A/N: So, I'm bored, I want to write, don't know what. I was going to write something for CSI, no. That didn't work. CSI: New York? Uh-uh. SO, I bring you this, for the heck of it. (And because I would go mad if I didn't find something to write.) I dedicate this to my sister Fuzz, whom had been begging me to get back into the Harry Potter fandom. Love ya, Fuzz!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. ::is crying::


Toilet Trees


"Hey, Hermione," Harry called, exiting the bathroom to come and sit next to his wife of four months. She was already in a pink nightgown, curled up at one end of the couch with a book, her feet under her body.

"Yeah?" She asked, her eyes never leaving her book.

"Luv, have you noticed the attack that our bathroom seems to be experiencing at the moment?" Harry asked.

"Darling, you'll have to elaborate, my head is working slower than usual tonight…" Hermione said, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger.

"You think it's that flu still?" Harry asked, concern written all over his face as he wrapper her in a warm embrace. She had been pretty sick lately, very sluggish and tired and, every morning – almost like clock work, Harry had been inclined to think – she'd been running into the bathroom, vomiting out her brains. But, it had stopped.

Hermione moaned. "I threw up again this morning…"

"'Mione, maybe we should take you to the doctor?" Harry asked.

"No, I'd rather not…" Hermione said.

"If this goes on for too much longer, I will take you there myself, whether you like it or not," Harry said, grudgingly accepting his wife's answer, if only for now.

"What where you going to say?" Hermione asked, trying to divert the conversation from her health.

"The attack of shampoos and body washes and…things!" Harry said.

"Got a problem?" Hermione asked.

"No – I mean yes – I mean, uhg, let me show you," Harry said, walking back into the bathroom and bringing back with him several product bottles. He held one up. "Citrus – Cranberry Passion?"

"For my body," Hermione supplied. "It's that wonderful smell that your always commenting on."

"Okay," Harry said, setting that one down and picking another one up. "Anti-frizz control shampoo?"

"The bottle says it all," Hermione said. "It keeps the frizz in my hair to a minimum."

"Couldn't you do that with magic?" Harry asked.

"I don't like doing it that way," Hermione replied. "I don't want to get too dependent upon my magic, like some people I know."

"You had better be talking about Ron," Harry grumbled, pulling one final product up. "Leave – in conditioner?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "My hair gets really course when I straiten it, so I put leave-in conditioner in so that it softens up."

"Right…" Harry said.

"And, you're one to talk," Hermione said. "You with all your jells and creams and horrid after-shave."

"I happen to like that after shave," Harry shot back.

"Well, I don't," Hermione replied.

"Well, that stuffs means thing to me," Harry said.

"As do my things," Hermione replied.

Harry shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up, thumping her book down on the table and walking into the bathroom, coming back into the living room several minutes later.

"And what does that mean to you?" Hermione asked him, tossing a box into his lap.

Harry took the small object into his hands and examined it. It was small, white, and had directions on it. Typical of any sort of toilet tree. But what he found most interesting was the front. I said, in baby-blue letters, "Pregnancy test."

Harry gaped at Hermione. He shook the box. "It's empty, have you already - ."

"Yes," Hermione replied, close to tears for some reason. "I've already taken it."

"And…" asked a still very gob-smacked Harry.

"I'm pregnant, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry stared a her for the longest time, mouth agape. Hermione was on the edge of full mental break-down when she cried, "Harry! Say something, I beg of you!"

"You…you mean I'm going to be a daddy?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Hermione replied.

"Oh, my God, Hermione you've made me the happiest man on the face of the friggin' planet!" Harry cried, vaulting up and taking Hermione in his arms, spinning around. He stopped, looking at her before dropping from out of he line of vision and beginning to coo at her stomach. "Hey, this is daddy. I hope you can hear me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I doubt that the three-week-old embryo in my womb can hear you."

"Well, you can here me, and I just want to say that I love you both," Harry said, standing up and wrapping his arms around he once more.

"We love you, too."


A/N: Okay, there it is. I hope you all had fun reading it. This is going un beta'd. oh, well. All spelling and grammar mistakes are my fault and my fault entirely. Thanks for reading.