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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust Volume 7, Number 9

Les Filles de Illighadad

Another collection of short reviews closes out this week at Dusted, with selections ranging from avant garde classical to free jazz to whacko punk to an unusually gender-inclusive guitar band from Niger. Writers this time included the usual stalwarts, Bill Meyer, Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Bryon Hayes, Tim Clarke, Andrew Forell and Chris Liberato. Enjoy.

All Set — All Set (RogueArt)

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In 1957, serialist composer Milton Babbitt’s All Set applied his language-transforming compositional tool kit to the sonic resources of a jazz orchestra. Six decades and change down the road, such ideas haven’t exactly infiltrated the mainstream of either jazz or orchestral music, but they’ve become as handy for some music makers as hammers and nails are for carpenters. So, when saxophonic colleagues Ingrid Laubrock (who sticks to tenor here) and Stéphane Payen (playing the straight alto) needed to come up with a framework to make music together, out came Babbitt’s notion, which they did not play straight, but used as a suggestions for writing their own tunes, and for good measure named their band after the Babbitt’s piece The formative influence manifests in zig-zagging intervallic leaps, but instead of treating these of ends in themselves, the saxophonists carry on constant overlapping dialogues. The rhythm section of Chris Tordini (bass) and Tom Rainey (drums) can’t help but swing, but they do so in a shifting, discontinuous fashion that occasionally leaves it to the saxophonists to play the gaps as well as the horns they use the fill them.

Bill Meyer

Rodrigo Amado Motion Trio & Alexander Von Schlippenbach — The Field (No Business)

The Field by Rodrigo Amado Motion Trio & Alexander von Schlippenbach

Motion Trio is one of tenor saxophonist Rodrigo Amado’s more enduring combos. But it’s not one that has played often in the years preceding this concert, a consequence of the growth and success of its members; Amado, cellist Miguel Mira and drummer Gabriel Ferrandini all keep busy with other projects. So, this encounter with pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach, which took place in Vilnius, Lithuania in 2019, was not just a reenactment of the trio’s favorite tactic of improvising with a strong fourth musician, but a reunion of the trio itself. This means that the process-oriented can listen for three comrades finding reviving a common language at the same time that they confront with an outsider’s efforts to deal with it. Schlippenbach’s playing brings an unusual harmonic density to Motion Trio’s music, which seems to coax an especially dynamic and at times reflective response from the saxophonist. Ferandini, on the other hand, proposes shapes and timbres that seem to build out from Schlippenbach’s intricate constructions, while Mira keeps up a steady, almost subliminal stream of contrapuntal commentary that is simultaneously assertive and nearly subliminal. But some of the concert’s most exciting moments come when the pianist lays out for a second, and you can hear Motion Trio’s members responding to each other.

Bill Meyer

BangGang Lonnie Bands — H2K On the Way (TF Entertainment \ Anti Media)

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Lots of artists have watched small projects intended only as appetizers grow to surpass their grander efforts. BangGang Lonnie Bands’ recent work, especially his King of Detroit albums, contained a few gems but were bloated in length. There was an ironic twist, as Lonnie’s claimed the throne to the city where he no longer resides. While it remains to be seen what the rapper brings after H2K On the Way, this 15 minutes long EP is his leanest work in years, leaving a long list of LPs behind. Lonnie no longer flirts with scam rap and returns to murder music, fusing gutsiest Michigan-style punchlines with no hostage Californian approach to verse spitting. He’s the naughtiest when he’s trolling the music industry: “Copped a 100 pounds of crank \ should have bought a verse from Drake.”

Ray Garraty

Buffalo Daughter — We Are the Times (Anniversary)

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Buffalo Daughter always caught in the cracks between mainstream and experimental, layering vocal sweetness over chopped up blippy beats, not as wildly original as OOIOO, but not exactly girl pop either. This latest album comes after a long break and a slightly less lengthy COVID lockdown, and it’s got some prickly, dreamy jams, part dance, part pop, part funk, part inscrutable. “ET (Densha)” is the mad, moody single, full of low-end synth blasts and thundering drums, but leavened by high whispery vocals. It’s like Shackleton sound-tracking a Hello Kitty movie. “Global Warming Will Kill Us All” is similarly ominous, with vocoder chants and trippy pop choruses and blown out by phosphorescent blots of synth, but I like “Don’t Punk Out” the best, because it struts like an animatronic James Brown, the funk percolating through gleaming futuristic swells of sounds. If disco’s going to come back, can it be this weird and disorienting?

Jennifer Kelly

Fashion Pimps and the Glamazons — Jazz 4 Johnny (Feel It Records)

Jazz 4 Johnny by Fashion Pimps And The Glamazons

This new EP from Fashion Pimps and the Glamazons manages to fit into the tradition of whacko punk records from Cleveland (and what a tradition that is…) and to comment on the problematic nature of tradition itself. There’s a decided No Wave vibe to Jazz 4 Johnny: listen to it, and you’ll flash on Buy Contortions and on Robert Quine’s attempts to channel Miles Davis and Pharoah Sanders through his guitar. At points you’ll swear there’s a sax somewhere in the buzz and thunder that the Fashion Pimps create — but that’s just Richard Glamazon’s skronky guitar tone, which does Quine one better by not only aping the cadences of a free jazz solo but also the sound of a brassy axe. That’s fun, but we should also recall No Wave’s sharp antipathies for concepts like “tradition” or “perpetuity.” A lot of those bands wanted to neutralize their own existence and thus evade the ultimately conservative action of canonization. Other tunes on Jazz 4 Johnny are more engaged with the later Downtown noise rock scene. The guitar on “Dream Police” gestures toward early Sonic Youth—but even there, the band can’t quite help themselves. Vocalist Steve Chainsaw shouts, “Show me your DNA!” Most of those references are based in Manhattan, so what about Cleveland? The city often recedes into the background when conversations turn to rock-n-roll history, which is too bad. Fashion Pimps and the Glamazons don’t sound all that much like electric eels or Pere Ubu, but the band is tuned into a similarly feral, post-industrial ethos and an avant-garde sensibility that makes anti-art into art you can dance to. Or break things to. Or both. Which may be the best response to the wild and smart tunes on this record.

Jonathan Shaw

Les Filles de Illighadad — At Pioneer Works (Sahel Sounds)

At Pioneer Works by Les Filles de Illighadad

The entrancing At Pioneer Works documents the American touring debut of Niger-based Tuareg ensemble Les Filles de Illighadad, specifically a pair of shows at the eponymous Brooklyn venue. Travelling as a four-piece ensemble, the band created a swirling three-guitar maelstrom, as captured on this pristine-sounding recording. Founder Fatou Seidi Ghali — the first known woman Tuareg guitarist — and her cousin Alamnou Akrouni were joined by Fatimata Ahmadelher, the only other known woman Tuareg guitarist, with Ghali’s brother accompanying on rhythm guitar. Blending the traditional calabash drum and call-and-response vocals of the tende song form with the electric guitar, Ghali and company steep the communal origins of their sound with a gentle clangor. The music is simultaneously hypnotic and driving, the four performers acting as one multi-limbed, multi-throated being. For the most part, Ghali is content setting the pace and playing along with the melody. One exception is the trio of deftly executed solos during “Chakalan,” where she demonstrates her prowess with six strings. Reports from those Brooklyn shows indicate that the band completely enraptured their audience, and if At Pioneer Works represents only a fraction of how powerful Les Filles de Illighadad are live, this writer doesn’t doubt that at all.

Bryon Hayes

Henri Guédon — Karma (Outre National)

Karma by Henri Guédon

You don’t have to be a big fan of R.E.M. to feel overly familiar with “It’s The End of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” In dire times, it’s such an easy go-to tune that even adherence to lockdown prescriptions won’t keep it out of your ears. So, deejays, we’ve done your research for you, and found a new tune to soundtrack defiant frugging in the face of disaster. It’s called “Fin Di Mond,” by Martinique-based singer/percussionist/sculptor Henri Guédon. It, and eight more similarly motion-motivating tunes, can be found on Karma, a predominantly celebratory set of retro-futuristic, Franco-Caribbean grooves. Mind you, this music wasn’t retro when Guédon recorded it 46 years ago; the synth lines that swoop through its massed percussion were probably the height of modernity back in the day. Heard now, this music is just the thing to put time itself on pause.

Bill Meyer

HTRK — Rhinestones (Heavy Machinery)

Rhinestones by HTRK

Rhinestones is a sneaky one from Melbourne’s HTRK, a slight but incisive release that seems minor compared to their previous albums but cuts just as deep. Running to a brutally economical 26 minutes, most of the album is built around delayed guitar, drum machine and Jonnine Standish’s ghostly, dejected voice. To a world laid low by the pandemic, Standish sounds startlingly apposite for these times, and track titles like “Sunlight Feels Like Bee Stings,” “Real Headfuck” and “Straight to Hell” signpost the vibe clearly. This is sad, skeletal music, sure to offer a degree of solace if you’re weary, wrung out or wasted — 2021 in a nutshell.

Tim Clarke

Matt Jencik — Matt & Lyra (Trouble In Mind)

Matt & Lyra by matt jencik

Matt Jencik is a member of doomy, spacey Chicago band Implodes, plus he’s released two solo guitar albums: 2017’s Weird Times and 2019’s Dream Character. For his latest, Matt & Lyra, part of Trouble In Mind’s Explorers Series, Jencik focuses on the thick, fuzzy tones of the Russian-built Lyra-8 synthesizer (hence the album title). Having said that, he does pull out his guitars to add some acoustic strumming to “Cmellow Ayellow,” and builds 16-minute closer “Clandestine Half Pipe” around electric guitar drones before the Lyra begins to dominate the frame. Jencik apparently made this music to help him sleep, and while this music is suited to nocturnal listening, with an all-enveloping warmth, there’s also the sense of something looming in the darkness. Whether this presence is reassuring or threatening probably depends on the frame of mind with which you approach this immersive 35-minute release.

Tim Clarke

Joakim — Second Nature (Tiger Sushi)

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French producer and Tiger Sushi founder Joakim’s Second Nature is a reflection on the state of the world. It combines samples of whales, elephants, toads and other wildlife with the kind of pop facing ambient techno from aughts chillout compilations. It is testament to his skill as a producer that the record doesn’t wear out its welcome despite the occasional lapse into the anodyne and the associations this kind of gentle background music evokes. When Joakim disturbs the tranquility on tracks like “Sferics & Whistlers” with its crackles of static and breakdown of discordant notes, Angel Bat Dawid’s klezmatic clarinet on “Waves Ahead” and the komische roll of “Kepler-39” that one is jolts from reverie and pays close attention, but at 16 tracks it feels like Second Nature needs more such moments.

Andrew Forell

The Killing Popes — Ego Kills (Shhpuma)

Ego Kills by The Killing Popes

Thank god this unfortunately named combo isn’t someone’s absurd scheme to crossbreed the sounds of Killing Joke and Smoking Popes. Instead, the Berlin-based project exists at the crossroads of jazz and electronics. I know what you’re thinking, and no this isn’t a modern take on acid jazz; this crew makes a jazz-on-acid sort of racket. The core Popes are drummer-percussionist Oli Steidle and multi-instrumentalist Dan Nicholls, who together conjure up a brew with a myriad of ingredients. Their genre-defying fusion of disciplines does have a center, however. Steidle’s dextrous drumming and the elastic band bass proffered by Phil Donkin serve as an anchor point for the other elements — both melodic and bizarre — to revolve around. The addition of vocals inserts the sense of narrative, creating a gravity that tugs at the sounds and prevent them from spiralling out of orbit. As zany as Ego Kills may be, it’s jazz-like enough for afficionados to appreciate. On their own, each of the instrumentalists demonstrates a mastery of their craft; together, they create an uncanny sort of magic.

Bryon Hayes

Norman W. Long — BLACK BROWN GRAY GREEN (Hausu Mountain)

BLACK BROWN GRAY GREEN by Norman W. Long

Chicago soundscapist Norman W. Long walks his southeast Chicago neighborhood, listens deeply and records the ambient sounds of nature, the echoes of railyards, wasteland and industrial sites both working and abandoned. Adding subtle electronics and treatments to his field recordings, Long conjures atmospheres that speak to space, atrophy and the delicate symbiosis between nature and humanity. On BLACK BROWN GRAY GREEN he immerses listeners in the often unnoticed aural richness at the intersection of the built, neglected and the natural. His choices about when to augment or to present his sources as are forms a narrative of associations, displacements and tensions. Long’s is also a story of reclamation and recognition, a rumination on the situation of the largely minority and migrant populations who live in the neighborhood, many of whom toil as essential workers across the city in the face of ongoing prejudice and hostility. Site specificity is integral to Long’s art but his themes are universal.

Andrew Forell

Andy Moor — Music For Safe Piece (Unsounds)

Music For Safe Piece by Andy Moor

Music For Safe Piece is the antidote for every piece of children’s music that’s ever made you want to not hear another played or sung note, ever again. Electric guitarist Andy Moor (the Ex, Dog Faced Hermans) and dancer Valentina Campora have included their sons, Elio and Milo, in onstage performance ever since they were so young, they had to be swaddled and strapped to one of their parents in order to participate. The recorded results of this shared adventure are raw, unpredictable and exhilarating. Moor’s guitar, occasionally augmented by a child’s vocalization, a foot pounding the floor or some choice tune fragments on a cassette tape, blazes a trail of reverberations, scrapes and wobbles. In performance, the boys are known to get in on the act, helping pop to make his sounds while mom handles the movement. This music isn’t particularly pacific, but it’s pretty close to the way kids actually play when no one’s stopping them. The technologically adept will find a QR code inside the CD’s gatefold, which unlocks the short film, “Safe Piece.”

Bill Meyer

RXM Reality — Advent (Orange Milk)

Advent by RXM REALITY

Long-time Hausu Mountain dweller Mike Meegan has relocated to the Orange Milk abode, taming his frenetic brand of electronic mayhem in the process. The blown-out, off-the-grid beats are still plentiful, but with Advent Meegan injects his tunes with melody. He’s also allowed himself to slow down and relax. The vast expanse of “Character Limit” literally breathes deeply as Meegan allows it to swirl around. He drinks up the pleasant melodic aromas of the track before switching gears and unloading burst after burst of explosive beats. “These Days” comes off as an electro-shoegaze hybrid, with gauzy synth pads that float effortlessly among bouncy percussion clusters. Of course, the signature RXM Reality sound — a hybrid of 1990s video game and blockbuster movie — is present and accounted for in tracks like “Allure,” “Screaming,” and “Grip of Evil.” Yet even these balls of energy are tempered with shades of consonance. Having blunted some of the jagged edges of his frantic brand of electronic music, Meegan fits in nicely among the kooky ranks of the Orange Milk imprint.

