A/N 1: Katy, this chapter's got you written all over it.

Bill stormed outside. He was shaking with fury and something else he couldn’t quite define – and he didn’t want to. He glanced back in the window, wondering what Ginny would tell Fleur but then deciding that whatever it was – he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about Ginny right now. He wasn’t used to being so angry with her, but right now he knew he just needed to get away.

He spun on the spot, hardly aware that he was picturing the most familiar place in the world until he found himself face to face with his George as he stood in the garden, and he jerked back in surprise.

“Bill!” he exclaimed, and then he took in the look on his face, and his own expression shifted. Bill wasn’t supposed to look like this. It never meant anything good.

Glancing toward the Burrow and hoping that their mum wasn’t nearby enough to see Bill’s face, herself, he asked as casually as he could manage, “Feel like going to my flat?”

Bill didn’t know why he was agreeing. He didn’t even open his mouth, just clamped his hand on George’s shoulder as he kept his mouth tightly shut but nodded jerkily.

Moments later, they were in Diagon Alley, and George silently led Bill through the shop and up the stairs to the flat he now inhabited only occasionally. Bill shoved the clothing off the couch and collapsed onto it as George rummaged in the kitchen for two glasses and the bottle of firewhiskey he’d saved for just such an emergency.

Bill blindly grabbed at the glass George handed him and tilted it back as he let the liquid run down his throat, his eyes closed. Once he’d finished and poured himself another, he finally looked at his younger brother.

George couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes, but he forced a small smile and asked, “So are you planning on telling me what's brought you to the point where you have no trouble drinking me out of house and home?”

Bill stared at him for a moment, and George really thought he was going to answer, but he drained his glass before finally saying, “Ginny – Ginny came over tonight.”

He didn’t say anything more for a while, but George knew better than to ask any other questions. He also knew better than to look directly at Bill while he was trying to get him to talk, so he fiddled with his glass as he stared at the coffee table and waited.

“She asked me to walk her down the aisle.”

Bill said the words in a rush, and when George looked up quickly, it was Bill’s turn to stare at the table. But after a moment, he looked up again, and George swallowed hard. Bill wasn’t supposed to look like this either.

“I just got so – so angry,” he said, and his voice dripped with shame. He hung his head, afraid of the judgment he was sure he’d see in his younger brother’s eyes. George sighed, though, and said, “I get it.”

They were the only words that could have gotten Bill to look up, and when he did, George was watching him, his own eyes miserable, but he cleared his throat and said, “I do. When Fred – when it was just me at first, everyone wanted me to be the old me, you know?”

Bill nodded slowly. He did know. It was true. It was the one thing they’d all devoutly wished, that George would go back to being his old self. George nodded too as he continued.

“I understood. I wanted more than anything to be able to do that, to be able to make things easier for everybody. But it would’ve made it harder for me, you know? I had to do what I could to make things easier for me.”

Bill stared at him, and he finally whispered, “That’s it.” His voice was hoarser than usual, but George simply nodded, pretending not to notice. “When Ginny asked, it was like when Mum went to Andromeda’s that time, and Charlie and I got into that fight. Why did I have to be the one to know where she went? Why do I have to be the one to walk her down the aisle? I can’t know everything, and I can’t do everything. I’m not – I’m not Dad.”

His voice broke, and he quickly picked up the bottle again, hoping that George wouldn’t notice how much his hands were trembling. But George took the bottle out of his hands, saying quietly, “Let me help you. Fred will haunt both of us if we spill a drop of this.”

Bill’s mouth turned up in a smile for half a second before his lips started trembling too. George concentrated wholly on pouring another glass so he wouldn’t have to look at him, and then Bill said, his voice shaking horribly, “Sometimes – sometimes I don’t know how I’m going to do this with my own kid.”

George’s hand jerked in surprise, and the firewhiskey spilled. He put the bottle down quickly as he grabbed his wand to clean up the mess. It was a good excuse for him not to look at Bill right now, and they both needed that because Bill had put down his own glass and covered his face with his hands.

Once the spill was thoroughly taken care of, George sat back and carefully considered his next words before saying, “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Bill. We – well, we had a good role model.”

Bill sighed and removed his hands, looking straight ahead as he said softly, “But – but that’s the problem. We had a good role model. What happens – what happens if I have questions? Who will I ask?”

George stared at his brother’s profile for a long moment before swallowing hard and choking out one word: “Mum.”

Bill glanced at him quickly before looking away just as quickly – but he nodded.

“I know,” he mumbled. “Maybe – maybe I’ll go back there now. Talk to her,” he added, and he wasn’t surprised when George immediately agreed.

