I would like to make this a story exploring the relationship between fathers and daughters, as well as brothers, but I want to see if there is actually any interest in it before I go any further. If there is interest in the story, I will keep writing it, and it will focus on the relationships between Fred and Charlie, Fred and his nieces, and Charlie and his daughters, as well as the relationships between Fred, Charlie, and Charlie's ex-wife, and a healthy dose of Angelina Johnson as well.

Molly Weasley may have been a great many things, but above all, she was a mother. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't longed to have children, to nurture them and surround them with boundless love. And she loved her boys, she really did, but she had always dreamed of having a little girl. When her baby girl was born, she finally felt as though her world was complete. Of course, Molly was so happy that Ginny had Arthur; the relationship between a father and a daughter really is a thing of beauty. Perhaps that was why it hurt Molly so much that her son Charlie had accepted a position to track dragons around the world for the last five years, instead of staying home with his four daughters. Yes, she had sixteen grandchildren, but the ones she worried about the most were Adrianna, Eloise, Benita and Lita.

But Fred - oh, Fred. It had been so many years, but just thinking about his name brought back the two years she spent crying over his body at St. Mungo's, bargaining with the universe to let him come out of his coma. She, Angelina, and George visited him at least once a day until the miracle happened and Fred finally blinked his eyes slowly open. Molly felt her heart burst the same way it had the moment after Fred and George were born and they opened their eyes to the world for the first time. Finally, her baby had woken up. Of course, Fred didn't adjust well to missing two years, and there was that whole episode where he ran off for three years, ostensibly to go "find himself." That broke Molly's heart, and she didn't know where she found the strength to comfort George and Angelina as they cried, not one of them having received so much as a letter from him for those three long years. And his rage when he returned to discover that George and Angelina were engaged, hardly a surprise to anyone who had watched them grieve together for their beloved Fred for so many years.

Molly quickly wiped a tear away - no use wasting her time on those memories. Not now. Not when her other long-lost son was finally coming home. It would have been a dream come true to have her Charlie coming back to the Burrow to live with her, if only he hadn't been coming home to bury his wife. And Fred, her beloved son who had already endured so much, was bringing Charlie's daughters. This both broke Molly's heart and soothed it at the same time - that her Charlie had become such a distant father to his children and that her Fred had become no less than a second father to those very same girls, his beautiful nieces. Oh, when had family become so complicated? And who in Merlin's beard was she supposed to comfort? Charlie, mourning the loss of his ex-wife and the mother of his daughters? Or Fred, who was mourning the loss of his sister-in-law, a woman with whom he had virtually raised his four nieces? Although Violet had become so much more than that to Fred; the way those two had acted with each other, raising those girls and making each other laugh, you would have thought Fred was the man she had married, not Charlie.

Oh, get ahold of yourself, Molly, she thought as she wiped more tears from her face. Someone had just apparated into the backyard of the burrow, and she didn't want to look foolish crying alone at the kitchen table. Quickly dabbing at her eyes with her apron, she opened the front door and saw her Freddy, kneeling in front of his six-year-old niece Lita, his hands on her shoulders, as ten-year-old Benita stood behind him, her head buried in a thick book.

"Just because your dad is coming home doesn't mean I'm going anywhere," Fred told Lita gently.

"Dad's not staying anyway," Benita said matter-of-factly without looking away from her book. She reminded Molly a lot of Hermione, except much more aggressive.

"Do you want your dad to stay?" Fred asked.

"It doesn't matter to me. I want to live with you, Uncle Fred."

Molly saw the conflicting emotions play out on Fred's face - he loved his nieces like they were his own daughters, and it touched his heart that they loved him back, but how would Charlie take it? Pretending she had not heard the short conversation, she called out loudly.

"Look how big my granddaughters have gotten!"

"Grammy!" Lita ran sweetly to Molly and hugged her.

"We saw you last week, Grandma," Benita mumbled, grudgingly accepting a hug.

"I think you've grown, Benita," Molly said brightly.

"My name is Benny."

"But Benita is such a pretty name, I don't know why - "

"Mum," Fred interrupted, putting his hand on Benny's shoulder. "She likes to be called Benny."

"Oh, alright." Molly made sure to show her disapproval clearly on her face before ushering them all in for some homemade cookies. Benny had chosen the nickname four years ago, but Molly still had not given up on trying to change the girl's mind. Fred looked worriedly at the stairs.