Bryon Hayes

Macie Stewart — Mouth Full of Glass (Orindal)

Mouth Full of Glass by Macie Stewart

You might already know Macie Stewart as one-half of the complicated indie rock duo Ohmme or for her regular appearances as violinist of choice in Chicago jazz and experimental music scenes, but this solo LP shows another side. These eight songs are lushly, intricately arranged with strings, orchestral instruments and brass, recorded with precision and clarity, but nonetheless personal and introspective. “Garter Snake” sheathes flaying honesty with baroque instrumental flourishes. Stewart’s voice is bare and unaffected as she confides, “I am addicted…to indecision,” but she makes riveting choices in framing the melody. Old-fashioned movie strings swell in the spaces between talking-right-to-you verses; agile guitar chords mark time. “Finally” begins in bare, Bahian guitar play, as Stewart’s voice flutters and floats an unpredictable but fetching tune. Strings swoop in at the end of the phrase, lavish and lucid. The title track unlooses massed, harmonized vocals on the spare architecture of picked guitar, a shock of extravagant sung beauty in an otherwise restrained palette. Like Wendy Eisenberg, but with different instruments, Stewart weaves post-modern complexity into the delicate fabric of pop songs. The difficulty — combined with the beauty — makes this music memorable.

Jennifer Kelly

Stingray — Feeding Time (La Vida es un Mus)

Feeding Time by Stingray

In places where heavy music is played and endlessly debated, 1982 might be most strongly associated with English street punk — see the ersatz “genre” of UK82, which enshrines the year and ties it to acid green liberty spikes and scuffed Doc Martens. Fair enough. But street punk was thoroughly informed by the dirty working-class metal being made by bands like Motörhead and Venom, and this new EP by Stingray celebrates those noisy intersections of influence. Of course, Stingray’s version of celebration likely involves several cases of Bass Ale, an eightball of something white and a fistfight or two. Or five. The English band features members of other current hard-driving acts, including Subdued, the Chisel and Chain of Flowers, but Stingray doesn’t prize currency. The songs are short, hard and nasty, landing their punches like a “Bomber” and also like a bunch of “Death Dealers.” The guys in Stingray understand the past they’re drawing on, but does music like this have a future? Fuck knows. Do any of us have a future? Does the earthball? The tunes are less interested in such flights of existential angst, and more intent on their rapacious appetites for speed, sweat and raunch. It’s Feeding Time. Get it while you can.

Jonathan Shaw

Nick Storring — Newfoundout (Mappa)

Newfoundout by Nick Storring

You’ll miss some towns if you blink. The ones that have given their names to the compositions on Newfoundout might confound both eyesight and your GPS, since they are all ghost towns in Ontario, Canada. The music that Nick Storring has made to go with these titles is correspondingly elusive. Performed entirely by the composer, using strings, percussion and whatever bric-a-brac happened to be at hand, it is by turns lush, staccato and propulsive. “The sounds are never particularly difficult, but they rarely telegraph where they’re going, so if you listen passively, sooner or later you’ll look up in dismay, wondering how things got from where they were to where they are now. “Khartum,” for example, starts out sounding a lot like “In A Silent Way,” and finishes up sounding like a respectfully paced conference of grandfather clock chimes. So, put your head back and your ears forward, and let Mr. Storring do the driving.

Bill Meyer

Ten Ka — Sonic Geometry: Structures, Patterns And Forms (Jersika)

sonic geometry: structures, patterns and forms by TEN KA

Ten Ka is experimental side project of Deniss Pashkevich, a Latvian woodwinds player. The album title’s invocation of mathematics is apt, since this music is produced by dissimilar musical values acting upon each other. Pashkevich’s sound on tenor sax is full and soft around the edges, which is probably what it takes to be a working musician in a part of the world that doesn’t have much of a jazz tradition; on flutes, and especially the Bansuri, he hints at a far Eastern vibe. He also plays Fender Rhodes and prepared acoustic piano, bringing in further elements of user-friendly jazz, but also some sharp, Cage-y edges. But most of the nine tracks on Sonic Geometry: Structures, Patterns And Forms feature modular synths, which provide a foundation of pulsing bass patterns and some intriguing disruptive, acidic sizzles. It all adds up to something simultaneously familiar and out of the ordinary.

Bill Meyer

Luis Vicente / Vasco Trilla — Made Of Dust (577 Records)

Made of Mist by Luis Vicente & Vasco Trilla

Not many improvisational settings are more exposed that the drums and trumpet duet. The two instruments are sufficiently different in timbre and frequency range that you can’t help but hear everything each player does, and also how those actions fit together. Trumpeter Luis Vicente and percussionist Vasco Trilla approach this situation with a combination of relaxed consideration and wholly earned confidence. Vicente can power-play when necessary, but for this session, he exercises restraint, using mutes to extract the most lyrical and vocal sounds he can muster. Trilla likewise seeks out the extremities of his kit, drawing continuous ribbons of widely differing characters, such as the alarm clock-like clatter and low-scrubbed drumskin heard on “Swirling Mist.” Their interactions are not just sonically novel, but trusting and deeply intimate.

Bill Meyer

Simon Waldram — So It Goes (Self-released)

So It Goes by Simon Waldram

Simon Waldram’s refrain-heavy eighth solo album, So It Goes, is a song cycle on love, loss and acceptance influenced by classic indie pop bands like The Field Mice, The Fat Tulips and The Go-Betweens. Indeed, it was the Grant McLennan-channelling “Don’t Worry,” a plaintive reassurance to a past lover, that initially caught my attention. But “I Miss The Sun” betters it, really laying on the Hammond, and squeezing in something noticeably absent from the other songs: a bridge. “When will we see the lull again/Feels like these dark days will never end,” Waldram sings, reestablishing buoyancy as it winds down repeating the title phrase. There’s promise elsewhere, like on the 1960’s-flavored psych strummer “Boats In The Sky,” before it lifts its bow in harmonic repetition a few too many times without checking its fuel gauge first, stranding itself in the firmament. “The Wild Wanderings of Wildebeests” is another one with potential, but its flawless first verse’s worth of strum and fuzz just recurs instead of building towards something of greater impact. The record hits its lowest point on the nearly nine-minute “Windswept,'' a “Primitive Painters'' rip that goes nowhere productive. When Waldram starts repeating ad infinitum “I miss you so much/ I can’t let go of this dream of ours,” you wish you could step in and save him from himself. A pleasant enough acoustic instrumental with birdsong follows in the form of “One May Afternoon,” serving as a much-needed palate cleanser and bridging the gap to the album’s closer. However, “Shimmer” is another moaner that never quite rounds into shape and instead fades out and then, unremarkably, back in. There’s an EP’s worth of good material on So It Goes, but as an album it only ends up burning itself with the flame its carrying, leaving the listener wondering, “Who hurt you, Simon?”

Chris Liberato

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jimlingss · 5 years

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Sowing a Sapling [1/2]

CO-WRITTEN WITH @dovechim

Original - A Serpent’s Flower Part 1|Part 2

Sequel - Sowing a Sapling Part 1|Part 2

➜ Words: 19.9k

➜ Genres: Smut, Fluff, Some Angst, Hogwarts!AU

➜ Summary: What no one told you about ‘Happily Ever After’s: the next day, you’ll still have to wake up and go about your life as per normal, because life isn’t a fairytale. You thought you had the rest of your life figured out: settling down happily with Jimin, ruling over all of Hogwarts with an iron fist as the Potions Master, and maybe, in the very distant future, starting a family of your own. But life, as usual, decides to throw a wrench in your plans. With a baby on the way and your husband insistently refusing all attempts at initiating sex, the arrival of a gorgeous new student teacher spells disaster for your marriage.

If getting married to Park Jimin was the happiest day of your life, what does it say about the rest of your life?

➜ Warnings: Pregnancy, thigh riding, dry humping, male/female oral sex, fingering, pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy related symptoms, lactation, heavy mentions of cheating/infidelity, usage of produce in masturbation, intense jealousy and insecurity.

➜Notes: It’s the anniversary of the original!! We thought we’d celebrate with knocking out a sequel. As usual working with Addie @dovechim is a joy, so please make sure to leave her some terrific and...thick messages ;). Enjoy!!

Cr.

“Expelliarmus!” The magic bursts forth from your wand’s tip along with the clear intonation of your voice, the scarlet bolt of energy zig zagging rapidly across the room to the other side where your husband, Park Jimin, stands in an equally duel ready pose. “Protego!” He counters your spell just in time, wand moving in a simple vertical flick. Your charm bounces off his protective shield, the light reflecting in a spark as a proud smile tugs at his plush lips. “Do better than that, sweetheart?” There are “oohs” and “aahs” of admiration coming from the students currently surrounding the dueling platform — all in awe of their Head of House, of course. The Ravenclaws taking notes on all your spells and positions, and the Gryffindors gawk. Meanwhile, your Slytherins are silently seething, and you grit your teeth in determination. You will not be shown up in front of your House by Park Jimin of all people. He may be your husband, but that doesn’t mean you go easy on him, by any means. This is a duel of to the death — a duel with your pride on the line. You pretend to raise your eyebrows to acknowledge his prowess in dueling, when really you’re flicking your wand and concentrating all your energy into your next spell to catch him off guard while he is preening at your praise.

