George smirked as he leaned against the exam table, glancing down at Waker. He felt smug; he knew what the scan was going to show. And if there was some small part of him that worried (what if it was a girl?), he quickly shoved it aside, figuratively. How could Mr. Masculine do anything but give off male sperm? Maybe when he got older, wasn’t as amazing as he was now, sure.

But right now? Impossible to think.

Even as thick as he could be at times, he could tell his constant ‘it’s a boy’ talk had gotten on Waker’s last nerve, so he was being quiet about it right now. Soon enough, though, he’d be able to rub it back in her face.

A hand pulled out of hers to rub at his sore shoulder. In the last game, he’d dislocated it while holding on to the broom to prevent himself from falling all the way down to the ground below. He’d also let a quaffle get by him in those few moments. It had been an easy enough pop back in, but the soreness was still being worked on.

It also caused the easily distracted young man to gaze around the unfamiliar setting. He’d done little but gawk and touch since they’d arrived. It was a wonder he hadn’t been reprimanded more than the young toddler out in the waiting area. Frowning at the lights, squinting as he focused on the machine situated next to him, he shook his head slightly.

George just wasn’t sure about this thing going close to his unborn son. Or girlfriend. But she’d grown up with it; he hadn’t. A hand reached out, and he tapped on the black front, the soft echo coming back at him before he was (once again) reprimanded. George turned his attention quickly back to Waker with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Ok, maybe he couldn’t help it. Kissing her forehead, he grinned bigger. “You going to make a big dinner to celebrate George Jr?”

Waker had come from the Ministry, both slightly frazzled by the day's work-- and having to leave on time-- and proud at the brick of papers she had got through. She seemed to work even harder now, as if she were making up for something, proving something. Apparently she was about to prove something to George (who was intent on the doing the very same, but with opposite results.)

As they waited in the muggle office, Waker tried to keep George engaged. Ordinarily, she would read until she was called, and then stare at and memorize the posters on the wall from her place on the examination table. It didn't matter what sort of doctor it was or why she was there, it was almost always the same. Even when she was nervous about something, it helped her calm down-- she would scan an eye chart, read about different parts of the human body, or memorize health safety tips. She had tried for all of thirty seconds to read a magazine in the waiting room before realizing it wasn't a nice thing to do with George there, and that George needed his own distractions. Being cool, calm, and collected as usual wasn't quite the usual anymore. Not all of the time.

Whispers of "Don't touch it," seemed slightly in vain, particularly after they had made it past reception. Waker had been told to lay on the table and wait. George was free to do as he pleased, really. "If this was you," she said, lying there, head turned in his direction. "Would you want me going around touching everything in the healer's office?" It didn't sound like much of threat, much of a heated question. George probably wouldn't mind, many people wouldn't. "Can you just stand over here?" She reached out a hand, gingerly, waited for him to take it.

As for dinner... “No, but you can make it,” she said. “For me.” She smiled at him, her face a combination of sweetness, the sort that dared him to argue with her, and knowing. “The pasta sauce you watched your mum make last week was very good. I know you were paying attention.” There was a hint of a smile in her voice, too, as she encouraged him with seeming seriousness. Waker was serious, though. George needed to learn to trade the keeper’s glove for an oven mitt now and then.

When the doctor and technician came in, they began a procedure Waker had seen in book after book, in videos in her parent's library, and in the occasional TV movie. She had never been present for such an occasion, though, not in person, not for someone she knew. There had always been that degree of removal, whether she was studying or watching for entertainment. Now there wasn't. She returned the doctor's smile as the technician spread warm gel on her skin, and her eyes darted to George. She could feel panic coming on, threatening to break her nervous, perhaps slightly green smile. Again, it was a strange sensation, a shock that she was here, now. She had not anticipated or planned it. (Well, she had planned it, this visit and everything down to vitamins and window charms and safety locks, after quickly adjusting her Big Plans to fit in this Big Event.) This was real life.

