Final A/N Here I am for the last time, and I want to say one final thank you to everyone who has favourited and followed, read and reviewed. I imagine some of you may not be happy with this ending, but it's the ending I saw when I first had this idea. There is a slight possibility of a sequel in the future, but if I do end up writing it, it's going to be much darker and with much less fluff than MLG, so we'll have to see. With that, I'll leave you with one last, massive thanks!

Chapter 23

Nobody asked. The majority of people assumed, though were shocked, and simply congratulated the couple. Ginny, one of the few people who might have known, didn't ask, though whether that was because she suspected or didn't want to know, no-one would ever find out. Her mum and Toni also kept their silence. Ron, one of the most important people, didn't even know that there was any doubt regarding it. Hermione had no doubt either, but for once she accepted that the facts didn't matter.

The last one involved also knew. "It's not his." His voice travelled through the night towards her, as she stared through the canopy of trees in the Burrow's orchard. It was the night she and Ron had announced the news, and he had proposed to her, doing the 'right thing', which she had graciously accepted; their marriage would never have the passion of her and Bill's relationship, but she was confident they could live in satisfaction. Their years of knowing each other seemed to have made up for their short time of dating, in Mrs Weasley's opinion, although the news she had sprung on them all had helped her to accept the marriage to no end. She looked absently at the diamond ring next to her rose one, and smiled sadly.
"It's as much his as Victoire is yours." She called back, turning her head to see Bill's sad face emerging through the trees.
"I want to be there."
She looked away and sighed. "You have a daughter who needs you."
"And what about our child?"
She closed her eyes regretfully. She had told Ron that she must have forgotten to cast a contraceptive charm on that night a month and a half ago, though she had definitely remembered doing so and was, in fact, two months pregnant, not one. "He or she will have a father." She whispered. "Ron will be a fantastic dad, I'm sure."
He stood next to her, and she could feel his gaze boring into the back of her head. "I don't want Ron to be their dad. I'm his or hers dad." He wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands on her still-flat stomach and his chin on her shoulder. "I want this little one to be the start of our family. This is the start of our family."

Much as she would've liked to stay there forever, feeling his warm breath against her skin and his familiar arms embracing her, she stepped away from the body she knew as well as her own, and turned to face him solemnly. "You already have a family, Bill. And enough families have been torn apart in the last few years. Victoire and my baby both deserve a safe, secure home, with a mummy, a daddy and none of the drama that we grew up with. We've lived, fought and been hurt to make a happy future for our children. Now we have the chance to give it to them."
"She made me choose. She said that if I didn't take her back, I could never see Victoire again."
"And that's exactly why you have to have your family, and I have to have mine."
Bill was crying softly now, and he looked at her with imploring vulnerability, choking out, "But I love you."
She gave him a half-smile and stroked his cheek gently. "I love you too. But if there's something we've all learnt, it's that sometimes we have to lose the people we love in order to make a better future." A single tear fell down her cheek as she took off the rose ring he had given her. "You should take this back, it should be Fleur's."
He wrapped his hand over hers, sealing the ruby-encrusted band in her palm. "No, it's yours." He murmured. "Always."
They gazed at one another before he leant down and lightly brushed his lips against hers. She tasted his salty tears on her lips before she stepped back and, crying softly, whispered, "You should go. Fleur will be looking for you." As if on cue, a French voice called through the night and, with one last regretful look in her direction, he walked away backwards, not turning away from her until the last moment.

She walked towards the boundaries of the Burrow, pausing briefly to call out, "You can come out now Ginny." She appeared through the trees, looking sheepish, and Hermione gave a half-hearted smirk and shrug. "I guess I should have known better than to have a private conversation when all of the Weasleys are around."
She punched her arm lightly. "I'll have you know that I'm a Potter now." They walked in silence for a while, before she spoke again. "So that's it?"
Hermione sighed. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough. Are you really just going to lose Bill to Phlegm like this? When you know you love each other? And what about Ron and the child, you're going to lie to them?"
She turned to face the younger woman with tears swimming in her eyes. "Love isn't always enough, Gin. Bill made his choice; he chose Victoire and I can't blame him for it, but now I have to think of a family for my own child. Lying is for the best this time. I've spent my whole magical life fighting to make a better world for everyone else. Now, more than ever, that means our children. I'll see you soon." And with that she disappeared.

