You Found Me

I stood in the bathroom, leaning against the sink and feeling like I was going to vomit. I’d managed to sneak back into the shop with my brown paper-wrapped package from the druggist’s without George noticing. Business had picked up quite a lot, so I was even able to sneak up the spiral staircase, undetected, I assumed. From there, I’d locked myself in the bathroom and here I was, seventeen minutes later, brushing my hair back from my forehead because I’d suddenly started to sweat.

I had the pregnancy test clutched in my right hand, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the crossed blue lines staring back at me. Of course, I hadn’t really needed a test. I was usually regular as clockwork, regular down to the day, sometimes. A few weeks were a rather large deal. I was completely flabbergasted at the idea of not noticing when my monthly gift came two and a half weeks late when I had never gone more than a day or two past the one month marker. How could such a delay have simply slipped by? I could only narrow it down to being distracted by marital bliss, or something.

“Lacey?” George suddenly called through the door, banging his fist a few times for good measure. I jumped and dropped the test, which skittered across the bathroom floor and struck the wall with a plastic clatter. “Lacey, come on, you’ve been in there for ages.”

“You saw me come upstairs?” I said stupidly, trying to calm myself and bending down to pick up that most grievous plastic contraption.

“Yeah, I did. Now, can you hurry up? I need the john.”

“Just a moment.”

My hands shook as I gathered up the torn brown paper and the box the test had come in. I crumpled them in my hands, coughing loudly to cover the noise. No success, of course.

“What are you doing in there?”

“Er, nothing. Just, ah, tidying.” I stared around for a place to put all the evidence. I couldn’t very well just dump it in the rubbish bin because of course he’d see it and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to tell him yet. And I couldn’t just waltz out of the bathroom with everything under my arm because he’d be sure to notice that, too.

“Christ, Lacey, I’m standing with my legs crossed out here and no one’s in the bloody shop keeping an eye on things. Tidy later.” With that, he threw open the bathroom door, his jeans already half unzipped. “Now, you can go or you can stay. I don’t care, but I’ve never needed a piss so bad in my…”

He had noticed that I wasn’t moving. I stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring up at him with a pregnancy test in one hand and a wad of packaging in the other. He stared at both with curiosity, and I remembered that he’d never seen a muggle pregnancy test before so he couldn’t possibly know what the hell was going on. Even so, I put both my hands behind my back and blushed furiously like a child caught in naughtiness.

“What are you doing?” He asked, craning his neck to get a better look at what I was holding. His eyes met mine and, mixed in there, somewhere alongside the curiosity, was concern. I sat heavily on the floor and put my forehead against my right wrist. The pregnancy test dangled between my fingers.

“Lacey Anne, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right this bloody second, I’m going to get your mother. What, in the name of Merlin’s pants, is that?”

“Don’t touch it!” I shrieked hysterically, snatching my hand away from his. His eyes widened. “It’s got piss on it.” I said pathetically and dissolved into tears.

George sat back on his heels, obviously completely unsure of how to feel about his current situation. His eyes were still wider than usual, and he ran his fingers through his hair which I knew was something he did most often when he was nervous. After a minute, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled audibly. I looked up at him with a sniff.

“Right, then. Well, I’ve got no bloody idea what’s going on and I guess that’s okay.” He reached out and gripped my shoulders. “But I still really need the john.”

I nodded and hauled myself to my feet. George pushed my hair out of my face and stared at me for a minute. I thumped my head down on his collarbone and he put an arm around my shoulders. His jaw was scratchy against my forehead because – like I kept forgetting – he was an adult like myself and we were married and not careless youths anymore.

Hell. Bloody fucking hell.

I left him in the bathroom and went into the kitchen where I leaned against the counter and didn’t consider how unsanitary it was to have a used pregnancy test in the same area where I prepared meals. Instead, I stared down at myself, at my stomach, primarily. Of course I couldn’t see anything. It had only been two weeks or so since my missed monthly. And George and I weren't exactly celibate. Like most newlyweds are wont to do, we probably spent a few nights a week not sleeping. So, when I got down to it, I really didn’t know when…

The seed was planted, I concluded with a grimace.

Counting through the weeks again, I calculated that it had to have been sometime a week or two after Christmas. That led me to believe that I had to be – roughly, of course, I really had no bloody clue – almost a month along. The thing floating somewhere in my lower abdomen probably resembled a tadpole, or something. I felt like I was going to vomit again, but then that sort of made sense. Wasn’t I supposed to feel sick? Wasn’t I supposed to have to pee quite a lot more than was normal?

George came out into the living room cautiously and stood staring into the kitchen. His eyes rested on my fingers, still held aloft from counting, at my blotchy face, and at the pregnancy test I still had clutched in my fist. He seemed to know that the little bit of plastic was the root of all the madness, but I could see that he still had no idea what the damn thing was. I was surprised, to be honest, because he was usually so intuitive.

“I’ve got to get back downstairs.” He said nervously. “Are you going to be okay?”

I tossed my head to the side in a noncommittal nod-like thing and he scratched the back of his neck.

“Right. Well, then. I’ll be back up in an hour, or so.”

I glanced at my watch. “Why? That’s only two thirty.”

“Bloody hell, Lacey, d’you honestly think I’m going to sit down there all day when you’ve spent the morning in the bathroom and then inexplicably started crying? I'm your husband, remember? I'm supposed to be involved in your emotional upsets. You’re daft, I swear.” He grinned carefully. “Can I kiss you, or are you going to go completely mental again?”

“You can kiss me, I suppose.”

I met him in the doorway to the kitchen and let him plant a kiss on my lips. He grinned and ruffled my hair, then stepped away and disappeared down the spiral staircase, throwing his employee robes over his shoulder as he went.