“Flipendo!” Your wand snaps effortlessly, and the blue light crashes into Jimin’s torso, flipping him upside down and landing him on his butt. A grin spreads across the faces of the the Slytherins around you. But you know better than to lower your hand. Your lips part, ready to cast the final spell that will declare you victor of the duel, but then your husband pushes himself up with one hand, wand in the other and he shouts, “Verdimillious!” The forward slash hand movement dispels a green light and you quickly deflect. “Vermillious Duo!” “Vermillious Tria!” Jimin lugs himself, flicking his wrist downwards. The red jet of sparks slams into the red light, making the entire room glow in the shades of carmine and scarlet. You’re both shoved back by the sheer force of the two offence spells. Bated breaths are held in the room, no more lips upturned in smiles of triumph. “Rictusempra!” “Aqua Eructo!” Your shouts reverberate against the classroom walls. A silver light comes crackling over your form and you shriek, losing all dignity. His tickling charm is excruciating. It feels as if he’s physically here, digging his fingers into your sides, and you cower over in front of all the student. Jimin, on the other hand, is suffering from your Aqua Eructo charm. Your wand is pointed, ice-blue light hurling at him and a violent sprout of water coming from the tip. He becomes shocked from the sheer temperature of the water stream, drenched from head to toe like he was caught in a rainstorm. Eventually, the spells diminish and you stand up straighter, catching your breath, feeling more exhausted than usual. Across the room, Jimin squeezes the water from his sleeve, making his robes heavier. Your mind races with charms and jinxes, but then the corner of your husband’s mouth quirks— “Carpe Retractum!” The charm is called with a whip-like hand movement. The violet luminescence fires and your mind is numb, only moving your wrist as if you could deflect it, but nothing is spoken from your lips. Instead, the purple light pulls and seizes you, and it ripples through the entire room. A gasp befalls from your mouth. Your wand clatters to the floor. You’re tugged into Jimin’s arms. As if there is a magnetic attraction, your chest meets his chest. The strands of his silver hair morph into the same deep violet shade of the spell you failed to deflect, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you as your body is tilted backwards as if it was the finale of a passionate ballroom dance. His wet hair nearly pricks into his eyes, beads of water rolling off his skin and onto your own. A wolfish grin spreads into his cheeks, his unwavering gaze locking into yours, and you swear he’s one millisecond away from pressing those plump lips to yours. “Ahem!” The Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, Yuri, claps her hands together, interrupting the intimate moment. You quickly tug yourself out of your husband’s embrace, becoming aware of the admiring stares of every student surrounding the platform. There’s thunderous applause from every side, whoops and cheers emerge, and you both bow to each other, signaling the end of the duel. “As per dueling etiquette, the duel has been forfeited due to physical contact. Nonetheless, well done, well done indeed, Professor ______! Very impressive. Of course, Professor Park was no less impressive. This was exemplary. Please join me in thanking our two guest professors for showing us their lovely dueling skills in our lesson today!” Another chorus of applause follows, and DADA professor reaches to help you step down from the platform. When you turn to see if Jimin is alright, a laugh bubbles at your lips to find him gloating in the praises of his House’s students, cheeks swelling into a proud smile despite his injuries. “Professor Park, you still look handsome!” A fifth year Hufflepuff is declares as he searches for a reflective surface with which to appraise his appearance. Jimin is repeatedly running his fingers through his drenched hair — something he only does when he is nervous, as he finally conjures a mirror for himself. A horrified gasp rips through the air as he examines himself from all different angles. He is pouting as he limps off the platform. “I liked my silver hair better!” “Oh Professor Park, don’t be such a baby,” you chide him as you stow your wand away. Your eyes take in his slightly limping gait with concern, placing a hand on his bicep to slow him down as you walk with him out of the classroom. The professor gathers the students again, continuing the lesson and recapping what just occurred. Her voice drowns out as you shut the door quietly. Out of sight from the students, you turn to him completely, brows furrowed. “Are you hurt somewhere? You’re soaking wet! You have to change your clothes before you catch a cold!” Your husband seems overly occupied by his new purple hair to realise that he’s hurt. He pauses as the mirror in his hand disappears, a thoughtful frown appearing on his face as he flexes his body from top to bottom and winces. “I’m fine. It’s- ah, it’s my butt. I fell on it too hard earlier. I can’t believe you whipped my ass.” You snort with laughter even as you gently slide an arm around his waist to support his weight. “Technically, it was a draw since you broke the rules.” He chuckles with his shoulders. “Gotta save my dignity somehow, sweetheart. We both know you were about to crush me in front of everyone. But to be fair, I went easy on you, you know that right?” You feel his lithe body lean against yours as you guide the both of you to the Hospital Wing, ignoring the curious gazes of students who pass you by. Ever since it was announced that you and Jimin are now a married couple, you’ve been getting more attention from the students of Hogwarts than ever. While a few glances and curious, slightly invasive questions are still bearable, what’s most annoying was Jeon Jeongguk’s absolute delight. You still remember the look on his face when he heard that the two of you were getting married — thoughts immediately began to churn in his head, and you had to repeatedly beat into his thick skull that no, the two of you are not going to be the poster child for inter-House harmony. “Given the number of times you slip and fall on your butt like that in normal circumstances, I can’t say I’m surprised,” you murmur under your breath, your hands tentatively smoothing over his lower back to check for any tenderness. Your husband is the clumsiest wizard in this entire castle, and sometimes it worries you. Other times, it simply amuses you just how many times he falls down in a day. You get him settled on a hospital bed, lying on his front, of course, as you get Madam Pomfrey’s attention. It is a Monday afternoon — the most popular time for the infirmary, so she sends over a student assistant instead. A Ravenclaw sixth year bustles over and performs a few preliminary checks with his wand before shooing you away and drawing the privacy curtain around the two of them. You’re about to protest this sudden need for privacy from your own husband, for Merlin’s sake- when a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. It doesn’t make sense that a mere Tickling charm would have such a lasting effect on you. But the force of rapid firing spells during the duel has taken its toll and fatigue washes over you. You stumble on your feet, moving to sit down and collect your wits again. There is a rising nausea that demands to be felt in your chest, a cold sweat breaking at your forehead, and you blink several times, making your way slowly to an empty bed that you spy from a distance away and plopping yourself down on it. Maybe you ate something that went bad. Maybe like Jimin’s Seize and Pull Charm where you tried deflecting it and it shifted, the Tickling charm affected you somehow. But come to think of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Lately, you’ve been plagued by dizzy spells, slight nausea and an irregular appetite; you thought it was just a consequence of your terrible sleeping habits and recent overwork. At least, you dearly hope so, because if it turns out that some damn student has poisoned you again, you swear you’ll just turn into the next Dark Lord and murder everyone in this Merlin forsaken castle yourself. Since you’re at the Hospital Wing, might as well get a Strength Potion or a Rejuvenating Potion to get you back on track again — with term exams coming up, you can’t afford to get sick or slow down. “Everything alright, dear?” Madame Pomfrey rushes by, pausing when she sees the colour of your lips. “Oh, that doesn’t look too good. Have you eaten anything recently? You look far too tired.” She places a hand on your forehead with a frown. “No, it’s nothing, I’m sure,” you wave away her concern weakly, swallowing past a dry throat. “It’s just…a stomach bug or something. Actually, could I get Rejuvenating Potion please? I’m a bit under the weather these days. Frequently tired, bouts of nausea, things like that. More importantly, is Jimin, okay? He was limping and lately his back has been acting up. Please tell me he’s just getting old.” “He’ll be fine.” The matronly nurse hums low in her throat as she considers you with a hand on her hip, more preoccupied with your well-being than Jimin’s. A moment later, she draws the privacy curtain around the both of you with her wand, casting a muffling spell for a little more security. “You just got married half a year ago, didn’t you Professor?” She asks with a kind smile. “Might it be…too much if I ask about your contraceptive methods? Might there be any chance that you are…” “No!” The word bursts out from your mouth before you can stop it. Your denial is tinged with a little crazed laughter, and Madame Pomfrey is looking at you with an expression as if she already knows something you don’t. “Oh no no no, no way. Nothing like that. We aren’t horny little teenagers, for Merlin’s sake!” “When was your last period, dear?” You struggle to count back over the days and weeks, the numbers slipping through your mind. But for the life of you, you can’t remember when you had it last, though it has never been a cause for concern before. Your period has always been irregular here and there due to stress and overwork and just a terrible lifestyle in general. You always make a vow to eat better and exercise more, but sometimes life just doesn’t allow it. “I…I can’t remember,” you admit with a sigh, knotting your hands together. “But…there’s no way I’m…” “A simple spell will allow me to confirm if, if you’d like that?” The older woman smiles kindly, obviously aware of your current distress. “It’ll take less than a second.” It’s hard to speak past the lump that is in your throat, so you can only nod mutely. The older nurse gently touches your arm, and that’s when you realise that you are unconsciously gripping your midsection. You let your arms fall to the side and take a deep breath, closing your eyes as the nurse lowers the tip of her wand to your lower belly, murmuring the incantation. The wand tip glows a gentle green, a shade that you never thought would make you want to throw up. An emerald that always comforted you from young, but now it alienates you, a harbinger of uncertainty and change. “Congratulations,” Madame Pomfrey says with a small smile as her wand light dims. “You’re pregnant, Professor _______. Five weeks pregnant.” You need a moment. One hand reaches out to bury itself in the sheets as you breathe in and out heavily, your chest rising and falling as you try and calm yourself down. Pregnant? You? At this point in your life? This soon after getting married? You still have a whole career ahead of you! You’re too young for a baby, not to mention, you and Jimin have yet to talk about starting a family yet. When could this have happened, even? You make sure every time to cast the contraception spell on your belly before Jimin even gets his dick out. Unless…it was that one time when he was begging you for morning sex and you couldn’t remember where you put your wand. For Merlin’s sake. That’s the last time Park Jimin is ever getting his sausage fondled. “Wait here dear, I’ll just go and get you a few things,” Madame Pomfrey places a cool, calming hand on your forehead for a few moments before she’s gone, leaving you to your thoughts. When she comes back again, she is holding a vial in one hand and a small satchel. You sit up again and push your hair back from your face, absently wondering if Jimin is done yet, and if he’ll wonder where you are. “This is your Rejuvenating Potion, you can have it now if you like,” she smiles as she hands you the vial with a purple liquid in it. “It won’t hurt the baby, so it’s alright to take it often if you need to. But take note that it doesn’t replace the three square meals a day, young lady.” You take the vial from her sheepishly, feeling as if you are a teenager being reprimanded once more. A tilt of your head and the potion glides smoothly down your throat, and you can already feel its effects as it chases away the lightheadedness and helps the world come back into focus once more. “In here are things that you’ll need to be taking from now on,” Madame Pomfrey opens the satchel to show you what’s inside. “This is folic acid, a Muggle supplement that is good for the baby. And I have a few already brewed prenatal potions for you in here too, should last you at least a month or so. Come back around then and I’ll have the rest of your supply ready for you. Remember to take them, it’s for your baby’s good.” She fixes you with a stern glare as if she is all too familiar with your constant forgetfulness when it comes to nourishing your body. Finally, she takes the empty vial from you and gives you a motherly pat on the knee. “It may be a shock, dear, but things almost always turn out for the better,” she helps you up from the bed with a kind smile. “And tell him. I’m sure Professor Park would be delighted to know.” She pulls the curtain aside and you step outside, shrinking the satchel so that it fits in your robe pocket. Jimin is still undergoing treatment, so you pause outside of his bed with the curtains still drawn, calling his name softly. “Jimin? Can I come in?” “Permission granted,” he quips in a playful tone, proving that he’s alive and quite healthy. You tug the curtain back, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. Jimin is eating chocolate with a grin, dried off and looking better than before. He doesn’t notice how unusually gentle your voice is. “Well, turns out my butt is okay. I don’t think these buns are going to become flat anytime soon.” “Uh-huh.” Typically, you would chide him for speaking so casually in front of a student, but your mind is a whirlwind and the thick lump in your throat makes it difficult to talk. Instead, you look up to the Ravenclaw still hovering over Jimin with a proud expression. “His ankle was sprained and his knee was a bit injured, nothing the Episkey charm couldn’t fix. Professor Park is free to leave as soon as he’d like. I also used Star Grass Salve on his back, Professor, the one you taught us about in last class.” “Good, good,” you mumble, but when he doesn’t leave, this time you glare. It only occurs to you what exactly the sixth year student is waiting for after a excruciating second. “Oh-...uh..five points to Ravenclaw. I’m glad you could apply what we learnt in class to the outside world.” The Ravenclaw gloats with the praise, satisfied and he finally leaves after pulling the curtain again for privacy. You scowl, muttering under your breath that he shouldn’t be working in the Hospital Wing if he expects some kind of reward every time he cures a patient. You turn to Jimin with parted lips, but he beats you to the punch— “So...what do you think?” “W-what I think?” “Purple hair isn't bad, right, babe?” He ruffles the soft violet strands through his fingertips. “It took about five minutes before it grew on me. I don’t know how you did it, but I might just keep it. I think I look pretty hot.” “Yeah…you do…” “Is there something the matter?” Your husband lowers his arms, surprised that you agreed with him and didn’t sass him back. He becomes serious, concerned, searching your expression as if he could detect something amiss. “Did I hurt you?!” “No-no, it’s not that. It’s just….” If there was one thing that’s changed the most in your relationship with Jimin over the years, it was that the both of you mastered the art of communication. Even if he’s a dumbass, he made sure you knew everything he was thinking about and he would listen to everything you had to say. You valued his effort and also helped work on opening communication and addressing any issues you had each with each other as they arose. The hard work you two sowed reaped what you have today. Except…. “I’m….pre….” The syllables are heavy on your tongue and you cringe, gripping the hem of your robes. Your fingernails pierce through the fabric, sinking into your palms. The nausea and cold sweat returns. “....pre...prepared to have another duel with you.” Your husband grins, oblivious to your turmoil. “Already? Give me a break, lady. I’m literally laying on a hospital bed, right now.” “It...just wasn’t fair how you broke the rules because you knew you were going to lose.” You maintain a smile on your face, feeling it crack slightly from stiffness. “I need my victory.” “Psh.” He reaches over, leaning off the bed to hug you. Jimin’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his nose buried into your hair as he pulls you closer into his embrace, and your body softens. “Of course you do. But you’ve already won over my heart. What more do you need?” You scoff. “A lot more. I’m selfish, you know that.” “I do.” He pets you affectionately, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and you swear you can feel a flutter in your lower belly that is most certainly not the butterflies. “Takes a lot to satisfy my good girl, doesn’t it?” You’d usually rip him off of you, glare at him for being so greasy, especially when beyond the thin curtain was a public setting. But today, you savour his embrace, sinking deeper into his arms, even returning the hug as tears are brought to your eyes. You couldn’t do it. You were too weak. And it’s not his fault. You didn’t want to say it out loud — for fear that it would become too real, that the past five minutes weren’t a daydream. You don’t know if you’re equipped for this. You don’t know how to handle it. But you’ll tell him. You will. Just...whenever you’re ready for it. *//* For the past several years, things has been working out the way you’ve wanted it to. Not only did you start a life with the person you love, but your personal research projects and your progress as a professor has been developing smoothly. Your career and love life are in secure places. You’re happy where you are and what you’ve been doing. Frankly, you could’ve lived the next four decades like this. It’s not like you’re opposed to having a baby, it’s just having a wrench out of nowhere thrown into your plans has left you reeling. “Professor Park?!” A student has their arm up in the air, waving it frantically like they’re caught on fire. You blink thrice. “What about him?!” “No, I-uh...was calling you.” The third year Gryffindor lowers his arm, confused as you are and a bit scared of your outburst. “You were in the middle of a sentence….?” You were? “Yes...of course...” You nod to yourself, putting on a mask of confidence. “But first and foremost, just to be clear, it is preferable if you continue to call me Professor _____. I didn’t put in all that hard work perfecting my craft just to be known by my husband’s name.” There are nods and you swivel on your toes. “Perfect, now shall we continue on our lesson on…...on….” “Shrinking Solution,” Seokjin whispers, sitting in the front of class and right in ear-shot distance. “Shrinking Solution!” You mimic after him louder, declaring to the entire class, mentally thanking the Hufflepuff student. Your finger picks up a piece of chalk and it screeches as you write down the word on the board, big strokes for everyone to see, leaving a trail of white. But as you make it to the end of the letters, your hands slow and you place the chalk down, turning to address the class. There are Ravenclaws already turning to the correct page, Gryffindors doodling on their parchment, Hufflepuffs twiddling their thumbs and Slytherins leaning back, full of confidence. One mere clearing of your throat has every student looking up and paying active attention again. As much as your husband has softened up your image around here, you’re glad to still have somewhat of an intimidating effect on everyone. “Children, I’d like to take a moment to pause and take a step back.” You begin to pace around the classroom, hands behind your back and everyone is on alert with the new shift in the atmosphere. “It occurred to me that I may have been a bit hasty in my lessons. Before we look into another potion, we need to respect potions as a form of magic first and foremost.” “Does anyone know what could happen if you are not careful enough in potion-making?” A Ravenclaw’s arm shoots up. You call on them and they answer, “you could die.” “Yes, you could die.” You give a single nod, not that impressed. “Obviously.” There are a few snickers amongst the students, rippling through the class and the Ravenclaw slumps dejectedly. Seokjin lifts his hand, having enough courage to voice his opinion, or maybe he’s just so familiar with you that he’s not so scared anymore. “You could switch bodies with someone.” His friend beside him frowns with a pout and leans over, whispering lowly, “what kind of potion is that?” Jin has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, saying nothing more. You glare, left eye twitching before you continue you pacing around the perimeter of the classroom. “Potentially, yes. Long story short, if you are not careful enough, if you are irresponsible, there are much worse things than death out there that could happen. You could kill those around you, cause a mass explosion and make the area inhabitable, control someone through feelings of fabricated affections. And…yes. I suppose you could switch bodies with someone. The consequences are endless.” They all nod in understanding. You release a held sigh in your throat. “What I’m saying is that everyone needs to be cautious. This is not a subject where you can simply brush over. You either succeed or die because you were an idiot.” A Gryffindor nearby flinches at your sharp tone. It’s not like you’re trying to purposely scare them all, but you’re on a tangent that has no plans on stopping. “Potions are dangerous. You must nurture it like a baby.” They all seem to be following with your logic and that’s when you go in for the kill— “Therefore, I will need an essay due by the end of the week on the generalities of childcare and details on how to raise a baby.” All at once there’s chaos in the room. There’s confusion from all sides, people flipping to the glossary of their textbook to see if there is anything on the topic, others murmuring to their friend what this means, a few raising their hands urgently to ask questions. You ignore them all, raising your voice and speaking above them. “A minimum of one thousand words which is about four pieces of parchment. No need for a five paragraph essay, simply free-form will do. And you may pick a specific topic within childcare if the subject is too general. And…if this helps, you might want to take on a parent’s point of view. When writing it, that is. It will require maturity that is far beyond all of you, but I trust that you can do it. After all, your grade does depend on it...” The explanation seems to answer a lot of the questions out there and there’s a flurry of students grabbing their quills and parchment, scribbling your instructions down. Before you can move on and set aside your worries, there’s a Hufflepuff at the back of the room who extends his hand. “But madam..” The plump boy tips head to the side. “...what does this have to do with potions?” There is pin-drop dead silence in the room. Students turn around in their seats wearing horrified expressions on who dared talk back to you, or rather, who was stupid enough to. If looks could kill, the boy’s ancestors would come back to life only to die instantly again. It takes a prolonged stare at his yellow robes, reminding yourself of Jimin, to calm down. And an eerie smile spreads through your features, one that frightens the paintings on the wall, causing the lady inside to run away. “Must I reiterate myself?” Eventually, classed is dismissed and you’re put of your misery...until the next class begins. Though as you settle down at your desk, refreshing yourself on the second years’ lesson plan, someone seems to hang back, slowly approaching. “What is it, Seokjin?” you mutter without looking up once. Truth be told, you tried your best not to play favourites anymore. With enough time and Jimin’s insistence over the years, you realized how damaging your biases were. But deep down, there were still a few people you especially favoured. Aside from Jimin, Seokjin was probably the Hufflepuff you doted the most on. Maybe because he reminded you of your lovely husband in a lot of ways. Maybe it was because he and an older Slytherin student were technically the reasons why Jimin was your husband in the first place. Nonetheless, Kim Seokjin should be thanking whatever deity he believes in every single day considering the miracle that you favour him, instead of spiting him for essentially poisoning you. “Nothing.” The boy is growing up in tip-top shape, becoming more comfortable and confident as the days go by, even being brazen occasionally. Min Yoongi is rubbing off on him and you hope it isn’t in the worst ways possible. “Just wanted to see if you were well, Professor.” “I am very well, thank you very much.” “Are you sure?” Your head lifts from the papers, befuddled at his behaviour. “Don’t you have classes to go to, Kim Seokjin? Or do you want to clean out the potions closet for me in your free time?” “No...no..I have classes.” Jin rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels, his long black bangs nearly hitting into his rounded brown eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” Your pupils narrow into his. “What are you up to, Seokjin? I don’t have enough energy to keep up with your shenanigans.” “Nothing,” the boy sing-songs and shrugs casually. “Did Professor Park put you up to this?” Your thoughtless question receives silence and you lift a brow, sitting back in your chair. “Did he actually tell you to check up on me?” “Only sometimes,” he spills bashfully, cheeks puffing out with a smile. “I want to be Head Boy someday, so helping out now will prove my willingness to assist professors. But if you’re doing okay then it’s fine. There’s nothing I need to report Professor Park on.” What is this? You feel like you’re being secretly monitored and now it’s Jimin playing favourites, not you. You scoff, lifting up your book and playfully pretending to smack him with it. He giggles and jumps back. “Get to your proper class before I give you detention and dock points from your house, Seokjin.” “Yes, ma’am!” The boy gives a dramatic salute and then runs off with his book bag in tow. The rest of the day goes by just as roughly. Not only do you feel fatigued, bringing yourself to sit on the stool, and you’re suffering from the occasional cramp in your gut, your mind keeps on going to a blank state. There are times you forget what you were saying or going to say, or your brain considers the fact that the inside your uterus, something the size of an apple seed is growing...and oh Merlin...how will you ever be able to handle an eight-pound living being for the next decade…..how do you even give birth...what if they have to cut you open… What were you just thinking about? Right, the fact that sometimes you get caught off track. Like now. “Um….excuse me, Professor?” A sixth year Slytherin is clearing their throat to get your attention and several other students become distracted from copying the notes on the board. “There’s someone at the door.” You look over to find a Hufflepuff first year trembling in their shoes. They’re holding onto a emerald-painted flower pot, head downcasted, refusing to look up at you. A slight smile tugs on your features. “Yes, what is it?” “T-This is from Professor Park.” “Oh. You can come put it here.” You tap your desk and the student comes bumbling over. It’s a yellow orchid, the colour of sunshine itself, and you find a sheepish smile lifting into your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s sending his kids in the middle of class on these kinds of errands and trying to flirt with you in the middle of your own lecture. But you’re so weak for him, you have to admit you love every gesture he does. Your fingers graze against the soft petals. The room suddenly feels so much brighter and the knots in your chest have lifted. “You can tell him I said thank you.” Of course, Park Jimin is not only playing with your heart, but the heart of every student. No one’s paying attention to copying the notes anymore, only females swooning and males feeling pressured like they’ve been one-upped by someone much older than them. “That’s so cute!” — “Score! Look how much happier Professor _______ is now. Maybe we won’t get any homework assigned.” — “Hey! Why don’t you ever give ME flowers, huh?! It was our two week anniversary yesterday!” Whatever the case may be, your husband always knows how to make you feel better without knowing that you were feeling down in the first place. Things will be okay because you love him as much as he loves you.

