Okay

Completely ripped off of “Dykes to Watch Out For,” a terrific, long-running lesbian comic by Alison Bechdel. For all of you out there who read it…are Mo and Sydney just the perfect dyke versions of Harry and Draco, or what?

“It’s late,” Ron muttered – again – as he paced along the kitchen. “Late. Damn owls, you can never trust them to do anything right!”
“Ron, please. As long as it comes today, then we’ll be fine,” Harry said from his seat at the table. “And owls do plenty things right, anyways.”
“Okay, well, what if it doesn’t come today, Harry? Or what if the stupid thing drops it or breaks it?”
“Breaks it on a cloud?”
“It’s not like they’ll give us a refund if the potion’s late, Harry! Or lost!”
“Ron, you aren’t making this any easier bringing up money. Again,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes.
“Well, sooooorry!” Ron shouted, throwing his hands up in the air and pausing to glare at Harry. “I’m so sorry that I’m failing to be the perfect ‘co-parent-to-be’! This is hard on me, too, Harry! Those bloody potions are damn expensive at 25 galleons* each, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m doing something wrong if I’ve failed this four damn times already!”
“Ron,” Harry said gently, standing up and putting his arms on Ron’s shoulders. “You know damn well that it isn’t your fau-”
An owl swooped through the open window, setting its package down none-too-carefully down on the table. Ron pushed past Harry and practically ran the two feet over to the table.
“Okay, Harry, go get ready, I’ll come in as soon as I get this potion and sign this- hold still, you ruddy damn thing!” Ron hissed as he hurriedly signed the parchment.
The owl gave Ron an owlish glare and took off in a huff, leaving Ron to swear and fumble with the package. He finally managed it open and gently removed the vial from the block of magically frozen nitrogen.**
“Remember, don’t touch the ice!” Harry shouted from the bedroom.
“Ouch!” Ron hissed as he bumped his hand against the ice. “Thank you, Harry…” he muttered, finally managing to extract the vial. Clutching the vial tightly, Ron ran into the bedroom where Harry was naked and pulling back the covers of their bed.
“Here,” Ron said, thrusting the vial towards Harry. Harry took the vial and drank it down as Ron began haphazardly pulling his own clothes off and throwing them around the room.
“Okay. So now we have-”
“-to wait thirty minutes for the potion to fully form the uterus in your stomach, etc, etc, I know,” Ron said, getting in the bed. “Come on, we only have about twenty minutes left.”
“Twenty-eight,” Harry muttered, climbing in beside Ron.
“Uh-huh. Come on, Harry,” Ron said, pulling on Harry’s arm. Harry pulled back some more of the blankets and crawled in beside Ron.
“Okay,” Ron said, mostly to himself. “It’s gonna happen this time, okay?” He leaned over Harry and began kissing his neck a bit hurriedly. “Just relax. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to stress about…”
“Are you trying to convince me or you?” Harry asked irritably. He spread his legs, propped his feet up, and glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. “Twenty-two minutes to go. Get to work, you.” Harry nudged Ron’s side playfully.
Ron sat up and settled in between Harry’s legs.
“Okay then,” he said to himself, grabbing the lubricant and pouring some on his fingers. “Right.”
Ron poked his fingers into Harry unceremoniously, almost jabbing them in.
“Spread your legs a little wider, okay? Thanks. Perfect.” Ron rubbed some of the lube on himself. He placed his elbows underneath Harry’s knees and lifted him up a bit.
“Harry, could you grab a pillow or something?”
“Huh? Oh, sure. Yeah. Hold on a second.” Harry reached over to the side, grabbed a pillow and shoved it under the small of his back.
“Thanks,” Ron said, leaning forward a bit. “Okay. Here goes.”
Ron pushed forward, moving slowly until he was sure he couldn’t go any further.
“You okay down there?” he asked.
“Yeah. How much time left?” Harry asked, running a hand across Ron’s back.
“Um…dunno. It’s 3.31.” Ron shifted his arms.
“I took it at 3.18…so that’s…seventeen minutes left.”
“Okay,” Ron said, breathing deeply. “So…should I wait, or…?”
“God no. Just move, Ron,” Harry said, rocking his hips. “Come on. You can hold out for seventeen minutes, can’t you?”
“Of course I can,” Ron muttered, thrusting sharply into Harry. “Just didn’t want to start a fight, okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded, clutching at the bedcovers.
“Nothing! Just…I don’t know. Can we just have sex and hopefully create a baby?”
“No, tell me what you meant! You obviously-” moan. “-obviously meant…something…”
“Just drop it, okay?” Ron snapped, moving faster. “I’m just stressed out, alright?”
“Well, don’t take- ah!- it out on me!”
“I’m not taking anything out on you!” Ron exclaimed, making shorter, harder thrusts.
“You’ve been irritable all…all week, God, Ron, do that again-”
“I’ll show you ‘taking it out’-” Ron growled, hiking Harry’s legs up onto his shoulders.
---
“Don’t be upset if this isn’t it, Harry,” Ron cautioned as he followed Harry into the bathroom. “Okay? Those few pounds could just be from Mum’s dinner the other night.”
“Yeah, Ron. But…I feel it, you know? I feel…different, somehow.”
“Like I said, Mum’s dinner.”
Harry smacked Ron on the arm.
“Okay?” Ron persisted as Harry tore the pregnancy test out of its package. “Don’t worry if it shows up negative, Harry. We can always try again!”
“Ron, if you’re going to get so damn nervous, leave the bathroom!” Harry snapped. “I can’t piss if you keep nattering on about- about your Mum’s cooking, alright?”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll- I’ll just step out for a second, yeah?” Ron asked as Harry unzipped his jeans.
Ron stared at the picture on the wall while he waited. It was a photograph of Ginny’s nineteenth birthday party, after his parents had gone home, but a little before Ginny had gotten completely wasted, judging from the rather coherent way she was waving her wand at the camera.
“Okay,” Harry said, closing the bathroom door, strip in hand. “Now we just have to wait four minutes.”
Ron opened his mouth to say “okay,” then decided that was repetitive and settled for simply nodding his head and caressing Harry’s free hand.
“Hey,” he said after a few seconds, tugging on Harry’s hand.
Harry tore his eyes from the pregnancy test. “Hm?”
“About these past few weeks…sorry about, um. You know.” Ron glanced back at the picture of Ginny hexing the camera.
“Being such a prat?”
“Er…yeah.” Ron leaned against Harry, burying his head between Harry’s shoulder blades and wrapped his arms around Harry’s stomach. “With all the stress about the job and this and, you know, you not ge-”
BEEBEEP. BEEBEEP. BEEBEEP. BEEBEEP.
Harry pressed a button on his watch to silent the sound and leaned back into Ron.
“Ready, Ron?” he asked, his free hand finding one of Ron’s hands and gripping it.
Ron kissed him on the cheek and rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Harry breathed, raising the strip up.
“…”
“…”
“…what does blue mean again, Harry?”
“It means we’re going to have a baby, Ron.”

I think I’ve heard that pregnancy test colours differ depending on whichever brand you buy, but I wasn’t sure (I’ll never need one, anyway). I just used blue because…um…I wanted to. If I’m wrong, and blue always means “not pregnant” or whatever, feel free to tell me.
*About £65.44 or $120.54, thank you CNN Currency Converter (http://cgi.money.cnn.com/apps/hpcurrconv), proving that just about everyone can be a dork when they have too much time on their hands.
**I don’t know if you can really do this, and I don’t really care. IT’S MAGIC, DAMNIT.