"Charlie here yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"He's always late," Benny chimed in, her head once again buried in her book.

"Your dad will be here soon, Benita," Molly said kindly. Benny immediately threw Fred an angry look.

"Mum!" He motioned to Benny to be quiet. "That's not what she likes to be called."

"Hmm." Molly pretended not to hear - Benny was a boy's name, after all, not fit for a little girl - and poured both of her granddaughters glasses of milk. A gentle, tentative knock came at the door before Charlie let himself in. She hadn't seen her second-born son in five years, and although she had never liked his long hair, her heart soared at seeing it again.

Charlie had barely made it through the door before Molly had her arms wrapped tightly around him, determined never to let go again, and great sobs began overtaking her. She repeated his name over and over again, as if it were a mantra that would keep him from ever leaving again.

When his mother finally loosened her hold on him, Charlie looked at his two youngest daughters for the first time in five years. Fred saw the uncertainty in Charlie's eyes, but he also saw the longing. The uncertainty he had expected; the longing scared him. Up until this point, Fred had been almost certain that Charlie would have no interest in raising his daughters, and that suited Fred just fine. But if Charlie decided not to return to Romania, if he decided to stay here and suddenly take on the role of the girls' father… Fred forced the thought out of his mind. He wouldn't be losing the girls, he tried to tell himself. Just sharing them.

"Are you my Daddy?" Lita asked Charlie, interrupting Fred's thoughts. Charlie looked at his daughter uncertainly.

"Yes, I am," he said. "I'm your dad, Lita. You were only a year old the last time I saw you. I've been waiting a very long time to see you again."

Everyone stood still for a moment, unsure what to say.

"Hi, Daddy," Lita chirped, easily breaking the silence as she went up to hug her father. Charlie gratefully accepted the hug, lifting his youngest daughter up into his arms so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

"Hey, little Lita. You don't know how much I've missed you."

"It's okay." Lita buried her face in his shoulder and he ruffled her hair. Fred saw the relief and happiness in Charlie's eyes; the knowledge that Benny would not be as forgiving and loving with Charlie made Fred happy, and he immediately felt guilty for feeling that way.

"Benita, could you put the book down for a second?" Charlie asked his other daughter. "I want to say hi to you."

Benita looked to her Uncle Fred in agitation, a small gesture that irritated Charlie.

"Benita, I asked you to put the book down." Charlie's voice took on a slight edge. Benny got a hard look on her face and lifted the book defiantly in front of her face, blocking Charlie's view of her. "Benita!" Lita and Molly looked at Charlie, surprised by his loud command. Fred, however, being his younger brother, was used to the tone, and Benny, being a determined young girl who hated being told what to do, did not move a muscle.

Charlie put Lita down and took a step towards Benny, but Fred got there first, gently taking the book out of Benny's hands.

"Say hi to your dad, Benny," he told her softly. "You can read in a minute."

Benny huffed loudly to show her displeasure with the order before looking up defiantly at her father. "Hello." It was a simple greeting with no emotion behind it, and everyone in the room was acutely aware of the difference between Lita's greeting for their father and Benny's. Charlie took a deep breath and tried to find a way to connect with his daughter, whom he hadn't seen in five years.

"So you go by Benny now?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

"Just call me Dad."

"Uncle Fred says that if I'm not comfortable calling you that then I don't have to."

"Oh, he does, does he?" Charlie asked dryly, giving Fred a displeased look. Fred shrugged apologetically. "Well, I'm your father, and you listen to what I say, not what Uncle Fred says. Okay?"

"No," Benny said angrily, eyebrows knitted together. Molly gasped at the sheer disrespect her granddaughter had for her father, and Lita lowered her eyes sadly, knowing what happened when her sister got angry. Charlie's temper matched his daughter's, and Fred knew that there would be a shouting match in just a moment if he didn't do something.

"Girls, go pick out which bedroom you're staying in," Fred told his nieces, handing Benny her book back. "Quick, do it before your sisters and cousins get here, you don't want them taking the best rooms!"

Lita rushed to the stairs. Benny looked as though she wanted to say something, but a warning look from Fred sent her dutifully after her sister.

"Let me go get fresh sheets for the bedrooms," Molly said, excited to be having so much family over, even if it was for a sad occasion. Fred stared at the floor, his hands in his pockets, as he and Charlie waited for their mother to be out of earshot.

"Hey, uh…I'm sorry," Charlie said after a moment. "I really appreciate you taking care of the girls. Really. Thanks, Fred."