True to his word, George came back into the flat almost exactly an hour later, having already closed the shop for the night. I was sitting on the sofa, elbows on my knees and chin in the hand that wasn’t still holding the pregnancy test. George immediately sprawled out across the remaining space next to me, his hand resting on my knee. He lifted his hips so that he could remove his wand from his back pocket, kicked off his shoes, and tossed his employee robes onto the empty overstuffed chair on the other side of the room. They lay there in an eye watering mass of pinkish-purple.

“So,” He said, knotting his hands behind his head, “Are you going to tell me what that thing is?” He nodded in the direction of my right hand.

“Do I look fat?” I asked instead of replying.

“What? No.” He smirked. “Is that what this is about? Because I could probably check, if you’d let me – ” He sat up eagerly, grinning the same way he had the night that had started this whole business. His hand inched up my thigh.

“No, no, it’s fine.” I said, putting a hand to his chest to keep him at bay. He looked disappointed.

“I don’t think you’ve ever rejected me like that.” He said thoughtfully. “I’m crushed.”

I cracked a small smile and shook my head slowly. He noted my seriousness and sobered himself, losing his own smile and looking at my face studiously.

“Okay,” He said, slapping his thigh in a businesslike manner. “Okay. What happened this afternoon? And what is that thing?” He pointed at the test with an accusing finger, “And, if it’s got piss on it, why are you still holding it?”

I looked down at the blue plus sign with a sigh and opened my mouth, though nothing came out right away. George sat patiently, facing me on our living room couch.

“This is…” I began in a strangled voice. I cleared my throat and tried again. “This is a muggle pregnancy test.”

“Okay.” He was still looking at me, clearly not understanding what I was trying to tell him.

“A muggle pregnancy test that I took. Today. This afternoon. In the bathroom.”

His face covered nearly the entire spectrum of emotions within a few seconds. He went from studious to confused to pensive to bewildered to comprehending to shocked, and he finally looked at the blue lines with his mouth hanging open.

“You…” He choked, his bulging eyes darting up to mine. “You’re… We’re…? What?”

“Pregnant. Yes, I am. We are. Yes.” I said and looked at him carefully. He was moving his mouth but not saying anything. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at me.

“Are you sure?” He finally said.

“Well, it’s what the test said, and I’m a couple of weeks late. I’m going to have to go to St. Mungo’s to be positive.”

“When did it happen? I mean, I guess I figured it eventually would, but blimey.” He shook his head.

“I’m not entirely sure. I think it was about a month ago, probably after Christmas.”

“We were at my parents’ for Christmas. And we didn’t…”

“We certainly did when we got home. A few times.” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“We did, didn’t we?” He grinned.

“Yes, we did. But, that’s beside the point. It’s not when we did it, it’s that we did it at all. I’ve been counting all morning, and I’m fairly sure that I’m a month along. Now, I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’m pretty bloody scared.”

George didn’t say anything for a little while. He seemed to be recounting every detail of our conversation, of the events of that afternoon. After a minute or two, he looked at me carefully, maybe like he was trying to spot a difference in me that he hadn’t previously noticed.

“Do you feel any different?” He finally asked, obviously genuinely curious.

“No,” I said, thinking hard. “No, not at all, really.”

“You don’t look any different.” He paused for a moment, then realization came to his face. “That’s why you asked me if you looked fat, isn’t it?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell if I’d gotten any bigger. I wanted to see if you’d noticed.” I admitted guiltily.

“Bloody idiot.” He laughed (and I don’t think I imagined the touch of nervousness in his voice), then reached for my empty hand. “Okay. Okay. Let me think for a moment.”

I expected things to go quiet again, but I guess he meant “let me think out loud for a moment”, because he kept talking.

“Right. You’re pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. We’re twenty years old and having a baby. Well, we’ve got enough room in the flat, I think, and the joke shop brings in enough. Mum’ll be bowled over, really. She’ll love to hear it. Lacey,” He said, beaming, “I think we’re going to be okay. I mean, we’re young, but my mum and dad had Bill when they were our age, and look where they are. How do you feel about all this, anyway?”

I considered for a minute, then said, “Well, I guess I’m happy. I’m happy that I’m having a baby with you, of course. I’m glad that it will make your mother happy, though I’m not sure I can say the same about my own.” I felt my expression darken, so I moved on to my next point. “I suppose I feel fine about it. I’m not regretting it, or anything. I’m just a bit nervous. I’ve never had a baby before.” I stated dumbly.

“Well,” George said brightly, “I guess that’s good, because neither have I.”

We looked at each other for a minute, then started to laugh. I can’t say that I felt any relief. In all honestly, I was still just as anxious as I had been that morning in the shower when I first realized how late I was. I was still completely scared out of my wits over the idea of swelling up like a great balloon and then having to squeeze another human out of myself and into existence – trust me, anxiety was probably the first and foremost feeling I had about that particular experience; I didn’t even really want to think about it – but, all of that aside, I supposed having a child with George wouldn’t be awful. I envisioned a miniature ginger-headed troublemaker romping around the flat in true spirit of his or her father and uncle, and actually smiled a bit.

Without much warning, George hugged me tight to him, careful of my midriff. I hugged him back, laughing nervously because he was doing the same thing. And he had been right, after all. We both knew all this would happen eventually. The fact that it was happening now shouldn’t have been of any real consequence.

“Parents. Us. Brilliant, really, if you think about it. I can’t believe it.” He had pulled away and was beaming at me again.

Neither could I, but there we were. It wasn’t like it (he or she, I suppose) could be undone. Parents, George and I. I could’ve laughed. Or puked.