Situational Ethics

Situational Ethics

By Mizzfreestyle

Edited by: Laurie-an

Chapter Eleven:

“The Little Bun”

There was nothing like a sore arse on a cold winter’s morning. Harry could readily believe it had swelled overnight to the size of a hippogriff’s. He looked over his shoulder at the fabric over his butt and hoped that when he pulled away the sheets, his rear wasn’t any larger, or smaller, than it had been yesterday. When he tried to turn over in his bed, he felt as though he was trying to flip over the Hogwart’s Express. Apart from the very real pain, moving just took far too much effort. First, he had to move his head and shoulders, then his legs and hope that his torso followed without too much distress. Finally, he was sitting up. Oh sweet Merlin, what had he done?

“Ow, ow, ow!” There were blisters in Harry’s insides, he was sure. Or if not blisters, something else causing extreme pain; like bruises. “How can blokes do this on a regular basis?” he asked himself. “They must have buns of jell-o.”

There was a loud creaking noise outside the door, followed by a suspicious silence. Someone must have been walking by. “Please don’t come in, but if you do, bring a painkiller,” Harry whispered to himself, as he tried to negotiate himself carefully into his slippers. “I’m never going to walk again.” He knew he was exaggerating but the effort of moving was seriously agonizing. Staying in bed, however, was not an option, as Caitlin would know something was wrong, and then Snape, of course, would refuse ever to take him again. He would see the boy as forever fragile; a doll meant to stay in its box.

One step. Two steps. Three steps, that’s right, Harry, just keep going. The boy told himself. He had one hand on his back and the other stretched out, resembling some sort of guide for a person in the dark.

At last he reached the door but, thereafter, he would have to act normal if he was to go beyond it. Harry straightened his back and attempted to take slow but sure steps. Perhaps if he just looked tired then no one would pay him much attention. Maybe, he thought, he could lie and say that he had too much wine and his head was a little unsteady. He dismissed this idea, when he pictured Snape feeding him a potion.

After being in the bathroom, getting dressed, for what seemed like an eternity, Harry could not put off attempting the stairs any longer. One by one he moved down each step, carefully balancing his weight before daring another.

“Harry, is that you dear?” He could see Caitlin through the doorway into the drawing room, seated by the Christmas tree. “Make haste, I have presents for you, Harry dear.”

Haste she said, but haste Harry could not do. “Slow and steady,” Harry told himself quietly, as he continued down the stairs. “I hurt my foot, but it’ll be alright,” he said more loudly.

“Really? Well, I can give you something to take. A pain-relief potion perhaps?”

Oh, pain relief of any sort sounded fantastic. “I think I will have one, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Caitlin hurried off to the kitchen and, while she searched frantically, Harry shuffled into the drawing room over to the mass of presents beneath the brightly decorated tree. There were large red striped parcels, with long fancy ribbons, and small ones each with a perfect tiny bow. Others were decorated with bright coloured wrapping paper while some were rather plain. Severus must have done those, he thought. “Here, Harry.”

Harry took the potion and swallowed it in one gulp; experience of Madame Pomfrey’s concoctions suggested sipping would only add to the discomfort. “Thank you.”

“I have presents for you. I bought you many different things because I wasn’t sure what you already had. I do hope you like them.”

Moved by her generosity, Harry hugged her but when he heard Snape’s voice from the doorway, he pulled back. “Please, do not allow me to disturb your sentimental moment.”

“Come, Severus, I have presents for you too.” Caitlin moved to sit beneath the tree, where she sorted the presents into three piles.

“I hate to disappoint the Golden Boy,” Snape sneered, “But do not look for a present from me.”

Harry permitted himself a wide smile, aimed squarely between the professor’s eyes. So the man might think, the smile said, when, in reality, he had given the only present the Golden Boy wanted.

Snape sat down in an armchair next to the fireplace and took the gifts Caitlin handed him. He thanked her offhandedly and gratified each opened parcel with a peck to her cheek. After last night’s escapade in the guest house, he cringed at the thought of engaging in anything more effusive?

“This is fantastic,” said Harry, as Caitlin passed a few presents to him. They weren’t anything memorable, or precious, just simple gifts that were twice appreciated because they were agreeable and useful. Warm, soft socks; a nice, casual shirt; jeans made of strong, fine denim; and cookies freshly baked and screaming to be enjoyed. And then there were other things like a quill set and a quilted blanket with an image of a ferocious lion rampant.

“These presents are amazing, Caitlin, thank you so much.”

“Yes. Useful presents are usually the best.”

