AN: Just want you to know that I'm very pleased with this chapter, it may be the best I've ever written, in my own opinion.

Charlie had ran, stumbled and swore his way there, still he stood staring at the bottom of the steps where Bill stood for a long time before remembering where he was and why. Shell Cottage to see Kevin.

"She's up here," his brother said calmly. Charlie swallowed hard again and made his way jerkily towards him, knowing his girlfriend laid upstairs. They hadn't seen each other since August, at the wedding, where they both had to flee without knowing if the other were safe. She with her two daughters, he to wield off some horrible attack of his childhood home before he had been ordered to leave by his father. Now it was cold February and the snow fell quietly outside.

"Is she..." His voice was hoarse and dry, his eyes both worried and determined.

"She gave birth to a daughter." Bill's face didn't quiver from the unreadable mask, but Charlie had to grab the banister not to hit the floor as the words penetrated his mind. They had a daughter. He hadn't even known she was pregnant. The short walk up the steps seemed to take several years as he tried – as so many times before – imagining where Kevin, Kaya and Lisa had been these past months.

Bill left him by the door to the guest room, and he didn't register where his brother disappeared off to. It didn't matter, once he pushed that door open he would see his girlfriend and his child. Perhaps one of them hadn't made it through, perhaps neither, he hadn't got any confirmation of the state he would find her in. His hand laid flat on the white wood and he pushed.

The door swung slowly open to reveal Kevin Casey in the vast bed, propped up on pillows with her eyes closed. Her hair was matted, tangled and a dull shade between brown and grey, her frame generally weak and frail, but her bosom flooded over under the thin sheet. Yet no child was to see by her breast, her thin arms laying haphazardly on the quilt.

His mouth and throat had gone even dryer, but he tried swallowing as he took the first step inside, feeling the cold-sweat run down his back and plastered his t-shirt to his skin. Her thumb twitched slightly and the hope moved him further in, until he stood kneeling by the bed, not daring to touch her yet.

Her brows creased deep, she had both heard and smelled him by now, but her eyes remained closed. She didn't speak only because she couldn't find words worth uttering. He slowly reached out his hand to cover her icy one. Her skin was paler than usual, some placed taking up a clear blue or purple tinge, in he cheeks a yellow, almost green shadow laid over her.

"Hi," he whispered at last. "How are you?"

"The bleeding's stopped," she grumbled and cracker her eyes open to see his blurred outline, set off by a red top. Unable to decide if he should laugh or cry at this response he did neither and hoisted himself up in the bed, slowly easing his way closer to her until she laid with his arm under her neck.

"Where's the baby?" he all but mouthed and placed his nose to the greasy top of her hair, drawing in the scent of unwashed body, spent blood and the softness that was just hers, knowing that if the child wasn't with her, it was likely no more. He tried to count the months as she contemplated her answer and even as his mind worked slow and wouldn't concentrate properly he knew the birth had been too soon.

"She won't live," she said at last.

"Don't talk like that." He sounded choked and knew it, but wouldn't take in the reality that his daughter might not make it.

"She won't and I'm not attaching myself to her." She spoke matter-of-factly, but was still limp in his arms.

"I've missed you," he confessed. What he didn't say was that he had almost given up hope before he got the message by Patronus from Bill. "I've missed all three of you. And the baby will make it."

"You haven't seen her." Her breath told him more than the words he hardly heard, their daughter wasn't good off, but his worry was numbed by the relief of having Kevin back.

"Where is she?" he murmured and drew her closer to his warmth. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed pleasantly against the curve of his body.

"With Fleur in their bedroom," she whispered flatly and cast a glance through the open door and across the hall. "Lisa's there too."

"And Kaya?" A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, they had made it through this far, it couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Gone," she said, her voice quivering now and he realised how wrong he had been. "They call them Snatchers and not without reason."

"But..." Instead of speaking hollow words he pressed her even tighter against himself, feeling the bones of her hip and knee sharp through the clothes.

