A/N: Hey, all! Sorry it's been…holy crap, sorry it's been a year! I changed universities and a lot of other crap happened, but you're not worried about that. As in, "these are not the droids you're looking for"-not worried. Are we clear? Okay.

And hey, a big shoutout to the reason you all haven't gotten this chapter! HI AMANDA. HOW ARE YOU? THIS UPDATE IS FOR EVERYONE ELSE. BUT NOT YOU, SINCE YOU HAVEN'T RETURNED THE THINGS I LENT YOU AND YOUR SISTER. I BELIEVE THE AGREEMENT WAS I WOULD UPDATE THIS WHEN I GOT THEM BACK?

Now, everyone! Don't bash Amanda. Instead, ENJOY FIC!

Chapter Nine: "Tension"

The trek to the Great Hall was, put simply, boring as Hell.

Ed was ignoring Roy. Completely. As in, unless the words, "I'm sorry I might have knocked you up," came out of his mouth, the teen wasn't going to pay him any mind. Anything else didn't even deserve a listen. And Ed knew he was being ridiculous, since his superior had absolutely no way of knowing he might've gotten him pregnant, but he didn't care. Instead, he stuck next to Sirius, since they seemed to be on the same page.

Of course, that was completely forgotten when the group reached their destination and Ed found himself being tackled to the ground. "Hey!" he snarled, getting ready to clap his hands together. The urge vanished when Neville's voice escaped from the middle of the embrace.

"Edward! You're okay!" he exclaimed, arms tightening around the blond's neck. Ed tried to answer, but the other boy just kept rattling on. "I was stuck in the Greenhouse - well, Greenhouse Three - with Colin and Professor Sprout, and we had to keep the Attacking Italian Rosehips calm all the time, and we had no idea what was going on, but then--"

Ed pushed against Neville's shoulders as his oxygen supply began to run low. Neville picked up on the hint, releasing his friend's throat and sitting on his thighs.

"I was worried," Neville said, voice soft.

The young alchemist sighed internally, trying to sit up. Possessing neither Kingsley's dignity nor Sirius's wit, he was left with few options to salvage the situation. The giggles emitting from the relieved students in the Hall were beginning to get to him, too, and he could have sworn his face was getting hotter and hotter. But Neville looked so helpless and vulnerable, even childish, slumped in the blond's lap.

To Hell with it.

"I was with Potter and Professors Mustang and Black, as well as a few others," Ed cast his eyes over the group, noting that Ginny was holding Roy's hand. Whore. "We were stuck in the kitchen. It was boring as shit, but we ate well."

The pair was silent for a moment, but then Ed had enough of it. He let himself lay back against the floor, arms coming up behind his head. Neville tilted his head in confusion while Ed made himself comfortable, not even shifting a bit as the alchemist let out a long sigh. After a moment, Ed murmured, "you know, if you stay there too long people are going to think you're in love with me, man. And I'm sorry, but I'm not into you like that."

His friend's face took a magnificent shade of pink - perhaps fuchsia was the right term? - and he immediately stood, offering Ed a hand. Ed stared at it for a moment, slapped it, and rolled onto his side, chuckling.

"E-Edward?" Neville asked, clearly even more confused than when he'd been sitting on him. Ed didn't answer, pulling his knees up instead. To Hell with it.

It's very difficult to come up with witty breaklines. Pretend this is amusing and then keep reading.

Roy decided, as Ed proceeded to curl up on the floor of the Hall and ignore his friend, that something had to be wrong with his subordinate. First, he had an extenuating circumstance in the morning, then he ignored him completely after Kingsley showed up, and now he was practically sulking on the ground. Something bad had to have happened.

It was Ginny who actually acted first. She knelt next to him (Roy had begun to wonder if she flashed her panties to everyone, since if Ed turned his head in his position, he could see straight into her skirt) and placed a hand on his head. "Edward? Are you okay?" she asked, playing with the base of his braid. When he didn't answer, she leaned over and looked him in the eye. "What are you doing?"

Ed lifted his arm and pushed her away. "Nothing," he replied, curling up further. "And if I was doing something, I wouldn't tell you."

The girl had the decency to look offended.

"Why's that?" she almost hissed. Roy noticed that the pair of them had the attention of just about the whole Hall by this point, and Professor McGonagall was making her way toward them. "I'm being nice."

