Disclaimer: You know the drill by now. I don't own anything that comes from JKR's world.

A/N: Yes, I know I only updated last night, but here's another one. And yes, I wrote this all today. Hadn't even started it when I posted the last chapter. I'm quite proud of myself :-)

Thanks to ms wolf, tecumseh dean and Lily Ann Rose for continuing to review. If any of you didn't review because I didn't give you time between updates, feel free to review twice ;-).

There's lots happening in this chapter, and some of it's quite horrible - I had some trouble writing it, for reasons I'll explain at the end. But at least one reviewer is getting exactly what they asked for in this chapter! So I hope you like it!

It was like a nightmare that you did not wake up from. Victoire had gone back to her flat, but it was full of memories of him, even after she had Banished the rest of his things, unable to bring herself to pick them up and do anything else with them. She wasn't sure exactly where she'd sent them, but it didn't seem to matter. He clearly wasn't coming back for them.

She regretted it afterwards, because then there was nothing physical to remind her of him, and he might as well never have lived in the flat at all. But it was better that way, she told herself. She didn't need reminders. She needed to forget.

Which was easier said than done. She did not take any time off from work, despite pressure from her parents and friends. She needed the distraction. But she wasn't working as well as she had before, and her boss noticed. A week after the break up, he called her into the office.

"Look, Victoire," he said, sounding worried, "I know you're having a rough time at the moment. And I understand, I really do. But we can't let the work here suffer. You're one of the best we've got, and don't think I'm not fully aware of that. I've had no complaints before. But it's a busy time, and we need everybody pulling their weight. If you need it, I can give you some time off to get your head sorted. But you have to get it sorted, one way or another…"

She didn't want time off, and she told him that. She was fine; she knew she had been a mess for the last week, but she was over it. She would pull herself together. He was dubious, but agreed to give her a chance. And Victoire knew that her job depended on it; the job she had worked so hard for, and sacrificed so much for.

So, on the surface, she pulled herself together. When she was at work, she thought about nothing but work, and threw herself into it more than ever. At home, it was not so easy. But she had to put on a brave face. What she did not want was people's pity. So she kept the mask up, and most people were fooled.

Some said admiringly that Victoire was dealing with it very well. Others were heard to say that this was just the cold, unfeeling way they would have expected her to take it.

Inside, she was bleeding.

Her parents were worried about her, and so, apparently, was Tamsyn; at any rate, the other girl took every opportunity to drop round and check up on her. Victoire did not feel that she could let the mask down, though, even for Tamsyn. This was too close and personal to share, even with her best friend. So she smiled in a brittle way, and said yes, she was fine, and steered the conversation away from Teddy, pretending not to see Tamsyn's anxious frown. Tamsyn, seeing that she did not want to talk about it, left the subject alone, and tried to cheer her up by talking of other things.

Her sister was less tactful.

"You're not okay, Vic," Dominique said abruptly, "Anyone who knows you can see you're not okay. How could you be? You were crazy about him, and he cheated on you. You can't just pretend it never happened."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Victoire said harshly, "I have to go on with my life, don't I?"

Her sister looked helplessly at her.

"Have you even talked to him?"

"No. Why would I talk to him? I've got nothing else to say. He's got Zoë now."

Dominique was not one to give up, but she was back at school the following week, and so Victoire didn't have to talk to her.

In the end, Teddy sent Zoë a letter. He knew he didn't want to be with her; ironic, after he had been so tempted by her, but the idea of touching her now made him feel physically sick. The idea of being with anyone but Victoire made him feel sick.

But neither could he simply abandon her; after all, she was his own age, and with her life in front of her. As far as he knew, she hadn't wanted children now, any more than he had. But she was stuck with this situation, and it was his fault. He had to take his share of the responsibility.

So he wrote to her. It wasn't an easy task. He discarded several attempts before finally sending one. It was short and to the point.

"Dear Zoë," it said, "I heard about the baby. I'm sorry. I don't know if you were planning on telling me, but just so you know, I'll help any way I can. It's my baby too, and I'm not going to walk away from that. If you want to talk to me, we can meet somewhere. Just let me know."

They met in a Muggle coffee shop in Soho. It was neutral ground, and there was little chance of them seeing anyone they knew.

She was pale, with shadows under her eyes, and looked as if she had been crying recently. The weather had suddenly warmed up as it moved towards May, and she wore only a cardigan over her top. The bump was beginning to be obvious on her slight frame.