"We still have Lisa," she said almost dreamy. "We still have Lisa, bastard that she is."

"You're tired," he observed and drew a deep breath, no wonder with what she must have gone through the last hours, weeks and months. "I'll get the baby and we'll all sleep a bit." He eased her off his arm, but stopped when she gave him a cool, hard look.

"She's not yours." The words weren't easy to speak, but necessary.

"What are you talking about?" He was almost drawn to laugh with the absurdness of what she was implying, of course the baby was his, theirs, they had shared a bed long enough to conceive and more than that.

"You're not the baby's father. Bill is." She didn't sound sorry for it, mostly because any emotions would rip her clean apart. He shook his head slowly.

"You need to sleep," he stated and patted the quilt. "The new baby, I'm afraid that's my work." He tried sounding light-hearted, but it wasn't easy in the situation. "I know Kaya is Bill's and Lisa is Black's, but the new baby, even if she doesn't make it, she's mine." There was a hard edge to his voice and a mad urge to slap her for her delusions came over him for a second, but he mastered it.

"No, I'm sorry." She spoke slowly and softly. "The night of his bachelor party, you fell asleep, I got filthy pissed and he too. We... I didn't mean to, but I went to bed with your brother." Silent tears trickled down her cheeks, but they weren't from a strong emotion she held herself, only the knowledge of how much the words pierced his heart.

"No, you must've been pregnant before that," he said, again counting months.

"Doubt it. I had my period after the last time I was with you." Her voice were hardly audible and he got out on the floor to stare down on her, his insides twisting.

"You bitch," he said quietly, almost soft. "Whore. Slut. Wench. And goddammit..." He strode out and she was left to harbour the last of his warmth left under the quilt. Maybe she shouldn't have told him, at least not now. Still, she couldn't keep a secret at the moment, least of all from him.

A few minutes passed, then he came back, carefully cradling a bundle in a grey blanket. It didn't make any noise and was not distinguishable in any way, but she knew it was the start of a human that had made its way out between her legs early that afternoon. He sat down beside her, facing her and laying the fabric aside to show the pink face, too small to be real, at least continue to be for a longer period of time.

She still remembered the agonising cramps that had seized her abdomen and made her collapse just clear of the top of the stairs. She knew she had cried out, because Bill had been kneeling by her side in the matter of seconds and made a quick diagnosis; the baby was coming. What little control of her surroundings she had consisted of demanding to be laid on the warm floor of the bathroom before she was stripped off. The blood was already oozing out and she concluded for herself it would be a miscarriage.

Always level-headed, she had not counted on the oldest Weasley-brother to get pale at the sight of the mess, but she wasn't surprised when he passed out cold. Calling for Fleur instead, she had got the help she needed to deliver herself of the creature that had been growing inside her the last seven months.

When the foetus was out, Kevin had swallowed hard and settled into a doze. A minute later she was brought back by a sharp cry to see Fleur succeeding in rubbing life into the creature. Wrinkled and almost purple, Kevin frowned at the sight. After she had made sure the baby would not be thrust into her care she had accepted the guest room. She knew, without doubt, that she couldn't handle the loss of another loved child. The loss of an anonymous glob her body had already parted with, that she could handle.

"You need to nurse her, at least for your own sake," Charlie said and presented the bundle closer to her, seeing her blown breasts, the veins standing out on stark contrast almost up to where her breast-bone tried poking through the skin. Sighing, she shook her head. His lips tightened as he slowly and carefully inched closer, laying one nipple bare, seeing the needy dark flesh and shifted the baby's head to under it. The small lips flickered open in search, but it was Kevin who laid a slightly quivering hand at the golden down of the head and guided it the last step, until the nipple passed into the suction of the mouth.