After he had unwrapped his last parcel, Snape brought his own gifts out from under the tree. Caitlin ooh-ed and aah-ed, smiled and hugged her husband after receiving each and every one. They were gifts any man would give to his wife, including fine jewellery, perfume, a silk dress shawl and of course, chocolate.

Though it was a little unsettling to see Caitlin so happy only days after losing her baby, Harry appreciated that she was probably putting on an act so as not to spoil the day for him and Snape.

“I love you, Severus.” She kissed Snape softly on his lips and Harry looked away. If she only knew that just last night, those same lips were on his; tenderly loving his lips, gently caressing his body.

She pulled away and buried her head into Snape’s neck, holding him tight. Snape looked over her head at Harry, who licked his lips before puckering them up affectionately towards Snape. The Potions Master narrowed his eyes and glared menacingly until Harry looked away. Ah… He so wants me, Harry thought sarcastically to himself.

Suddenly tired of the domestic spectacle, he thought about getting up and leaving them to it, but, in time, remembered his ‘critical’ condition and remained seated. There was no way Harry was going to signal that his arse was in a delicate state and needed to be handled with care, otherwise he knew he would suffer greatly for the next twenty-four hours. He busied himself with his presents, looking up again only when Caitlin announced she was going to see to breakfast.

Once alone, Snape casually looked over at Harry and raised his brow. “Sore are you? I do not doubt every fibre of your being is swollen and in pain. You were rather vigorous last night.”

How did he know?

Fuck you. That’s what Harry wanted to say but Caitlin was coming back with some tea, and Harry had a feeling that any profanity might dampen her Christmas cheer. Instead, he gazed out of the window. The sun was bright, snow covered the dales, and Harry was about to enjoy a generous serving of Twinings breakfast tea by the fire. If only there was a dog the scene would be quite apocryphal.

“Dress warm, Potter, later we will be going out for a meal.” Snape’s mouth twisted into a sneer and he added, “As our custom is to be bestowed on a four-star restaurant, I would appreciate it if you dressed with more attention than is your usual habit.”

“Oh,” was all Harry could say, as Snape walked from the room.

He returned to the view from the window. Ahead, Harry could see a scruffy Brown Owl heading towards the manor. When it smacked into the center of the window-pane, Harry realized whose owl it was. Getting up carefully, Harry took small, baby steps towards the window while whimpering softly. “Hey you,” said Harry, nearly two minutes later.

The owl bounced up and presented Harry with a small bag before taking off. Opening it he could see much larger presents than the size of the bag suggested was possible. He put his fingers into the bag and carefully pulled out the presents one at a time, watching with awe as each one expanded to their conventional size. “Who are those from, Harry?” asked Caitlin.

“My friends at school,” he said excitedly, pulling out the fifth and final gift.

As every previous Christmas since he had arrived at Hogwarts, Harry received his Weasley sweater, which, this year, was a bright lemon with horizontal stripes of dark blue. Gifts from Ginny, Ron, Fred and George, and Hermione made up the rest of his presents. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute,” called Caitlin, from the kitchen.

HARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTER

The rest of the holiday break with the Snapes’ was generally excellent (if Harry ignored his professor’s jibes) until the end of December and a few, unsettling hours before New Year. At her husband’s invitation, Caitlin’s family had returned to the manor and were enjoying champagne, cheese and fruits while they gossiped and mingled. Too many people, Harry thought, as he sat on the couch staring into his glass of champagne. He knew it was too soon to detect any sign that he was pregnant but, if he was, he also knew that drinking the glass would not be advisable. He abruptly pushed it away, albeit regretfully, as he rather enjoyed the flavour of champagne. “Pumpkin juice will just have to do for tonight.”

One of Caitlin’s nieces passed in front of him with a large tray of miniature quiches, and he reached out and took two, devouring them swiftly. Feeling much better, he seated himself down again only to be tempted upright when more appetizers approached. Taking two of everything, he ate puff-pastry shrimp balls, vegetables with different dips, slices of bread with butter, cocktail sausages, cheese, and finally something Harry didn’t recognize, but found rather tasty. What else was he to do? Mingle? The family members were far too busy talking to each other to pay Harry any mind, and Snape was not around. Caitlin either had not noticed his absence or did not mind, being too busy ensuring her guests’ needs were being met.

Another hour passed and Harry felt good. He was pretty much full of quiche and other sundry snacks and was slouched in the soft cushions, doing nothing more than letting his stomach digest.

The countdown was only minutes away before the host finally showed up. Harry raised his eyebrows but there was no one to see, as everyone was tuned to the voices coming from the wireless. Probably he had been reading upstairs where no one dared to tread, he thought. Two minutes to the countdown and the excitement in the room was palpable. While the adults raised glasses in a salute, “to sweet memories,” the younger members jumped up and down. Except, that is, for one little girl, who was crying into her mother’s skirts after her older brother had told her the old year was about to die.