...

He was always there. He was there to help her and Ron move into their new house, and painted the nursery with her, laughing as she haphazardly waved her wand to make the paint fly everywhere. He was there when her sickness became much worse, to make her soothing drinks and rub her swollen feet, whilst her fiancé cooked dinner. He was there when she was too far along to work any longer and was bored in the house, bringing her books and articles, and bringing Victoire to see her Auntie Herm-nee.

He was there when she got married, and danced with her as he felt her swollen stomach against his, whilst the rose ring he had given her rested on a chain around her neck. He was there when her waters broke, seemingly a month premature, and rushed with her to hospital as the others desperately tried to contact Ron. He was there when she gave birth, though his fingers were crushed and he couldn't kiss away her tears as he'd like to, instead smoothing her hair away as he calmed her.

He was there to hold their daughter for the first time, lightly brushing Hermione's temple with his lips as he placed the baby in her arms, murmuring sweet words of love to them both. He was there to see the child's eyes open and gaze in wonder at the pair of them, before giving a sleepy, child-like smile. He was there to excuse himself when Ron burst in, apologising profusely as he'd been on assignment, and asking if she and the baby were okay. He was there to hear Hermione say, "Ron, meet Rose Weasley."

He was there to babysit every Thursday evening, when Ron and her mother went to dinner and a movie together, making up for their previous lack of dating. He was there on her first birthday to buy her a toy broomstick, and to mutter reassuring words to Hermione when she began to fly around the garden. He was there when Ron came home drunk one night and 'Mione wanted to save her children from hearing them arguing, and so dropped them off at Shell Cottage. He was there the next morning to listen to her raging against his brother before taking her youngsters away again, and he was there to tell his brother to sort himself out when he arrived to do the same.

...

And he was there eleven years later, when Rose was about to embark for the first time to Hogwarts, and standing nervously with the Potters as Ron teased Albus. He grinned and opened his arms as she ran towards her favourite uncle, hugging him tightly but looking terrified. "Uncle Bill," she started nervously, as he tucked a strand of her thick red hair behind her ear, "Dad says that if I'm not in Gryffindor, he'll disinherit me! And if I marry a pure-blood Granddad will never forgive me! I don't want them to hate me!"
He frowned a little at his younger brother's sense of humour, before crouching down and meeting Rose eye-to-eye. "Listen to me, Rose, your parents are going to be proud of you no matter what house you're in or who you're friends with."
The young girl gnawed on her lower lip in a way so reminiscent of her mother that it made him want to cry. "Everyone says I've got my mum's brains, but what if I don't? I don't want to let them all down."
He looked at her earnestly, gazing into eyes that were the exact same as his once-love's. "Rose Jean Weasley, your mother and father will always be proud of you. Let me tell you a secret, your mum used to be worried she'd let people down too, but she always did what she felt was right, even if it hurt her. And that's all you can do, darling, whatever you feel is right. My brother can be an idiot a lot of the time, but never doubt that your mum and dad love you, and always will." She threw herself into his embrace once more and, kissing the top of her head, he whispered, "Always."
"Can I write to you?" The young girl asked nervously.
He chuckled. "Of course you can. Now go on, I think they're getting ready to board." She hugged him once more, saying that she loved him, before running off to join the others. "I love you too." He murmured, before catching Hermione's eye. Her hand unconsciously flew to the rose ring that had hung around her neck for eleven long years, before she gave him a small smile and turned away to laugh at something her husband had said. "Always." He whispered once more, to the back of her head.

A few minutes later, after waving everyone goodbye, he stood and, ignoring the other Weasleys and Potters around him, went in search for one Teddy Lupin. He had to remind him once more that if he dared to hurt Victoire, he would ensure he wouldn't be able to sit down for a month. 'After all,' he thought, 'what kind of father would I be if I didn't look out for my little girl?'