As he got to his feet, George did the same, and they looked at each other for a moment before Bill said, “Thanks” and awkwardly patted his younger brother on the shoulder before turning and leaving as swiftly as possible.

Molly was washing up her dishes from dinner when Bill walked up to the door, and he had to blink quickly to clear his vision as he watched her solitary movements. He was never going to get used to seeing her alone. It just looked so wrong, so incomplete. Sighing, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

“Hi Mum.”

She turned around and somehow didn’t look at all surprised to see her oldest standing there just looking so – lost.

“Come have a seat,” she said quietly, and he complied. Neither of them said another word until Molly was sitting across from him. She wrinkled her nose and said, “Firewhiskey?”

When he glanced down and nodded, she picked up her wand and flicked it toward the stove. Instantly, coffee began to brew in the pot, and Bill was silently grateful that she didn’t say anymore.

“So what brings you here now?” she asked. Her voice was innocent – too innocent. Bill looked at her suspiciously, and – the pieces fell into place. She already knew what happened, what had sent him into such a tailspin.

“Ginny asked,” he said, and his voice was brittle. “You knew she was going to do this tonight? Is that why you had George wait for me out there?”

Molly flushed slightly, but she shook her head. “I didn’t know for sure she would do this tonight. As far as George goes – well, I guess that was just a lucky coincidence?”

The question in her voice was clear, and Bill found the anger deserting him once again. He deflated, but he nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice suddenly strained. “I guess it was lucky.”

Molly studied him before saying gently, “Fleur flooed me. Well, Ginny did from your house. She told me what happened. She seemed pretty upset.”

Her censure was quiet but clear, and Bill flushed. He stared at the worn table before finally saying desperately, “I want to do this, Mum. I want Ginny and Harry’s wedding to be everything theywant it to be. But what if I can’t?”

Molly sighed and put her hand over Bill’s. He stared at it as she said, “What do you mean, what if you can’t?”

He couldn’t look at her. “If I do this – what happens if – if my feet won’t move? Or – or if I can’t keep it together? I’d be filling in—filling in for – “ His voice cracked, and suddenly he was crying. He’d have given anything if he weren’t, but he as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to stop.

Molly didn’t say a word, just got out of her seat and came around the table, sitting beside Bill and pulling him into her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder as she rubbed his back, not saying a word as she waited for him to calm down.

Finally, he managed to get his breathing under control, and he pulled away, his face even redder than before.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but his mother took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her.

“Don’t apologize for missing your father,” she said firmly, and he stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Once she was certain that he understood, she released him, and then she said much more gently, “You know you need to talk to Ginny, I hope.”

He sighed as he nodded again. “I know,” he said. “I’ll go do that now.”

He stood up reluctantly, and Molly knew the problem.

“If it’s going to be too hard for you…” she started, and he turned to her so quickly that she knew he’d been hoping for this, for her to have some sort of solution. She said slowly, “I can walk her down the aisle. I know she’d prefer you, but maybe I’d do in a pinch.”

Bill stared at her before whispering, “Thanks, Mum. I’ll go talk to her now. I’m sure – I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out.”

Molly nodded. “She said she was going back to Grimmauld Place. You might just want to go straight there.”

Bill nodded and then pushed back his seat, standing up and looking down at his mother. Even with his height and his long hair and his earring and his scars… he was still her little boy, her firstborn. She said softly, “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he croaked, “Thanks.”

Before she could say another word, he fled.

Bill stood on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. He’d already performed the cooling spell on his face and was now alternately raising his hand to knock and then dropping it again. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was being ridiculous. This was his little sister. He had nothing to be afraid of. Before he could stop himself again, he was knocking more sharply than he’d intended.

The door opened, and Bill somehow wasn’t surprised to suddenly be facing Harry, who looked back at him with a combination of consternation and understanding.

“Hullo, Bill,” he said quietly, stepping back and allowing him in. Once he’d closed the door behind them, he turned toward the kitchen and motioned for Bill to follow. After a few steps, though, he seemed to realize fairly quickly that he was walking alone. Turning back, he looked at Bill, who was still standing in the same spot. Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

“Bill?” he asked, and as he watched, Bill seemed to shake himself out of his daze and tried to force a smile.

“Sorry, Harry,” he said, and he followed him down the hallway. But when they entered the kitchen, he stopped short. Ginny’s back was to him, and she had a bowl in her arm. She mixed whatever was in there with short, jerky movements. She turned when she heard them, and her arm stilled when Bill’s eyes caught hers. Slowly, quietly, Harry backed out of the room and left them alone.