Presently, they were in a place where one didn’t mention window charms. Or healers, quidditch, the Ministry of Magic. Now it was just them, George and Waker, two young people making their way through life, slowing down for this particularly exciting occasion. The screen came alive, the gel successfully applied to Waker’s skin, and the technician gently but firmly moved her own brand of slightly-unnerving wand over Waker's little-big belly. Waker felt suddenly like George, finding weirdness in the object as it moved over her skin-- though it was more nervousness than curiosity. She squeezed his hand a little harder, gave him one close-mouthed smile, and turned to look at the screen. She scrutinized it as best she could, as if she had been studying sonograms in a N.E.W.T. class for the past two years. It was not so, and, to her slight annoyance, it took the doctor pointing out a head, legs, arms, a normal heartbeat, overall right-on-track-ness to make Waker see all of it. It was also to her relief. As far as images went, it appeared to be in good health. All of the doctor’s news was good news. The baby would have made straight O's if there were an exam. Waker felt foolish that that had even come to mind, but knew it was how her mind worked. She turned toward George, hiding the tiny beginnings of a blush from the doctor. "Healthy," she repeated the word to him, smiling.

Magazines usually held George’s interest. The problem was being in a new environment, and wanting to see what everything was. It had been difficult to accomplish from the chair in the waiting room; he’d twisted and turned, fingering everything on the table next to them in distracted interest. The quiet “Don’t touch it” stopped him for a few moments, long enough to look at her, before fiddling with something else.

He was almost triumphant when they told Waker to lay on the table; she couldn’t easily hold his hand to keep him near, or dig into his thigh lightly to remind him where he was. Plus, it was just the two of them! That he immediately stepped towards the first piece of electrical equipment to check out once the door closed was expected.

Eyebrows rose at her question. A quick glance at her and he shrugged a little. “There isn’t a lot to play with in a healer’s office.” Smirking, knowing from experience, he pushed a button.

“Can you just stand over here?”

An exasperated breath escaped, softly, before George turned towards her. Didn’t she realize there were new things to play with in here? Finally, however, he weighed his options and stepped back to her side, accepting her hand begrudgingly.

Eyes rolled before he could stop himself - he tried not to pout. Maybe take-away... But no, they had spent too much on groceries and bills and other things necessary for life by themselves. Finally a shrug escaped him and he looked at the equipment longingly. “I guess... I can do it.” Maybe then other adults would look at him and start considering him one too.

His parents saw him as an overgrown child, in need of constant reprimanding and stern warnings. Her parents... Well, George knew they didn’t necessarily care for him, especially after the whole ‘Waker’s Pregnant!’ thing. What an irresponsible thing to do; hadn’t he heard that from all sides? “She could’ve added more garlic though.” He gave her a small smile.

George straightened up when the door opened again. While the strange muggle ritual started, George had a look of uncertainty and mild uncomfortableness etched across his features. Where were the wands? Waker and he had left theirs at home; it was just a few blocks away, after all.

He tried to put a reassuring smile on his face when he realized Waker was looking at him. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. “How bout them Wasps, eh?” The doctor looked confused; oh, shit. His cheeks flushed and he stuttered out something to try and cover up his blunder. Muggles did the football thing. What was a local team? “Torquay United, eh mate?” Clearly the man did not appreciate his limited knowledge of muggle teams.

Then a button was pushed (one that George hadn’t gotten around to messing with), and he was focused on the screen. A thumb gently rubbed over her clenched hand, attempting to sooth her. George squinted, attempting to make out something in the fuzziness of the picture.

It was weird to realize whatever was on the screen was his baby. George licked his lips and nodded at Waker’s voice, patting her hand absentmindedly. Suddenly he leaned forward, squinting. “So where do you see that it’s a boy?”

The doctor seemed to come to his senses. “You want to know the sex then?”

George smirked and nudged Waker lightly on the shoulder. “Yes.” It was time to win some undecided bet.

It took a few extra moments, but then the doctor was pointing out certain features that were missing. George frowned. “Wait...” The doctor focused on him and then on Waker, smiling before patting her arm. “Congratulations, it’s a healthy baby girl.”

His face fell as he stared at the screen. A girl? “But... maybe you just looked at it wrong. Are you sure? Surely there’re... chances you’re wrong.” It seemed about that time the doctor and technician decided perhaps the young couple could use some alone time. A printed image of the baby was handed to Waker before the doctor stated they could have a few moments to celebrate.

Once the door closed, George sat down on the stool, staring at her stomach. “But... it’s a boy.”

Waker felt jumpy. George was looking for toys in a doctor's office while they were waiting for news about a future child. He did not seem thrilled at the prospect of standing still, but she was somewhat relieved when he did. Still, she assumed he would find something to entertain him… which was slightly unsettling. Doctors’ offices were beacons of pristine, all careful charts, pointy objects, and things which were a near sin to touch without a medical degree. It was not a place to bring George and expect him to keep his hands to himself, but she couldn’t have gone without him. Were they really so young?