For the next few days, the courage to confess never comes. This has been the only time in history where you wish you were a dumb Gryffindor who could just blurt it out, rip off the bandages, face the music. But alas, your mind likes to go into overdrive, overthinking each action and thought. There are times you come close to telling your husband, but then he interrupts or the words get caught in your throat. That leaves you to now, teacup in hand, staring mindlessly out the window like your brain has exploded inside your skull. Typically, it relaxes you to unwind over a hot cup of green tea. The deep swirling emerald always soothes you and takes away the tension in your neck and shoulders. But now that you’re pregnant — it sounds so strange to you even in your own head, you’ll never get used to it — you’ve obviously had to make some diet and lifestyle changes. One of those things is sacrificing your tea and opting for ones with less caffeine in them. You sigh under your nose, trying to stop the cravings of your usual drink or a cup of hot coffee, noting that this will be one of many sacrifices to come. “Baby, how was class?” Your husband enters the room with a smile, face lighting up when he sees you. “It was fine.” You watch Jimin hang up his coat on the hook. “Normal, I guess.” “I heard you assigned something weird to the third year kids. They were freaking out about it.” “Yeah...well…” When you and Jimin got married, Jeongguk graciously insisted that the two of you start living in shared quarters, absolutely not to demonstrate any sort of House Unity whatsoever, but simply because that’s what husbands and wives do. So by magicking some stuff and waving his wand, Jeongguk actually managed to get rid of the staircase in between your separate rooms and conjoin them together to form quite a nice little shared living space for the two of you. You don’t exactly hate it, and it’s nice to sleep in the same bed as Jimin with him cuddling you to sleep every night. Maybe Headmaster Jeon isn’t as useless as he seems to be after all. “I hope you’re not terrorizing the kids.” Jimin saunters up to you and is especially needy after an entire day apart. He slides his arm around your waist and you remind yourself not to flinch — he can’t possibly know yet — and kisses the side of your neck. “They’re having it hard enough.” “They can handle it.” A soft smile appears on your lips as you melt into his embrace. Goosebumps raise as his hot breath ghosts along your skin, bringing your body temperature up as well. “I’m just pushing them to their limits.” It feels nice for him to hug you like this. All your worries have dissipated. He clicks his tongue lightly in a scolding manner. “This is why students keep coming to me complaining and telling me to talk to you.” “Who?” Your brow lifts and you crane your neck to look at him. “It’s a secret,” your husband teases. You scoff. “I can’t believe students are tattling on me to you. They’re undermining my authority.” “They’re not.” Jimin giggles sweetly. “They just know you’re soft for me.” A noncommittal noise is made in the back of your throat, wholly unimpressed with his sentiment that is all too truthful. “It doesn’t help that you like to flirt in the middle of day and interrupt my lectures for everyone to see.” You turn towards him and Jimin’s arms around your torso loosen enough for you to do so. “How many flowers are you going to send me, Park? At this rate, my classroom is going to become a greenhouse.” “I know you like it.” “I doubt Jeongguk likes it.” You poke his shoulder and he yields, soft to your touch. “Didn’t he give us a whole seminar on minimizing time wasting and maximizing efficiency?” “Please, Jeongguk loves it. Anything that has to do with our love shows off ‘inter-House harmony’.”

Your eyes roll, but a grin threatens to pull on your features. “Oh, Merlin.” The teacup still in your hands wafts its scent towards your husband. He frowns, looking down. He brings the cup to his nose for a brief sniff, noting that it isn’t your usual green tea. And you freeze, before shifting back, but to no avail. “Sweetheart, did you pour...something in your drink?” You forgot. You were too careless. Earlier, you had time to get out your supply of prenatal things Madame Pomfrey packed for you and you took a good look at it all. Aside from a few Rejuvenating Potions, there were also supplemental potions that can be added into tea or pumpkin juice, so you went ahead and uncorked one of them to tip into your steaming cup of tea. At this point you’re pretty much sure it’s all over — Jimin can probably identify every single ingredient in that tea from the prenatal potion, given his background in Herbology. His rounded, brown irises flicker up to you in concern. “Are you sick?” “No, I’m- I’m just…” You don’t know why you’re still making an effort to deny it. But saying it out loud demands a strength from you that you honestly don’t think you have, and instead you bring your hand to his, setting the cup down on the table. Your voice is wobbly and there is a lump in your throat. “You’re pregnant.” Jimin beats you to the punch. He pieces all the clues together, everything he knows about you, everything he can smell from your cup of tea, a genius in his field of study. That’s all it takes. The situation has you bursting into sudden tears, and maybe it’s because of the heightened hormonal state you’re in as well. But you can’t help yourself from burying your face in your husband’s chest, startling the shit out of Jimin because he’s never seen his sweet, cunning and impervious wife cry like this before. Except on the day of their marriage when you were reciting your vows, a moment he had to swear on his precious family jewels that he’ll never bring up again. But he is undeterred, instinctively bringing his arms to cradle your frame. Jimin holds you close for a moment, allowing your tears to soak into his woolen yellow sweatshirt. “W-what are we gonna do?” You hiccup, fisting his stupid, ugly, irritating yellow sweatshirt in your hands as you pound on his chest. You hate it even more because it’s your favourite colour. “It’s all your fault, Park. Why the hell did you ask me for morning sex on that day of all days?” A little startled at the sudden change in mood, Jimin clears his throat nervously. He remembers asking for morning sex a lot, not just on one particular occasion, so he can’t exactly be sure which one you’re referring to. So Jimin likes waking up to cuddles and lazy thrusts into your warmth with a half hard cock that softens quickly after he cums. Nothing gets him off faster than feeling your soft ass against his thighs as he fucks you from the side. Sue him. “I love you, you know.” “I know…” you whimper into the soft fabric of his clothes. “...idiot.” Jimin repeats it again as if saying it once isn’t enough. His eyes shut and he gently whispers, “I love you.” The moment is intimate and it calms the storm raging inside your mind. But it can’t completely dispel the other worries you have. And now that he’s here, everything comes spilling out. “I hate children.” “You don’t hate children, dear.” Jimin smiles, knowing you better than you know yourself. He pauses for a brief moment, choosing his words carefully, “you just have a very short and nasty temper, that’s all. You won’t hate someone that is the perfect combination of the both of us.” “Well, I’m not going to be a very good mother.” “That’s not true either,” he refutes in a heartbeat. “You’re much more sweet and caring than you let on. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be in that shed your dad locked me in when I first met him.” The memory sparks a small laugh that bubbles out your chest. “Yeah...I guess…” “You’re the responsible one. You’re the one who gets things done.” Your husband pulls away, his endeared gaze locking into your eyes. “And I know you’re just a soft squish underneath all of this.” He comes to tickle you gently on your sides and you laugh tearfully, pushing his hands away. “You have to take responsibility. It’s all your fucking fault, now I can’t stop throwing up, I keep forgetting my sentences in the middle of classes because of this stupid pregnancy brain, I’ll become as round as a whale, all because you—” here you stop and jab him hard in the chest with a finger— “couldn’t keep it in your pants that one morning.” “I’ll take responsibility for you and our baby,” Jimin assures as his smile expands with happiness. “Good.” Your husband keeps staring at you intently like he can’t get enough and he’s unable to resist the urge to tease you a little. “Is that why I heard you assigned your students to write an essay about pregnancy and babies for Potion class today? Something about potions being a sacred art form that needs to be nurtured like a baby. Sound familiar?” You wrench yourself away from him and start to pace around the kitchen, and Jimin can literally see the smoke coming out of your ears. The embarrassment is eating you alive. “What else was I supposed to do? I can’t be caught in the library looking at books on pregnancy, for Merlin’s sake. Do you have any idea how fast word spreads in this stupid castle? If Kim Taehyung were to get a whiff of this, you can be sure everyone will know an hour later—” “Is that why you asked your entire class of students instead of… I don’t know… maybe asking Madame Pomfrey?” Jimin raises a skeptical eyebrow and crosses his arms. You tend to let your temper get the best of you in situations like this, and Jimin is all too familiar with your mannerisms; you just have to let your anger run its course. He’s backed you into a corner there. You literally don’t have an answer for him. “Stop questioning my decisions,” you say as you shove him aside to head for the bedroom. You take it back. You absolutely hate this living arrangement. There’s nowhere for you to hide when it comes to your husband. Jimin follows you but keeps his distance, standing in the doorway as you plop yourself down on the bed, wiping your cheeks. He’s giggling gleefully, cheeks nearly bursting with his shit-eating grin and when the announcement hits him again, he tackles you on the bed. “I can’t believe we’re actually having a baby!” “Jimin!” You scream while laughing, suffocated under his body weight. “Right, right, the baby! I’m sorry!” “I don’t know how I’m going to survive living with two kids.” “Hey, I’m responsible too!” He sits back on his ankles, massive grin plastered across his face as if he won the lottery two minutes ago. “I’m just so excited! Are you feeling okay? Sick? Nauseous? Hungry? When did you find out?” “I found out in the infirmary after our duel.” “Merlin’s fucking balls!” It hits Jimin like the Hogwarts Express rammed into his body at a hundred miles per hour. His arms are in the air, alarmed, eyes almost falling out his sockets. “That duel—! I could have seriously hurt you!” You can only look at your husband with an amused smile replacing the stressed out frown on your face. “Psh, do you think the baby and I are just some suckers who would be hurt over some measly duel? No offence, honey, but your skills aren’t that good.” But he doesn’t hear a single word you say. Jimin is fretting as he runs his hands through his hair. “But...but….but those Vermillious spell were too harsh… I think I hit you right in the stomach too, right? What was I thinking? Hurling such an offensive spell at my own wife?” “Jimin…” “I could’ve hurt you and the baby!” He moves to hover over you, this time taking conscious effort not to go anywhere near your abdomen. Jimin cradles your cheeks in his hands, thumbs running circles on your skin, searching your face as if he could see if he did any harm. “I could’ve made you sterile from now on and I’m pretty damn sure one kid isn’t enough. I want a lot of them, enough to rival that Weasley brood—” Your lips are puckered like a fish by the force of his palms squishing your cheeks and you mumble, “Jimin…” “I could’ve killed you!” With the strength in your upper arms, you swoop up and plant a kiss on his mouth, quickly and spontaneously, enough to catch him off guard. “I’m fine. We’re fine,” you reassure with a grin as you fall onto your back again. “And I’m happy you’re happy.” Your husband takes offence that you thought he would’ve reacted in a different way. “Of course I would be!” “I was worried about what you would think since our careers….” “Those things don’t matter to me as much as you do,” he reassures in a firm voice. “Our family is the highest priority.” Our family — you like the sound of that. “I love you.” “I love you too.” Jimin leans down kissing you senseless until you’re smiling against his lips and he’s grinning like an idiot. Starting a family with Park Jimin sounds like your worst nightmare in terms of headaches, but if you were being honest, in terms of everything else, it’s an absolute dream.