His subordinate chuckled again. "Great, a nice whore," he said, voice sounding sarcastic. "But you're still a whore. I make a point of not answering whores."

The Edward Elric Roy knew wasn't a spiteful person. There had to be a reason he was acting like this, but at the moment Roy couldn't do anything about it. Students were whispering to each other and Ron looked angrier than a man who'd just been beaten at his own game. McGonagall arrived, skirts of her robes sweeping against the ground dramatically in time with her steps.

Without further ado (or much thought, for that matter), Roy stepped forward and scooped Edward, bridal style, into his arms. A good amount of gasps came from the crowd and the amount of whispers multiplied. Ed didn't even fight, worrying the older man even more.

"Professor?" McGonagall asked, thin brow arched. Roy cocked his head, shifting the boy in his arms. "What's the matter with Mr. Elric?"

Roy couldn't help but wonder that himself. "I'm not sure," he murmured. Damn, Ed was heavy. "I think the situation for the past few days was...a little too much like home for him. It was rough on him. I'll take him back to our rooms for now, but if he doesn't get better, I might have to keep him from classes for a few days. Would that be all right, Professor McGonagall?"

The woman pulled her robes tighter around her, lips thinning. "Very well. I'll be by later to check on you two."

The general nodded, a little uncomfortable when Ed wrapped his arms around his neck. Well, they were "married" now, but no one knew that but McGonagall (and perhaps Remus and Sirius). At the very least, though, this made it easier to carry the teen, so he put up with it and started on his way out.

Roy couldn't begin to describe how wrong this was. The boy was acting so...strange. It wasn't like him. Visions of Ed having given up completely filled his mind - an unmotivated, bored Edward - and he shuddered. Wrong.

Once they'd reached their room, though, Ed let go, pulled himself out of Roy's grip, and collapsed on their currently-shared bed. His angle was strange, and the older man tried to straighten out his head so he wouldn't end up with a crick in his neck. That bit of sympathy lasted all of two seconds before a hand came up and smacked his away. Stung, too. Damn automail.

"Is something the matter?" Roy asked sarcastically, rubbing the spot where a welt would undoubtedly rise. Ed didn't answer, of course.

Go figure, the older man thought. He checked to make sure the boy was breathing (although the face-in-pillow made that difficult), and then surveyed the room to see the damage.

The wall was repaired, somehow, where he'd blown it up. It was a bit of a relief, since he probably would have had to repair it himself if McGonagall had seen it. Everything else was in place---

Including the psychotic bird that seemed to have realized his presence in the room and, appropriately, attacked his ankles. He kicked her, more in self-preservation than anything, and she retaliated immediately by hopping up and going straight for his genitals. He managed to avoid the attack and grabbed her by the back of her neck.

The loud squeal she let out was enough to rouse Edward a little bit. He stretched out his shoulders and called over them, "if you kill Lihst, I'm going to castrate you."

"She just attempted that, actually," Roy said, a little snidely. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have tried to do anything to the fucking niao. I guess she missed me too much to hold back."

The general tossed the bird onto the bed, and she immediately cuddled up next to Ed's face. The teen scratched at her neck and pushed his nose affectionately into her chest. "Sorry, Lihst, but it might be a little late for a pre-emptive strike. Thanks for trying, though."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Pre-emptive?" he asked. The teen was silent for a moment.

"I might…have the ability to, uh…conceive," Ed muttered. Roy stopped breathing. "Remus and Sirius explained it to me last night. If I'm—I mean, I might be pregnant. And if I am, I—well. You bastard."

Roy took a deep breath, surprising himself with how not close to fainting he was. Edward's statement rang in his ears for a moment, and he plopped down next to the teen, mind blank. Pregnant? If there was one thing Roy never expected to become, it was a father, much less the father of another man's baby. But then, with Edward anything was possible. If he could cuddle with a violent, ugly, nearly featherless bird and live in another world for months at a time, of course he could become pregnant.

And in a flash of sudden insight, Roy realized that Edward probably needed more comfort than him. He was a kid, damn it. No matter how mature he was, this was not something he could handle alone.

"I'm not a bastard," he murmured softly, leaning down to look the teen in the eye. "But that doesn't mean that this isn't my fault. How do you want to handle this?"

