ivyblossom (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ivyblossom) wrote2003-07-11 06:13 pm
ivyblossom) wrote2003-07-11 06:13 pm
Extracurricular 3
Okay, I have to post this in parts, because I just have to. It hasn't been betaed because ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bonibaru is too busy enjoying triangular shaped things or raising her child, and because most people I know won't touch an mpreg with a 10 foot pole.
Title: Extracurricular 3, part 1.
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco is pregnant. For a run down on how this happened, best to read Extracurricular 1 and 2..
A/N: Thanks tobexless and lasultrix for helping me come up with british ways to talk about gettin' your groove on. Part 2 coming soon to an lj near you.
Draco Malfoy is visibly pregnant. The usual jokes were made on a regular basis, but only by non-Slytherin students. The Gryffindors thought it was hilarious to see Draco waddling down the hall, and the Hufflepuffs thought his frequent need to relieve himself was the best part. The Ravenclaws noticed that if you happened to mention 'potato' and 'mushroom' in the same sentence Draco would run to the bathroom to throw up, and the teachers took turns trying to touch his stomach.
"Is it kicking?" they'd ask. "You'd think the progeny of a Potter/Malfoy collaboration would be kicking."
"Yes," McGonagall would say. "Kicking itself in the head."
Harry Potter was worried. He was always worried these days, and people told him that was natural of expectant fathers.
"Worried about the in-laws, are you Potter?" Seamus said, slapping Harry on the back. "The christening will certainly be an interesting event."
"Is You-Know-Who going to be the godfather? I heard that somewhere," Dean said, scratching his head. "is that a good idea?"
Really, what worried Harry was Draco. His pregnancy so far had been tumultuous and uncomfortable; for the first three months he could eat nothing but chips. After that the smell of broccoli, bacon, bananas, barley, butterbeer, Harry's broom wax, and Blaise Zabini made him throw up.
"You're sensitive to the letter B," Harry said at first, trying to make Draco laugh. Draco did not laugh. He punched Harry in the stomach and told him Harry's bitching also made him sick.
The only people other than Harry who were sympathetic to Draco were his Slytherin friends, who gave him cushions for his sore back and rubbed his feet for him, swearing loudly about Harry the entire time.
"What a pig," they said. "Only thinks about his own gratification. And now who has to suffer?"
Draco nodded contentedly and let them make him meals involving no foods starting with the letter B. Harry was entirely banned from the vicinity of the Slytherin dormitory and he even had to sneak into potions class late every day in order to avoid getting what remained of Draco's cabbage, calamari, crisps, and cauliflower thrown at his head.
"Late again, Mr. Potter?" Snape would drawl. "Or shall we call you Big Daddy?"
Draco sat on a large, overstuffed sofa at the front of potions class where Snape sorted all his potions ingredients for him, mixed them, and then declared Draco a genius.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape announced daily. "Draco is still smarter than the lot of you in spite of his condition, oh put your hand down Granger, you silly girl."
Things were fine until the middle of Draco's third trimester. Suddenly, everything started to fall apart again. The Death Eaters gained five thousand new members, but promptly lost all their names and addresses from their elite Death Eater filing system; Professor McGonagall developed a lisp; Ginny Weasley's breasts shrank an entire cup size; the Dark Lord got a blood blister on the end of his nose and declared that this too was the fault of the Muggles. War broke out, but only on the Isle of Wight.
"Well, that's a relief," Ron said. "I never liked the Isle of Wight anyway."
"The Isle of Wight," Hermione said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "is the homeland of the House Elves. Just because you're jealous of the love Dobby and I share doesn't mean that destroying the homeland of these delicate and beautiful creatures is-"
"Enough!" Harry said hotly. "God, don't you two ever stop? This is my fault, our fault, I'm certain of it."
Ron frowned. "How is this our fault?"
"Not yours!" Harry shouted. "Mine! Mine and Draco's!"
"Oh he's Draco now, is he?" Ron sneered.
"Back to the point," Hermione said. "What do you mean it's your fault? Have you lapsed in your...heroic sexual activities?"
"Well I certainly hope he has," Ron said, affronted. "You mean he's supposed to bonk Draco in spite of him being pregnant? Won't he hurt the baby or something?"
"I hardly think," Hermione said airily, "that Harry is that well-endowed. He's not even half house elf, after all."
"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT," Ron shouted, sticking his fingers in his ears. "LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
Harry stormed off in a huff. If his friends were too caught up in their own drama to realize that the world was careening toward a fiery end, then he would have to deal with it himself. As usual. He broke a few trophy cases in the hallway, but it only made him feel marginally better. He had to go see Draco, no matter what kind of mood Draco was in.