You wish your uterus came with a warning label. *WARNING: potential of developing another human if comes into contact with sperm* While you’re only in your first trimester, your symptoms have been severe. They include, but are not limited to: tender and swollen breasts, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, increased urination, bloating, moodiness, cramping, constipation, smell sensitivity, heartburn, morning sickness, weight gain, and intense cravings of food and weird combinations of it. Every morning when you wake up, like a ritual, you like to turn your head to your peacefully sleeping husband and curse him for giving you this growing disease. Except, Jimin told you off for calling the baby a disease, so you’ll settle for fungus instead. “Stop glaring at me,” Jimin chides with an exaggerated pout, practically flashing his puppy eyes at you. Everyday Jimin wakes up happier than the day before, while you wake up grumpier and moodier. Maybe it’s good that your husband seems to be in such a good mood and so excited about the baby. It’ll counteract your growing annoyance with everything baby related. “I’ll stop glaring at you when I birth out your fungus from my loins.” Jimin pouts harder than before. He approaches and rubs your tummy that has the tiniest bump and looks more like you’re trying to sneak out cauldron cakes from the Great Hall. “Our baby isn’t fungus. He or she is a sapling!” “Uh-huh. Then he or she is going to grow into a tree and wrap their branches around my intestines and pull them out when I’m in labour. Lovely image,” you sigh, unable to help your sour mood and the way you feel uncomfortable and too hot in your clothes. “Get on the bed if you want to make me feel better.” One of the symptoms you’re facing that none of the books include is absolutely how insatiable you are. Your sex drive is in overdrive, even beating your horndog-husband’s needs for the first time. It just makes you feel so much better to be touched and it’s as if cum has become your regular drinking water. You just need to strip Jimin down and hump him a little. But for some reason, he’s not as enthusiastic as he used to be. Jimin places a knee on the bed with a concerned look on his face as he crawls towards you slowly, careful not to disturb the bed too much. “Do you need a massage? Where is it today? Your back? Your feet? Maybe a shoulder massage?” You hum in your throat, deciding to humour him a little as you push aside the blankets, revealing the long shirt you slept in last night. “A calf massage. All these staircases are really taking a toll on me.” Jimin grins as he pulls your feet into his lap, hands supporting your thighs and starting to apply pressure to your muscles, kneading out any knots he can find. With your feet in his lap, you start to wiggle your toes right where you know you want him. Jimin casts you a warning glance as he shifts your feet away from his crotch, but you are relentless, maneuvering the soles of your feet so you can give him a little massage too. You can practically feel him hardening under your touch within seconds, and his reaction warms you from the inside out. Jimin keeps his eyes fixed on your knees even though you purposely went without panties just to make it easier for him — easy access anytime he wants — and your thighs are slightly apart, so you’re sure that he can see everything from his point of view. His cock is definitely hard now, but to his credit, he is trying his best to keep his hands on your calves, applying steady pressure. You shift onto your knees and straddle his lap, the slight bump making your movements slightly awkward as you reach for a kiss. Jimin reciprocates with his plush lips against yours, tasting you with his delicate tongue that you desperately wish was on some other part of you instead. Your shirt has now ridden up to your hips, and you make sure to press your damp core against the bulge in his sleep pants, grinding against it to let him know what you really want. The pressure of his stiff cock against you gets you even wetter, and you begin breathe a little heavier as your hips quicken their pace. Jimin helps you grind against him with his hands against your hips, but then you whine needily when he doesn’t make a move to pull off his sleep pants. “Jimin, please,” you mumble against his neck, pulling your shirt up to just below your breasts as you attempt to take it off fully. Maybe flashing him your tits will get him in the mood. “Want you. Need you inside me. Need to feel your cock inside.” Jimin soothes you with a kiss to your neck, arms circling your belly carefully as he shifts you off his covered cock and onto his thigh instead. He flexes his muscle so that you can feel him against your clit, and you can feel the way you soak his pants almost immediately. “Can you cum for me just like this? Hmm? On my thigh, baby. That’s it, that’s my good girl, grind harder.” You move your hips harder against his thigh, but it’s no use; you feel so empty without anything inside you. At this point you can’t even remember the last time you had Jimin’s cock inside you, felt him stretching you out and giving you the good hard pounding that you’re craving. Jimin encourages you to keep going toward your ever elusive climax. He brings his hands to your breasts, helps you with the shirt and pulls it over your head, then cups both breasts in his hands. Your nipples are aching for his touch, they’ve been more sensitive than ever lately. But the added weight on your belly has you tired out already, and you pause against Jimin’s chest, muscles already aching and out of breath. “Jimin, it’s not enough, baby, I want… I want you. Your cock. Please.” Your hands move down to push his pants lower and get your hand on his cock, but Jimin pushes you away. He carefully helps you get off his lap, hands on your inner thighs firmly. “I’ll eat you out. Spread your legs for me.” Jimin lowers his plump lips to your core, kissing your inner thighs reverently as the heady scent of your arousal engulfs him. At the sound of your whines and moans, he moves to your inner lips, sucking and kissing with wet licks till his tongue is laving at your core. You taste even sweeter than before, and Jimin can’t deny that it’s turning him on even more than he thought it would. He devotes his attention to taking your sweet clit into his mouth, sucking so hard that you are writhing above him and he has to place his hands on your slightly swollen belly to hold you in place. You are still begging for him to fuck you with his cock, so to satisfy you, Jimin slides two fingers shallowly into your cunt, being careful not to go too deep. His fingers remain only about an inch inside you as his tongue assaults your clit with quick, rough licks, and you cum all over his tongue with a whine of his name, your sweet arousal staining his chin as he licks everything up. After he cleans you up with tender licks of his tongue, he places a kiss on your inner thigh before he pushes himself up to look at you, dropping a kiss on your tiny belly too. But the look in your eyes hasn’t dissipated, and you push yourself up on your elbows and drag him in for a kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. You push yourself onto your knees with much struggle, trying to get Jimin onto his back so that you can slide onto his cock and ride him till you cum again and again, till the ache in your core is satiated by his thick length stretching you out, pounding into you so good. “Baby… wait,” Jimin cautions you as his careful hands come to support your weight, lying back and allowing you to sit on his belly. “Ma-maybe we shouldn’t. I’ll eat you out again? Or maybe finger you? Hmmm? How does that sound?” His patronising voice only makes you feel even more ridiculous and cumbersome, sitting upon him so heavily with your protruding belly, covered in sweat and feeling absolutely disgusting. His continuous rejections only sting more now that you’re in this state, fat and unattractive, unable to even get your own husband to fuck you. Jimin can see your distress growing with every second, and he rushes to take back his words. “Come here,” he soothes you with his lips against your neck, kissing his way to your mouth and licking against your lower lip, comforting you with his kisses as he slowly shifts you in his lap, pushing down his pants so that his hard cock springs free. Jimin is still slightly apprehensive about fucking you in your condition, but at least in this position, you can control the depth of his penetration better. “You’re so wet, you’re soaking me.” You can feel the head of his cock at your lips, slowly spreading you apart, and the hunger reignites inside your womb. You shift your hips down onto him, letting his cock spear you apart and you groan as you sink all the way down, taking him to the root as your walls clench around him. Finally, some much needed relief after such a long dry spell. Jimin’s cock feels so good inside you, and you start to raise yourself onto your knees so that you can drop down onto his cock. But Jimin stops you from sinking all the way down, leaving his cock only halfway inside you as he holds you close and rocks against you gently, your belly cradled in between the two of you. He’s perfectly content to fuck you shallowly like this, feeling your rounded bump so intimately against him as his cock moves in and out of you. “Jimin, faster,” you whine against him as your arms close around his neck, attempting to bounce on his lap faster and get his cock to sink inside you all the way. You need to feel all of him, and just having his cock halfway inside you is only making you even more desperate. “Deeper, please!” Reluctantly, Jimin lets his cock sink in another inch, feeling your walls grasp him tightly, and he swears against your skin, gripping his fists into the mattress, anything to control himself and keep him from fucking you how he’s dying to, hard and rough into the bed till you scream his name. But you are pregnant now, and a part of him worries that he shouldn’t even be having his cock inside you. He reaches down to your clit and starts to pinch it between his fingers, hoping to bring you to your second climax as soon as possible so that he won’t risk hurting you with his cock. But you grab onto his shoulders and push your hips down onto him, throwing your head back and bouncing hard on him when you feel his cock brush against the entrance to your womb; finally feeling him as deep as you need him. Your skin is slapping against his with every thrust, and your hips are grinding hard against him. Then...Jimin feels the head of his cock brush against something inside you. He swears under his breath. His arms push you up. His cock slips out immediately. Panic swells in his chest as he grips your arms. “Di-did I just… Merlin’s fucking beard, I just felt… something — SOMETHING FUCKING GRABBED MY DICK?!” “Wh—” Confusion ensues as you’re suddenly left empty, clenching around nothing. You’re hovering over Jimin’s dick on your knees, but when you reach down to grab him and slide him back inside your needy pussy, Jimin stops you. “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Something grabbed my dick, I felt it,” Jimin’s eyes are wide and his dick is wet against your belly as you shift to sit on his thighs, muscles growing weary from supporting all your own weight. “IT JUST GRABBED ME!!!!” “It…?” You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, but then it hits you and you realise what he’s talking about. As much as you enjoy calling your baby a fungus, hearing ‘it’ coming from Jimin’s mouth irrationally offends you to no end. “For your information, ‘IT’ is our baby, you jerk! And it can’t fucking grab you, it’s in an amniotic sac, you stupid little punk!” But Jimin is insistent as he glances down at your belly as if there’s an alien growing inside of it now. “I know what I felt, something in there definitely fucking grabbed me!” Okay maybe he’s overreacting a little, but after feeling… that brush against his dick, he can’t help but feel a little freaked out. It’s like he’s part of a horror movie, but instead of a slimy hand slinking out to grab his ankle, it grabbed his cock — something that arguably frightens him even more. Maybe he shouldn’t have given in and let you sit on his dick like this. He should have persisted and ate you out one more time, then this wouldn’t have happened. “For Merlin’s fucking sake. Do you really think your dick is long enough for that?” Your temples are throbbing, and you are beyond irritated with your childish husband. You push him away and close your thighs, reaching for your shirt. “That, for your information, was my cervix, which you weren’t anywhere close to. Did you think the baby was just like… I don’t know, hanging out in my vagina or something? At this point it doesn’t even have hands to grab your dick with anyway! Where the hell was your brain when they were teaching all this in sex-ed class?” Jimin pushes his hair back with his hands, fully aware that his dick is starting to soften, and this is escalating into a full blown argument. “Look…I’m pretty sure we both attended Hogwarts growing up, and there was no such thing as sex-education.” You’ve become dry as the Saharan Desert, the urge still there, but the will and mood is not. “Have you ever picked up a book then?!” “I only know plants, babe!” “Merlin, I married a dumbass!” you tiredly groan, putting yourself together and again. Jimin watches helplessly as you stand, glaring at him in the meanwhile. “You do know that my vagina and my uterus are two completely different things?” For the first time in a while, a flash comes across Jimin’s face, momentarily ruining his expression, brows furrowing. Your normally tolerant and compassionate husband is pushed to his own point of frustration by your condescending tone. You act like you’re the only one left high and dry when he’s suffering from his own blue balls, dick softened enough to move and put on his pants. “I know that much! I’ve been reading pregnancy books.” “Then you should also know that we can have sex because the baby is protected by my abdomen and uterus’ walls. It’s also cushioned by the amniotic sac fluid and my cervix is closed.” He stands, following after you when your feet storm off. “I just read about all the things that could go wrong and I’m a bit freaked out, that’s all. I’m sorry, alright?!” But his tone isn’t apologetic at all. If anything, he is angered that you can’t once sympathize with him. You sigh, feeling more fatigued than before this whole mess. “Sex is good, Jimin. It burns calories, lowers blood pressure, eases pain, and helps me sleep.” The list goes out in rapid succession, imprinted in your memory since you had looked it up after being exasperated by Jimin’s sudden low sexual desires towards you. “The only reason we wouldn’t have sex is if you caught an STI….and I know you’re clean, so that would have to mean you’re cheating on me with someone else.” Jimin is speechless. “I—” Your chest rises and lowers, catching its breath and you tear your eyes away from him towards the yellow daisies on the small dining table he had placed there. “If you didn’t want to have sex with me, you should’ve said it instead of forcing yourself and then saying something grabbed you.” “I wasn't forcing myself! I just—” He is frustrated and runs a hand through the strands of his deep violet hair. “I don’t want you to force yourself to satisfy me.” “I’m not forcing myself. Just, ugh!” It’s ridiculous. No matter how you try to communicate with him, it’s going in a circle. It feels like you’re speaking to a wall. “Go away. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” As you turn your back, crossing your arms, there’s a long second of silence. Then you hear his padding footsteps fading off, giving you much needed space. The two of you are left irked by each other, disheartened, and frustrated. You know it’ll blow over, that tonight one of you will just crawl into bed and spoon the other person, curling up until the morning rises. Everything will be okay. �� But for now, it’s swept under the carpet.

