Your Baby is the Size of A...

13 Weeks - Your baby is the size of a lemon

So - from here on out, we affectionately refer to Sev's growing baby as Bump. Aw <3
Almost makes up for the ton of sexual tension between him and a certain Gryffindor.

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Half remembered dreams buzzed at the back of his head. Of a broad, heated weight against his back and uneven breath panting against his skin, in his ear; heavy thrusts threatening to tear him apart while large hands curled sharp around his hips.

Growling, Severus flopped onto his back and scowled down at Bump – who was now almost perfectly framed by his hips, the sharp cuts softening just a little.

"Behave today," he ground out, smoothing his palm downward over the swell of his stomach. "I've got to brew the werewolf's potion, and pregnancy hormones are the last thing I need when dealing with that idiot." He thought he felt Bump give an almost gentle twist of understanding under his hand, but the idea was washed away as nausea cramped at his abdomen.

Groaning, Severus managed to get to his feet. In the bathroom, he finally removed the bandage from around the popped collarbone, his fingers travelling the expanse of the bone far rougher than they should have. But his body offered no protestations, and the seam felt as though it had mended.

"Glad to finally see you eating," the mirror offered up breathily, as his fingers tracked the cleave of his collarbone once more. "I always thought you needed more meat on your bones."

Pursing his lips, Severus completely ignored the enchanted glass and retreated to the bedroom. He dressed slowly, not for the first time wishing he wore fewer clothes. But if he forwent any of his layers, he would feel vulnerable, exposed. And he was feeling weak enough in his current state to not invite anymore feelings of unease in.

It was still early enough that the castle seemed empty, halls all barren of children as he made his way up to the Infirmary. Though, Severus supposed they were all at breakfast. Poppy, like himself, normally only had tea for the first meal of the day, so he was unworried of finding the hospital wing empty.

"I just put the kettle on, dear," Poppy called out the moment he stepped into the Infirmary, already charming his robes open.

"Sounds lovely, but I think I'll forgo tea this morning." He laid his robes and vest over the back of the chair, starting on his shirt.

"Stomach still acting up?"

"A bit," Severus admitted, laying down on the bed. His hands automatically framing the place where Bump met ribs. He pressed a little, smoothing the skin slowly.

Poppy tutted, her fingers cupping Bump. "Really dear, you ought to be better to your father. He's thin enough without you inadvertently turning him bulimic." Already she was casting the basic inquisitive spell, looking for any indication that the whole endeavor had taken a downward spiral.

Severus scoffed. "I am hardly bulimic."

The mediwitch gave him a look. "Anything you're eating is thrown up within three hours – that's fairly close to bulimia."

Rolling his eyes, Severus let it drop as she continued on with her examination of his body.

"Anything . . . new with the pregnancy, feelings or anything?" With her eyebrows drifting near her hairline, the look she was giving him was downright suggestive, and Severus flushed.

"Ah – there does seem to be an increase of hormones," he grumbled, hand pressed over his eyes, so he didn't have to look at her face.

"I was wondering if you'd be experiencing that just yet!" Her fingers kept kneading at his skin, checking his liver and kidneys for anything out of the ordinary. "You're out of your first trimester; baby is the size of a lemon, and all the books say you'll be experiencing an increased sex drive for the next few months."