Harry pondered the ‘sweet memories’ of his own year. These last twelve months had been a pain and he was glad to see the year go. Maybe this next would bring promising things, such as a child.

And then something weird happened. Harry’s stomach churned uncomfortably and he felt his bile rise. Slapping a hand to his mouth, he hurried to the bathroom before he could vomit over the couch.

The only one that saw Harry go was Snape, who was in the corner of the room, swirling his wine in its glass.

The countdown began but Harry did not care, he knelt on the floor of the bathroom, throwing up his evening’s meal into the toilet bowl. He held his stomach until, little by little, the spasms abated.

In the distance, he could hear everyone counting, “Four, three two…”

“Oh yeah, happy New Year,” he groaned. He retched one more time before he heard the chimes of Big Ben and uproar of cheers from the other room. Well, he thought, at least his bottom didn’t hurt anymore.

Harry emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, feeling rather dizzy and certainly not in the mood for celebrating. He skirted the crowd in the hall and headed for his room, not knowing if anyone saw him, but not caring either. He didn’t know if the vomiting meant he was experiencing morning sickness, or if one could suffer from it during any time of the day. When he thought about it, he realized he didn’t know much about the experiences of pregnancy at all. What he did know was that a wave of exhaustion had overtaken him and he needed sleep; a lot of it.

Snape watched from within the mob of people in the hall as Harry made his way up the stairs. He was reluctant to attend to his guests when Harry was behaving oddly, but Caitlin had made a few mews of disapproval at his earlier absence so he would just have to wait a bit.

An interminable time later, to Snape, Caitlin began to lead the guests to the door and he managed to sneak away. He crept up the stairs and into Harry’s room without knocking. He peered into the gloom and saw the boy lying on his back, so deeply asleep he was almost lifeless. He walked over to the bed and, checking the door, touched his fingers to Harry’s face. Although he wanted to ask what had been wrong earlier, he did not wish to wake him. Instead, he ran his finger over the boy’s lips, recalling their unique taste and the enthralling sensations he had felt when he touched them with his own. “Goodnight,” Snape said softly, as he left the room.

SEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPE

Harry wiped his face and leaned back against the wall. He had thrown up for the third time that day. If he puked anymore, he would lose his intestines. “Oh, God,” Harry mumbled as he looked at nothing in particular. “I wasn’t ready for this.”

He stood up to wash his face in the sink. It had been three days since New Year and he hadn’t been able to keep any food down. Every time he ate, his stomach would revolt, if he didn’t eat, he would still retch. Sleeping mostly helped but he would still be greeted with the urge to be sick on waking. “There is nothing in my system.” Harry wiped his face with a towel and then left the bathroom after charming the place so it smelled of lilies.

On the stairway Harry paused, trying to decide whether to get more sleep, or try to stay downstairs for a while. His stomach growled with hunger but if he put anything into it, he knew he would be ill again. What he really wanted was a massive pizza with extra cheese and peanut butter, with a vanilla shake. Oh, and of course Harry couldn’t forget the apple with sour cream. “If I was normal, that would sound sick,” he mumbled, as he walked downstairs. “But a ketchup float with sprinkles doesn’t sound too bad right now either.”

On the couch in the drawing room, Snape was sitting reading a weighty tomb. “Is that yet another encyclopaedia? Or maybe it’s a dictionary with Spanish words. They have a lot of words in their language, you know. Maybe if they put every word into one binding, it would be the size of that behemoth book.” Snape ignored the comment, not even raising an eyebrow.

Seeing him look so comfortable and content on the couch one way or another made Harry feel angry; how dare he enjoy life while Harry was suffering? Even if he wasn’t exactly certain, he wanted to announce he was pregnant with Snape’s child and, furthermore, so far was hating every second of it. Then he would demand a potion that would allow him to eat, swiftly followed by an order for pizza with whatever else he wanted. And maybe after that, they would have hot sex before he passed out.

But Harry knew he would not tell Snape, even though he had every right. Whatever the consequences, he would make sure Snape did not find out about his child-in-the-making unless it was by some accident. He would have to take precautions so that neither he nor anyone else could find out about the baby until it was far too late to do anything about.

“Snape,” Harry greeted as he sat next to him, arms crossed over his chest and staring straight ahead..

Snape finally set down his book and looked at Harry. He sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes. “Have you been sick?”

“It was food poisoning,” Harry responded, “I drank expired milk.”

“You reek of old eggs.”

“And bacon, I had it for breakfast. I’ll be better in a few days, once I get back to Hogwarts. I have something that’ll help me.”