The topic of dinner felt safer, more adult-like. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to say baby steps. There had to be a better description of George in the kitchen! “I’ll buy you a cookbook,” she decided. She could also check out heaps of them from the library. Maybe he would find something he liked… But for now, she trusted him to at least repeat his mother’s dish.

Garlic. She threw a look at him, slightly stormy brows, pouted lips, a warning not to tease her, but she entangled her fingers with his, jabbed back. “You shouldn’t talk about your mother that way, George Carter.” She felt pleased with herself, but her face sobered as the doctor and technician came in.

She was so busy trying not to look as nervous as she felt— and trying to analyze everything— that she nearly missed the Wasps reference. Nearly. Waker’s eyes widened, her mouth drew together. “He was a swimmer in school,” she said, apologetically, and looked to George with the sort of smile she had practiced over and over for talking to professors. Her eyes told him to go with it before she turned her attention and smile on the doctor.

Luckily, the woman and technician both had jobs to do. Waker had followed with careful eyes, shared her relief with George… but he seemed most intent on one particular sticking point.

The faint rumblings of a bee’s nest reached Waker. This again.

She knew it was part of what they had come to find out. She was anxious to know. But if George was right, she would never hear the end of it, and she wasn’t sure she could take so many more months of his triumph, however appealing the smile on his ever-appealing lips. What was wrong with a girl? Absolutely nothing. And then, of course, there was Waker’s private preference…

She blinked at the screen, as much so at George’s confusion, which was palpable even before he spoke. The energy in the room seemed to change somehow. It was more… feminine. As the doctor pointed it out on the screen and processed it, a smile grew on her lips, which she bit with light anticipation. She felt her stomach dance with excitement. It felt real, like a person, like someone meant for her. A she meant for her.

“Congratulations, it’s a healthy baby girl.”

She’d known before the words— and it seemed George had, too. But her smile became bigger, overjoyed.

It dampened when she saw George’s face. Heard his question. She sat up, thanked the doctor and technician, accepted the sonogram with gracious excitement, tried to hold on to a little bit of her smile. It was all she could do to wait until they had left before she frowned completely. The bees buzzing inside her, the butterflies in her stomach, it all paled to the sinking feeling, to the heat, the anger. She clutched the sonogram smally, but with a monolithic sense of protection, staring at him. “It’s a girl. A healthy girl.” She extended the delicate film toward him with emphasis, looked down at it, back up at his face. “It’s our baby. You can’t seriously be disappointed—” Their bickering, the bets had been one thing. This was entirely different. Now that they knew… now that it was real… “That it’s a girl.” They were so far away from the Trophy Room, from more innocent conversations, overly polished name plates, the vividness of first-time encounters lived over and over in one's head. From the fairytale of their little trophy family that they had discussed over a cauldron and textbook. But they were so, so close.

George started to make a face at the idea of a cookbook. Was she really expecting him to read? That sounded worse than a potion assignment. Plus, weren’t they supposed to be saving money for the baby? He thought he might be able to dissuade her with that sort of logic. Later, though; right then, they had more important things to bicker about.

Especially with the look she gave him. His smile slipped away for a few moments, glancing down between them as he considered her reprimand. He wasn’t a child, even if he felt like pouting about it. He’d tried to make light of a situation that he wasn’t fond of. Cooking was not his forte. If he wanted to tell her that it was his mum and he’d say what he wanted, well... wasn’t that ok? “Extra garlic is-” Words ended abruptly when the door ended. In the long run, that was probably better for George anyway.

Why would being a swimmer mean anything in this situation? He looked at her, confused and frustrated, before shrugging and leaving it be. Besides, the woman probably didn’t even follow sports.

There was a little too much estrogen in the room, and suddenly he worried he would be suffocated by it. Overwhelming and smothering. Where was the testosterone? Why could no one talk to him about sports and boys and... and the fact that his little clone wasn’t going to be quite a clone.

Her words went in one ear and out the other at first, and he blinked as he stared at the offered photo.

He couldn’t be serious in his disappointment? Just because she’d gotten what she wanted. Plus, George wasn’t the most gracious loser. He pursed his lips and glanced away from the photo, focusing on Waker for a moment. “Why not? Is it so wrong that I wanted a boy? A son?” What did that mean for him? Was he doomed to never have a boy? He was young, he was strong, and yet...

