Your Baby is the Size of A...

24 Weeks - Your baby is the size of a cantaloupe

As classes started back up, Severus took to stalking his classrooms more than strictly necessary, even for the more competent students. Even when there was no fear of his Dungeons catching on fire, he found he felt more at ease moving the length of his classroom, the motion keeping the leg cramps and swelling down. He paced far more than was strictly necessary – ignoring the discomfort in his lower half for the urge to keep moving, even as his students proved more competent than expected.

When the last class filed out of his room, Severus sighed, bringing his hands up to knead vigorously against his lower back, his sides, the slight swells over his belt – groaning. Gods – the pressure felt delicious but not nearly enough. He wanted the touch to bear down to the marrows of his bones, leaving him breathless as fingertips soothed the ache away.

But his hands were too accustomed to his aches and hurts to do so, and instead his fingertips kneaded just roughly enough to take the edge of the ache off but left him feeling relatively unfulfilled. Questing digits dug into his side, massaging the tender spot above his liver as he drew in a breath, the sound a sharp hiss in the quiet of his classroom.

Severus sighed heavily, kneading at his back, the crevices flanking his spine.

"I'd take the raging hormones over this damn backache any day," he ground out, straightening his back almost painfully and rubbing hard at the base of his spine, thumbs pressing roughly against his hips. Sighing again, he made his way into his office, determined to ignore the hurt long enough to get some marking done.

He eyed the small jar of iridescent powder curiously, watching it turn silver, pink, blue, silver in the candlelight.

"Well . . . he's certainly stepped up from leaving me flowers," Severus told Bump softly, rubbing the side of the swell affectionally. The baby twisted under his touch. "Pearl dust is more effective than asphodel blossoms, but I don't think I'll be making too many love potions any time soon," he almost sneered.

Sighing, he started to head into his rooms but stopped short, glancing back over at his desk, the small jar of iridescent powder. Severus turned, collected the pearl dust, and headed into his rooms. He shed his outer robes and filled the kettle, resting his hip against the counter as he waited for the kettle to whistle. Severus watched the pearl dust where it sat on the coffee table, as though he thought it might turn into something else.

Instead, he turned his attention to the small basket Poppy had sent with him. If Severus concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the tingle of magic along his skin from the various spells she had cast over him – checking his weight and heart, the depth of his breath; Bump.

Poppy had tutted pitifully, informed him he'd lost nearly a stone and a half in weight – that he probably hadn't had to lose in the first place if he was honest with himself – despite the cantaloupe sized mass in his stomach and promptly handed him a basket full of what she'd called goodies. Looking through the basket, he found various Muggle things: chocolate protein shakes, something called a coffee scrub, and a suspicious looking handheld thing with wooden spheres that rolled.

Apprehensive, Severus eyed the can of powder, uncertain of how it could make him gain enough weight that Poppy would finally stop tutting disapprovingly as her fingertips smoothed over the ridges of bone, made all that much more prominent as Bump stretched his skin tight against his ribcage. He read the instructions and headed for the kitchen as he pried the lid off and took a cautious sniff. The chocolate smell was overpoweringly sweet, as though to mask the almost chalky smell underneath. Sighing, Severus decided to give it a try – placing a scoop of the powder into an empty jar he found in the kitchenette, filled it with water, and gave it a good stir. Severus couldn't keep in the grimace as he sipped, proving his assessment to be correct. It was cloyingly sweet on his tongue, but the powder couldn't cover up the chalky taste. He spit into the sink, turning on the tap to wash his mouth of the viscous liquid.