All right, so the first month she had chalked up everything to her body readjusting to a vastly different climate and the stress induced by missing work and the drama of hearing of Tracey Davis getting married, as opposed to ending up as a main attraction of a Sensu Alley brothel. That had been her reasoning when she'd expected her monthly to come, and yet it didn't, and certainly of the achiness and fatigue. Nothing to it. Anyone could have that happen.
Another month brought more disturbing symptoms, and when she'd missed three floo calls from Pansy one Sunday morning while she was in the loo retching until she was dry-heaving because somehow the scent of coffee and the scent of scrambled eggs turned her stomach violently, Pansy had flooed over in high dudgeon, found her crouched over the toilet, and all but frog-marched her to St. Mungo's. That is to say, Pansy had wrapped one shiny pink-nailed and surprisingly strong hand around Millicent's wrist and Apparated them both along, and THAT just did more wonders for the nausea. Had she anything else in her stomach, it likely would've ended up on Pansy's designer dragonskin stilettos, so it was probably best that she HADN'T eaten, because death by puke-covered spike heel was not a pleasant situation to contemplate even when one was in the pink of health.
"I don't know what the devil is wrong with you," Pansy glowered and bossily tugged her along, and had Millicent not been feeling so wretched, nor had she not known that Pansy was doing it out of concern, there would have been far more struggling on her part. "But you haven't been yourself since you've returned from that cruise, and you STILL haven't offered up any dirty details about whoever you were talking to on that ramp."
A sudden, chilling thought struck Millicent, as she had a dim recollection of her own mother's symptoms in the months before her brother was born. She didn't have time to panic, though, because Pansy had whisked her into the office of a smiling, dark-haired mediwitch whom Millicent vaguely recalled as a Gryffindor. "Hullo, Alicia. This is my friend Millicent Bulstrode," Pansy told the mediwitch without preamble. "I found her in the loo this morning puking as though she'd been drinking like a right Irish boozer on St. Patrick's Day. Check her out and figure out what's wrong with her, hmm?"
If Alicia had any issues with Pansy's bluntness, she didn't say anything, and to Millicent's utter relief, didn't start bringing out scary metal instruments of doom or needles or potions. She calmly waved Millicent to a squashy chair, indicated that Pansy could wait outside, and asked Millicent a few questions, nodding to herself and scribbling a few notes on a sheet of parchment.
Millicent choked a little when Alicia blandly asked if she'd been sexually active lately. Her scarlet face and the fact that instead of meeting Alicia's eyes she fixed a fascinated stare at the framed photograph of the mediwitch, a smirking bloke whom she recalled to be Terence Higgs and a dark-haired tot holding a plushie fwooper certainly didn't escape the Gryffindor's attention. She didn't persist in that line of questioning, and simply stood up with a smile, taking out her wand.
"I'm going to perform a quick diagnostic spell," she said calmly. "You may sit right there if you wish, as long as you remain still."
A whispered incantation, and there was a faint feeling as though of light fingers brushing from her head to her toes, and then there was a faint golden glow surrounding her. Alicia nodded, said something under her breath that might have been 'just as I suspected', and turned to Millicent with a kindly, compassionate smile.
"Miss Bulstrode, you're pregnant."
The chair she was sitting in and Pansy's shriek from the door where she'd apparently been shamelessly eavesdropping were the only things that kept Millicent from slumping to the ground in a dead faint.
Bursting into tears seemed the only thing to do, so Millicent buried her face in her arms on Alicia's immaculate desk and proceeded to do so quite thoroughly. She was dimly aware that over her head, Pansy and Alicia were making some sorts of arrangements, but she paid no attention.
Stupid cruise. Stupid margaritas. Stupid Ernie and his stupid unique brand of dorky sexiness and his stupid solicitousness and his stupid admiration of her boobs and his stupid stamina. Now what the fuck was she supposed to do?