Harry ran down to the Slytherin dormitories, shouted out the password, and ran through a shower of donuts, dates and dairy products on his way to Draco's room.
"Oh," Draco said, adjusting his pillow and glowering. "It's you."
"We have a problem," he said.
Draco glowered more. "As if I hadn't noticed."
"I mean another one. It doesn't seem to be working anymore. The, you know."
"What do I know, Potter? Please, enlighten me."
"The...the...."
"The vigorous copulation?"
"Yes, that."
"The coitus? Shagging? The jolly good rogering up the old bottom? Intercourse? Fornication? The resolution of our libidos, our passionate, fade-to-black lovemaking? Our carnal activity, our venereal motion, the wanton the act of generation? Is that," Draco at this point dragged himself off his bed and stamped his foot, "What you want to talk about?"
"Um," Harry said.
"What do you mean it's not working?"
"it's just...it's not."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
"What?"
"Are you having a problem with our sex life? I mean, sure, I'm not as limber as I used to be, but you still seem to enjoy it."
"It's not that it's--"
"Oh sure. As soon as it gets close to time for my poor belaboured duodenum to release the fruit of your loins you start complaining about the boffing. I've done my humble best, but clearly it's not good enough for you. Must move on. Very noble, Potter, I'm sure that's a decision that would do Godric Gryffindor proud."
"Draco, listen to me, it's not that, I swear! I'm not breaking anything, aside from a few trophy cases."
"Hmph."
"I mean the world is falling apart again. Our, er, you know, it doesn't seem to solve anything anymore."
"Well, finding a warm place to put your penis can't possibly solve everything all the time, can it."
"Will you listen to me?"
"What, did you come here for a quick poke then?"
"Well, I--"
"You don't think about anything else, do you. Does it occur to you that my feet are swollen and my back hurts? That I have to pee thousands times a day? No, of course not. All you can think about is giving me a good seeing to, isn't it."
"No no, I--"
"I'm not your plaything, Harry Potter. I'm the father of your offspring, and I think as such I deserve a little respect." Draco seemed to be about to cry. "No one gives me any respect. It's not easy being the pregnant one in stories like this, you know. No one takes you seriously. All they want to know is, 'how's it going to come out,' or 'where's he keeping it'. Well, I'm tired of it." He flopped back on the bed and groaned. "My feet hurt."
Harry rubbed Draco's feet for a while, told him how lovely and how appreciated he was, gave him a quick shag and then nipped out again. He had to see Dumbledore about this. Draco was clearly in no condition to help Harry solve this mystery.
He said the password (condom-flavoured lollipop) and found himself again inside the Headmaster's office.
"Professor Dumbledore?" he called out tentatively. There was no answer. Fawkes was fast asleep in the ashes under his perch and Harry threw himself down into a chair. "I need help," he said under his breath.
"Ah," said a voice behind him. "Help is what you need, eh? Well, come over here, I think I can help you."
Harry turned around. There was no one there, but the voice sounded strangely familiar. "Who are you?"
"Oh I may not be pretty, but—"
"Ah, it's you!" Harry said, jumping up and grabbing the Sorting Hat from the shelf. "You and all your strange prophecies. What do you have to say about this?"
"Well..." the Sorting Hat wiggled.
The Sorting Hat fell silent.
"That wasn't even slightly helpful," Harry said. The hat said nothing.
( part 2 )
bonibaru is too busy enjoying triangular shaped things or raising her child, and because most people I know won't touch an mpreg with a 10 foot pole.Title: Extracurricular 3, part 1.
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco is pregnant. For a run down on how this happened, best to read Extracurricular 1 and 2..
A/N: Thanks to
bexless and lasultrix for helping me come up with british ways to talk about gettin' your groove on. Part 2 coming soon to an lj near you.Draco Malfoy is visibly pregnant. The usual jokes were made on a regular basis, but only by non-Slytherin students. The Gryffindors thought it was hilarious to see Draco waddling down the hall, and the Hufflepuffs thought his frequent need to relieve himself was the best part. The Ravenclaws noticed that if you happened to mention 'potato' and 'mushroom' in the same sentence Draco would run to the bathroom to throw up, and the teachers took turns trying to touch his stomach.
"Is it kicking?" they'd ask. "You'd think the progeny of a Potter/Malfoy collaboration would be kicking."
"Yes," McGonagall would say. "Kicking itself in the head."
