Spunk and Flowers

“Hey! You! Redheaded girl who lives in my house and has avoided me like the plague for the past week! Yes, I am talking to you, Weasley.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t use that tone on me, chit, I know where it tickles.”

“No! No—no, Draco! Stop it.”

“Sweet Circe, it is more serious than I thought. She withstands tickling! What’s the matter, Red?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad, apparently I have to. If something bothers you, I have every right to prod and knead it and then pound it into the ground. Is it someone physical? Is it Potter? Please, let it be Potter! On second thought, it better not be Potter who occupies your mind that much.”

“It’s not Harry, Draco. Just… just leave me alone, alright?”

“Wha—no, not alright. I want to know what’s wrong, Ginny.”

“There are some things you don’t want to know.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

“Like the fact that I’m pregnant.”


“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“My wholehearted condolences. Who’s the father?”

“WHY Y—“

“Oh, you mean it’s mine?”

Yes, you prat!”

“Well, you didn’t have to hit so hard, you know. My face is my asset.”

“I’ll show you an ass—et!”

“Wait, no, wait! Come on, where’s that spunky sense of humor of yours, Weasley? Wait up, already!”

“You want spunk? Just wait around! In eight months there’ll be a full grown one running around!”

“Wait, you mean you’re keeping it? You’re… keeping it?!”

“Sigh… Ferret-face, there is an actual reason as to why I have megagillion brothers. We dislike murder in our family. Abortion is out of the question.”

“Gods, I don’t want to hear about your parents’ twisted insatiability! Oh my god, the images are flooding in! QUICK! GOUGE MY EYES OUT!”


Ow! What on earth made you think you can slap me and smack me upside the head in a matter of three minutes without losing one of your nine lives, you wench?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s because I know you could never hurt me.”

“Oh, I can hurt you, alright.”

“Eep! Get away, you hog, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know. Can’t blame a Malfoy for trying. Actually can’t blame a Malfoy at all, or we’ll buy off your entire family along with your dog to testify against you in a bogus trial about your homicidal tendencies.”

“You don’t have to look so full of yourself at that, Draco. You know, buying people off against their family is wrong. Are you familiar with the term? ‘Wrong’?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar, yes. Like a bad dream.”

“Merlin, I hope your sperm isn’t as stupid as you are.”

“Well, it obviously isn’t if it managed to find its way around down there.”

“Draco, don’t you ever, ever, refer to my womb as ‘down there’, you got that?”

“Would you prefer if I called it ‘your precious flower’?”


OwOW! STOP it! There are so many smacks to the head I can take, woman!”

“If this whiner is the true you, then I’m not quite sure I want my eggs to deal with your swimmers for nine months.”

“Hey! I am not a whiner. I just do not appreciate being hit on the head. Repeatedly! Now, spanking… that’s a completely different matter.”

“I remember…”

“Oh, I bet you do.”

“Okay, no, wait a sec—no, Draco, don’t. Draco. No, bad Draco! Ba—ahh! Draco… no—argh, stop it! Oh, well, no, not yet!”



“’m busy, woman…”

“I—I see that, no… no, really, Draco, plea—se s—stop it. Draco.”

“Oh, alright! But if I find out your parents’ insatiability is not an inherited trait, I’m trading you for a younger model. Urgh, now why did I do that? Now the images are coming back…”

"Draco, please! Could you be serious for exactly five minutes?”

“It might cause irreparable damages.”

“I see myself duly warned. Now, please? Serious mode?”

“Alright… see? Serious face. Shoot.”

“Alright, let me repeat myself – I. Am. Pregnant.”

“What makes you think I haven’t heard you the first time around?”

“Because you have the attention span of a twitchy flip-flop and I assumed you tuned out the moment I took that deep breath, paying all of your attention to my chest.”

“Oh. Well. I did. It doesn’t mean I didn’t hear you, though. The ‘P’ word is kind of difficult to miss.”

“The ‘P’ word? Oh my goddess, what have I gotten myself into?!”

“Okay, alright, stop it. This ‘underestimating me’ thing has gone a step or twelve too far. Ginny, look at me— look at me. Good. Now, what is it you expect me to do? Run away? Make a snide remark and dump you? Reject you and everything about you? Offer to pay for an abortion? Act the Slytherin way and try to buy you off so you’d get away from me?”


“No. Alright. What then?”

“I don’t know…”

“You do know, Ginny. Why won’t you just say it?”

“Well, no. You’re the guy, you’re the one who’s supposed to say it.”

“Yes, but you’re still you and I’m still me, and there’s no way and no words on this or neighboring planets that would convey just how deeply and profoundly I’m supporting the idea. And if I attempt at wording it, I’ll make some wise crack in between the sloppily romantic declarations, then you’ll get upset and wouldn’t want to talk to me – or worse, think I don’t really want to do it, but am doing it just because it’s ‘the right thing’ or whatever other crap you Gryffindors believe in, but as a Slytherin and a Malfoy I would have no knowledge of – and storm off, blaming me in insensitivity and cruelty. Then there will be the “unexpected” visits from all your quazillion brothers, each and every one beating me into a bloody messy pulp, with the exception of that bespectacled one who’ll probably hire people to beat me up and then hit me with a book when I’m good and gory. So no, Ginny, why don’t you say it and I’ll go off to spend at least one-third of my fortune on the ring?”

“I just remembered why I allowed your sperm anywhere near my flower.”

“Yes, you are not the only woman to ever be dazzled by the prospects of my bank account—OW! I already see this will be an abusive marriage!”

“Only if you continue being an idiot.”

“Hey! That’s part of my charm you’re referring to as ‘idiotism’!”

“So help me Merlin—!”

“So are you going to say it, or what?”

“You’re serious, Malfoy? You want me to propose?”

“You say ‘Malfoy’ like it’s a bad thing… And yes! Yes, I want you to propose! Now shut up and do it, before you ruin the most beautiful moment of my life, damn it!”


So Malfoy, want to un-bastardize your child?”



“Sure, why not?”

“You do realize I’d have to make up something sloppily romantic for the sake of ‘Mione and Mum, right?”

“As long as I’m not riding any beasts, climbing any hair, or kissing any catatonic women, I don’t mind. But do make me tall, I like being tall in stories…”


I really hope your sperm is smarter than you.”

“Smarter than—come here!”

“Eek! Aahhh! Draco, put me down!”

“No pregnant bride of mine is walking to the bedroom.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that I was heading that way.”

“Ha! Shows you who’s the mentally impaired one, doesn’t it?”

“Wait, Draco, wait! What about the baby?”

“What about it?”

“Well… won’t it, err, disturb her?”

He is the size of a peanut! No. It won’t. Besides, if you really think I will wait out nine months because of some cluster of cells, you’ve been misinformed, missy!”

“Draco, don’t you dare talking that way about her! What the hell are you thinking? This is a growing human being! Our growing human being! I will not stand for you referring to her as a ‘cluster of cells’!”

“Love, I assure you that the moment he arrives, I will spoil him rotten, buy him all the expensive toys, teach him Quidditch the moment he can grab hold of the broom, carry pictures of him in the loo in my wallet, brag about how intelligent and strong and beautiful he is, and physically prove wrong anyone who disagrees. But meanwhile, he’s standing between me and glorious Newly-Engaged Sex, and so help me Merlin, woman, I cannot be held responsible for my actions! Yes, keep giggling, you bint…”

“Who would’ve believed this would ever develop from some innocent head groping?”

“No groping of yours had ever been that innocent.”

“True. I’m so glad we have that in common…”
The End.
Lirie Halliwell is the author of 16 other stories.
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