In the end, there wasn't much to do but to make the best out of the situation. Thankfully, she could still work despite her condition, and even more thankfully, Pansy, perhaps struck with sympathy that Millicent was going to become waddly and hormonal and a Mum, didn't ask too many questions about who the father was, and even picked up an order of chicken tenders with a side of gooseberry jam one day when Millicent was having that particular craving. She bought Millicent a few frilly, pastel-coloured maternity garments that Millicent wouldn't have used for doilies, let alone actual clothing, but Millicent appreciated the thought nonetheless. She dutifully went for a check-up every month with Alicia, and it was three months later, when she was starting to show, that she inadvertently ran into Ernie again.
She'd been sitting in the small waiting area outside Alicia's office while the mediwitch conferred with whichever patient was on the roster before her when a tall, dark-haired bloke, coming apparently from the direction of the tea shop with a coffee, sat down a few seats away. There was something oddly familiar about the fellow, and when he looked up, her eyes widened in recognition.
"Flint?" she called out, and he gaped at her for a moment before chuckling and walking over.
"Well, well, if it isn't Millicent Bulstrode," he drawled, sitting down next to her. "Congratulations are in order, I suppose."
Her expression darkened. "No. Not really." But she didn't want to talk about it, particularly not to Flint, whose favourite people certainly didn't include Ernie MacMillan, she was willing to wager. Deciding to change the subject, she clasped her hands over her swollen belly. "So, what are you here for?"
"Wife has a checkup," he said laconically, though his expression came as close to a smile as she'd ever seen on him. "Yay for twins," he said wryly. "She's going to eat me out of house and home. But at least she's craving stuff that isn't just rabbit food."
"I don't think she's appreciate you talking about her this way, whoever she is," Millicent remarked. The idea of Marcus Flint married and a father kind of scared her, but then again, so did the idea of she herself being a mum.
"You'd remember her as Penelope Clearwater," Marcus' face split into a grin. "Lovely witch when she's not being all disapproving of my reprehensible habits and inability to remember to leave the seat down."
Now THAT was surprising, and so she told him, and he agreed, even as he explained about shared Auror patrols and reaching an understanding and quipped about their elopement and so on, and then Penelope exited Alicia's office and she offered her congratulations to the former Ravenclaw, who definitely looked all the better since the last time Millicent had seen her (though it might've been that back then she'd been attached to Nerdy Weasel) despite her budgeoning waistline. And Penelope was really quite helpful in giving advice about pregnancy and motherhood, and THAT was why Millicent didn't notice the time, didn't see Alicia standing at the door of the office waiting, didn't see Ernie pass down the hallway, pause when he saw her, then freeze.
She DID, however, hear him call out her name in a tone of utter shock, and she turned drastically pale, feeling sicker than she had during the worse of the morning sickness fits. There was no way to hide her condition, even if her presence at the mediwitch's office wasn't damning enough. She gasped, feeling tears sting at her eyes, and would've run if she could have done so.
Dimly, she was aware that Marcus and Penelope had stepped away, and that Alicia had discreetly withdrawn back into her office. Ernie was at her side in an instant, his expression discombobulated.
"You're pregnant," he remarked flatly.
Suddenly, she lifted her chin proudly, a bit angrily, the tears vanishing in an instant. "Yes, but that's none of YOUR business, now is it?" she spat, glaring at him. "I'll have you know, MacMillan, that I'm perfectly capable of looking after a child by myself."
"So it's mine, then," he stated more than asked, his voice soft and stunned. She didn't answer, but her silence seemed enough of an answer to him. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked at length.
Millicent mumbled something about it being none of his business again, and how no one was obligated to do anything, and he needed to bugger off because she was supposed to see the mediwitch, but then Ernie went up to her, clasping his hands on the two ends of her chairback, and gave her that beseeching blue-eyed look calculated to turn her into putty and want to demand more sex, even if that had been the cause of this whole big mess in the first place.
"I just..." he blew out a breath in a sigh. "I wasn't expecting this. I mean, I don't usually... I've never-- you've got to understand that you're the only woman I've ever... well, done all that with."
"That's comforting," she glared at him. "Good to know I'm your first one-night stand."