If there was a time that you wanted to switch bodies with Jimin again, it would be now. “Min Yoongi.” The fifth year turns around with his brows shooting upwards. “Yes, Professor?” “Do you have the recipe?” You give him a look and he frowns in confusion, making you exhaustingly exhale and explain yourself, “for….that potion which almost caused you to become expelled.” “Oh.” His eyes light with recognition before they return to their half-lidded, neutral stare. “No.” “Of course, you don’t. It was a mistake. This was a mistake. It was all a mistake. I should’ve just worked at the Ministry instead of becoming a professor. What was I thinking? I should’ve listened to my mother, but then she would’ve married me to that asshole auror,” you mutter barely coherently without taking one breath, causing Yoongi to become increasingly worried. “Professor?” You wave your hand at him. “You may go.” Your pregnancy hasn’t been a roller coaster...it’s been ten roller coasters. At first you were super excited at the prospect of having a child, someone who would be half you and the other half is the love of your life. You were basking in fortune, lucky to have conceived relatively easily, but then the morning sickness train hit you faster than the Hogwarts Express and it went downhill. The moodiness symptom affected you more than when you were in puberty and Jimin was forced to walk on eggshells. You really thought that pregnancy wasn’t for you. But then the morning sickness slowly weaned off and had mercy on you poor soul. Things got better again and then worse and then better again. Your dear husband was the only thing keeping everything under control and the sole reason why you haven’t blown a gasket in your brain. “Your feet hurt? Let me give you a massage!” — “Surprise! Here’s your lemon water that you wanted!” — “I picked up your next package of prenatal vitamins and look, there’s a potion to stop your dizziness temporarily!” The only thing is, Jimin still refuses to touch you ever since he swore that something touched his dick. He consulted numerous pregnancy books that advised against sex during gestation, even though you are constantly horny and desperate for him to just give you a good dicking down. You even tried seducing him one night with your sexiest lingerie — only for Jimin to frown and fuss over the straps that seemed just a little too tight over your belly. It absolutely wasn’t his intention — but as the weeks go on, you are feeling more and more alienated from your own body; disgusted with how there seems to be no limit to your appetite or your waistline, and utterly rejected by your husband’s refusal to touch you. In short, you are miserable, and it feels like you aren’t even a person anymore. You’ve become an incubator for Jimin’s child. “How is my Sapling doing?” — “Did the Sapling kick today?” — “Goodbye, Sapling!” — “Please keep the Sapling safe!” Now you were thirty weeks pregnant, approximately seven months, and your sapling is more like a zucchini. It’s tough to find a sleeping position and you’re in discomfort most of the time, but you’d rather opt for this state than encounter the other symptoms from earlier weeks that magic couldn't even help. You’re pregnant enough for your belly to protrude and for everyone wanting a touch. More importantly, you’re less intimidating than ever. First years you don’t know approach and ask to touch your belly. Professors always pass by staring at you with a smile. Seventh year students always have a gleam in their eyes. On the special occasions you let them put their dirty hands on you and they feel the kick of the baby, your stomach fluttering inside, some of them tell you they wish they were pregnant too (which you express to them the horrors of childbirth and how serious child rearing is to deter them). “How many weeks are you along? You’re glowing!” “Oh my gosh! I remember when my mom was pregnant with my younger brother. She was in labour for twenty six hours!!” “Can I touch?” You’ve become a walking exhibit on display. People are always staring. Watching. Being too intrusive. They always want to cop-a-feel out of you too. You’re not just having a baby, you’re apparently having Hogwarts’ baby. At least that’s what delighted Headmaster Jeon told you when he expressed that he should open up a nursery and preschool for the child since they basically embodied inter-house harmony, and you proceeded to rip his head off. Metaphorically, of course. You’re going to need the invisibility cloak if you want some privacy. But at the moment, you have no concern about your privacy or how intrusive faculty and students are being. Frankly, out of the entirety of Hogwarts, as helpful as your husband is, he’s also the most overbearing. And you are furious. You are as enraged as a Gryffindor who’s been told that they have the courage of a dormouse. Of course, no one would be able to really tell with this ridiculous face mask that you have on. For protective purposes, Jimin said it was. All you know is one morning, he woke you up with a very serious look on his face, and told you that everyday living is simply just too risky for you and the baby. Jimin has been delving into baby books recently; these days he always has his nose buried in a book like a Ravenclaw, spouting off random facts exactly like one, and has taken to wearing circle glasses wherever he goes. The head of Ravenclaw himself — Kim Namjoon — has taken quite a liking to Jimin actually. You frequently see the two of them exchanging greetings along the hallways or sitting with each other at mealtimes. But anyway, the conversation that morning was something along the lines of harsh pollutants in the air. Along with all the dangerous fumes that potions could emit, which could potentially be harmful for the baby. Jimin argued that since you spend so much time in the Potions dungeon, you are 1) breathing in too many harmful gases and 2) not getting as much sunlight as he’d like. Not getting enough sunlight. For Merlin’s sake, you’re not one of his fucking plants! But Jimin has become quite adept at handling your outbursts these days. Maybe the thought of impending fatherhood has strengthened his cunning and his wit. Jimin then proceeded to read out a list of possible deformities and health complications that could result from inhalation of harmful gases, after which you accepted the stupid black face mask he conjured for you. Then he proceeded to drive home his point with that one rather interesting potion two years ago that landed the two of you in this situation in the first place. After that, all of your arguments were rendered moot, and Jimin walked you to class with a satisfied grin on his face. Pregnancy is tough. And all those people who say that one of the perks is getting to eat for two — they’re fucking lying. You are hungry. So, so incredibly hungry that you feel less like a witch and more like a ravenous beast. Jimin has also put you on a purely plant based diet, consisting of only vegetables and fruits that he grows and nurtures himself with the utmost ‘tender loving care’, or so he says. He frowned upon the meals served at the Great Hall one day when they had chicken and waffles, your absolute favourite. Upon watching you inhale the entire plate and demand seconds in what seemed like less than a minute, something must have made him decide that it wasn’t good for neither you nor the baby. You suspect it’s your lack of table manners, but you can’t exactly be sure. So now you’re reduced to a sad little salad for every single fucking meal when all you’re craving is practically every single thing in the Hogwarts kitchen. Jimin even instructed the house elves down in the kitchen not to answer your requests for any midnight snacks after he caught you stuffing your face with a mouthful of roast chicken, one thigh in each hand. “P-Professor, ar-are you alright?” The child in front of you is trembling so hard that the paper wrapper of her pumpkin pasty is crinkling. She practically looks ready to pee her pants. You scowl at her, and her face goes white. Another side effect of pregnancy is that your temper has become shorter and shorter, which makes it hard to teach a bunch of rambunctious first years. Although you suppose that one of the main reasons this child looks about to keel over from terror is the fact that you might resemble a Death Eater with this stupid face mask on.

