Lost Innocence

Chapter One

The dungeon was full of vapour and fumes of potions. People were cutting their slugs and roots for the potions. Tracey felt sick as she worked on her potion with Cecilia Runcorn. She could see Ron Weasley deliberately cutting uneven slices for Draco Malfoy, who had hurt his arm after being attacked by a hippogriff. The potion behind Tracey was giving off a strong scent of sulphur and after a while, Tracey felt like she was about to be sick to her stomach, so she stood up and dashed out of the classroom.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape!" she said as she ran out.

She found the nearest bathroom and ran in the nearest cubicle. After a few minutes, she settled down and felt somewhat better. In the distance, she heard the bell ring to end class. The door opened and someone walked in.

"Is someone in here?" a girl's voice was asking. Tracey opened the door and looked out. It was Laura Gamp, who was one of the Prefects for Slytherin. Laura was a fifth year. Tracey stepped out.

"Tracey?" said Laura, a bit surprised. "Are you OK? It sounded like you were throwing up."

"I'll be fine," said Tracey, washing her hands. "I was in Potions and the fumes and vapour just hit me, for some reason. I had to make a mad dash to here. It's weird. Normally, the smells don't bother me."

"Could be just a stomach bug." suggested Laura.

"Probably," agreed Tracey. "Maybe I'll just take the day off."

"Yeah," said Laura.

Tracey was OK for most of the day, and was able to attend class. A few days later, however, the bug seemed to come back and hit Tracey harder. Fortunately, it was a Saturday.

"Again?" said Laura when Tracey stepped out of the cubicle.

"Yeah, a bit worse," said Tracey.

Laura looked closely at her. "You match nicely with our house colours right now."

"Thanks," said Tracey. "I'm going to go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Good idea," said Laura. A small voice in her head told her it wasn't a bug; it was something much more serious.

Tracey headed over there; a feeling of unease was starting to sink in. She pulled out her calendar and checked flipped to October and thought back. She seemed to have missed her last two cycles. Her last one was two weeks before the first Hogsmeade trip, which she and Blaise had skipped.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Davis?" asked Madam Pomfrey when Tracey walked in.

"I haven't been feeling that well," said Tracey, and she told Madam Pomfrey about her symptoms.

"When was the last time you had your menstrual cycle?" Madam Pomfrey asked when Tracey mentioned she had ruled out cramps.

"What? What's that mean?" Tracey asked. She didn't like the sound of that. There was only one reason to ask that question.

"You heard me," replied Madam Pomfrey, giving her a stern look.

Tracey thought back."I think two months ago, why?"

"I need you to lie down," said Madam Pomfrey taking something out a desk drawer.

"What is that?" asked Tracey lying down on the hospital wing bed. Madam Pomfrey waved the instrument in front of Tracey's belly and some smoke came out. Madam Pomfrey gave Tracey a stern look.

"You're pregnant," Madam Pomfrey told Tracey.

Tracey felt like the world was caving in. She felt shocked, sick and confused all in one.

"I'm what?" she cried. "No. No, I can't be! That has to be a mistake, I can't be pregnant!"

"You are," said Madam Pomfrey.

"But . . . I'm only fourteen!" Tracey spluttered.

"It's a bit late now to think about that," said Madam Pomfrey, and then she softened a bit. "Who is the father?"

"Blaise Zabini," said Tracey, barely audibly.

"Well, I suggest you tell him. He has a right to know," replied Madam Pomfrey. "And I'll need to tell your parents."

"They'll kill me! They'll throw me out, I know it!" Tracey protested.

"It's the school's protocol, Miss Davis," Madam Pomfrey replied. "They have to know."

"Well, at least they'll pay attention to me," Tracey muttered.

Later that day, Professor McGonagall asked to speak with Tracey and confronted her about the pregnancy.

"I shall speak with Mr. Zabini about this," Professor McGonagall assured Tracey. "I do not hold with the belief that the girl in question is the only one at fault."

"Right," Tracey said, barely hearing what was being said.

"Listen, Miss Davis," said Professor McGonagall, a bit more gently. "You're not the first girl to make this mistake, or the last. Just be sure to take care of yourself, and your life isn't over, you haven't ruined your life."

"I'm fourteen, and I'm pregnant," Tracey said. "Yet you expect me to believe I haven't ruined my life?"

Somehow, she found that hard to believe.

Tracey started the next day off in a daze, still trying to digest what Madam Pomfrey had told her. What was she going to do now? How was she going to face the school? What she going to with this baby? She couldn't raise it; she wasn't ready to be a mother! Her parents were going to kill her! What would the others say when they found out?

Madam Pomfrey told her that she needed to tell Blaise, but Tracey had no idea what to say. Was she supposed to just go up to someone and tell him you were carrying his child? Sure, that worked fine if you were a twenty-something and married. Plus, Blaise hadn't even so much as looked at her since that fateful night (though she thought she saw him turning the moves on the other girls).

Blaise was talking to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Tracey walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Blaise," she started, struggling to get the words out. "I need to talk to you."

"Busy," he said.

"Now!" she said desperately. "Alone," she added, looking at Draco and his goons. No way would she tell him in front of them. Draco sneered and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled menacingly.

Zabini went with Tracey to an unused classroom, and Tracey closed the door.

"What is it?" he demanded.

Tracey opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, Blaise looked at her impatiently. She tried again, but she seemed to have lost her voice. After a few tries, Blaise lost his patience and started to leave. As he reached the door, Tracey's voice seemed to come back to her.

"I'm pregnant!" she blurted out, before she even knew what she was saying.

Blaise turned around and looked at her.

"What?!" he demanded.

"I. . . " said Tracey, but she couldn't bring herself to repeat it.

"And who is the father?" he asked indifferently.

"Whose do you think it is?" Tracey shouted. "You are!"

"It's not mine!" he scoffed.

"What, do you think I've been . . . with other boys?" she asked. "I haven't! It's your baby!"

"You think I am really going to commit to you?" he asked disdainfully. "A common half-blood?"

"I'm a what?" Tracey echoed, her voice rising. "This is nothing to do with commitment; I'm telling you that I'm pregnant!" she said, becoming somewhat hysterical.

"I'm telling you it's not my problem," he said coldly.

"So . . . so you're just going to just ignore it?!" she exclaimed.

"It's your problem, not mine," he replied, unconcerned. "Not my kid, not my problem."

"You're going to make me go through this alone?!" Tracey shrieked. "After you knocked me up? You can't do that!"

Blaise said nothing and walked away. Tracey didn't expect him to be of much help, but to callously say it wasn't his problem? Why did she ever like him?