Revenge is Sweet

Chapter Four

Arrangements

Three weeks later my dad came into my bedroom, wondering if anything was wrong. See, I'm a morning person, and I never, never, stay in bed after nine o'clock unless I'm terribly ill.

He found me curled up in my chair, crying. My period was a week late and I'd just done the diagnostic spell that morning. No doubt about it; I was pregnant.

People tell me that they would never talk to their father about things like that, but I did. I guess he had always both father and mother to me. We had a good long talk about everything that had happened and he didn't lecture me at all. Good old Dad.

In the wizarding world, of course, one simply does not have a child outside of wedlock. Any witch who tried that would be shunned--unable to find a job, among other things. And, contrary to what Muggles believe, there is no such thing as a pregnancy termination spell or potion. Pregnancy is strongly linked to earth magic; aborting a child would seriously endanger the witch's magical abilities.

This left me with only two alternatives: I could either marry Ron Weasley, or I could find another man to marry me. Considering that I hadn't had a date for the last two years, the first alternative seemed far more likely. Unfortunately I hadn't a clue as to how to approach the esteemed Mr. Weasley.

Luckily, Dad was on my side. "I'll talk to him first," he said. "Break the news. You come along in, say, twenty minutes or so."

I waited about twenty seconds after Dad apparated to perform the Disillusionment Charm I'd learned from Harry. Then I followed him. I am a Slytherin, after all.

Dad was knocking on the door of the Burrow. A short, plump woman who could only be Molly Weasley was talking to him. I crept forward to overhear the conversation. "Well, my daughter tells me he follows the Chudley Cannons religiously, and I'd like to have a word with him about their strategies," Dad was saying.

A few minutes later Ron appeared, looking eager for Quidditch talk. Dad steered him down the lane, ambling along at an easy pace. "Actually, this is about Millicent," he said seriously.

"Oh," Ron replied, surprised. "She--she hasn't had any bad side effects of the battle, has she?"

"No," said my father with a sigh, "Just side effects from the party that followed."

Ron turned red. "Such as..."

"Pregnancy."

Ron's mouth opened and shut soundlessly several times. Finally he managed to stammer, "As in...as in...having a baby?"

"That is the standard definition of pregnancy," said my father quietly.

"Oh Merlin, I thought that with Voldemort dead I wouldn't get into any more scrapes. Mum's going to kill me," he moaned. He stopped suddenly and looked seriously at Dad. "Speaking of killing me, is there a compelling reason that you're not beating me to death?"

My father smiled quietly. He did look imposing--he was as tall as Ron and about twice as wide--but he had always been a big softie. He'd been a Hufflepuff, in fact. "Um...actually," he said, suddenly very interested in a small pebble on the roadside, "that would be rather hypocritical of me, seeing as I did the same thing at your age..."

Ron smiled back at him shyly. "Ah. Well, I suppose you won't be doing me in then. And maybe Mum will forbear too, seeing as she can stop nagging me to settle down. How soon should it be, do you think? I'll need to borrow some money to buy a ring."

"I can give you Priscilla's old ring, if you like. Millicent's mother, you know. Or I can give you the money for a new ring if you prefer. Best not to start marriage being in debt," Dad said in a practical tone.

Ron flushed. "Er...I guess that would do. She wouldn't mind her mum's ring, would she?"

"Goodness, no. She's always been very practical about things."

I slipped behind a hedge, removed the Disillusionment charm, and Apparated to a point ten feet away from them.

"Why, hello, sweetheart!" said my father tenderly.

Ron looked at me apologetically. It struck me that he felt sorrier for me than for himself. I suddenly had hope that I might have a decent life after all.

Dad left so that we could "make arrangements by ourselves", as he put it. After he apparated away we got down to business.

Business was all it was. Ron said he would marry me (it was a statement rather than a question) and we settled on a date one week away.

We also discussed living arrangements. Neither of us made much money, which meant that we'd end up living with his parents or mine. In the end, we agreed that my father's house was less crowded and would be more suitable.

In all the time we were talking we never even touched each other.