They stood, facing each other, and judging from the blazing look in his sister’s eyes, Bill knew he would have to be the first to speak.

“I’m – I’m sorry about before, Gin,” he said softly. “You kind of took me by surprise.”

Ginny stared at him and then snapped, “Is that why you ran away?”

He winced, but she continued to glower at him. Bill sighed. There was more than anger in Ginny’s eyes right now, and he spoke to the pain that he knew he’d inadvertently caused her.

“It’s not – it’s not you, Ginny. You have to know that.”

But she stayed silent, and her eyes stayed hard, and Bill knew she needed more. He sighed. He didn’t want to do this again, but it didn’t seem like Ginny was leaving him much of a choice.

He gestured to the chairs at the table, and she yanked hers out from the table as she threw herself into it. He lowered himself into his own a lot more gently.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, and then Bill said quietly, “I’m sorry I ran out before. I was just – I didn’t expect you to ask me is all…”

He trailed off, hoping she wouldn’t ask the inevitable next question.

“Well, I did ask,” she retorted. “And you still haven’t given me an answer.”

Bill let out a deep breath. “Ginny – I just – I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Her eyes widened, and he knew that she didn’t understand. Before he could even try to explain, she stalked back to the counter and began creaming what he hoped was butter, the spoon clanging against the side of the bowl.

He watched her for a moment before he said, his voice low, “I’m not Dad.”

Her arm stilled, but she kept her back to him, and he knew he had to continue.

“I love you, Ginny. I do. And I want your wedding to be as perfect as it can be. But if I walk you down the aisle – it won’t be. I won’t be – I just…” He trailed off. His throat was closing again, and he was horrified by it. He swallowed hard. It was time to go. He had to go.

But just then, Ginny glanced over her shoulder. From the expression on her face, he could only imagine how his own must look, and he flushed scarlet as he ducked his head. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was never supposed to see him like this.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were his labored breathing and the increasing fervor of Ginny’s mixing efforts. When he finally trusted himself enough to speak, he heaved himself out of his chair and walked over to her. She still didn’t turn, so he dropped a kiss on top of her head as he whispered, “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just …”

He didn’t finish. He couldn’t. Without another word, he turned and let himself out.

A few minutes later, Harry pushed open the door gingerly to find Ginny sitting at the table, the mixing bowl shoved to the side and her head pillowed on her arms. She looked up at him when he entered, and the look of abject misery on her face brought him to her side instantly. He put his arms around her, and she sighed shakily.

“It’s not going to be Bill,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I don’t know – I don’t know what I did to him, but he can’t do it. I don’t know now…”

Harry paused and then said cautiously, “Well … what about your mum? I bet – I bet she’d do it?”

Ginny pulled away slowly and looked at him before a small smile broke out on her face.

“That’s probably the best idea anyone’s had all day.”

Harry smiled back, wondering if he’d ever let on that it had actually been Ron’s idea. Probably not, he decided as she leaned over to kiss him.

Fleur was sitting on the couch, her book open beside her when Bill finally returned. She wasn’t reading, and Bill could see from the small lines around her mouth just how worried she’d been. He didn’t even say a word. He just went to the couch and knelt at her feet, putting his head in her lap. She smoothed his hair silently, not saying a word as his shoulders started trembling or when she felt her legs growing damp. When he finally sat up, his eyes were red and pained, and he choked, “I do want to be a father, Fleur. I want to be a father like my own was to me. I just – I don’t want to be him. I can’t.”

Fleur wanted nothing more than to be able to fix everything for him, but that was impossible. She simply whispered, “I know.” He got to his feet then and pulled her to her own, drawing her close for a kiss.

“I’m sorry I disappeared before,” he murmured into her hair, but she shook her head against him.

“Stop apologizing. You were upset. Everysing ees ok now?”

He let go of her and sighed, running his hand through his hair and shrugging.

“I guess it’s as ok as it’s going to get. I spoke to Mum, and I spoke to Ginny. I think – I hope she understands. I don’t know. It’s done now. Let’s just go to bed, all right? I just want to go to bed.”

Fleur nodded and, taking his hand, led him to the bedroom. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Fleur, however, stared at the ceiling, remembering her own wedding and the chaotic way it had ended. But here she was now, her husband asleep beside her, their baby safely inside her. Resting her hands on her stomach, she let out a small sigh. This was just a bump in the road, she was sure. Harry and Ginny’s wedding would have its own sadness, but she knew she had to help try to make it as happy as possible.

A/N 2: This. Took. FOREVER. Bouquets of brownies to Lisa for her help with this.