Disclaimer: No.
Me And the Moon
Seventeen years. Seventeen years she'd known him. Seventeen years, and all he gave was a daughter.
She'd watched her nine-year-old sleep before. Her chestnut hair (so much like her mother's) that was slowly betraying her and changing to a fiery orange (so much like her father's) splayed out on the pillow, she appeared almost as calm and composed asleep as she was awake. And as she watched Selene, it became glaringly apparent to her that she didn't want her daughter to have to suffer through anything more than she had to. The poor girl was already destined to grow up without a father figure in her life, and probably without really knowing what a father was.
Katie herself was at fault for this, and not the father. But she had had reasons, reasons like seasons that constantly changed, but reasons nevertheless. She discovered the first reason when she was pregnant.
It was when she was sitting on the stone-cold bathroom floor, having just vomited for the third day in a row. When her system was cleared she'd felt infused with independence, with strength. Most women went through this with their husband, with the entirety of their family behind them. Katie had… herself. And her Muggle brother, but he was living in America.
It was empowering, the thought of having and raising a child by herself. It was… addicting.
The second reason arrived in the form of her daughter's father himself, two years since she'd seen him last. When she and George had first caught sight of each other, at Alicia Spinnet's wedding, they'd just stared at each other across the room. He'd broken out of his reverie first, crossing over to her in several swift movements, wrapping his arms around her and holding her in a tight embrace. "Katie," he'd whispered, and she'd hugged him back. The first thing he'd said to her when they separated was, looking her in the eye, "Are you alright? How have you been?"
And for some strange reason, Katie couldn't bring herself to tell him about Selene. It might have been the fact that he was such a gentleman – a fact she'd forgotten. She couldn't be sure.
Until she'd seen him dancing with Angelina Johnson. Then it'd all made sense.
George had spent the last four years in emotional turmoil, watching his entire family be harmed, culminating in the death of his twin. But the hurting hadn't ended with Fred's death – in fact, it'd thrown George into a terrible depression that had lasted from the last battle until – well, she wasn't even really sure if it was over yet. But she was sure of one thing, though.
She didn't love George anymore, and was sure he felt the same about her. But Katie could think of only one person that she knew, other than Harry Potter, who wholeheartedly deserved normalcy, and it was George.
So she didn't tell him that he actually had, due to what had happened the night of the battle of Hogwarts, a daughter out of wedlock, and it was not with the woman he was falling in love with, but rather her best friend.
Because it wasn't normal.
The third reason was ultimately just an enhanced version of the second. Katie realized it from her vantage point in her bridesmaid's dress as she watched George watch Angelina walk down the aisle. There was a love so fierce in his eyes it surprised her. At that point she knew she'd never be able to tell him, even if she wanted to. He was married now; even if she needed help he couldn't leave his wife. And she wouldn't take him from Angelina. She didn't deserve that.
She watched Selene's small chest rise and fall, watched the pulse that belonged to the little heart, a heart that was half her and half George Weasley.
"It's just me and the moon," she said quietly.
"But I've got no trouble with that."