I got many more votes for the Zianourry mpreg story than I did for the puppy one, so here it is, Chapter One of a Harry-centric Zianourry mpreg. Please let me know what you think!
Title: This Is Where I’m Home
Summary: Harry didn’t expect to find himself pregnant at the age of eighteen. Now, his bandmates make it their mission to keep both Harry and his unborn child safe and loved, and protect them from the dangers of the world around them.
Warnings: Mpreg, mentions of sexual assault and rape throughout the story, some language.
Harry knew he couldn’t stay in bed all day, no matter how badly he wanted to. While the band was on a week-long break, vacationing in Australia, they still had tasks that needed to be completed. Liam had told the boys the night before that today they would spend the morning working on songs for their next album, before going to the beach in the afternoon. Harry had been fine with that plan, he really had.
However, that was before he woke up around nine in the morning feeling like his stomach was being run over by a bulldozer.
He could hear the sounds of his fellow bandmates getting up and showering, starting their day as he clutched at his stomach with clammy hands. He didn’t want to move, terrified that if he did he would begin puking and would never be able to stop. These cramps or whatever they were - they were more severe than anything he had ever experienced in his life, and he had no idea what to do.
There was a knock on the bedroom door before Niall stuck his head in, blinking in confusion. “Harry?” he asked, taking in the way the youngest boy was curled into a tight ball under the covers with just his head poking out. “Hey mate, what are you still doing in bed? The rest of us have been up for nearly an hour. Don’t you want some breakfast?”
Harry shook his head, the thought of food making his chest tighten and his stomach churn violently. He opened his mouth to answer his friend but closed it instantly, fighting back a groan.
"Harry? What’s wrong?" Niall stepped closer, making his way across the room to stand next to the bed. He pressed a hand against Harry’s forehead, pulling it away after a few moments. "You’re not really running a fever," he mused, pushing a few stray curls out of Harry’s face absently as he spoke. "You’re definitely sick though. Were you feeling bad when you went to bed last night?"
Harry shook his head again, unconsciously leaning his face into Niall’s hand. The blond boy began running his fingers through the dark curls, watching as the green-eyed boy below him kept his eyes screwed shut to try and block out the pain from his stomach. “Maybe you caught some kind of bug from dinner,” Niall said, “but we all ate the same thing as you so I don’t know why any of us aren’t sick…”
"Niall? Harry?" Liam was now standing in the doorway, worried when Niall hadn’t returned to the kitchen with Harry in tow by now. He took in the sight of the curly-haired lad still in bed, Niall standing next to him, and his eyebrows instantly furrowed in concern. "Harry, what’s wrong?"
"We don’t know," Niall answered for his friend. He was still carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling gently on the curls. "He just woke up ill. Maybe he should just stay in bed for the day."
Liam shook his head. “We should take him to the doctor. Whatever he has, the rest of us could catch it, and do we really all want to get sick before going back on tour?”
"I guess not," said Niall reluctantly; none of the boys liked being sent to the doctor, as it often meant days of bed rest for the most trivial coughs and fevers, ‘just to be safe’. "I’ll help him get dressed, then."
"And I’ll go tell the others and have Paul get a car ready. Meet us in the kitchen." Liam disappeared back down the hall, eager to get Harry to see a doctor as soon as possible. He hated it when any of the boys were ill, but Harry was the baby of the group, at least in age, and the other four all had an extra-protective streak in place for him.
"Alright Harry," said Niall with a sigh, pulling his hand from Harry’s hair and taking the bed covers. He pulled them down gently, watching as Harry flinched and curled even tighter into a ball. "Time to get up, we’ve gotta get you feeling better. Can you sit up?"
The brown-haired boy bit his lip, nodding hesitantly as he finally opened his eyes. Bit by bit, he uncurled his body until he was lying flat on his stomach, then slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, blinking blearily at Niall. “Hurts,” he muttered.
"I know, I know," Niall said, making quick work of helping the younger boy into a pair of sweats that had been lying on the floor. Harry’s t-shirt that he had slept in was rumpled but decent enough, and Niall determined that socks would be adequate footwear for a ten AM doctor’s visit. He slipped a pair onto Harry’s feet and stood back. "Can you stand up?" he asked, dubious.
In response, Harry pushed his arms against the bed with all his strength and shakily got to his feet, one hand instinctively moving to rest over his stomach. “Let’s go,” he groaned.
"One sec." Niall grabbed a beanie that had been lying on the bedside table and reached up to place it on Harry’s head, hiding most of his messy curls. "Just in case there are any photographer’s hiding outside," he explained with a smile, before taking Harry’s arm and gently leading him out of the bedroom to meet up with the other boys.
If the ride to the nearest available private physician’s office made the boys nervous - and it did, as they all watched Harry slump back in his seat, head falling to Zayn’s shoulder as he focused hard on breathing in and out without throwing up - the wait at the building was even worse. Dr. Gellar, a short woman with nearly two feet of curly brown hair pulled back in a bun that made her look incredibly young, insisted that Harry go into her office alone. Thus, the other four boys were left in the waiting room, each of them alternating between chatting with each other quietly and sending increasingly worried glances to the clock that rested high on one of the walls.
After nearly an hour, the office door finally opened again and Dr. Gellar poked her head out. Her expression was blank as she focused on the boys. “You can come in now,” she said.
Standing, the boys followed her into the office, Liam going last and shutting the door behind them. Harry was sitting atop an examining table, his toes just managing to skim the ground. He looked marginally better than he had when they first arrived, but his mouth was drawn into a tight line that was quivering ever so slightly.
"I’m sorry there aren’t enough chairs for you to all sit down," said Dr. Gellar, taking a seat herself in a high-backed black chair next to her computer. "There normally aren’t so many people in this office as once, but I know you five are a close-knit group. I figured you deserved to hear the news at the same time."
"What news?" asked Louis, sounding worried. "Is Harry okay? Will he- is it something very bad?"
"Well," Dr. Gellar hedged, glancing at Harry who refused to meet her gaze, "it’s not…bad, necessarily. It all depends how you look at it. The good news is that Harry will more-than-likely be okay."
All four of the other boys let out a sigh of relief. “Excellent,” said Liam, a smile spreading across his face. After an hour of waiting for news he had nearly let his imagination escape from him, imagining all the worst-scenario cases he might be faced with. “So what’s the not-bad news then? There’s more, isn’t there?”
Dr. Gellar looked once more at Harry. “Do you want me to tell them?” she asked, and though her expression still gave little away her eyes were soft.
Harry shook his head but remained silent for a few more moments. His bandmates watched him, their eyes trained solely on him as he finally sighed and looked up, gazing straight at them. “I…” he started, closing his mouth and swallowing before trying again. “I- I’m pregnant, guys.”