Harry Potter was worried. He was always worried these days, and people told him that was natural of expectant fathers.
"Worried about the in-laws, are you Potter?" Seamus said, slapping Harry on the back. "The christening will certainly be an interesting event."
"Is You-Know-Who going to be the godfather? I heard that somewhere," Dean said, scratching his head. "is that a good idea?"
Really, what worried Harry was Draco. His pregnancy so far had been tumultuous and uncomfortable; for the first three months he could eat nothing but chips. After that the smell of broccoli, bacon, bananas, barley, butterbeer, Harry's broom wax, and Blaise Zabini made him throw up.
"You're sensitive to the letter B," Harry said at first, trying to make Draco laugh. Draco did not laugh. He punched Harry in the stomach and told him Harry's bitching also made him sick.
The only people other than Harry who were sympathetic to Draco were his Slytherin friends, who gave him cushions for his sore back and rubbed his feet for him, swearing loudly about Harry the entire time.
"What a pig," they said. "Only thinks about his own gratification. And now who has to suffer?"
Draco nodded contentedly and let them make him meals involving no foods starting with the letter B. Harry was entirely banned from the vicinity of the Slytherin dormitory and he even had to sneak into potions class late every day in order to avoid getting what remained of Draco's cabbage, calamari, crisps, and cauliflower thrown at his head.
"Late again, Mr. Potter?" Snape would drawl. "Or shall we call you Big Daddy?"
Draco sat on a large, overstuffed sofa at the front of potions class where Snape sorted all his potions ingredients for him, mixed them, and then declared Draco a genius.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape announced daily. "Draco is still smarter than the lot of you in spite of his condition, oh put your hand down Granger, you silly girl."
Things were fine until the middle of Draco's third trimester. Suddenly, everything started to fall apart again. The Death Eaters gained five thousand new members, but promptly lost all their names and addresses from their elite Death Eater filing system; Professor McGonagall developed a lisp; Ginny Weasley's breasts shrank an entire cup size; the Dark Lord got a blood blister on the end of his nose and declared that this too was the fault of the Muggles. War broke out, but only on the Isle of Wight.
"Well, that's a relief," Ron said. "I never liked the Isle of Wight anyway."
"The Isle of Wight," Hermione said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "is the homeland of the House Elves. Just because you're jealous of the love Dobby and I share doesn't mean that destroying the homeland of these delicate and beautiful creatures is-"
"Enough!" Harry said hotly. "God, don't you two ever stop? This is my fault, our fault, I'm certain of it."
Ron frowned. "How is this our fault?"
"Not yours!" Harry shouted. "Mine! Mine and Draco's!"
"Oh he's Draco now, is he?" Ron sneered.
"Back to the point," Hermione said. "What do you mean it's your fault? Have you lapsed in your...heroic sexual activities?"
"Well I certainly hope he has," Ron said, affronted. "You mean he's supposed to bonk Draco in spite of him being pregnant? Won't he hurt the baby or something?"
"I hardly think," Hermione said airily, "that Harry is that well-endowed. He's not even half house elf, after all."
"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT," Ron shouted, sticking his fingers in his ears. "LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
Harry stormed off in a huff. If his friends were too caught up in their own drama to realize that the world was careening toward a fiery end, then he would have to deal with it himself. As usual. He broke a few trophy cases in the hallway, but it only made him feel marginally better. He had to go see Draco, no matter what kind of mood Draco was in.
Harry ran down to the Slytherin dormitories, shouted out the password, and ran through a shower of donuts, dates and dairy products on his way to Draco's room.
"Oh," Draco said, adjusting his pillow and glowering. "It's you."
"We have a problem," he said.
Draco glowered more. "As if I hadn't noticed."
"I mean another one. It doesn't seem to be working anymore. The, you know."
"What do I know, Potter? Please, enlighten me."
"The...the...."
"The vigorous copulation?"
"Yes, that."
"The coitus? Shagging? The jolly good rogering up the old bottom? Intercourse? Fornication? The resolution of our libidos, our passionate, fade-to-black lovemaking? Our carnal activity, our venereal motion, the wanton the act of generation? Is that," Draco at this point dragged himself off his bed and stamped his foot, "What you want to talk about?"
"Um," Harry said.
"What do you mean it's not working?"
"it's just...it's not."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
"What?"
"Are you having a problem with our sex life? I mean, sure, I'm not as limber as I used to be, but you still seem to enjoy it."