“Would you prefer I give you an antidote?”

“No. I’m losing weight anyway, so it’s alright. I was getting a little chubby.”

This was no time for a diet. Harry should be seeking vitamin pills and other things that would help him have a healthy baby. But he was just too sick to go out looking for any without some help.

He stood up. “If you have time later, take me to an apothecary,” Harry mumbled as he walked towards the stairs.

Snape stared after the boy, musing over why he would need an apothecary.

Caitlin, who was in the kitchen, saw the whole thing. “What’s wrong with Harry?” she asked.

“I neither know nor care. Gryffindors always think they have everything under control, then they become sick and snappy. I advise not to intrude or he might bite your head off.”

HARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTER

After Snape had finished what little chores he had, he took the young wizard into the town to the apothecary, situated in the rear rooms of the muggle pharmacy. Arrayed on its shelves, was everything Harry needed, along with other potions and books that would help him. According to one of the books, it didn’t matter if he was male of female, the pills and potions would all work the same. He hastily selected a few items, including a book that had a small section on male pregnancies, and paid before Snape could look over his purchases. Also, a wave of sickness was once again creeping up his spine.

Taking out the bottles in the safety of his bedroom, he picked up the one for morning sickness. The instructions told him to take one pill with each meal, but not to exceed six a day. Harry swallowed one and tried eating some bread. He hoped the pills would cure his malady, as he was worried that any loss of weight would harm the baby. Even if he wasn’t pregnant, at least he would get some much needed nutrients but then he would have nothing to blame the sickness on. The sooner he took a pregnancy test the better, he decided.

Harry opened the book and flicked to the appropriate page. ‘Urinate in a cup and immediately add a sprinkle of pixy dust. If the contents turn blue, congratulations are in order,’ he read.

“Hmm… Where the hell will I get pixy dust?” he groaned.

There was nothing for it; he would have to ask Snape. Two minutes later and he had asked his question. “You need what?” Snape demanded.

“Pixy dust. Do you have any in your personal store?”

“Yes, of course, it helps identify certain ingredients. What do you need it for?”

“I need to know if a certain potion I have contains an essential ingredient.”

“What potion?”

Urine. Harry remained silent.

Snape narrowed his eyes and glared pointedly at the young man in front of him. When Harry still did not answer, he harrumphed and disappeared into his cellar. Returning a minute later, he handed Harry a small oval jar filled with a strange looking off-white powder. He waited to see whether Harry would volunteer its purpose but, after a tense few seconds in which the boy refused to meet his eye, he let him go.

Back in his room, Harry took a few spoonfuls of the dust and placed it in a bag before taking the jar back downstairs to Snape. Gulping down the last of the Earl Grey tea Caitlin had brought up for him, he rinsed the cup and filled it with urine. After sprinkling a small amount of pixy dust into the bowl, he watched as it changed into a fabulous cerulean blue.

Seeing evidence of his pregnancy was a little difficult to take in. Yes, he had been relentless in following his goal, being meticulous about everything down to the last drop of water. It was just that seeing the blue in the bowl, it was at once exhilarating and yet at the same time, devastating. “Congratulations, Harry Potter.” He took a deep breath and hugged his waist, wanting to jump up and down, sing a song, or shout it to the world from his window. And make love again with the baby’s father. This last, he knew, would happen only if Snape wanted the same.

In the end, Harry settled for doing a disco dance in his room to nothing but his own tune. “Whoo!!”

SEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPE

“How did you spend your New Year?” asked Hermione, as she served herself some potatoes from the massive bowl in the centre of the table.

Chasing a pea around his plate, he responded, “Filling my inners…,” and then emptying them a moment later. He added to himself.

“Did the greasy git give you a hard time?” Ron raised his glass to finish the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“No, not really. I think I might’ve given him a hard time though.” Harry looked up towards the staff table and sighed as Snape drank his wine. “If he only knew…”

“Only knew what, Harry?” asked Ginny.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Harry ate the pea and pushed his plate away.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” asked Hermione. “You know you need your nutrition.”

Harry stared at her, wondering how she had guessed his secret.

“You’re a young man, Harry. You need all the vitamins and minerals you can get.”

“Oh.” Relieved, Harry ate another pea.

“You’re not going to get much from those peas.”

“Perhaps not, but at least they’ll stay in my stomach.”

Ron leaned over the table. “Harry, we have Quidditch practice tomorrow.”

“Fantastic. Then I guess I’ll get an early night.” At that, Harry got up and left the table, but not before glancing over at the staff table again and winking in Snape’s direction.

Harry really didn’t care at the moment if anyone had seen. He had other things to worry about, such as the little, baking bun inside him.