Those Crazy Nine Months

CHAPTER FIVE

Hermione’s eyes widen, and Neville’s grasp on his glass tightens a bit. Michael surveys their reactions, and thinks hard for a minute. "In America... where I’m from, most forms of magic are referred to as Wicca... and from what I read about it in high school it is real, but I've never seen anything I would consider magical."

"Keep in mind that I love you, and nothing I say will change what I feel for you," Harry says nervously, pushing on the bridge of his glasses out of habit. "It is real. There are Wizards and Witches out there. They go to school, have jobs, live lives the same as non-magical people but just in their own way... and I am one of them."

Michael’s eyes sharpen in something akin to fear as he looks at Harry.

"It's not a bad thing. Nothing like the cults I've read about in America," Hermione offers.

"How is this possible? I mean what did you do, just decide one day that you were going to practice magic and start reading books about it? When did this start?" Michael asks, standing and starting to pace.

"No, it was nothing like that. Magical ability is mostly a genetic trait. I didn't even find out about it myself until I was eleven," Harry tries to explain, but is beginning to feel choked up as he can see Michael begin to panic.

"We've been together for over a year, why are you just telling me now?" the brown-eyed boy asks, looking down at his boyfriend.

"Would it have made a difference if I had told you before? I love you, and my genetic make up can't change that. The fact that I am male hasn't mattered, why would that I am a Wizard make a difference?" Harry counters, standing so he is eye level to his boyfriend.

"It doesn't make a difference in whether or not you love me, or I love you, but... I don't know how to believe this...," Michael says, sinking back into his chair.

Harry glances at his friends, before placing his wand hand in the air a few inches from his hip. He speaks softly under his breath, a shimmer of air parting to reveal his wand. A simple eleven-inch length of holly, hidden inside it is a tail feather from the phoenix Fawkes. The wood is polished and shines even though the wand itself is seldom used in his half muggle life.

Michael gasps as Harry’s hand closes around the wand. "It's got to be some kind of trick. What is this? Some hidden camera show?"

Neville looks a bit bewildered, and Hermione stifles a chuckle behind her hand.

"No love, it's real," Harry says, lowering his hand. "And there's nothing I can do to change who I am. Trust me, I've tried."

"OK, so you've got some kind of magical powers. So what? Why tell me now?" Michael asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Boy Who Lived sits back down in his chair, setting his wand on the table as he says, "You're right. Magic is dangerous. With a flick of that wand, the right words, and enough willpower behind it I could strike any one of us dead... invisible... or yes even turn you into a frog. I wouldn't of course, but you're right to be afraid." Harry looks up at his boyfriend, waiting to catch his eyes before continuing. "Magic flows through me, and there is no way to shut it off... And sometimes... it does stuff without me asking."

Neville takes that as his cue, and pulls a small bottle out of his pocket. In the bottle is a closed flower bud. "This flower is Ancula Parvulus, one of many plants with magical properties," he says as he stands and walks over to Harry. Quickly he uncorks the bottle, and tips the bud into Harry’s open hand. As it falls, the flower blooms so the end of its journey is a small yellow blossom on Harry’s palm.

"It is because of this flower that I found out why I've been sick lately. Every morning after you left for almost four days now I've been throwing up, so today I decided to pay a visit to Hermione. She's a mediwitch, the Wizarding form of a doctor. I figured if nothing else she could give me something to keep me from throwing up, but she was busy when I got there so I went to wait in the waiting area where I ran into Neville," Harry says, explaining how while he and Neville had been walking they went past that flower and it bloomed. "Neville told me that this flower only blooms when... when someone walks by who is..."

"What? A monkey? Dying? About to be forced to walk on his head for the rest of his life while humming the tune to 'It's a small world after all'?" Michael says, too nervous to wait for Harry to gather his courage.

"Pregnant." The word bursts out before Harry can stop it. To him, it is as if Harry can hear his world shattering as he sees the disbelief and horror in Michael’s eyes, and tears build in the corners of his eyes.

"What?! That's not possible! Not physically possible, magic or no!" he exclaims, golden eyes flaring.

"Anything is possible with magic," Neville says softly, placing a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

"No! No, it's just not! I don't know what you are playing at, Harry, but I'm done with it," Michael declares, rising to his feet and leaving the room. A moment later the door down the hall is slammed shut, and Harry bursts into tears.