Exasperated, you rip the mask off and breathe properly for what seems like the first time all day. But even that is a mistake, for the scent wafts into your nose; the scent of glorious, deliciously buttery and sweet smell of her pumpkin pasty still half eaten in her hands. This particular lesson is right around lunchtime, so in all your benevolence, you decided to let the children bring in some snacks to sustain them till it’s over. You might have to go back on that policy. The child follows your gaze that is fixated on her butter glazed snack. “B-by any ch-cha-ance, would you like a bi-bite, Professor?” Her sweet and genuine offer appeases your temper a little. Belatedly you realise that you are growing a small tiny little kid in your stomach, not unlike the one sitting right in front of you, not unlike the rowdy little gremlins that piss you off everyday. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to smile at her. “No, thank you… dear child. It’s very nice of you to offer.” You can almost taste how good the buttery pastry is on your tongue, exploding with sweetness from the pumpkin and spreading across your tastebuds. As much as it pains you to turn it down, you can’t risk accepting food from students after...what happened last time. You turn away from her and face the blackboard again, your stomach growling ferociously, and you feel like crying for what seems like the fifth time today. On a whim, you flick your wand, and the homework list appears on the blackboard as you clear your throat to get the class’s attention. “We’ll call it a day today. Ensure that you have copied down the assignments for this week, I expect every single one of you to be on time with them next lesson. Class dismissed.” Ten more weeks. Ten more weeks and you’ll have an adorable, chubby infant in your arms, not an inflated stomach. You can handle ten more weeks. You can do it. “Are you alright, Professor?” A tuft of black hair speaks to you at the doorway before Seokjin’s head pokes through, right as you’re sighing. “I’m fine.” You lunge upwards to your feet, building the momentum, but the third year rushes to your side and helps you. You thank him, beginning to waddle out the classroom as he supports your weight by holding your arm. “Was there something you needed from me?” “No.” “Then…” You narrow your eyes. “Did my husband put you up to this?” The Hufflepuff is all too mischievous and he shrugs. “No, I’m just looking out for my favourite professor.” You scoff. “Yeah, right.” “But Professor Park did want me to remind you to drink the kelp-snakeweed blend he made you.” “Oh, I drank it alright.” By that, you mean the sink drank it. The liquid was all too bitter and even if it’s good for you and the ‘sapling’, you’re absolutely sick of this all-herb diet. “You know, Seokjin, if you wanted to actually help me, you would assist me in brewing an invisibility potion.” “I..uh...don’t know how.” “It’s a third year potion.” Your neck cranes down to the boy, voice growing cold. “Have you not done your readings yet?” “Look at that!” Jin suddenly points off to the other end of the castle hall. “It’s Yoongi and Professor Park!” Your husband — you could sing woes about him all day. He is the primary cause of all your gripes. While he is withholding sex like he’s punishing you, never getting lower than cooing at your stomach, he’s very involved with the pregnancy. Too much. And he’s becomes even more clingy than before. So it’s no surprise when his face lights up at the sight of you and he goes sprinting down the Hogwarts corridor, hands chopping the air, feet darting, abandoning the Slytherin’s side to attach onto your arm as Seokjin lets go. “You’re already done class? I was coming to pick you up!” “Oh, I just finished early toda—” “You know how dangerous it can be walking up and down those stairs! Plus, they move often and we never know what could happen! The last thing I want is for you and our baby to get hurt!” He has no regard for the public space you’re in or how students walking pass are staring while melting at his show of affection. Being romantically involved with Jimin, you quickly learnt that he has no comprehension of what it means to remain professional during working hours, but now that you were married and pregnant, he wasn’t even trying to be conscious of his surroundings anymore. It’s not like you mind much. It’s just that he’s practically broadcasting your private life for everyone to hear. “Don’t worry, I’m being extra careful.” “You never know what could happen.” He does a sweep of your body, checking to see if everything is okay before looking at Jin. “I appreciate you being here and assisting your professor, Seokjin. Ten points to Hufflepuff for your consideration.” “It’s nothing, just doing what I should be doing.” The student rocks from his heels to his toes, bashful with his arms behind his back. Yoongi soon joins and he’s unimpressed like you are. He wears an impassive expression and has no fear in looking directly into your eyeballs. The both of you stare into each other’s souls, telepathically sending a message. It’s nice to be around another Slytherin for once. To Jimin’s credit, however, he was also a Slytherin in his own way. To the point that in the past two years, you questioned the Sorting Hat’s decision. If he thought you had severe favouritism issues, your parents were even more biased on house segregation than you were. With generations upon generations of Slytherins, a pride of theirs, they were heavily against Jimin when you first introduced him to them. That was until they realized that despite being a Hufflepuff, kind and generous, in a lot of ways he was more of a Slytherin than you were. You’ll admit that your husband is certainly cunning when he wants to be and he likes to get his way. “Good evening, Professor.” “Good evening, Yoongi.” The both of you are pulled off to the side, having your own conversation as Jimin continues to dote on Jin and the latter is trying to convince him that he’d make a great Head Boy in the future. “Not up to any trouble, right?” “Not for a while, madam.” The mischievous twinkle in his eyes say otherwise. “At least...you won’t find out about it.” “I don’t think I have the energy to cover for you or chase you down the halls anymore, Min.” “I don’t think you’re in the exact shape to chase me, Professor. Though I think it would be entertaining to see you try.” Yoongi is one of the few who don’t treat you any differently. He still has a lifeless stare in his eyes and flashes the occasional lazy smirk. You appreciate his bluntness more than he would imagine. “That’s right, I’m not.” You give a single nod. “So instead I would have to resort into giving you detention. But you and I both know detention isn’t all that bad….so what do you say...would like you like to become prefect some day?” While other students would dive onto their knees in joy at the sound of being a prefect, Yoongi is overcome with disgust to the point that it shows on his expression. You’re all too aware that he hates too much responsibility. “Uh...on second thought, you’re looking fantastic these days, Professor. You’re in real good shape.” “Uh-huh.” Your arms cross. “You better start going to your Charms lessons, Yoongi. I’ve been hearing complaints that you’ve been skipping them to go practice Quidditch.” “Charms?” His brow lifts and a strained smile appears on his face. “Look at the time! I better start heading to the Great Hall if I want to get a seat at the table. Hey, kid!” The fifth year student loops his arm around the third year’s shoulder, interrupting his passionate pitch of being Head Boy someday. “We better get going.” “Alright. Goodbye, Professor!” Seokjin bows his head, yellow robes flashing in the light as he bids farewell to you both and is promptly dragged off by Yoongi, both of them closer than you’d expect them to be. You scoff, shaking your head at the Slytherin whose self-preservation was to be admired. They walk at a much faster rate than you can manage and Jimin slows down, holding you close as he ushers you as if you were a sick patient in the infirmary. “I can walk on my own, you know.” “I know.” Your husband smiles softly. “I just miss you.” Any complaints immediately die on your tongue and you sigh sheepishly, leaning into his touch as you waddle your way towards the Great Hall. “Was Yoongi causing you trouble?” “No, I just happened to run into him and I asked how he was doing.” The student who once made chaos out of your life has seemed to grow out of his pranks and becoming more of a skirt-chaser lately. You may or may not have caught him snogging some female fourth year near the library one night a few months ago and while you left him off with a warning, the following night, there was no need to reprimand him again when you caught him being slapped by another girl. Yoongi was always making mischief one way or another and if Kihoon wasn’t with him, then it was Seokjin. You hope the Hufflepuff won’t follow in his footsteps. “Good, good. If there’s ever something wrong with any of my kids, you should tell me about it. I think I’ve let them run loose for too long and they’re taking advantage of it. It’s time to tighten up the discipline in my house before they soil Salazar Slytherin’s name.” “You should worry more about yourself.” Jimin grins, patting your head tenderly. “Are you hungry?” “Yes.” The answer comes instinctively, befalling your lips like you’re recalling your own name. His expression is marred with concern. “Did you drink my kelp-snakeweed blend I packed for you? What about the kelp salad I made you this morning? Don’t worry, I have seaweed-soy-kelp salad for you for dinner. It’s fresh!” Food is one of the small joys in life. To have it ripped away from you is disastrous. “Does it….does it always have to be kelp, Jimin?” “Kelp is full of nutrients and vitamins and it’s really good for the baby, the little sapling.” “Can we at least add a bit of salt into it?” “Salt?” Jimin frowns. “It’s already seasoned, babe. Salt would just ruin the taste and the nutrition value.” “....Alright.” You hold the sigh in your throat. “But can you at least let go of me a bit more? We’re in public, you know.” “Sorry.” He loosens his arms around your body, sheepish in his smile. “You’re just so much softer than you were before. Like you were pillow soft, but now you feel...pudgy. Like a teddy bear.” Your sharpened glare flashes at him, neck craning fast enough to give you whiplash. “Are you trying to insult me? Are you calling me fat?” Jimin ducks his head. “No.” You feel slightly better when Jimin lowers his head and continues walking alongside you, giving you a little bit of space. All this coddling and being sweet with your husband is making you feel as if you’re losing your intimidating touch with the students, and not to mention letting your husband step all over you. It may be for the good of the baby, but you are still your own person and are capable of making your own decisions. You don’t need to be swaddled and coddled as if you’re a piece of fragile glass, or worse, a toddler incapable of taking care of themselves. All this thinking has got you into an even fouler mood, so as you walk into the Great Hall, you make sure to take the only remaining seat next to Namjoon so that Jimin can’t sit next to you and smother you even more. Except, as your luck would have it, Namjoon and Jimin are close friends now. Namjoon immediately sets down his goblet and nods at Jimin, getting up so that your husband can take his place. Even the sight of his indigo hued hair from the corner of your eye irks you, and you avert your gaze to today’s menu — fish and chips. The saltiness of the chips floats over and teases at your tastebuds, along with the firm, crisp sound everyone’s knife makes when they cut through the thinly battered fish. Jimin snaps his fingers, and your meal of seaweed-soy-kelp salad appears in front of you, and you nearly want to cry. “How’s the pregnancy going, Professor?” Namjoon smiles at you from his place across the table, stuffing some chips into his mouth as he does so. “You look wonderful, if I may say so.” Jimin is beaming at the praise directed at you, turning to glance at your swollen stomach with pride. “It’s going,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your fork and playing with the contents of your dinner unenthusiastically. “Is that all you’re having for dinner?” Taehyung marvels, his eyes wide as he glances over at your plate, simultaneously snapping his fingers and asking for seconds. A large piece of battered fish appears on his plate at once, along with enough chips to feed three people, at least. If you could only just have one — just one! “She’s on a plant based diet consisting of only the finest organics from my personal garden,” Jimin puffs up his chest as he grins at everyone at the table, picking up his fork and spearing a few chips on it. “I read that kelp has numerous benefits for the baby, so I’m making her kelp smoothies, kelp salad, kelp chips… it’s been such a journey, really! I never knew kelp could be made into so many things!” Amidst Jimin’s spiel, you remain quiet and continue to dredge through the seaweed strands on your plate, feeling utterly miserable. The rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice, however, as they congratulate Jimin once more and praise him over how healthy and nutritious his your diet sounds, and how much effort he’s putting into the pregnancy. All this makes you silently seethe over your salad, because they conveniently forgot to include the main person who’s putting in the most work growing this stupid little fungus in your womb. “...but not too much kelp though— there’s apparently iodine in it and it’s bad for the baby. So I’ve been looking into other things like seaweed and soy…” Jimin’s voice drones on and on, and you automatically tune him out, thinking instead of the first thing you’ll eat the second this fungus pops out of your womb. “Professor ______!” A high pitched squeal nudges you out of your thoughts and you drop your fork, startled as you glance up. It’s Ye Eun, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor who used to be wooing Jimin, and even insinuated once or twice that they had something going on between the two of them. Even though Jimin vehemently denies it, something about the way Ye Eun grins at Jimin throws you off, even your husband looks as if he is significantly happier to see her than he usually is when he sees you. At least, he greets Ye Eun with a genuine smile, not shooting her with rapid fire questions like has she eaten yet or does she feel dizzy, is the baby kicking yet. “Um, hi,” you mumble under your breath, not really feeling in the mood to talk. “How are you feeling?” She fakes a look of concern with her creased forehead, reaching toward you. “How’s baby Park doing? Can I touch?” The way she phrases it makes it sound like she’s calling your husband ‘baby’, and it irks you enough to shoot her a murderous glare. But Jimin beside you chuckles and slides an arm around your shoulder to try and calm you down. “Ah, Professor Ye Eun, you’ll have to excuse Professor ______ here, she’s just feeling a little under the weather today,” Jimin says with a kind smile directed at her, and his comments immediately make you feel like the villain in this situation, the asshole witch who snaps at anyone trying to show concern. Ye Eun nods in sympathy as her eyes drop to your swollen belly that is brushing against the edge of the table. “Oh, no don’t worry about it, I completely understand! My sister is pregnant too, you see. And she has these awful mood swings as well, not to mention horribly swollen feet, and she complains to me about the stretch marks on her tummy every single night. Do you have any of these symptoms yet, Professor _____?” She turns to you and smiles sweetly, and you silently curse her under your breath. Why does she have to go and list the most unappealing side effects of pregnancy right in front of your husband like this? It’s as if she is actively trying to ruin your marriage so that she can get back together with Jimin and leave you in the lurch, a sad whale of a pregnant witch. It’s as if she already knows that Jimin has been rejecting your advances throughout this whole pregnancy, and is making it her personal mission to make you look even more unattractive in his eyes. “No, I don’t, I’m perfectly fine, thanks for your concern,” you mutter under your breath, wriggling out of your husband’s embrace to stand up. The thought of having to witness the saccharine sweet interactions between Ye Eun and Jimin as they shoot love eyes at each other just for a second longer makes you nauseous. “I think I’m done here. I’m kind of tired, so I’ll head back first. Enjoy your meal, Jimin. And the rest of you too.” You give them a brief nod before slowly waddling toward the entrance of the Great Hall, fully expecting Jimin to jump up and run after you to make sure you’re alright. But when you sneak a glance over your shoulder just as you turn the corner, you see that Ye Eun has taken your seat beside Jimin, and the two of them are laughing over something, their hands dangerously close to brushing against each other. Jealousy ignites like a raging green Hungarian Horntail in your stomach, and you rush to the nearest toilet to throw your guts up. It’s not like you to be like this. Irrational. Temperamental. Possessive. But all of your anxiety and self-consciousness is boiling in the pits of your stomach to create a chaotic concoction. You feel out of control in your own emotions and that drives you even crazier. It’s horrible. You’re practically a teenager with severe raging hormones — one second you’re deliriously happy and the next, you want to cower over in tears. You stand up, rinsing your mouth in the sink thoroughly, taking a moment to compose your frazzled self and when you leave the private bathroom, there’s an unexpected person standing outside. Professor Kim Taehyung is leaning against the stone wall, handful of chips in his hands, stuffing his face and greeting Gryffindor students who pass by. His rounded eyes stare back into yours as he continues to stuff his face with food, completely unaware of the ravenous way you are staring at his chips. “Are you alright?” “Yeah….fine.” “You didn’t exactly sound fine.” You glare at him. “Is there something you want, Taehyung?” “I want you,” he says automatically with a mischievous glint in his irises, joking around and never once being serious. You scoff, rolling your eyes and finding the childish man unbelievable. Your voice lowers into a whisper, the hall empty of any bystanders. “I’m going to shove my wand into your eyeball before you can even scream for help, Professor Kim.” Yet, Taehyung is undisturbed by your threat. He merely quirks his head to the side, a smile tugging on his lips. “Lovely as always, Professor ______.” The Divinations professor walks with you, but he never once clings onto your arm or helps usher you every step of the way. Aside from Yoongi, the only other person who hasn’t treated you differently is Taehyung. He hasn’t changed in the least bit. He still flirts with you, not out of romantic intention, but purely to get under your skin, and Jimin doesn’t mind. Your husband is not threatened at all by the banter, more than confident you love him, even a bit cocky when he says there’s no point in being jealous since he’s laid claim to you and the ring on your finger proves it. Doubly so since the evidence of his claim on you— i.e your swollen belly— is so obvious that everyone is constantly fawning over it. His overconfidence just made you realise that Jimin doesn’t have a single mark of you on him the way he does on you. Your heavily pregnant state practically screams to everyone that you are taken—but what about Jimin? Merlin, sometimes you don’t know if you want to strangle Taehyung or Jimin more. “Do you want any chips? I think I’ve had too much.” You look down to the crispy, greasy chips in Taehyung’s fist. They’re still warm, lightly golden brown, and your mouth salivates. You quickly tear your eyes away. “No, I’m good.” “Are you sure?” he tempts you, but there is also a sliver of concern in his voice as well. “You’re probably starving after vomiting your guts out.” “I’m fine,” your voice is weak and you cast a glance at him as he shrugs, stuffing the remainder of the chips into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. “You don’t have to walk me to my room, by the way.” “I’m not.” Taehyung is blunt and even frowns as if wondering why he would do such a thing. “I’m walking to my office. I can’t remember if I stashed the first years’ essays somewhere in my desk or if I lost them.” You smile at the Gryffindor Head of House. Walking alongside him like this, it makes you feel normal again. And perhaps it’s the way he treats you no different than before that makes you want to open up to him about the things that have been on your mind recently. “Taehyung, do you think Jimin’s being ridiculous?” “Yes.” There’s no doubt in his voice whatsoever as he answers immediately, and it makes you feel justified for your earlier outburst. You never thought that Taehyung of all people would be the one to make you feel better, when all he does is irritate you. “I’m surprised you haven’t threatened to shove your wand into his eyeball yet. I know if I was on an all-herb diet, I’d jump off the Ravenclaw tower and into the Whomping Willow.” You scoff before laughter bubbles from your chest. He’s truthful — you wouldn’t need a Veritaserum to know that. But when another question surfaces on your mind, you go quiet for a moment, hesitating. “D-do you think there’s something going on with Jimin and Ye Eun?” “What?