: Joss created Buffy. JK Rowling created Harry. I borrowed their characters for a bit.
Dawn groaned, and thumped her head softly against the bathroom wall. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and concussed herself, the blue line would be gone. She was supposed to be smarter than this. And she was supposed to be a decent witch. So how the second circle of hell had she let this happen? Other than the alcohol, of course?
It wasn’t as if there weren’t charms to prevent this sort of thing. There were. A whole book’s worth of them. (And that wasn’t even getting into the range of potions, which even the crappiest apothecaries kept in ample quantities.) She, Luna, and Ginny had giggled over the fact that there were so many. They’d learned the ones recommended by St. Mungo’s as most effective, and made note of which ones weren’t so they’d know what to avoid. So why hadn’t she remembered to use any of them when it counted?
Buffy was going to flip. Xander might actually break out the shovel. No, strike that. Xander was definitely going to break out the shovel. If she had gotten herself knocked up in a drunken fling with one of the Weasleys, her sister and their friends could have laughed it off and consoled her with the thought that at least this child was going to have a great extended family.
There were even a few Slytherins that might have gotten grudging acceptance if she had to pick one of the bad boys. Zabini, maybe, or Flint, who if you could get over his appearance was a really nice guy. But she didn’t just pick the bad boys. She picked the baddest boys. Her formative years had featured her sister falling in and out of bed with two of the most infamous vampires in the world. Clearly it was a Summers thing. Possibly even something she could blame on the monks having made her from Buffy.
But she was pretty sure that excuse was not going to forestall the epic drama that was sure to ensue when her family found out that she had gotten pregnant from a one night stand with Draco Sodding Malfoy.