Your Baby is the Size of A...

21 Weeks - Your baby is the size of an endive

His week began with a potion – specifically, the potion – and Minerva's words still burned fresh in his mind. But he couldn't – wouldn't – think about what she had said, and instead he focused on the Wolfsbane. And Severus mentally ran through the steps a dozen times – first as he added ingredients, then as he stirred, and finally as he waited. His hand rested along the curve of Bump, counting along with the magicked timer.

The Winter Solstice had rendered the castle empty, sending the majority of the students home for the holidays.

And he had never been so grateful, as it meant he could take to stalking the hallways without the burdensome teaching robes, cuffs rolled up to just below his elbows. While the heavy woolen garment had its uses, it was beginning to become a bit too stifling about his midriff. Not that the fabric was tight exactly, but rather it didn't drape quite as loosely, or dramatically, as Severus would have liked.

As he ladled the potion into its chalice, Severus sighed through his nose deeply. He glanced down at Bump, who was rather apparent where it jutted from his lean frame, as though someone had simply stuffed a balloon under his shirt.

"You're an awful big burden for someone your size," he growled, rubbing the upward curve as nausea swelled under his ribs. Between the nausea and the heartburn, he had found himself to be in a rather permanent state of indigestion. Even bland foods seemed to irritate Bump and leave him in abdominal distress until he retched.

Snorting, Severus cast the simple concealment spell that smoothed out his edges unless one looked just so, catching the warbled edge of magic tracing his distended stomach, and picked up the chalice. Even without the ominous robes, he managed to scowl deeply enough that any student or professor he ran across on his walk upward was appropriately cowed. He knocked on Lupin's door, glaring at a gaggle of Second Year girls in scarlet and gold, who were eying him in terrified amazement. The door opened whisper-soft, and Severus turned his attention to the Gryffindor he had come to see.

"Severus," Lupin remarked softly in surprise, gaze – as it always did – running the length of his frame whenever the lycanthrope found him without his robes. Brows furrowed; Lupin regarded him curiously. "Was I . . . supposed to come to the Dungeons for my potion before lunch? I don't recall you saying."

"Common decorum says you invite me in," he bit out haughtily, ignoring the question.

"I wasn't aware you needed an invitation. I thought that was only for vampires." The corners of Lupin's lips curved upward in a leer, and Severus scowled.

"If you make any insinuation about me biting, I will hex you every day until Christmas." There was laughter in those golden hazel eyes. "Now. Invite me in."

"Please, dear – won't you come in," Lupin teased, stepping back into his rooms even as mirth glittered in his eyes, creasing his lips.

Sweeping into the small sitting room, Severus suddenly wished he had his robes to bundle about his frame. Instead, he thrust the silver chalice into the werewolf's hands.

"No, I did not indicate when you were to come to the Dungeons for your potion. However, I'm growing weary of you sulking into my rooms late at night, and the things the students are assuming because of such actions."

"I don't sulk," Lupin pouted, before upturning the goblet with a grimace. "If anything, I prowl."

"I'm not prey, Lupin. This isn't a hunt." He rubbed his temple, sighing heavily as uneasy silence filled the room about them.

"How's er . . . things," the lycanthrope finally said, motioning toward Severus's abdomen. "Concealment spell, I'm sure . . .?" Of course, his tone lilted upward in question, and Severus scowled rather formidably at the notion that Lupin thought perhaps he had done something to Bump.