For some people, pregnancy gave them a healthy glow. Not so Zoë. Apart from the bump, he thought that she was thinner than he remembered her, and she had had no spare weight to lose then. That could not be healthy, given that she was feeding two people. The short hair that had been cut choppily around her face and had suited her so well had been allowed to grow so that it straggled limply around her neck. The main thing, though, was the desperate unhappiness in her eyes.

He knew he wasn't exactly the picture of health and happiness himself. Between them, they must make a right sight for the Muggles coming and going around them, he thought fleetingly.

They ordered drinks; he had coffee, but she had asked for a blackcurrant tea.

"The healer said I should avoid caffeine," she said flatly, as an explanation, although he hadn't asked.

She was looking at the table, and could not meet his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked abruptly.

She looked up.

"Because… you'd told me… you wanted to be with Victoire. You were happy with her. I couldn't do that to you. There was no need for both our lives to be ruined."

"But you told other people," he pointed out, "You must have known I'd hear eventually."

"I told my sister. I never expected her to… well. She told me she'd seen Victoire. I felt awful."

They were silent for a moment, looking at each other. There was part of him that had, if he was completely honest with himself, been angry with Zoë. If she had not been there; if she had not flirted with him… if she had never existed, then none of this would ever have happened.

That melted away as he looked at her white, miserable face, and he felt only guilt and regret.

"There's no need for you to feel awful," he told her, "It's my own bloody fault. It should never have happened, Zoë…"

"I know," she said quickly, "I know that, Teddy. And if you and Victoire… well, I'm not going to get in the way."

"Victoire doesn't want anything to do with me," Teddy said quietly.

"Oh."

"Can you blame her?"

"I suppose not," Zoë admitted, "I'm sorry, Teddy."

"It's not your fault," he said again.

"It is…" she began, and then broke off.

Again, there was a silence. He looked at the bulge showing under her t-shirt.

"When's it due?"

"September."

"Do you remember it?" he asked suddenly. It wasn't a nice thing to have to ask, but they had to talk about it.

She hesitated.

"Not really," she said at last, in a small voice.

Well, that was a tiny bit of a relief. At least it wasn't just him for whom that night was a blank.

"Probably better that way," she said, with a small, humourless laugh, "I mean, it's never going to happen again, is it?"

"I doubt it," he said honestly.

"What did you mean?" she asked, "When you said you weren't going to walk away? You don't want to be with me, you've made that clear…"

"I'm sorry," he said wretchedly, "I mean… you're a lovely girl, Zoë…"

"Yeah, I get the picture," she said wryly, "It's not going to happen. Don't worry, Teddy. I resigned myself to that back in December. But what did you mean?"

"Well… exactly that. I'm not going pretend I was really ready to be a dad. But I'm going to be, and I've got as much responsibility for this baby as you. I'm not going to ignore that. We can work something out…"

A strange expression flickered across her face. It was partly relief, but partly something else he couldn't place. She looked as though she was thinking about saying something, but then changed her mind, and simply nodded instead.

"Right. Well… thanks, Teddy. I appreciate that. And… I want it to have a dad, I really do."

They parted soon after that, Teddy promising to stay in touch. Zoë said that she would let him know next time she had an appointment with the healers, in case he wanted to come.

"Yeah," he agreed, "Yeah… maybe I will. Take care of yourself, Zoë."

She smiled sadly.

"You too. See you, Teddy."

He had eventually gone back to his grandmother's house, where he had grown up. He would have been welcome at the Potters', but there were too many Weasleys, including members of Victoire's family, coming and going there.

He had told his grandmother only that he and Victoire had broken up. His godfather had told him that he would have to tell her the whole story sooner or later, but for now, he was putting it off. So Andromeda Tonks knew that Teddy was deeply unhappy and worried, but she did not, as yet, know that she was to be a great-grandmother.

Teddy, knowing that sooner or later he would have to help support a child, had made an effort, and gone out and found a job. True, it was the same kind of job he had been doing since he had left school, working in a bar, but at least he was earning. And getting out of the house, which was a relief to those who loved him, because the rest of the time, he simply hid himself in his room and would not talk to anyone. Guy and Persis, back from Spain, did their best, but Teddy, for the moment, was beyond being cheered up.

So he was at his grandmother's house when the owl reached him, carrying an urgent letter in an unfamiliar handwriting.

"Emergency, " it read, "Zoë in St Mungo's. She wants you there. Melanie Lester."