"But that's my baby, and I'd like to be a part of its life," he continued earnestly, as though she hadn't interrupted. "I'm not expecting you to be obligated to do anything. It's just that it would only be fair to both of us to share in this responsibility and experience equally."
"Her life," she said automatically, a bit dully. Alicia had told her a month ago that the baby was a girl. Millicent had told Pansy that the baby had better not end up some squeeing, giggly twit like Lavender Brown, and therefore Pansy was NOT allowed to buy the sprog anything pink and frou-frou. Ernie seemed dumfounded, but otherwise quite damnably sincere. Millicent mulled it all over in her head for several moments, rather not aware that Ernie was turning a bit blue from holding his breath.
"All right," she said grudgingly but resignedly. "I suppose you can visit now and then."
He beamed, and suddenly he wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a hug that should have been decidedly awkward and yet didn't feel so, to her. "We'll get through this," he promised in his best competent Head Boy voice, and Millicent had to admire his fortitude. She was sure that most blokes who found out that they were to become fathers after a random shag with some random bird would've pissed themselves or shrieked like a little girl or fainted. Perhaps a combination of all three.
And that's why she placed her hand in his and let him help her up from her seat before squaring her shoulders and walking next to him in as dignified a way as possible considering she was as big as a house and waddling like a duck. He shortened his stride to match hers and opened the door for her, and Alicia looked up at them and smiled.
So perhaps it would be all right.
Okay, so the last way that she'd EVER figured for herself to bond and become close to a bloke-- really close, not just attracted-- was this way, with him rubbing her swollen ankles every night and filling her icebox with such delicious concoctions as chocolate-covered sauerkraut and habanero pepper smoothies. And alternatively hugging him til he was blue in the face or throwing things at his head in the never-ending rollercoaster of pregnancy-induced hormones.
She really shouldn't have let him visit as frequently as he did. It was off-putting. He upset her daily routine by alphabetising all her Marietta Edgecombe mysteries by title and doing her laundry the Muggle way wearing nothing but trackies and a singlet. He even visited her at work one day on his lunch break to bring her pizza because she'd been craving it that morning, and somehow managed to remember that she wanted black olives and pineapples and bacon on it. Wearing his hospital gear! She was fairly certain that her boss would never recover from the sight of a young man in glorified lime-green pyjamas walking in with a dorky smile and a pizza box. He also insisted on playing Muggle classical music on some machine that had been gifted to him by his friend Finch-Fletchley, telling her that it would make the sprog smarter and more eloquent. And then in the evenings when she was resting on the settee, he insisted on crouching down next to her and placing his hand on her belly and doing a little excited squeak thing every time the baby kicked while he talked to her tummy as though giving Head Boy speeches.
She'd ridiculed him the first time he did that, but he just HAD to pout, so she'd rolled her eyes and let him do it, and to her dismay, after one particularly long day at work made lengthier by the new necessity for going to the loo every five minutes, she'd fallen asleep on the settee, lulled by the sound of his voice talking to their unborn baby, and it had been the best sleep she'd had in ages. The next day, they'd moved the little ritual to her bedroom, so in case she was to fall asleep again, it would be on her own bed.
He was disgustingly honourable throughout it all, too. Aside from a few kisses on the cheek and the occasional cuddle, his behaviour was courteous almost to a fault, beyond reproach. He didn't even make any sort of mention the time he caught her blatantly ogling his arse when he was doing her laundry.
Of course, none of this was on Millicent's mind at this precise moment, because right now all she saw was a red mist as stabbing pains shot through her body. She was barely aware as they entered St. Mungo's and she was placed on a stretcher and carted towards Alicia's domain. She was barely even aware of Alicia's Slytherin husband perched impudently on her desk when they moved her in, though Higgs cleared out soon enough when he realised what was going on. Alicia cast a spell for the pain and together with Ernie, brought her in towards the maternity ward at an almost-run.