"It's not that it's--"
"Oh sure. As soon as it gets close to time for my poor belaboured duodenum to release the fruit of your loins you start complaining about the boffing. I've done my humble best, but clearly it's not good enough for you. Must move on. Very noble, Potter, I'm sure that's a decision that would do Godric Gryffindor proud."
"Draco, listen to me, it's not that, I swear! I'm not breaking anything, aside from a few trophy cases."
"Hmph."
"I mean the world is falling apart again. Our, er, you know, it doesn't seem to solve anything anymore."
"Well, finding a warm place to put your penis can't possibly solve everything all the time, can it."
"Will you listen to me?"
"What, did you come here for a quick poke then?"
"Well, I--"
"You don't think about anything else, do you. Does it occur to you that my feet are swollen and my back hurts? That I have to pee thousands times a day? No, of course not. All you can think about is giving me a good seeing to, isn't it."
"No no, I--"
"I'm not your plaything, Harry Potter. I'm the father of your offspring, and I think as such I deserve a little respect." Draco seemed to be about to cry. "No one gives me any respect. It's not easy being the pregnant one in stories like this, you know. No one takes you seriously. All they want to know is, 'how's it going to come out,' or 'where's he keeping it'. Well, I'm tired of it." He flopped back on the bed and groaned. "My feet hurt."
Harry rubbed Draco's feet for a while, told him how lovely and how appreciated he was, gave him a quick shag and then nipped out again. He had to see Dumbledore about this. Draco was clearly in no condition to help Harry solve this mystery.
He said the password (condom-flavoured lollipop) and found himself again inside the Headmaster's office.
"Professor Dumbledore?" he called out tentatively. There was no answer. Fawkes was fast asleep in the ashes under his perch and Harry threw himself down into a chair. "I need help," he said under his breath.
"Ah," said a voice behind him. "Help is what you need, eh? Well, come over here, I think I can help you."
Harry turned around. There was no one there, but the voice sounded strangely familiar. "Who are you?"
"Oh I may not be pretty, but—"
"Ah, it's you!" Harry said, jumping up and grabbing the Sorting Hat from the shelf. "You and all your strange prophecies. What do you have to say about this?"
"Well..." the Sorting Hat wiggled.
"I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
If I sorted you by inclination
They'd kick me out the door.
You thought shagging would save you
Like every teenaged boy
But now the spell is worked right through
No hope for Potter and Malfoy.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you,
Now let the mpreg begin."
The Sorting Hat fell silent.
"That wasn't even slightly helpful," Harry said. The hat said nothing.
( part 2 )
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the hat! the hat!! *grins like no tomorrow* i love the hat. i really really do. no one listens, you know, but The Hat Knows, that much is clear >:D<
this is utterly hilarious. hee. i didn't know there were that many ways to say "fuck" without you know, saying fuck. but of course there are~:)
He's not even half house elf, after all.
!!!!11!11!1!!!1
*blind* that's ... there are no words ><;;
*runs away*
All they want to know is, 'how's it going to come out,' or 'where's he keeping it'.
and the sad thing is, he's right of course >:D<
(and harry -did- just want to shag him, didn't he. of course he did.)
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*giggling madly*
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(Anonymous) 2003-07-11 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)I... I....
I am overwhelmed.
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BAH
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Oh. My. Pregnant Draco with Swollen-Feet, Hermione with DOBBY!?...oi.
:: laughs ::
Misako
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Because, virginal Harry Potter ass IS what every evil...er...in my case, girl, wants for breakfast!
Can't wait for more!
Have you ever considered recording them?...with the voices and accents of course! :D
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Re:
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*loves madly*
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Extracurricular is alive and kicking. No pun intended of course.
I really want this to go on for a long time, it's that funny.
LOL!!
Question
(Anonymous) 2003-07-11 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Question
password
what happened to all the links at veela-inc.net? i can't get to any of the fic pages. and i forget the password so i can't read parts 1 & 2 of Extracurricular. :)
Re: password
PW: over18
:D
Re: password
Re: password
What might be throwing you is the warning pages, those also have been there for a while. The warning pages include the disclaimer for all stories and also the password information. If you get confused, just hit one of the warning pages for instructions. Hope this helps.
*dead*
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"The Isle of Wight," Hermione said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "is the homeland of the House Elves. Just because you're jealous of the love Dobby and I share doesn't mean that destroying the homeland of these delicate and beautiful creatures is-"He said the password (condom-flavoured lollipop) and found himself again inside the Headmaster's office Bwah!! Dirty old man. And the Sorting Hat song! Aahhh... Hope you finish part 2 soon.
*runs off to re-read*
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me = cracked up.
world = better place.
XD
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*lol*