"Shh, don't cry Harry. Don't cry. We're here for you," Hermione says, going around the table to Harry’s side and wrapping her arms around him.

"I knew he wouldn’t be happy... I just knew it... but I hoped... and look what happened?" Harry sobs, burying his face in Hermione’s shoulder as the glamour on their clothes wears off. "He hates me now, and now he's going to leave me."

"So it's true..? All this rubbish about magic and you being pregnant?" Michael’s voice comes soft a few minutes later, as he returns to the living room and sees Harry wiping tears from his eyes.

Vibrant green eyes flash with anger as Harry says, "As much as I am having a hard time believing it myself, a baby made with someone I love is not rubbish! And neither is the way in which it was made possible!"

"I'm sorry, but it's just too difficult for me to comprehend," Michael says, sliding a small suitcase into view. "I'm going to Luca’s to sort this out, and I'm going to ask him to let me stay there for a few days."

Hermione walks over to the brown haired boy, slow so as to not scare him away. "I’m sorry but I cannot let you leave...," she says, pulling her wand from her pocket and casts the leg-locker curse on him. "Locomotor Mortis... You can't leave. Not with the intention of speaking to other Muggles about the Wizarding world."

Before anyone else can say anything there is a tapping on the window. Neville moves over to it, and opens it to reveal a tawny horned owl sitting on the sill with a sealed letter from the Ministry of Magic. Taking the letter from the owl, Neville opens and reads it. Chuckling, he walks over and hands the letter to Hermione.

Skimming the letter, the young woman exclaims, "By Merlin Harry, you better bloody well appreciate this! I just got a letter from Mafalda Hopkirk, reprimanding me about using magic on muggles! She says I'm lucky you were here or else they'd be sending an Auror to arrest me! Me!"

"Sorry Hermione, but it's not like I asked you to lock him there!" Harry says, trying not to laugh.

"True, but I couldn't let him go talk to this Luca person about your problems. Not when they involve the Wizarding world," Hermione admits, turning her attention back to Michael as she slips the letter in her pocket.

"Harry...," Michael says, defeated and hanging his head. "I love you; I've loved you for over a year now... But this... this I can't handle. The magic by itself would have been stretching it, but a baby? I... I’m not prepared to be a father. I can't. I'm supposed to be studying to become a five star chef! To make my father proud! I'm not ready for this kind of added responsibility!"

Harry stands up, and walks over to the golden eyed boy. "I understand. I... I’m going to have Hermione cast a charm on you that will make you forget about us... and about everything you heard today. When you go to meet Luca and Jenny tonight the magic will rub off on them and they will forget too. We can... We can make it so if we run into each other sometime in the future something will trigger the memories to come back, or not. Which would you prefer?" He speaks softly, placing his hand on his loves cheek.

"I don’t want to forget you Harry... I love you...," Michael says, tears shining in his eyes.

"I know, Michael... I know, and I love you too. That's why I'm letting you keep the flat. Rent is paid up for the next few months, until January I believe. It will be easier for me to find a new place, then you." After placing a chaste kiss on his lover’s stunned lips, Harry turns to Hermione. "Let him remember."

"Finite Incantatum," Hermione says softly, releasing the young man from the leg-locker curse. Placing her wand to his temple, and whispering an incantation under her breath, she puts him to sleep. Catching the falling man with a quickly placed 'Wingardium Leviosa', Hermione hovers him over to the couch and lays him down gently. "Obliviate..." she says, concentrating as she casts one last spell.

"Will he be able to remember..?" Harry asks, looking at the sleeping man with concern.

"Only if he sees you and the baby, and still loves you and you still love him. If you don't still both love each other it will only be a sense of deja vu on his part, even though you will remember. I put him to sleep to give us time to pick up your stuff. You're too nice sometimes, giving him this place," Hermione explains, embracing Harry in a reassuring hug.

"Don't worry, you've still got us," Neville says, placing his hand on Harry’s back. "We'll help you through this."

"You're just in this for more of that silly plant!" Harry teases, wiping one last tear from his eye.

"Oy! What do I look like? A Slytherin??" the other man exclaims, looking playfully scandalized.

Hermione rolls her eyes and tugs Harry with her to the bedroom. Together the three of them manage to pack all of Harry’s belongings haphazardly into his old school trunk.