"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND FEED YOU TO HAGRID'S BLAST-ENDED SKREWTS!" Millicent shrieked at Ernie as another contraction wracked her body, the mediwizards hovering around her muttering something about dilation and crowning and other mumbo-jumbo as Alicia encouraged her to push. Blue eyes wrathful, Millicent grabbed hold of the hand that Ernie had lain on her arm, and squeezed as tears came to her eyes. What the frell were women like the Weasel-mummy THINKING, to have multiple babies?! This hurt like shit.
"OWW OWW OWW MY HAND," Ernie moaned as an ominous sort of crack came from his fingers. "OWW OWW OWW I love you will you marry me OWWWWWWWWW?"
She barely heard the question through her pain and his whinging, but she answered it immediately and emphatically as she pushed again, certain that she was being ripped apart. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, ERNIE MACMILLAN! AND DAMN RIGHT I'M GOING TO MARRY YOU AND MAKE YOU SUFFER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE FOR DOING THIS TO ME!"
"And the shoulders are out," Alicia's jubilant voice cut through her tirade even as Ernie managed to smile momentarily through his wincing. "Just one more push, dear."
With the last of her energy, Millicent pushed. A few minutes later, a tiny little wail broke through the air, and then they handed a tiny, purplish bundle wrapped in a pink blanket to her. It opened misty blue eyes and blinked.
"Congratulations," Alicia said calmly, as though this was all NORMAL or something. "You've a healthy baby girl, Miss Bulstrode."
"Mrs MacMillan to be," Ernie corrected her with a jubilant grin. He touched a finger to the baby's wispy black hair, then winced again. "Er, can someone fix my hand?"
It was a few hours later that Madeleine Deirdre Bulstrode-MacMillan, 22 inches, seven pounds and eleven ounces, was put in the nursery and Alicia wheeled Millicent back to her hospital bed before bidding the new parents goodnight and leaving with her husband. Millicent was half-propped into a sitting position in her bed and drinking a tall glass of pumpkin juice. A small smile that she couldn't seem to get rid of tugged at the corners of her lips. A pear-shaped diamond winked in the hospital ward's lighting as she brought the glass to her lips.
"You actually bought a ring." She was still in a bit of disbelief. "I almost thought you were just asking because you wanted me to stop breaking your hand."
He gave her a diffident little smile that made her feel all warm and fuzzy and un-Millicent-like, and shook his head, wrapping his arm around her and pressing his cheek to her temple. "No, it's because I thought that if I could enjoy your company so very much in the time that we had together on that cruise, and find myself caring so deeply, that it would only be natural to come to the conclusion that I've fallen in love, and of course the fact that you were having my baby just made it more permanent. And then you were wonderful and strong and gorgeous and interesting while you were pregnant, even though from what I've studied it's not a fun time in general, and it made me admire you even more. So it stands that it'd be best to try to make you agree with me and you agreeing to marry me has made me very happy."
It was so oddly cute that he could ramble like this, and that he thought she was gorgeous even when she was hormonal and fat and eating perfectly horrid things. So now, even though she was in a shapeless hospital gown and her boobs were hurting (something that Alicia had warned her would happen) and her hair was a sweaty mess, she cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. All right, so maybe she'd allow him to have sex with her again. Their new daughter was awfully cute. Must take after dad.
He kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and it was warm and perfect even if she couldn't taste a trace of margarita on his lips. And then a shrill female voice rudely interrupted the moment, and Millicent pulled away slightly to see her best friend at the door of the ward, a bouquet of tasteful carnations and orchids in her hands, a scandalised expression on her face.
"You two are so sickeningly cute and in love and sappy that I think I'm going to go and vomit," Pansy said disgustedly. "I'm never putting you on a cruise again, Millicent!"
Ernie paused, beamed, walked over to Pansy and shook her hand vigourously. "For putting her on that cruise on the first time, I must thank you very sincerely, from the bottom of my heart," he exclaimed buoyantly. Pansy rolled her eyes and retracted her hand after a moment, and Ernie, not deterred, returned to Millicent's side and kissed her temple.
"It's okay," he whispered into her ear. "We'll go on another one for our honeymoon."
Millicent had to admit that she rather liked that idea.