Not On My Watch!

Hermione Granger was in extreme pain.

Well, you would be too, if you were pushing out a watermelon sized life-form through a golf ball sized hole.

"THIS SHIT HURTS!!!" wailed Hermione. She had sweat beads rolling down her forehead. Her hair hadn't been combed in six months, so it was quite unruly.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before becoming a prostitute, Ms. Granger," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," replied Minerva McGonagall, "good things never come to twelve-year-old girls who sell their bodies."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MCGONAGALL!"

"Okay," said McGonagall, looking quite dejected. It wasn't until later that she cried herself to sleep.

"Now, Ms. Granger, that's no way to behave," said Poppy.

"YOU HAVE A MOUSTACHE!"

"Why, I never--"

"JUST GET IT OVER WITH!"

Poppy touched Hermione's swollen stomach with her wand, the baby flew out at 500 miles per hour.

Dumbledore caught it with a baseball glove. "That's puttin' on the ol' pepper!" cackled the crazy old man.

"Well, here is your... er... son?" Madam Pomfrey said with hesitation. "I'm pretty sure it has a penis."

"YAY, PENIS!" shrieked Dumbledore. He ripped off all his clothes and went streaking around the Hospital Wing.

"Now, really, Albus..." said McGonagall in an annoyed manner.

"PENIS PENIS PENIS!" the batty old man chanted.

Hermione took the baby from Madam Pomfrey. "Well, what am I supposed to do with this shit?"

"BAKE IT IN A PIE!"

"Now, Albus, you know what happened last time..."

"BABY IN THE BAKEHOUSE!" hooted the old man, who most definitely had a couple of screws loose.

"I really must be going now," said Hermione with a sigh and stood up, "I can't imagine missing class!" She began to walk out of the Hospital Wing.

"WAIT!" Madam Pomfrey cried out. "You are forgetting your baby!"

"Oh yeah..." Hermione said, turning around and taking the baby again. She then stuffed it in her schoolbag and walked out. She did fail to notice, however, that one of the baby's limbs was hanging out.

"Hermione, my dear, your baby can be seen."

"So? It doesn't look like rain."

Everyone looked at her, included that naked Dumbledore. The baby was now wailing.

"Doesn't it need milk?" suggested McGonagall.

"No," said Hermione. "There are some powdered doughnuts in my bag, along with some Firewhiskey."

"FIREWHISKEY!?" shouted Pomfrey. "YOU'LL MICROWAVE THE BABY!"

"Yay!" shouted the senile old man, clapping his hands in an almost retarded manner and jumping up and down. "I love T.V. dinners!"

"Now, Albus, you remember last time..." said McGonagall.

"That is quite in bad taste," huffed Poppy.

"What red and bubbly and scratches at the window before blowing up?" queried Dumbledore.

"Anyyyyyway..." Hermione said loudly. "I should really be getting to class now."

With that, Hermione strolled down the corridor to that crazy moving staircase.

"Hey, Hermione!" called out a familiar voice. It was Harry Potter. "Did you shed some pounds? You're not fat and disgusting anymore! I figured it was all those nights you were tutoring Crabbe and Goyle."

"Erm... no, Harry, it was... A BASILISK!" Hermione feigned fainting.

"Shit, why does this keep happening? Every prostitute I find randomly faints!"

"Oooh, Harry," said Ginny. "How big is it?"

"Well, Ginny," smirked Harry. He threw open his robes to reveal a pair of furry boxers. "These are made of mink. They were a birthday present from Hagrid. Well, supposedly their mink, but they're quite itchy." He looked down and scratched a bit. "Oh, well, they're flea infested. That explains it."

"Fleas turn me on," sighed Ginny.

"Let's shag."

*Cue porno music*

Hermione ran to the Hospital Wing. "I told Harry I was petrified by a Basilisk."

"Damn," said Pomfrey. "I'm so sorry to have to do this."

Everything went black.

------

"HERMIONE, YOU'RE ALIVE!" screeched a red-faced Ron Weasley.

"Indeed," said Hermione, rubbing a sore head.

"I have to go tell the others!" The ginger boy ran out of the room.

"Oh, you are finally awake." Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Well, here is your baby." She plopped the furball into Hermione's bed.

"What the fuck is that?" Hermione yelped, jumping up, "Wait, I had a baby? And this sure as hell isn't a baby! This looks like a cat that's constructed of Hagrid's pubic hair."

"Well, I never, this is your son. Now what is his name?"

"Who's?"

"Your son's."

"Erm...Knowledge."

"Splendid," muttered Pomfrey.

"Doesn't Dumbledore want this?" asked Hermione, who had just found a purple lace thong.

"Erm...no...that's mine," muttered Draco, snatching the undergarments. "By the way, nice hat! Did you get it from Russia? It looks like it was made by a barbarian."

"BARBARIANS IN THE BARN!" shrieked that loony old man. He tripped on his beard while rushing into the room. "OUCHIES!"

Draco left.

"So, how are you planning on taking care of your baby?" questioned Pomfrey.

"I don't really know," replied Hermione. "I never owned a Tamagotchi pet."

Madam Pomfrey slapped her hand to her forehead. Dumbledore copied her and numerous times at that. "Haha, this is fun!" chuckled the marble-less old man, slapping himself repeatedly. He began bleeding. "OUCHIES!" he cried, beginning to sob uncontrollably.

"Now, now, Albus," comforted Poppy, patting the brain-dead old man on the back. "Have a lollipop." She handed Albus a lollipop.

"LOLLIPOP IN THE LOUNGE!" The dangerously insane old man ran out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. She then turned to the girl. "Hermione," she said gently, "I know it's not any of my business but...who's the father?"

Hermione looked at her strangely. "How the fuck is I supposed to know who Dumbledore's dad is? Hmm?"

"Erm, I was referring to 'Knowledge's' father," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to the baby that looked more like a pile of pubic hair rather than a baby, "You know... Who's your baby daddy? Who did you 'knock boots' with?"

"Still, how the fuck am I supposed to know?" Hermione asked, beginning to lose her patience, "I don't remember half of the guys that hired me!"

Poppy shook her head. She felt sorry for Hermione Granger. Those damn Mudbloods, they think they can come into Hogwarts just to procreate and make little half-blood children. Not on her watch.

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" yelled Pomfrey.

"What are you talking to, you crazy bitch?" asked Hermione, looking angry. "I'm the one with the 'baby' here, okay? I have missed classes for an indefinite number of months." Hermione gasped and all the color quickly drained from her face. "MY CLASSES!"

"YOU PEED!" accused Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione laughed nervously. "I got scared... but I think I'm okay now." She looked down at Knowledge and then shit her pants. "Damn, guess not."

Madam Pomfrey looked down at the little furball too. "Um, I think I need to go to the bathroom..." she said nervously. Hermione could not help but notice a turd shaped bulge in the woman's robes as she left.

Hermione shook her head and changed her clothes. She preformed an enlarging spell on her bag and stuffed the baby in. It cried a little. Hermione poured some Firewhiskey down its throat. Now instead of crying, the baby was hiccupping.

Hermione signed and went to the Great Hall for the end of the year feast.

How was she going to get through Hogwarts with a baby?

She knew that she needed to find the father.