up at me strangely.

"Ginny," My mother smiled. "we were just talking about you."

Well, that's always reassuring.

"We were discussing what you are planning on doing now that you are out of Hogwarts." My dad continued.

"Oh," was all I managed to say. I glanced in Hermione's direction, hoping that she was gone and I could make a clean get away. But she was still standing there, sending me ESP signals to tell my parents about my pregnancy. I sent her ESP signals back, telling her to go fuck herself and mind her own business. Obviously she didn't receive such a message.

"You know that there's always a spot open for you in the Ministry." Dad said happily. Oh goody, I could go work for Fudge and be brainwashed and learn how to *gasp* send documents!

"I'll have to look into that..." I said, my mind only half on the conversation. I was still trying to think of a way to tell my parents about the baby without accidentally kill one of them from shock.

"Well, you could start as a secretary." Dad continued.

"Really?" I asked with fake enthusiasm.

"Yea, and you get a lot of vacation days." Dad said with a smile.

It was now or never. He was in a happy mood, and only good can come from that... or watered down bad. But both are better then regular bad.

I took a deep breath and said, "Dad, how much maternity leave would a secretary get?"

There was a long, tense silence. I was looking at the ground, not being able to look either of them in the eye. After a few moments, my father spoke.

"Five months, I think." He said thoughtfully. I glanced up at him with a very puzzled expression. "But I suppose, if you ask, you could -"

"Arthur!" My mom yelled. I winched at the tone of her voice. "Ginny isn't asking that."

"But she just-"

"She's trying to tell us," Mom said calmly, slowly shifting her gaze from dad to me. "that she's pregnant." Mom's voice got very quiet at the last word. She looked close to tears, and I was shocked to find that I felt the same way.

"Really?" Dad said thoughtfully. "Well, that went straight over my head."

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