Your Baby is the Size of A...

37 Weeks - Your baby is the size of a head of romaine lettuce

Feeling heavy, Severus sat in Dumbledore's office.

As it was, he had managed to get mostly through his weekly appointment with Poppy before a house elf had appeared bearing the note from the Headmaster requesting his presence as soon as he was able. So, Poppy had of course hurried to finish her exam, told him the dear love was the size of a head of romaine lettuce, had verily demanded he try to eat more, and promptly sent him on his way. He hadn't even been allotted the time to cast the glamor before she was pushing him into the fireplace.

Which was exactly as Albus had seemingly expected it, as Severus had arrived just as the kettle had begun to whistle and yet another house elf popped into existence and out once more, leaving behind a plate of fresh crumpets.

They exchanged mindless pleasantries as Severus sipped his tea, teeth gritted to keep the grimace in as Bump twisted painfully. His hand automatically dropping to rub tenderly at the swell of his stomach, as though he could persuade the devil to relax.

Which seemed to be the opportunity the older wizard had been looking for.

"Have you given my offer anymore thought," Albus asked, pouring them each yet another cup of tea.

"I am not an invalid," Severus grounded out, though a strong cramp seemed to indicate differently. He smoothed his palm along Bump slowly while sucking in a slow breath between gritted teeth. "I am perfectly capable of teaching."

"Poppy said this is week thirty-seven, Severus. We've got to begin thinking about the baby coming." The meddlesome old coot gave him a rather sly look. "I don't imagine you'd like to go into active labor in the middle of class."

Severus grimaced, because as it was – he hadn't given the idea of labor much thought. And Poppy had seemed decidedly uncertain to how his body would experience labor . . . what with the lack of a functioning womb and cervix.

"I really don't think it's going to be that sort of problem," Severus finally managed, picking his words carefully. His stomach cramped up, the muscles of his abdomen tightening until he felt choked before the spasm relaxed. "Rather certain we'll have to cut it out."

"Still. You being on your feet all day surely isn't good for the baby. Undue stress on your body is undue stress on the child, I would imagine."

He gave a snort of derision. "We've gone beyond that, Albus. Everything at this point is undue stress on the baby."

"All the more reason for you to allow me to confine you to your rooms." The smile was crooked and bright, and he knew it all too well. Because it was the smile that inevitably led to Severus being conned or manipulated into giving in to the wishes of the old duffer.

"I'm fine. Really." Severus pushed himself to his feet, trying not to puff too hard as the baby squirmed in his guts, and all the blood seemed to rush from his head leaving him dizzy. He stood for a second in front of his chair, fingers splayed lightly on the arm, waiting for the world to right itself. Albus was giving him a knowing look, and Severus glowered. "I am fine," he hissed out, heading for the fireplace – already having decided he would Floo to his rooms and crawl into bed, which he promptly did.

The rooms were blessedly quiet, Remus presumably still at dinner, and Severus traded his work clothes for more favorable pajama bottoms. The waistband clung to his hips, but the fabric was soft and the touch unobtrusive. He crawled into bed, stretching out leisurely and smoothing his palm along Bump. The baby pushed against his touch, squirmed in his guts. And Severus smiled sleepily.

"I am beyond ready for you to come out, you brat." A sharp contraction tore at him, stirring nausea to life almost halfheartedly. He rubbed both hands along Bump heavily, as though he could entice the baby into stillness.