Ed let out a breath and glared at his superior. "I'd like to not have to handle it," he answered succinctly, placing Lihst back onto the ground and sitting up. "But from the looks of it, that might not be an option. And we can't even figure that out for another two weeks. You are a bastard."

Roy brought up a hand and mussed Ed's hair a little. His subordinate did his best to look angry, but in seconds, Roy had the teen against his chest, arms around his blond head. He wasn't good at hugging to comfort people, and long ago he'd learned that this position was easiest. No one had ever pointed out the obscenity inherent in it, and it seemed comfortable enough.

This kind of thinking was probably why the general had absolutely no luck in committed relationships.

But Ed's mismatched hands came up clench at his back, as if this was some level of comfort, and Roy nosed the blonde's head. Damn, he didn't want children. He definitely didn't, but he might not have a choice—

"Two weeks?" he murmured, not sure what else to say. Ed nodded.

"Two weeks. Bastard."

He stretched his legs on either side of his subordinate. By this point, Edward was pressed completely against him, his head against his neck and his legs pushed behind him. And for a few minutes, the two were completely still, just breathing and resting, thinking.

"You know, this position is pretty shameless," Ed finally murmured. "I mean, just hugging someone's head is kinda…I dunno. It seems obscene. What are you, an idiot?"

Roy could've kissed him. But then again, with how undoubtedly angry the teen must've already been, it would've been a terrible idea to follow through on. So instead, he just nodded and loosened his grip a little.

"This is certainly an interesting position," Professor McGonagall's voice came from the doorway. Roy didn't bother looking up, instead flexing his toes. "Won't he suffocate if you remain that way?"

Ed wrapped his arms around Roy tighter, and the general finally responded. "Pregnancy scare," he explained, stroking Ed's hair. The woman's lips tightened, eyes bulging slightly. "He was terrified because he started feeling sick during the attack, and Lupin and Black brought up the possibility that he was pregnant. When he's emotionally confused, he…freezes. Just stops caring. That's what you saw in the Hall earlier."

McGonagall's lips became dangerously thin. "You may have impregnated one of your students? And a subordinate, as it may be?"

Roy let out a heavy sigh. "The day after an attack on the school, you're biggest concern is if I've gotten my fiancé pregnant? I'd say your priorities are in the wrong place."

Ed shook with withheld laughter, and McGonagall glared at him. "At this point, my priorities are to rebuild the school's reputation. That will be hard enough without a student becoming pregnant by a teacher, even if the relationship is legal somewhere else."

Ed finally spoke. "Can you wait to lecture us until after we figure out if we're the newest to-be parents at Hogwarts?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. McGonagall crossed her arms.

"You will be kept out of classes for three days," she growled. "In addition, you will check in with the nurse at the end of two weeks to have a pregnancy test. Professor Mustang, you will go through teaching as usual, with the exception of sixth and seventh-year Gryffindors, who will be taught by Hermione Granger. Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear enough," Roy answered, holding tight to Ed's head. "For now, though, I'd like a chance to speak with Edward about what our plans from here out. Could we have some time, please?"

McGonagall nodded, turning on her heel and shutting the door behind her.

OF COURSE I HAVEN'T MADE UP SOMETHING INTERESTING. IT'S ONLY BEEN A FEW PARAGRAPHS.

Of course, two weeks didn't pass quickly enough. At the end of one, he'd been invited to dinner again with Remus and Sirius. Roy accompanied him this time, to a great and lengthy silence punctuated by a glare and two twitches. Ed took a deep breath.

"Uh, hi. Hi. Still up for dinner?" he asked, standing slightly in front of Roy. Sirius crossed his arms.

"Yeah, that sounds good," the man murmured, standing against the doorway and stretching out his shoulders. "Do you want me to castrate Professor Mustang for you?"

Roy sighed, rolling his eyes. "First Lihst, then you. Why is everyone so intent on emasculating me recently? We don't even know if I've done anything terrible to Edward yet!"

Remus pulled Sirius away from the door. "True. This is very true."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Come in."

"Thank you," Ed growled out, tugging Roy into the room and elbowing Sirius pointedly in the side. The man flinched.

"Ouch," he summarized, rubbing the area tenderly. "I forgot about your arm. That hurt."