The milk flowed at once, relieving both mother and daughter. Charlie, whether he was the father or not, had accomplished his mission as Kevin snaked her arms under the weight of the baby and held her close. Slowly he reclaimed his old placement, cradling Kevin in the crook of his arm and warming her with his body as the child slowly filled her stomach. The adults let their tears run over slightly smiling lips for different – yet the same – reasons.

Moving slowly, Kevin laid the baby to the other breast and felt the relief of the flowing milk. Charlie stroke her cheek with a blunt finger, feeling the dread seep out of him and the energy return, they were safe for now. She refused to look at the small, pink face for long, but still caught the line of the nose, it was the same Ron and Percy had had as newborns, and likely Bill and their father before them. The twins hadn't had it, and likely not Charlie either.

Hardly aware of it, Kevin loosened her grip so the bundle sagged down in her lap. A swish of blonde hair and the baby was brought back to whatever make-shift cot had been made.

"Charlie?" Her voice was chipped and hoarse, but he gathered her even closer and kissed her above the temple. "Are you mad at me?" She heard it herself, the pleading edge, the fear of his rage.

"No," he said soft and honestly. "I'm just glad to have you back."

"I'm still sorry." She laid one arm over his waist and even as thin and weak as she was, he felt the blush of desire in him. "It won't happen again."

"Of course not," he murmured and stroke a hand over her naked back, feeling the vertebras under his callused fingers. Just her presence was enough, it had always been, and he felt the strain of his underwear as her deep, deliberate breaths soaked through his sweater and t-shirt, tingling the skin of his chest.

He knew he couldn't, not with her having given birth just hours before, but he longed to make love to her slowly, feeling her under him in an act of total trust. Her arm slid down to let the inside of her elbow rest over his groin, making him smile tenderly and notice their slow breaths had unconsciously synced. Her hand began venturing down his chest, the goal clear from the first stirring.

"No," he whispered. "Don't, you don't have to."

"You need it," she whispered back and laid her palm to the firm bulk in his jeans. He couldn't argue with the fact, but stayed still. "Take off your clothes." Slowly he laid her back on the pillows to sit up and got undressed where he sat with as little rustle as possible. When he fitted her back at his side she stroke her fingers along the middle of his chest, down his stomach and stopped just short of his needy cock. Looking up at him, she delivered the message soundlessly; this wasn't just for him, she had to know he allowed himself the pleasure unaffected of her. A small tug at the corner of his mouth told her he understood.

Her hand was still slightly chilled, but she warmed it by stroking the top of his thighs, feeling the goose-flesh ripple as he combed her hair back with his fingers several times. With her palm warmed and the firm length twitching occasionally, she wrapped her hand around it. He closed his eyes and just felt as she drew her hand up and down his cock in slow movements, stopping a bit to twirl a finger in the auburn curls, then continued. Her grip was loose, but he held her close with a muscular arm down her back and her slightly clammy cheek to his chest as they watched the progress.

After a short while she let go, opening her hand with the palm turned upwards. He gave her his hand at once and gripped her fingers with his own to cradle her even more, reassure them both of the security of the moment. She squeezed back, then placed his hand to the hard cock, wrapping his fingers slowly around it.

"Kay?" he murmured and she turned her head up enough to catch his eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'll be here, though," she murmured, then settled her head back to watch his crotch.

"No, Kay, I'm not wanking in front of you," he objected feebly, knowing it would at least be better than doing it alone. Still, with her watching so frankly, he didn't like the idea.

"Please," she whispered, too tired to even give him a hand-job. "Please do it yourself."

"But Kay," he began, then closed his eyes for a moment. "It's not that important."

"Hm?" She held her hand to his hip, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took and somehow put a lot of meaning into that little sound. She needed him to show her that he still enjoyed their intimacy, whatever form it took.

"Okay," he murmured at last and began pumping slowly, feeling her attention on him; her back tensed just a fracture, her eyes focused better, the fingers on his hip stretched out properly and her breath went too slow to keep alive any human being. His own breath picked up pace and he didn't stop to think, if she wanted – needed – him to do this, he would. He needed it himself, feeling the ache and longing for release as his hand went harder and faster.