Melanie Lester, Teddy knew, was Zoë Lester's sister. She had been a couple of years ahead of him at Hogwarts, and a Hufflepuff like her sister, and he had never actually spoken to her.

Suddenly feeling a sense of foreboding, he tossed the letter aside, dashed downstairs to tell his grandmother he was going out, and apparated straight to the hospital.

She had told him that she would let him know when she had another appointment, but she would not have given the task of summoning him to her sister. Neither would she have described a routine check-up as an emergency.

He entered the reception of St Mungo's with apprehension, and a feeling that he was out of place here. What right did he have to rush to Zoë's side like a worried boyfriend? She was hardly even a friend, let alone a girlfriend. An acquaintance. But she was carrying his child, which suddenly made everything that happened to her his business. But it did not stop him feeling as though he were pretending to be something he wasn't. He hesitated, wondering what to say to the woman at reception. But in the end, he didn't have to say anything, because Melanie Lester appeared. She looked exhausted, but she had seen him, and came towards him. He went to meet her.

"What's happened?" he demanded, dispensing with the niceties.

Melanie looked up at him with tired eyes. He knew that she had been angry with him about Zoë, but she didn't seem to have any energy left for hostility. She did not beat about the bush, though, for which he was grateful.

"She's had a miscarriage," she said simply, "The baby's dead. I'm sorry, Teddy."

He stared at her. He ought to be feeling something, he was sure. Hearing that your baby was dead ought to be devastating. But all he was aware of was a ringing in his ears.

Three weeks ago, he had not known that the baby existed, and then, when he had found out, it had felt as though the end of the world had come. It was only in the last fortnight that he had begun to believe that the baby was real, and that he was going to be a father, but he had never been able to enjoy the knowledge as he knew that he should have done. And now the baby was not real any more, and he was not going to be a father, and all he could feel was numbness.

Melanie took him upstairs to see Zoë, an ordeal he was not sure he could cope with, but which he knew he had to go through. Their mother was with her, Melanie informed him, but she had been there some time, and Zoë had been demanding to see Teddy. Their father, Teddy knew, had left when Zoë was a baby and had not been heard from since, and Zoë had always spoken of her mother as an overbearing woman who expected a lot from her daughters.

She certainly lived up to this description, Teddy thought, as the woman swept past him, giving him a glare as she passed, but not speaking to him. Melanie, who had gone in ahead of him to inform them that he was here, followed her mother out.

"All right," she said quietly, "You can go in. The healer says she shouldn't be excited too much."

He nodded briefly, and slowly entered the room and approached Zoë's bedside. If she hadn't looked too well last time he had seen her, she looked a hundred times worse now. Entirely lacking in colour, except for the vivid blue bruises under her eyes, she looked, Teddy thought, as though she had been through hell. Which he supposed she had. She had been watching him since he had appeared in the doorway, but her eyes seemed dead.

"Zoë…" he began, not knowing what he was going to say.

"Sorry about Mum," she said, and her voice was hoarse and quiet, "She's angry with you. She's traditional, you know, even after everything with my dad. Maybe even more so because of it. She was a single parent herself, and she didn't want us to go through the same thing. I didn't even tell her for ages, because I knew how upset she'd be. But she's just worried about me…"

Why did she think he cared about her mother? Did she think he might actually have been offended by the offhand treatment he had received?

"Zoë, I'm so sorry," he said, taking the seat her mother had vacated.

"Yeah, well," she turned her head away, and he heard tears in her voice, "One of those things, isn't it?"

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, knowing it was a stupid question. Of course, she was feeling like shit.

"I'm tired," she closed her eyes, and the tears leaked out under her eyelashes, "You know, Teddy, I didn't want that baby. I was devastated when I realised I was pregnant. It was the last thing I wanted. I was miserable, and more than miserable. I was terrified. I don't know anything about being a mother. I didn't want to be a mother. And I didn't want to have to do it all by myself. I saw what Mum went through. Being a single mother's bloody hard. All I've wanted, ever since I found out, is for it to go away and not be true…" Teddy was silent. It was too close to what he had been feeling himself.

"But now," she went on, "Now he's dead, I just want him back again." Her voice broke in a sob, "And I'm so tired, Teddy… tired of everything… tired of lying," her eyes flew open, and he looked into them and finally found something that was recognisably Zoë, even though they were wretched, "I have to tell you, Teddy. I can't keep lying. I… I don't know if the baby was yours," she closed her eyes again and began to cry quietly, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"

There was a moment of shocked silence as he took in the news. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"What… what do you mean?" he asked eventually.