"Of course," Fred said cautiously, eyes still on the floor.

"How are they…how are they doing?"

"Lita misses her mom, but she's a sweet girl, she's adjusting well. Benny is…well, Benny's always been difficult."

"How about you?" This time, Charlie had his eyes on the ground.

"Huh?" Fred looked at his brother, wondering if Charlie really wanted to know, or if he was just asking to be polite.

"I know you cared about her." Even though he had been the one to divorce Violet, Charlie had never liked the subsequent relationship she had developed with Fred.

"I loved her," Fred said strongly, unwaveringly. He had loved her for a decade. All those years ago, after he had fled his new life and all of the people around him who had moved on for two years while he lay unknowingly in a coma, after he finally realized that he needed - wanted - to come home, he had been lost. He remembered racing up the steps to Angelina's apartment with a bouquet of roses in his hand, desperate to hold her again and tell her that he loved her, that leaving her had been the worst mistake of his life, that he was back now and this time he was never leaving, not without her. The ring he'd carefully picked out was resting safely in his jacket pocket; he would pull it out and get on one knee the moment she opened the door. Everything was going to be better, from that moment on.

And then he saw Angelina through the window, arms wrapped around his twin brother, their lips connecting passionately. George whispered something in her ear and she pulled away, laughing with her head back. As Fred took two steps backwards, he watched George gently pull Angelina's face back to his and kiss her deeply. Perhaps he should have seen this coming, having left her without so much as a letter for three years, but it had never occurred to Fred that she might move on. Especially not with George. Fred was already running down the street when he heard Angelina scream as the rock he had thrown smashed through her window.

With nowhere left to go, Fred had returned to the Burrow, surprised to find his mother holding a small three-year-old girl in her arms. Molly, overcome with emotion at her son's return, barely managed through her tears to introduce Fred to his niece, Adrianna. The toddler's mother was upstairs with Eloise, who had just been born last month.

"Where's Charlie?" Fred asked, reeling at how much his family had changed while he'd been gone.

"In Romania," Molly sobbed. "He didn't…didn't want to leave his d-d-dragons."

"He'll stay here for one month," Arthur added, rubbing his wife's back. "Then he'll go back to Romania for three months. It's what he and Violet worked out. He'll be home again next month."

"So he hasn't…he hasn't met his new daughter?"

"It's only t-t-temporary," Molly wailed. "He s-says…he just needs a few more years…for his r-r-research…then he'll come home and take care of his kids."

A piercing wail came from an upper room, and Molly tried to comfort Adrianna while asking Fred to go help Violet with the new baby. Fred found a young woman sitting on the edge of a twin bed, wearing no makeup, with tears all over her face. In her arms, she held a wailing infant, seemingly unconsolable.

"Mind if I…?" Fred looked at Violet, a woman he did not know but who was clearly distraught, and watched as she offered him the baby. Gently taking the infant in his arms, he smelled something foul. He gagged when he opened the baby's diaper, making Violet laugh. Here was someone as lost as he was, someone who needed help.

That night, Fred changed his first diaper. He also fell in love with Eloise, his new niece who was not yet one month old. Once her diaper had been cleaned, Eloise looked up at his face with her big, blue eyes, gurgled, and gripped his finger in her tiny fist. For the first time in a very long time, Fred felt wanted by someone. When she finally drifted off to sleep and he placed her carefully in the crib, he turned his attention to Violet, Charlie's wife. He wondered briefly at the fact that Charlie had married at all, let alone had children, but maybe his brother had changed. Sitting next to Violet, Fred put a hand over hers and listened to her story; how she'd lost her family in the Wizarding War. How she'd fallen in love with Charlie, wanted to marry him and start a family. How Charlie had warned her from the start that he would never leave his dragons. How they'd worked out a long-distance arrangement. How much harder it was then she'd ever realized. How she still held out hope that Charlie would change his mind; that he would someday come to love his daughters more than his dragons. Fred listened to her story and hugged her gently when she began to sob as hysterically as Molly. How he had stroked her hair even as her snot and tears had stained his shirt. A divorce was inevitable, he thought. This woman would leave Charlie soon, find another man, a family man, and move on her with life.