Roy shot the man a look of sympathy. "You should feel it when he really means it," he said seriously, gesturing a fist against his stomach. "There's nothing quite like a metal arm in the gut to remind you not to fuck with someone."

"Or fuck someone, period?" Sirius suggested. Roy shrugged.

"I would imagine," he admitted. "Heaven forbid I ever find out."

"At this rate," Ed growled, suddenly annoyed that they were getting along, "you just might get to experience it."

Sirius twisted his lips theatrically. "Eh, who knows? You two are pretty volatile for—"

"For people who intend to marry, yes," Remus interrupted tactfully, stretching out on the couch. "But that's your prerogative. So, would you care for ribs or chicken legs today?"

"Legs," Roy answered immediately. "Ed?"

"Legs," he agreed. "No ribs today. Legs."

Roy sat down and sighed. "Legs are great. I miss legs," he breathed. Ed glared at him, while Remus raised an eyebrow. A second later, Roy's mind caught up with his mouth, and he glanced at the blond next to him. "Sorry. Not that I don't like your horribly mismatched ones, but sometimes a man just needs legs, Ed."

"Well, it's no big deal," the teen growled, plopping onto the couch. "I miss eyes. Not that I don't like your useless mismatched ones, but sometimes a man just needs eyes."

Sirius threw himself onto the couch across from Ed, the springs groaning in protest, and sighed heavily. "This seems like an appropriate time to bring up reproduction," the dog-man quipped, glancing between the two. Roy sank into the cushions next to his subordinate and waited. "So, then, reproduction. Any news thus far?"

"No," Ed growled, crossing his arms. "Not for another week, at least. Don't bring it up anymore."

"Then how about what I discussed with you before?" Remus interjected, emerging from the doorway with a plate of chicken and a few side dishes. Roy immediately filled his plate, while Ed looked the werewolf over. "The marriage idea?"

Ed nodded, running a finger over his knife. "Yeah. If you wanna get married in Amestris when you're not a citizen, you have to fill out about a million and a half forms, pay a fee of about ten thousand Amestrian dollars, and go through psychiatric counseling to determine whether you're suited to marriage or not. Since, you know, same-sex divorce in Amestis is about a billion times harder to get than marriage," he explained, taking a sip of water after he'd finished. "And then, of course, you'll need recommendations from two Amestrian military officials who will have to be the witnesses to the nuptials. And so far as I know, you only acquaint yourselves with two Amestrian military officials."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, but I think we picked some good ones," he decided. "I mean, you're getting married, so we know you don't take issue with our homosexuality. But this means I have to play nice with Mustang, doesn't it?"

"Karma's a bitch sometimes," Roy dismissed. Ed watched him raise an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that the two of you wanted to marry. Any particular reason behind it?"

"We've been together twenty years or so," Remus deadpanned. "Do we need a better reason than that?"

Ed felt his brows come together. That wasn't the reason Remus had given him, not by a longshot. He shot the werewolf a questioning look, but it was answered only by a placid smile. Next to him, Roy shrugged.

"I've only had one friend marry," the general said, "and most of his reasoning was that he wanted a family as soon as possible."

Sirius scoffed, to Ed's surprise. He tried to remember – didn't Remus say the guy had wanted kids? "What about you and Ed?" the dog-man asked, scooting almost unnoticeably away from Remus as he spoke. "I mean, it's pretty obvious by how upset Ed got that you're not trying to start a family of your own. Why are you two getting married?"

Ed wracked his mind for something, anything he could say that would explain their fictional engagement. Luckily, Roy was way ahead of him:

"Legal stuff," he said simply. "Visitation rights, property, taxes, etc. Just a bunch of legal stuff. And, of course, sex. Sex is always a good reason to get married."

"But marriage isn't requisite for sex," Remus pointed out, "as is obvious by Edward's possible state of impregnation."

Ed felt his stomach rise again at the mention of the possibility. "We agreed not to talk about that, if I remember right," he growled. "So can we get back onto any topic that isn't my impending doom?"

"Spoilsport," Sirius stuck out his tongue. "Fine. Back to me and Remus wanting to get married. When you say a 'million and a half,' what do you really mean? Ten?"

