Harry swore violently as he shot several curses at the various detritus that was scattered around the room for that exact reason.

He would not cry. There was no reason too.

No one had kept important information from him for the last three years.

Hogwarts was right to not have any introductory courses for muggle borns, or a sexual education course for all students, informing them that if a wizard was strong enough magically, or wanted it bad enough, his magic could create a womb and therefor carry a child.

No. Hogwarts would let the muggle borns suffer through learning to use a quill, and not offer an alternative. Let them fumble through learning Latin so their spell work wasn't up to par. Let them find out, after they've been tossed aside like yesterday's rubbish that the ass hat they'd given their virginity too, had left him up the duff.

"Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole!" he fired off a particularly nasty hex that demolished a dummy that looked suspiciously like Albus Dumbledore.

His eyes burned but Harry refused to give in, he flung more curses and hexes at various dummies that looked like the people he was mad at.

Hermione Granger, for not supporting him when he'd told her he was gay.

Ron Weasley, for convincing him he cared about Harry before leaving him for Hermione. And wasn't that a particularly gruesome shot to the crotch.

Remus and Severus Lupin-Snape, for not giving Harry the talk that every teenager dreads.

The entire Dursley family for the way they'd treated him.

And anyone he could think of who had ever said anything about how someone had died because Harry hadn't killed Voldemort sooner.

He shuddered and slumped against the wall, blinking furiously.

Why had no one bothered to tell him he could get pregnant? Did they not think it was important? They could have at least given him a book or a pamphlet, or something so he wouldn't be so… lost.

He was barely 17. He wasn't ready for this. He may have defeated the darkest wizard of the age, but Harry was still completely innocent. Aside from a few tentative kisses, he had never been with anyone before Ron, or after for that matter, and there was so much he didn't know about everything.

He would not cry.

It was his own fault for not doing his own research, but when you couldn't get the proper material from the library or the book store, it was kind of hard. Not that he hadn't tried of course, he had; the library just didn't have any sexual education books, and the book store was not discreet with anything and if he ordered something it would just end up on the front page of the prophet.

He'd tried asking the twins but all he got from them were ones for lesbians, furries and an assortment of fetishes that Harry didn't want to think about. There wasn't any for the young gay wizard.

Draco was wrong. They all were. He was male, and he couldn't get pregnant. This was all some huge practical joke to play on poor, naïve Harry Potter. Besides, he didn't remember ever seeing another pregnant guy, had he?

He sank into the large plush chair that had appeared behind him as the broken victims of his wrath vanished. He stared into the fire that formed in the wall as he absently rubbed his stomach.

Would it really be so bad if he was? Sure, he was only 17 and still in school, but he was ahead of his class and he could take his NEWT's sooner rather than later. He had a house, well a small cottage just outside Dublin and more than enough galleons for a lifetime or three.

He had looked after the neighbours kids when he still lived with the Dursley's, so he wasn't worried about actually handling infants.

But before he made any decisions he was going to go talk to Poppy and then Remus and Severus; they were his guardians now.