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to laugh. “Merlin, you mean Jimin? Park Jimin? The Jimin who’s completely whipped for you? Not a chance. All he talks about is you and the baby. He literally sees nothing else. No offence though, but it’s getting a little tiring. I wish you would just give birth already.” “Me too, buddy.” You sigh, getting closer to your chamber and your steps automatically slow. “Taehyung…” “What?” He turns to you with a disgusted expression. “It’s weird when you call me like that.” You hold back a giggle. “Like what?” “Like you’re my mom or something.” Taehyung extends his arms weakly, hands curling up as his eyes become half-lidded and he mimics your oddly gentle voice, “Taehyung~.....it makes me think you’re dying.” “Maybe I am internally.” You’re at ease, nervousness vanishing. You know he’ll be honest with you no matter what. There’s no reason for Taehyung to sugarcoat his words and his idiotic courage has never made him second think the consequences of what he says. “Do you think I’m attractive?” If the Divinations Professor wasn’t weirded out before, now he’s definitely on guard. He ponders if this is a test and decides to just be frank. “Yeah…?” “I mean like this.” You wave your arms at yourself, showing off your potato-like figure. “Pregnant. This inflated. This big.” “You’re attractive, Y/N. Always have been. You’re just different now.” He continues walking and you waddle after him, hands at the bottom of your stomach and supporting the weight. “Different how?” “You’re glowing for one. And I don’t know.” Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. “You seem more feminine lately. Like you’re carrying a baby and that’s pretty much most men’s innate carnal desire, right? To impregnate females? You’re basically fulfilling that fantasy.” “....Thanks?” “You got bigger boobs, more curves, and I must admit you look pretty cute and adorable waddling everywhere.” “Wow.” You laugh. “This is probably the hardest you’ve ever come onto me.” “Hey, you asked.” He has his hands up. “Personally, I have no sexual desires towards you when you’re pregnant with my best friend’s baby. Like no thanks. Maybe if it was my kid, I’d feel different. But like when it’s someone else’s kid in there, it would feel like I’m invading in their territory. You do invoke a protective instinct, though.” “Thanks, Taehyung.” You appreciate his candidness, but he continues on his tangent anyhow. “You know, pregnant women is actually a legitimate fetish out there? I’ve seen muggle magazines of pregnant women and men—” “Alright, alright. I get it.” “So, you got nothing to worry about,” Taehyung concludes with a smile. “Pregnant women actually become more attractive to their partners. It’s a fact.” “How do you know that?” “Jimin told me. And he told me the fact is pretty accurate.” You frown, mind boggled. “....Jimin told you that?” “Yeah, why?” You make a left turn, lowering your voice so the paintings can’t eavesdrop. “Well...he...uh-...hasn’t seen to shown that he’s more attracted to me.” “What are you talking about?” Taehyung’s shoots you a skeptical look. “He’s always glued to your side these days.” “I mean in other ways.” “Oh. Well, if you ever need help with that, I guess if it’s for you, I don’t mind invading in someone else’s territory.” He shoots a greasy wink. “Shut it.” Taehyung shrugs, becoming more serious. “I don’t know. Ask Namjoon. Jimin’s been talking to him more these days.” The Head of Gryffindor pouts, feeling betrayed by his best friend. You hum, brushing it off. “No, I’m fine. I don’t want to spread my personal...issues with everyone at Hogwarts.” “I don’t think you really have a choice. Everyone’s already so invested in your pregnancy, might as well put it all out there.” “Yeah, I don’t think so.” When you left the Great Hall earlier, you were hungry and annoyed and uncomfortable. You were ready to burn Hogwarts’ greenhouse to the ground, but after having a calm conversation, you felt in control again. And you’re ready to buckle down and face your problems like the adult that you are. *//* “Hey,” your husband gently whispers, entering the bedroom with soft padding footsteps against the floorboard after finishing up his dinner. You’re rested on the headboard of the bed and you set the book down on the nightstand. “How’s my little sapling?” As much as you try, you can’t help but immediately get irritated by the way he greets you- asking about the baby first. But you also remind yourself that you could be overreacting right now, and try to rein in your temper. “We’re doing fine.” You brace yourself with a deep inhale. “Listen, we need to talk, Jimin.” He’s on alert and freezes from taking off his dark blazer. “What is it? Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong with the baby? Are you hungry? Hurt? Merlin, are you in labour?!” “No. Sit down first.” You pat the spot beside you on the bed, stern and unyielding. Jimin sits down while keeping his eyes locked into yours. You smile, taking his hand and stroking it. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just….wanted to say I’m really happy that you’re so involved with the pregnancy.” “Of course I am,” your husband assures, “I love you and our child very much.” “And I’m glad. But honey, I think it’s been too much lately.” “What do you mean?” “I’m feeling smothered.” “Smothered?” “I feel like you don’t see me as a person anymore. I’m just an incubator for your baby. Every time you see me, it’s ‘how’s our baby’ or ‘my little sapling’.” Tears are filling your eyes as you say it and you hate that you’re losing composure, that you’re becoming this emotional after psyching yourself up for the past half hour. You absolutely hate crying in front of people, and Jimin is the only one who you’ll let yourself break down in front of, but it only makes you feel even more like the irrational, temperamental pregnant woman you are. It doesn’t help that Jimin looks shocked and hurt all at once. “I...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” “I know, I know. And it’s not your fault. You’re doing a great job. But I just wish you’d let me make some of my own decisions. I’m a big girl, you know. An adult, actually. Who managed to become a Potions Professor at Hogwarts. So, I think I can handle myself. I might need help getting up in the morning and help putting on my shoes, but I can definitely brush my own hair and walk up and down the stairs on my own. I don’t always need you shadowing me.” “O-okay.” He nods, listening attentively. You smile, glad that he understands and you cup his cheek with your palm, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles against your mouth and you pull away. “Jimin…” “Hmm?” You have him right where you want him and you go in for the kill. “I want to stop the herb diet.” “What?” Jimin is distraught and baffled. “But...it’s good for you and the baby.” “No.” You shake your head. “It’s not good for me. It’s driving me nuts and if I don’t get a proper meal soon, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might just throw you out of our room and I’ll make you room with Taehyung.” His brow lifts. “You want to stop my diet plan?” “I want my three meals to return. The food at the Great Hall really isn’t that bad. We used to eat it for years on end, and nothing happened. But we’ll compromise, okay? How about I drink your brew once a day, so I can get that nutritional value?” Jimin slowly nods after much contemplation. “That sounds fair.” “Good.” The corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk and he quirks his head to one side. “Is this what’s been bothering you so much lately?” You hum. “Mostly.” Your husband smiles in relief. “I thought it was something much worse.” He comes over and embraces you, nose pressed into your neck and breathing in your scent. “You should’ve told me sooner.” You run your fingers through his violet hair that reminds you of pansy flowers. “Well, I didn’t want to ruin your enthusiasm.” “That doesn’t matter. You’re what’s most important to me.” As much as Jimin drives you absolutely insane, you love him. He is patient, tolerant, hardworking and loyal. You’re even happier to hear that he finds you attractive. All your worries have dissipated. “You know,” your voice drops into a seductive whisper, hot breath skimming on the shell of his ear. “I’m wearing your favourite yellow lingerie set right now.” “Why?” Usually, Jimin’s a horndog enough to catch on, but this time he pulls away and looks wholeheartedly confused. “Isn’t that too tight for you now? Oof. His diss pierces straight through your chest and a muscle in your cheek jerks at his audacity. But you cover it with a stiff smile, not bothering to dwell on your idiotic husband’s words when you have a much more important goal in mind. “I managed. It’s my favourite too actually. Do you want to see?” Jimin lets his eyes drop to your swollen belly, contemplating in his mind for a moment, deciding to keep his worries about whether the baby can actually breathe if you wear tight clothing to himself. He smiles as he attempts to distract you from your rather… risque intentions by kissing your cheek. “Sure, baby, why don’t you get more comfortable? Do you want me to help you take your shirt off?” You mumble a yes and stretch your arms out for Jimin to help you with your shirt, heart in your throat as you wait for him to see his favourite lingerie set on you. Sure, it might have been a struggle to get it on earlier, you huffed and puffed and nearly broke out in a sweat, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you feel… sexy. For the first time in ages, you feel attractive even without your husband’s gaze on you. You were able to give yourself a validation that wasn’t dependent on anyone else. All of this fuels your confidence now as you bask in Jimin’s gaze upon your body, the lingerie doing a perfect job of accentuating all your curves. And okay, maybe Taehyung’s words did help as well. Knowing that maybe deep down, Jimin is still as in love with your body as he was all those years ago, just that he needs some encouragement to show it, helps you put yourself out there again. “Did you have a tough day in class today? Maybe I can help with that…” you let your voice trail off suggestively, your hand on his firm and toned abdomen slowly dropping lower and lower to the dress pants he still has on. “Tough day? No, I was fine,” Jimin places his hand over yours gently to stop you from going any lower. “Do you need a massage again? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” You briefly consider your own body and take a survey of what currently aches and what doesn’t. As the months go by, your breasts have grown a cup size, now currently they are very sensitive, and it would be nice to feel Jimin’s soft hands on them… “My breasts hurt a little,” you pout at him, and Jimin immediately springs to action, helping you unhook your yellow bra from the back so that he can see you in all your glory. Although from the way he does it, you feel more like a cow being released from its harness rather than a woman being undressed by her husband. Jimin carefully cups your breasts in his hands, taking care to massage them gently, placing pressure around the areola. You note that they’ve grown enough to fill his small hands when before, he still had some room to spare, and you can only hope that Jimin realises this fact as well and perhaps gets turned on by it too...but no luck. Your husband has a look of concentration on his face as he massages your breasts, and even though his thumbs are skimming over your nipples and making them rock hard, he has not even a trace of arousal on his face. He is doing this very apathetically and methodically, focused on easing your discomfort as much as possible rather than bringing you or himself sexual pleasure. “Feel good? Harder? Softer? Tell me what you want, baby,” Jimin checks in with you as his hands pause on your heavy and swollen breasts. You glance down at the crotch of his dress pants, but there are no signs of his arousal. Usually, Jimin would be bursting out of his pants like the Hulk by now, and you decide that it’s time to up the stakes. “Suck on them, please? They’re really sore,” you plead with him, seeing a look of hesitation cross his face immediately. “Baby, if they’re sore then I shouldn’t suck on them, let me check the books, or ask Namjoon. Maybe there’s a spell or some kind of special ointment…” “But I want your tongue, Jimin,” you place your hands over his with what you hope is an endearing look on your face. “Just for a bit. I promise it won’t hurt me or the baby.” Jimin still looks a little reluctant, but he leans in and cautiously takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and laving his tongue against your stiff and puffy nipple. The pressure makes your core heat up, and you can feel yourself start to become slick between your legs. Having Jimin nurse from you like this triggers a protective, motherly instinct in you, but it also makes you even hornier than you already were. His little licks and sucks are not enough to satisfy you, on the contrary, they fuel your lust even more. Jimin switches to the other breast, getting more and more daring as he begins to suckle earnestly, when suddenly— A sweet, thick liquid bursts onto his tongue, and he draws back in surprise, yellowish milk dripping from his bottom lip as he wipes it off with his thumb. “Shit, did you just—” “It feels better now,” you admit. “There was a lot of pressure because of… that.” You watch his expression closely as Jimin tastes the substance on his tongue before he swallows it down. Then, he reaches for your still dripping, puffy nipple and runs his fingers through the thick liquid in wonder. “You-...you don’t find it gross, do you?” “Gross?” Jimin exclaims. “No, why would I think that? You’re beautiful, and this is so amazing. You’re making milk for our baby, and it… it tastes good. Our baby is so lucky.” Jimin bends down to lick the excess milk from your nipple before going back to sucking for a while more, but there’s no more milk for now. He draws back with a proud grin on his lips, as if he is satisfied with himself for having alleviated your needs so adequately. Then, he settles in beside you as if to turn in for the night, and you turn to him, utterly frustrated. You blow out a sigh between your lips. Since when was Jimin this opaque when it comes to sex? You never thought you’d have to resort to begging your horndog of a husband to dick you down. But at this point you are so starved for physical contact, your core has never felt more neglected and empty in your entire life, even though technically there is a baby in your womb right now. “Let’s fuck. Right now.” You look at Jimin directly as you say this, not a note of embarrassment in your voice whatsoever. You are a horny, pregnant woman and you need a good dicking down from your husband immediately. Jimin seems utterly taken aback by your request as his eyes widen immediately, hands coming to rest on your knees and massaging them tenderly. “Wh- I… We shouldn’t, baby.” “Is this about something grabbing your dick again?” You narrow your eyes at him, but Jimin is quick to deny it. “Then? What is it?” You demand, almost at the end of your rope now with desperation. “D-do you not find me attractive anymore?” “Wh- No! Of course not, baby! You are…you so are beautiful, all swollen with my child like this. I love you,” Jimin insists. “Then why won’t you touch me? We haven’t had sex properly in months, and…” your voice rises into a desperate sob. Your husband shifts uncomfortably, palms clammy and rubbing together. He avoids your gaze, diverting his eyes elsewhere, voice small in the face of your saddened rage. “I do want to fuck you, but…” You’re on the verge of bursting into tears. “But?!” Jimin releases a long exhale from his lungs, his shoulder slugging and his back slumped. He is as distressed as you are. “Can’t….can’t we just wait until you give birth?” “What?!” There’s something that he wants to say, a secret that he’s been keeping from you, something deeper that he’s not saying. It’s obvious by the way he licks his lips in hesitance, the way he can’t even look at you. You don’t understand. None of it adds up. If he’s attracted to you, if he’s this involved in your pregnancy, why can’t he tell you whatever problem he’s having? But you fail to get to him. He simply hangs his head and utters — “I don’t want to hurt our baby.” “You’re not going to hurt our baby!” You’re in absolute hysterics, gone bat-shit insane. “I told you that I’m healthy, that sex is good and there’s a lot of benefits unless you fucking caught an STI because you cheated on me!” Jimin has his arms in the air, offended from your accusation. “I would never cheat on you!” “Exactly!” You just can’t wrap your mind around it. “So, I don’t understand either!” You can practically see Jimin freaking out on the spot as he frantically tries to find the right words to appease you. But you don’t want to be appeased, you don’t want to be placated or patronised. You just want a nice, good hard fuck. “Forget it, you don’t have to force yourself to touch me if you don’t want to,” your voice is hard, defensive, as you push your husband away and struggle to get up from the bed. It irks you that Jimin has to support you from behind as you waddle to the shared bathroom and lock yourself inside, putting the lid down on the toilet and sinking down on it. You are too sexually frustrated to cry. The throbbing between your legs demands to be taken care of, and you are so wet and sticky that your underwear is completely ruined. “Baby… are you alright? Come out and we can talk about this,” Jimin knocks on the door. You grit your teeth and wandlessly silence the bathroom before closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall. This clearly can’t go on. You need some relief, and soon, or else you’re going to go crazy. Finally, an idea comes to mind, and you muster your concentration, imagining the thickest, longest vegetable you can think of. A large cucumber appears in your hand, and you sigh in exasperation. You can’t believe you’re resorting to this, of all things. You lower your hand, gathering whatever slick you can. When you ease your fingers in, you realize you can’t feel anything. It’s not nearly the stretch that you want. In the meanwhile, Jimin is still knocking on the door, pleading with you, but the sound is blocked and in the peace and quiet, you bring the head of the green cucumber to your pussy lips. Your arousal coats the end and right when you’re about to push in...you realize what you’re doing. You’re sitting on the toilet. You’re about to fuck produce. More specifically, you’re about to shove a cucumber up your pussy. And you finally burst into tears. You lean back, crying, tears soaking down your cheeks at how pathetic and desperate you’ve become. In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you bring the cucumber to your mouth, teeth chomping down on the refreshing produce. You chew in your cheek, placating your still growling stomach. At least vegetables are good for the baby. As if the growing baby inside of you can hear the echoes of your cries, you feel a sudden flutter in your stomach. You look down to see a foot imprint underneath your skin and you laugh tearfully, tracing the child’s foot until it gets ticklish and moves away. Your swollen belly bounces around for a bit and you pat it, rubbing it gently. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I, Sapling?” After a moment of collecting yourself and eating the rest of the cucumber, you stand and wash off your face at the sink. When you open the door, Jimin hugs you and immediately showers you in apologies while validating you that he loves you very much. You nod, apologize for breaking down as well and you let him embrace you for a full two minutes. The pair of you end up crawling in bed together, Jimin supporting you along the way. There are two choices that you have. One — keep trying, asking, prodding Jimin for sex and find out why he’s been avoiding it so much. You can dwell on it, give yourself headaches and affect the baby through stress, make your husband uncomfortable. Two — give up and accept Jimin’s new state. He still loves you. That much is obvious. And it’s not like you need sex. You’ve lived eighteen years without it. You don’t need it. The more you think about it, the more you agree with yourself. You can prove to yourself that you still very much love Jimin without sex. You don’t need it. You don’t need it. You don’t need it. At least that’s what you try to convince yourself.

#bts smut #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts hogwarts au #BTS JIMIN AS A HUFFLEPUFF HUSBAND #IF THAT DOESNT SOUND APPEALING THAN I DONT KNOW WHAT WILL #AND OC AS A SLYTHERIN HEAD OF HOUSE WITH INSATIABLE NEEDS #wow i cant believe i finally get to use the smut tag #everyone please give a round of applause to Addie #also im sorry if this clogs your dash - it's hella long #but then again if its clogging your dash that means youre using the app #which has a broken read more button #and i just gotta ask wHAT ARE YOU DOING USING THE P.O.S APP #TUMBLR 👏 APP 👏 SUCK 👏 MORE 👏 THAN 👏 OC GETS TO SUCK #this is my psa #ok bye

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