Roy appeared to be in deep thought. "Somewhere around fifty, I think," he estimated. "That's not including the papers your own country will make you fill out. And, of course, all the blood tests and mental exams – and let's not forget the all important military inquisition – add up to more work than most people would be willing to do. Do you still want to be married?"

"Yes," Remus said emphatically. "Does anyone else want any tea?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Remus, we all have drinks already," he pointed out. Remus nodded, gesturing towards a book in the corner. "What, some obscure etiquette thing? I say obscure because, my dear Remus, I know every rule in the book. And by every rule in the book, I mean every rule in every possible book – or, at the very least, the extensive collection my insane mother possessed."

"You digress," Remus informed him, and Ed couldn't help but realize how English they were. The werewolf nodded pointedly at the two soldiers. "I somehow doubt your mother had any books on Amestrian courtesy. I only just managed to find one in the room of requirement the other day. It says midway through dinner, I am supposed to offer my guests tea."

Ed shrugged. "I grew up in a farming town, then a military base," he said simply. "Levels of courtesy are way lower there."

Roy had the decency to look impressed. "I appreciate the thought, and especially the preparation and research you've taken upon yourself, but I hope to learn a few of your customs while I'm here," he said – complete bullshit, Ed realized with a well-concealed snort – and resumed eating his dinner. Remus nodded in understanding.

"All right, then," he replied, going back to his own meal. They were quiet for a few minutes, and then the door flew open.

"Sirius, you got a sec?" Potter called in, closely flanked by Granger and Ron Weasley. The bespectacled boy blinked as his eyes fell onto what must've been a strange scene in his mind, the four having a pleasant dinner together. "Uh…well, I guess that's a no…"

"Come right on in," Sirius drawled. Ed couldn't tell if he was serious or not. But the wonder trio obeyed, Potter's eyes on Ed the whole while. "Something I can do for you?"

Potter cleared his throat. "We can't find Hagrid," he explained. "Is he, you know…working?"

"Yes, at my old place," Sirius answered succinctly. "Care for a bite to eat?"

Ron's face scrunched up at the offer. "Why are you having a meal with those two?" he asked, glaring at Ed in particular. "I mean, they're not really the best company."

"Is this about what I called your sister?" Ed asked dryly. "Because I don't know if you noticed, but I wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind that day. You could give me one free pass, you know."

The redhead frowned. "You elbowed me in the stomach so hard I could've had internal bleeding, then you called my little sister a whore. Forgive me if I'm not lenient."

Ed cocked his head. "I guess you have a point there," he said, and without another word, went back to eating. Roy, who didn't appear to have heard any of the conversation, pointedly stole what was left of his potato from his plate. In retaliation, Ed promptly snatched his carrots.

Hermione almost dashed over when he did this, reaching for his arm. "Was that metal I just saw?" she asked, and he pulled his automail arm away from her.

"Haven't we already been through this?" he groaned, holding it close. She blinked, and he clutched his arm tighter. "My bone problem? The plated brace? Fact is, your fascination with it scares me."

"I believe we were discussing marriage?" Sirius reminded them tactlessly. The Gryffindor trio's eyes were on him immediately. "Anyway, how soon could Remus and I get married if we started the process right away?"

"By April," Roy informed him. "If you're lucky, as soon as March. It really depends on how your ministry handles your request."

Potter took a deep breath. "Sirius, did you just say you were hoping to get married? To Professor Lupin?"

"I'm no longer a professor, Harry," Remus called over jovially. Hermione frowned.

"But you are planning to marry Sirius?" she asked. The werewolf nodded. "That's…I mean, congratulations if it goes through, but still. You want to marry him?"

Sirius's hand fluttered to his chest. "I am wounded, Hermione, that you would deem me so unmarriageable," he gasped. "It is a fatal injury, I'm sure! And now, who will take care of my final affairs? With whom can I spend my final days, between life and death on a hospital bed?"

"We get it," Hermione said softly, a hint of a smile on her face. "You two are serious about this?"

Roy cleared his throat. "They were serious enough to ask the only people they know who could get them married. I would call that serious enough. Now, are you three ever going to accept or decline their offer?"

"Already ate," Potter answered quickly. "Anyway, we just wanted to know where Hagrid is. Now that we know, we'll just…study or something. Okay?"

"You don't have to clear it with us," Sirius grinned. "Go study. Or do something that isn't studying; I'm really not too interested in knowing if you do or not. But stay for dinner next time, okay?"