Within a couple of minutes his body jerked at random before at last he ejaculated, the spasms of his orgasm shaking them both. Panting slightly, he fixed his eyes with hers and she nodded with no visible movement. He relaxed properly then, knowing they were one flesh and mind again, at least for a little while.

She drew a shaking finger over his upper thigh where he had spent himself, then put the finger to her lips and sucked solemnly, harbouring the salty taste of him. He startled with realisation as she repeated the action.

"Merlin's balls, Kevin, when was last time you fed?" He cradled her closer with both arms, as if the blood in his veins would help her just by touch.

"I honestly have no idea," she whispered slowly, her head lolling carelessly down on his broad chest, eyeing his navel.

"Bill!" He had called for his brother without conscious thought of deciding to do so, but covered himself up to at least be somewhat decent when Bill appeared in the door-way. "Glass and knife." The older didn't miss the urgency of the short message and Charlie heard the fast steps down the stairs as he gathered the blanket closer to himself and Kevin, drawing it well up on her shoulder and tucking it in behind her back.

"Maybe last week," she murmured at last in response to his question as he arranged her higher so she would be able to drink from the glass. Bill arrived and Charlie offered his left wrist without a glance, feeling the cold metal slide over his skin and the whiff of the rusty smell. Kevin had of course caught the scent much stronger and stiffened by his side in expectancy.

Then it happened, as he let his warm blood drip down in the glass to feed the wreck of a vampire clinging to his side, a clammy hand clutched to his ribs and his brother's thumb to his palm; the tears ran down his thickly freckled cheeks like rivers flowing over in the spring. He didn't make any sounds, not a single sob, just let the shock and fear run out of him from under closed lids as the cut on his wrist tingled slightly.

"You okay?" Bill murmured as he healed the gash and handed over the glass. Charlie nodded and blinked hard to get the wetness out of his eyes before tilting Kevin's head up with one hand and put the brim of the glass to her cracked lips. She drank slowly, only taking small sips, but still the red liquid began to fill her with energy. Bill nodded firmly when seeing this and exited without another word.

"It's good?" Charlie whispered and heard her murmur something in response into the glass. "Good." He heaved a sigh and watched in contentment as she fed off his blood, a small dark trickle escaping down on her chin and her lips painted bright red.

"Charlie, you'll sleep here with me? Please," she whispered when the glass was half-empty.

"Of course, where else?" he answered warmly and felt the minuscule tension go out of her shoulders. She got greedier in her feeding and it wasn't long before the glass was empty. He placed it on the night-stand gingerly before scootching himself further down in the bed and pounded the pillow casually into a better shape for them both. Still, she kept her head on his chest, feeling his breath, heat and thump of his heart guide her to sleep.

Neither of them slept easy, there was too much on their minds. Small girls with ginger hair flew through their thoughts, some with smiles, other grimaces of fear, mixed with wedding vows and long strands of hair; red, blonde, brown, blue... The occasional dragon or colleague, always disappearing in a black hole.

When Charlie first came to himself again the sun shone through the half-drawn curtains. Kevin still laid with one arm draped over his waist, but her face was hid in his side. A grumble was heard from his stomach and he remembered why he had woken.

"Kay?" he said carefully and combed his hand through her hair. She moaned softly and peeked up to see his brows knitted close together. "I'm going down for breakfast, do you want to –"

She cut him off with a hoarse "no," she didn't want anything outside the small sanctuary of the bed.

"Sure?" He laid her down on the pillow and propped himself up on the elbow, eyeing her critically. "I won't be long," he said at last and got slowly up, still facing her. She gave a small smile to reassure him, she would be okay as long as he hurried. He let go of the worried lines around his eyes and took a step backwards, into the sunshine in search of his underwear. She let go of a soundless sigh as the light put the hairs on his belly, thighs and groin on fire in copper, gold and bronze.