But as the years passed, Fred saw that he had underestimated the power that love had over people. Charlie would be gone for three long months, leaving Violet alone with the girls, and she would come to the Burrow to get help from Molly, who was more than happy to care for her granddaughters. Fred, once again living at the Burrow, enjoyed the company of his sister-in-law and his nieces, and was always willing to lend a hand with the rambunctious girls. Violet and the girls would get into a routine, would be doing fine without Charlie, and then he'd show up for a month, and Fred would see the love in his brother's eyes. Because Charlie really did love Violet and his daughters. Just not as much as he loved his dragons. And Violet loved Charlie. Fred watched her laugh as Charlie lifted her in his arms and spun her every time he came home after ninety days away. Fred watched Violet take refuge in Charlie's strong arms, for the few months of the year she could. He was a good husband and father, when he was home. He just wasn't capable of being one year-round. He enjoyed his time with his wife and daughters, but then he needed to get back to his dragons. It was a need, not a want, Fred came to realize. Charlie belonged with the dragons. He lived with them; he only visited his real family.

Fred dated sporadically throughout the years, but he always found himself relieved to leave whichever woman he was seeing at the time to go back to being Uncle Fred to his nieces. Taking care of them came easily to him, and left him little time to worry and sulk about other things, such as George and Angelina's wedding, or their children, or his own lack of children. And when he made Violet laugh, which he did often, he felt a proud sense of accomplishment, and his heart warmed. He was really making a difference with Violet and the girls; was truly wanted by all of them, more so than anyone else. And he deserved them. He and Violet worked together to get through the diaper changes, the late-night feedings, the tears that the girls cried, first over bullies and then over boys; Fred was the one who took Eloise to her piano lessons; the one who watched trashy movies and ate ice cream with Adrianna for an entire night after her first breakup; the one who potty-trained Lita; the one who took Benita to the Father-Daughter Dance every May. For so many years, Fred had wished he could switch places with Charlie. After all, Fred had taken on the surrogate roles of father and husband, the roles that Charlie didn't want. Well, Fred wanted them.

He got them. Seven years ago, when Violet told Charlie she was pregnant again, Fred got both of his wishes. After ten years of raising her daughters while her husband lived and worked in another country, Violet told Charlie that if he didn't come home and be a father, now that he would soon have four daughters, then she wanted a divorce. So Charlie gave her one.

That night, Fred came home from the joke shop to find Violet staring at her ring finger, her engagement and wedding rings gone. She was sad, but resigned. When she looked at Fred, he felt a longing to comfort her.

"I'm not sad that it's over," she said quietly, a single tear racing down her face. "I'm sad that it took this long to end it."

"You deserve to be with a man who wants to be a husband to you and a father to the girls," Fred told her, standing a respectful distance from his ex-sister-in-law.

"Uncle Fred?" A soft voice called to him from the staircase. Eloise, now seven, stood on the stairs in her nightgown.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Fred asked his niece.

"I had a bad dream. Will you check my closet for monsters?"

"Of course. Why don't you wait in your sister's room and I'll be up in a minute?" Eloise nodded and headed back up the stairs.

"I loved him. You know that, don't you?" Violet asked, her eyes fixed on the place where her daughter had just stood. Fred nodded and Violet took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, and her next question came out in a whisper. "Did you also know that I love you more?"

Fred shook his head but remained silent. After a long moment, Violet let out a choked laugh, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to the stairs. "It was stupid of me to think - "

"Violet," Fred interrupted. "That's no good."

"…What?" Violet asked, turning around even as she feared what he'd say next.

"I said that's no good. I've been waiting for you tell me you love me for ten years, and you decide to wait to tell me until I have monster duty, so I don't even have time to say it back. You have horrible timing, woman. It's no good."

As Fred started to pass her on the stairs, Violet moved aside, unsure of what Fred had meant.

"Oh, and Violet? One more thing." Fred paused on the steps to whisper in her ear. "I love you, too." When he saw her smile, Fred kissed her deeply, something he had been waiting to do for the better part of a decade.

"Uncle Fred!" Eloise called, waiting for her uncle to slay her monsters. Fred pulled away from Violet abruptly, a smile on his face.

"Horrible timing, Violet," he repeated. "Just horrible." He went into Eloise's room and Violet listened in the hall as Fred told her daughter that no monsters would get her on his watch before tucking her in and kissing her goodnight. Violet wished, not for the first time, that Fred was the girls' father.

That night, and every night after it, Fred fell asleep with Violet in his arms.

"So how many of the girls are yours, then?" Charlie asked bitterly.