Potter nodded, gesturing for Hermione and Ron to follow him out. Almost the moment the door shut, Sirius sighed.

"I was good, Remus; I didn't even mention reproduction to them," he said immediately. "I think I deserve a treat. Don't you think I deserve a treat? Come on, now, I need a treat for that."

Ed spent the rest of the evening wondering how Sirius ever became so doglike.

OH HOW I WISH I WAS WITTY ENOUGH TO MAKE A GOOD TRANSITION LINE

By the time the two weeks were over, Ed was more certain than ever that he was pregnant. He was nauseous, his joints ached, and for the first time in years, his phantom limb syndrome was coming back. It must've been pregnancy. So, before Roy even woke up that morning, he squirmed out of his grip and began to dress in the dark, trying not to make much noise. From the other bed, Severus let out a sigh.

"Mr. Elric, there is no reason to be so discrete slipping out of bed after a night with another man when you live together with him," he said softly enough that it could've been a whisper. "Unless you don't want him to realize you're leaving, in which case I should speak louder in order to trouble you further."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I might be pregnant," he informed the other man. "So I'm going to go have the test done without him feeling he has to hold my hand through it or something. Okay?"

"My, my, my," Severus breathed. "Well, should you discover you are pregnant, please inform me straightaway – that I might have a chance at a dignified death, you know."

The blond decided right there that should he not be pregnant, he should fake another pregnancy scare just to get back at the ex-professor. But instead of vocalizing this, he simply fumbled in the darkness for his bag, slipped his robes over his usual outfit, and made his way to the door, opening and slipping out and closing it as quietly as he could. After his eyes adjusted to the light in the hallway, he made his way to the hospital wing.

Upon his arrival, he found Madam Pomfrey setting her bag down on a counter, looking only slightly surprised that he'd come in so early. She sighed. "It's today, then?"

Ed nodded. "It's been three weeks since the last time we, uh…what's the proper term for it? Er, I don't want to sound offensive, but…"

"I understand your point, Mr. Elric," she said simply. "If we're to get this over with quickly, I'll need you to take off your pants."

He didn't argue, although most of him was screaming for him to do so, instead unsnapping his pants and shoving them to his ankles, looking anywhere but her face. She was quiet as she did her work, leaving him to bite his lip and wonder how this was going to turn out. He had to be pregnant, just had to be, and God, his life was over. He wasn't even seventeen yet, and his life was just over now. Never mind that he'd already died once before – this was far worse. He had to suffer alive through pregnancy and birth and raising a fucking Mustang baby—

"You're not pregnant," Pomfrey said simply, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes went straight to her face. "You're absolutely not pregnant. If you'd like to be sure there will be no future pregnancy scares, I can ask Professor Slughorn to make you a contraceptive potion."

"Please," Ed said as gratefully as he could. Pomfrey gestured for him to pull up his pants, which he did immediately, flushing at having forgotten. He then cleared his throat. "So, then, the nausea and phantom limb syndrome and everything was just…?"

"Stress," she nodded. "You were terrified of being pregnant, weren't you?"

He scoffed. "That's an understatement. The apocalypse was coming, as far as I was concerned."

Pomfrey looked like she was going to say something else, but the door swung open at that very moment, none other than Sirius Black bounding through.

"Hello! I've melted all the skin off my shin and mother of God, does it hurt!" he said cheerfully, rolling up his pants over the leg he was not hopping on as he spoke, too occupied with the activity to pay any mind to whoever was in the room. "So, then, Poppy! Fix me up, would you?"

When at last he looked up, he blinked twice. Pomfrey nodded. "Exactly. Perhaps not the best person to say such things in front of. But come along, I'll patch you up."

"You're a lifesaver," Sirius grinned. "I mean that literally."

"Don't let flattery get him anywhere," Remus called as he walked into the room, surprisingly calm for someone whose lover had just melted the skin off his shin. "And it was entirely his fault, Poppy, so please make the treatment even more painful than the injury itself might have been. Good morning, Edward."

Ed nodded, the idea that he wasn't pregnant slowly seeping through his body. It was such a relief – his body felt as light as a feather for a few seconds. Happily, he turned to the werewolf.