And yet they were having a girl. George took the sonogram from her, staring down at it while his free hand rubbed his thigh. Stressed out-that’s how he felt. It was all suddenly more real than it had been. There it was, right in front of him. What did he know about girls besides chasing them and trying to get their knickers off? There was Lou, but... she didn’t really count. Plus, when she did stupid things, he chalked it up to the amounts of estrogen in her body.

“Why not? Is it so wrong that I wanted a boy? A son?”

“No. But now we know we aren't having one.” She looked at him stormily. She understood his desire; she had secretly wanted a girl, too, and was excited to find out they were having one. The difference was, George wasn’t excited now that they knew. Waker would have been happy to hear it was a boy, as long as it was healthy. Which is it was. And he didn’t even care.

“Are you happy about the baby at all?” Hadn’t he convinced her, in part, that this was the right thing to do? That they would do it together? Things were falling into place, finally. They weren’t perfect, that state for which Waker had always striven, but they were coming together. They had their own home, paid their own bills, they were both working. Waker was encouraging him (with varying levels of patience) to do things for himself— for both of them— like cooking and cleaning. It wasn't just tutoring anymore. It was adulthood. She had readjusted her plans for this. It was supposed to be a moment they wouldn’t forget, something they could tell their child when she was old enough. That moment would come to soon, and Waker would have to lie.

The least that his body could have done was cooperate and give him a son, considering the way things were going as of late.

What was it about opposites attracting? How different they both were, and yet similar in numerous regards. George loved Waker, and they were having a girl. It left a bad taste in his mouth, though. He couldn’t quite open up to her; he couldn’t explain why it bothered him so much.

Then again, he couldn’t explain it to himself, let alone try and explain it to her. And judging by her face, she wasn’t pleased with him.

“Are you happy about the baby at all?”

He frowned at her, mouth open slightly to respond - and then nothing came out. Eyes glanced down at the sonogram before he squeaked out “Of... Of course.” He didn’t sound convinced; add that to the pause that shouldn’t have happened after that question, and perhaps George didn’t sound as ready as he could have. “I mean, yeah, it’s just a lot to take in.”

Something made her stand there, wait. Dignity, bravery, stubbornness. She had the right to an answer. A part of her wanted to leave now, to not see his face for a month. She wasn’t going until he answered.

The frown was a bad sign, the stumbling over his words even worse. It wasn’t going to be the answer Waker wanted to hear. The telltale signs seemed to solidify things for Ravenclaw alum, who had heard many a poor excuse from children wandering around Hogwarts after curfew. She waited for him to get the rest out, but her face spoke volumes, the furrowed brows and pouty frown— not quite the same as George’s own.

A lot to take in? “You’re really feeling sorry for yourself,” she said in disbelief. A lot to take in. He should have thought about that a long time ago. They both should have. As angry as she was with George, Waker was also annoyed with herself. It was a proud moment for her— or it should have been— and yet, she was once again faced with the reality that what she was now smoothing over and preparing for had been unplanned, had been, at one point, a mistake. But now it wasn’t. This was adulthood, it was real life.

She took the sonogram back from him, somewhat harshly, but careful not to tear it. “You should go stay with your cousin.” It wasn’t just a suggestion. If Emily didn’t have her own flat, that wasn’t Waker’s problem. Maybe she and George both needed to grow up. A night on Edmund’s floor might make him reconsider. She felt bad for Edmund.

Waker turned and left, pausing only to thank the doctor and technician in the hall.

“You’re really feeling sorry for yourself.”

George frowned suddenly, standing up straighter as he tried to think of some way to disagree with her. “I’m not-” He blinked in surprise from her anger, letting go of the sonogram in momentary disbelief. “I think you’re-”

“You should go stay with your cousin.”

His words died on his lips. A shallow breath came in before George blinked at her, attempting a slight smile at her. Surely she was just kidding. They would go home, talk about it, and everything would be fine. The look she gave him, however, made his smile fall, and he stared in slight disbelief when she walked out of the room. After a moment or two, he numbly walked towards the door, slowly, unable to comprehend what she’d just done.

Was she serious? He rounded the corner to see sideways glances from the technician, the doctor all ready on to see another patient with her back to him. George ran his hands through his hair before frowning. Maybe he should go stay with Emmylou. She wouldn’t... well. Hopefully she had gotten over her irritation with him.

He couldn’t even just apparate either! He’d left his wand at the apartment. Growling as he made his way out, he figured he’d give Waker some time to herself before he packed a bag and took her advice.