"What?" Fred's head snapped up in alarm.

"You and Violet always said that nothing happened between you two until after I divorced her. Well, she's dead now, so you don't have to keep her secret anymore. How many of those girls are your daughters? Just Lita? Or was she cheating on me the entire time we were married? Are any of those girls mine, Fred?"

Fred shook his head, his anger threatening to boil over.

"They're all yours, Charlie. Merlin knows you don't deserve them and I wish I could say they were mine, but they aren't. None of them are. We never lied to you. She was faithful to you until the day you signed your divorce papers. After that, she was free to be with me, and you might not like it, but that's what she wanted."

"She never wanted you, Fred, she settled for you," Charlie muttered.

"What?"

"I know Violet. We still loved each other. You were just a placeholder. When I came home, I was going to make things right with her. She was going to take me back, and we were going to be a proper family again… we just didn't get the chance."

Fred wanted to yell at his brother; he wanted to wrestle Charlie to the ground and punch his smug face in. Instead, he took two photographs off of a shelf in the kitchen and showed them to Charlie. In one, Charlie had an arm around Violet and a far-off look in his eyes. Violet's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and you could read the sadness on her face. Although it was a moving photograph, the couple looked like statues. In the second photograph, Fred held Violet in his arms and the photograph captured several seconds of the two doubling over laughing.

"That was never going to happen," Fred said quietly as Charlie examined the photos.

Feeling that his point was made, Fred turned toward the stairs, intent on checking up on his nieces. He turned back around when he heard a ripping sound. Back at the table, Charlie had taken the photo of Fred and Violet out of its frame and was slowly ripping it into shreds.

"CHARLIE!" Fred lunged without thinking, knocking Charlie out of his chair and onto the kitchen floor. The two wrestled mercilessly as they continued to argue.

"She left the girls to me!" Fred shouted.

"Like hell she did!" Charlie shouted back.

"In her will, she named me as the girls' guardian. I have custody!"

"I'm their father! You can't take away custody of my own kids!"

"Watch me!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The two brothers froze as their mother glared down at them from bottom of the stairs. Lita and Benita stood on either side of Molly, watching their father and their uncle wrestle with each other.

Molly Weasley may have been the kindest, gentlest woman in the world, but she hadn't raised six boys without learning a thing or two about taking control.

"PICK YOURSELVES UP OFF THE FLOOR!"

Her boys scrambled to do so immediately.

"In case the two of you have forgotten, there are two more girls waiting for you to pick them up at King's Cross station. Or did you forget how many daughters you have, Charlie? And how many nieces YOU have, Fred?"

"Mum - "

"DON'T EVEN START WITH ME! You may have divorced her, Charlie, but she was still my daughter-in-law, and we are burying her tomorrow. All of my children and grandchildren will be here this afternoon, and we will all be having a pleasant family meal together, and that includes you two. Tomorrow we are having a funeral for a wonderful woman that we all loved, and I expect you two to support each other like the brothers you are. After we've said goodbye to Violet, we will all sit down and have a proper conversation about who the girls will be staying with. But until then, Charles and Frederick Weasley, so help me Merlin, I will not tolerate any of this fighting. Is that understood?"

Charlie and Fred glared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to obey.

"I SAID IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes, Mum," the boys said simultaneously.

Charlie picked himself up off of the floor first, and offered a hand to help Fred. Fred slapped it away, getting up on his own and brushing himself off. Fred's only consolation was that if Charlie had found Benita difficult to connect with, he had no idea what he was about to encounter with his two teenage daughters.

When Molly took the girls into the coat room to find their jackets, Fred pulled Charlie aside.

"You can't raise these girls, Charlie," Fred told him.

"I'm their father. They should be with me." Charlie turned to leave.

"There's a bedtime story," Fred said.

"What?"

"Benny's bedtime story. It was the last bedtime story her mom read to her before she died. Now she can't fall asleep unless you read it to her. Which story is it?"

"...I'll ask her."

"How do you spell Adrianna? What's Lita's favorite ice cream? What's the one song that can make Eloise smile, no matter how hard she's crying?" Charlie was silent. "You can't take the girls from me, Charlie. You can't raise them. You don't know them."

"They're my daughters. I have to learn, Fred."

As they prepared to depart for King's Cross station, Charlie looked at his two youngest daughters and wondered if he was really up for the challenge of raising four girls. He reassured himself that he was.

After all they, couldn't be more difficult than dragons, could they?