"I'm not pregnant," he informed him. Remus raised an eyebrow. "You might think it's wrong I'm so happy, but damn it, I'm not pregnant!"

The much older man nodded, eyebrows both reaching for his scalp now. They just might make it, too, Ed thought, if they kept stretching the way they were. "Well, as happy as I am to hear it, shouldn't Professor Mustang be the first to know?" he inquired. Ed cocked his head. "After all, I imagine he might have feelings about not becoming a father."

Ed sighed. "I'm just sharing good news," he muttered. Though the elation was still there, a pain started to settle in his lower back, one the likes of which he'd not felt previously. "And I'm on my way to do that. Let me know how your masochistic pet there is doing later, okay?"

Remus nodded and waved goodbye, and Ed was all too happy to rush down the stairs and halls and all the way back to his rooms. There, he threw the door open, no longer caring that it would wake anyone. Roy groaned from his position on the bed, Severus turned over, and Lihst chirped a few lazy chirps of protest. When at last Roy squinted at him with his one good eye, Ed grinned.

"Not pregnant!" he exclaimed, jumping onto the bed boots and all. His superior rubbed his face tiredly. "Come on. Remus told me you might have feelings about me not being pregnant. Let's hear 'em."

"Thank God," Roy said softly, pulling Ed on top of him. "Any child of ours would be terrifying."

Ed struggled against the hold until he got free, quirking an eyebrow at Roy. "You're going back to sleep now?"

"Yes," Roy groaned, turning over. "I don't have class to teach until eleven. So I can sleep until ten. I don't really care what you do until then. And yes, I am as happy as you are that we're not having a baby. Now turn off the light and let me sleep."

Ed frowned, but did exactly that, regathering his book bag and turning out the door. His watch told him it was just barely seven, but his body felt heavy already, like it was close to midnight. He tried to ignore it, remembering what Pomfrey had said about the stress of wondering if he was pregnant. And it seemed to work, slightly.

Until the pain in his back got worse. And his right elbow – the elbow he hadn't had in years – was aching. He bit his lip.

Fucking phantom limb syndrome.

But he wasn't pregnant. When he reminded himself of that, the pain lessened, so he kept the thought in his mind as he went down to the Hall, not surprised to see it starting to fill with people already. A few looked surprised; he had to admit it was unusual for him to come in alone, as more often than not he had to get Roy up to the staff table. He ignored those stares, too, sitting next to Neville and trying to ignore the increasing pain in his back, now spreading into his abdomen.

"Morning," he managed, smiling toothily at his friend. Neville returned the greeting, offering him a roll. Ed took it, nibbling it slowly. The nausea was coming back.

For the love of God, he wasn't pregnant! Even if everything was caused by stress, it should be long gone by now!

He was so engrossed in ignoring the pain spreading through him that he didn't notice Potter approaching him. He wasn't even fully aware of it when the other boy stood behind him, obviously waiting for him to turn. He only noticed when Potter grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around.

And everyone was quiet.

"I want to talk to you," the boy said pointedly. Ed's vision suddenly hazed over for a second as the pain increased tenfold. He struggled to hold on to his coherent mind, attempting to process the statement. Something must've been wrong. He'd never been in this much pain in his life, not when he'd lost his arm, not when he'd gotten new automail, not when he'd died…

Then Potter was gripping his aching fake arm, dragging him physically out of the hall. He fought to get his legs under him, the left one also starting to hurt, to burn, to just plain throb with pain. And before he knew it, he was outside, being pressed to a wall.

"There are things I need to know," a voice came at him, and then he saw Potter's lips moving. Oh, it must've been him talking. Still talking, he realized, and it didn't really matter. It didn't matter at all because everything just hurt so much and was so wrong. This, this must've been death. A different kind of death, one he hadn't experienced before, one far worse than bleeding to death…

"Are you listening to me?!" he heard through the buzz in his ears, and he tried to focus again. He thought he saw the other boy blink, and his voice started becoming slower. "Whoooa, h-e-y…are you okaaaaaaaaay?"

And with a sudden rush of sound and more pain than he'd ever imagined possible, the world and every coherent thought or thing in it vanished.

A/N: Well! After a year without updating, I leave you with a cliffhanger. No wonder you guys hate me! Okay, then. More will come after I finish defragmenting the files my old computer ATE when it broke. Ta!