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Diana Marlowe wasn't sure what was quite happening as she sat on the bathroom floor of the prefects bathroom almost having an anxiety attack. Diana had always been the good girl, the responsible one, it was practically in her nature as a Hufflepuff to be all them things. But sitting on this bathroom floor made her head spin, knowing she had been none of them things the night of the gryffindor party.
She didn't even know why she went, it wasn't her scene at all. But as the rest of her house went rushing off to the other commonroom, Diana wanted to step out of her comfort zone, but now thinking she may have gone too far outside of it.
The young girl with hair as dark as the night and deep eyes was having a baby at just 17 years old. It was her mistake of course, she couldn't blame anyone else but herself. Her mother had always taught her to be safe and Diana had always smiled back and nodded her head listening, but clearly she hadn't listened enough, for if she had, she wouldn't have been with the drunk quidditch player who she couldn't help be attracted too. But he wasn't attracted to her, he had barely even spoke to her during the full 7 years they had been at school together, yet that one night she had fallen for his charms, even though she knew he wanted someone else, she lived in the moment dreaming that maybe, just maybe he wanted her because he truly wanted her, not just because he was drunk.
Now somehow, after that one night together, their lives would be intertwined, they would have to know each other, they would have to talk. That was, of course, if he accepted that he was to be a father and cared for the child now growing in Diana's stomach.
Diana would understand though, who wants to be a parent at this age when they are only children themselves, especially when that other parents is the biggest child of them all, James Potter.