Finding his clothes, he quickly got them on and walked as quietly as he could out of the room. He heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen, then died out as his steps were heard down the stairs.

"Slept well?" Bill asked, sitting by the table with Lisa in his arms, feeding her some kind of mash. Charlie grunted in response and went over to help himself to a bowl of cereal from the box on the counter. Fleur hovered by his side, holding the new baby close to her bosom.

"I'll take her up after I've eaten," Charlie said, not looking at her as he sat down opposite his brother.

"How is she?" Bill asked quietly while scooping off some spilling from Lisa's chin with the small spoon. Charlie looked up, glancing at each of them, then returned his attention to the corn flakes.

"None too bad," he said with a half-shrug. "Thin as hell and tired. Shaking a bit." The food didn't taste anything, but he ate anyway, the crunching meant he could pretend it wasn't dead quiet in the room.

"She'll be all right," Bill said soothingly. Charlie gave him a long, cold look. "Don't start –"

"Don't start what?" Charlie snapped back.

"Don't start lecturing me on the sacrifices of war!" As if to emphasise this the scars on Bill's cheeks seemed to bulge out.

"Son of a bitch!" Charlie roared just to get out some frustration. He knew very well how close it had been for Kevin to die, she was starved almost beyond recognition, not to mention how her daughters looked. If they hadn't been driven to safety at Shell Cottage – how that actually had happened he didn't know yet – they would probably have perished from sheer hunger.

Bill looked hard at him for a long time, half-opening his mouth to answer while rocking little Lisa gently to calm her down. Then he leaned back and chuckled. "We have the same mother, idiot," he said softly at last. "If I'm a son of a bitch, so are you."

"Maybe," Charlie muttered and let his fists spread out on the table. "You don't know where Kaya is?"

"No," Bill said, put the spoon down and hoisted Lisa up against his shoulder, slowly patting her back. "The Snatchers took her and Kay had to flee to save herself and Lisa." There laid no accusation in the words, but Charlie knew Bill valued his daughter more than he valued Kevin. "She hadn't dared using magic before, 'couse of the Trace on Kaya... They've been living in a tent all winter now." Bill's voice was so low Charlie almost had to strain his ears to hear it.

"But she..." Charlie cleared his throat. "But she Apparated here safely?"

"Yes," Bill said. "Kaya and the Trace wasn't with them any more, after all." There was a crack in the soft tone and Charlie reached over to grab Bill's free hand. The older returned it without hesitation, squeezing with his fingers around Charlie's and closed his eyes.

"We'll find her," Charlie promised in a whisper, even though he had no idea how. Once Kevin got back on her feet maybe she would know. Bill let go and stroke his fingers once over the back of his brother's hand before arranging Lisa in the crook of his elbow again. Fleur, having kept silent and out of the way until now, appeared by the table, slowly rocking the bundle in her arms.

"She's 'ungry," she announced softly with a nod towards the baby. Charlie pushed the unfinished breakfast away, he had even less of an appetite now, and got up to take the weight from her. The blanket gave away and moulded around his forearms, but the body stayed a firm, bony shape under it. Not looking down at the face, he went back to the guest room and his girlfriend. She didn't object to nurse the child and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his hunched back towards them.

"Charlie?" she said carefully after a moment.

"Are you sure she's Bill's?" he asked in a husky voice.

"No," she admitted and he could hear the ruffling of the blanket as she shifted the baby to the other breast.

"Then why did you have to go and tell me... She could have passed as mine easily," he said and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Yes, but do you want me to lie to you?" Her voice was hoarse, but the tone was soft. "Charlie, I couldn't lie to you, I knew I had to tell you."

"Couldn't you do it for once and make me happy?" he asked in a whisper. She sat still for a moment, watching the tense muscles under the t-shirt.

"Her name is Mina," she said at last. "Wilhelmina."

AN: And that most likely completes this story and I'll start putting up Aftermath, the sequel, in not too long.