"I don't remember that night," she said, without opening her eyes, "And neither do you, do you? We don't know what happened… But I never had any reason to think we had sex. I mean, I woke up in my own bed, and I remembered kissing you, but I assumed that was all that happened…"

"But… who else's could it have been?" he asked, as gently as he could. She was getting agitated, and he was pretty sure she shouldn't, but he had to have answers. He had gone through so many mental adjustments in the last few minutes that he didn't know where he was any more.

"There was a guy," she said, her voice thin and barely audible, "It was a few days afterwards. I was… upset. Because I'd liked you, and you'd just told me you had a girlfriend, and had just been messing around with me. So I had random, meaningless sex with a random, meaningless guy, to try and make myself feel better. I don't even know his name. How pathetic is that? You know, it's the only time in my life I've done that. The only time…"

Teddy felt a little bit like there had been an explosion inside his head.

"But why?" he got out in the end, "Why did you say…?"

"Why did I tell people it was yours?" she opened her eyes again and looked desolately at him, "I didn't. I told you; I only ever told my sister. Because she kept asking me, and I was a complete state. I still wasn't over you, and now I was pregnant on top of it all, and I was scared and lost and I didn't even know the name of the guy I assumed was the father. I couldn't tell her that; I just couldn't! I knew she'd judge me, and if my mum found out, she'd be furious.

And I thought of that night, and I knew I didn't remember all of it. And I suddenly thought, it might not be his. It just might be Teddy's. I… I was panicking. I'd been panicking for a week, ever since I knew I was pregnant. And it was better to have a name than admit I didn't know.

So I told her it was yours. I never planned it to go so far. It was only to shut her up. But then she went and told Victoire… And I felt terrible, but it felt like it was too late by then. I couldn't tell you," she sobbed again, "I wanted to. I tried. That day in the coffee shop, I was going to tell you, I swear. But I was too scared. It was easier just to carry on with the lie. I… I wanted it to be yours. Because you said you weren't just going to walk away. So if it was yours, I wouldn't have to do it by myself. I would never have to admit to anyone that I had a one night stand with a stranger. The baby would have a dad. And I wanted that."

She looked unhappily up at him.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. But I hope you can at least understand, a little bit."

He was silent. It was almost too much to take in, but looking down at the desperate, ill, grief-stricken face on the hospital bed, he couldn't even bring himself to feel angry. It was all his own fault anyway. It might be a hideous, sick mistake, but the fact remained; he could not remember what had happened that night. As far as anyone knew, it could have been his. There was no baby any more, but Victoire would still never be able to trust him again.

In the end, it was Persis who told Victoire. After spending a week trying to persuade Teddy (after she and Guy had finally got the full story from their friend, who had eventually broken down and sobbed it all out) that she should know, Persis decided to take things into her own hands.

Persis also worked at the Ministry, and she had seen Victoire in the past weeks, always looking pale and strained. They had known each other quite well in the old days, and in the past had sometimes eaten lunch together, or chatted in a coffee break. Since the break up with Teddy, though, Persis suspected that the younger girl was avoiding her. Unsurprising really, given that she had been one of Teddy's best friends all the way through school.

But she spotted Victoire's red hair across the canteen one day, and decided to take the bull by the horns. It probably wouldn't make any difference; indeed, Victoire had probably heard at least part of the news by now. But she ought to be told.

Persis crossed the room. Victoire was picking at a salad, while reading through a sheaf of papers, a pen at her hand. It was a table for one, Persis noticed sadly. Victoire had always been popular, with many friends, but these days, she held herself apart.

"Victoire," she said, slightly hesitantly.

Victoire looked up, and a guarded look came down over her face when she saw who it was.

"Hi Persis," she said, stiffly.

"You look busy," Persis commented.

Victoire looked down at the papers.

"Yes, I am a bit. I have to write a response to these this afternoon."

"Right," Persis pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning her elbows on the table, "Well, I won't ask you how you are. It's pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that you're feeling as crap as he is."

Victoire opened her mouth, probably to contradict this, but Persis carried on.

"Zoë Lester had a miscarriage, you know."

"Yes, I heard. I was sorry for her. That's a terrible thing to happen," Victoire said tonelessly.

"Did you know she told Teddy the baby might not be his?"

Victoire laughed harshly.

"Oh, really? She didn't seem in any doubt a few weeks ago. So, sorry if I don't really believe that one."

"She told her sister it was his," Persis went on, undaunted, "because she was too ashamed to admit that she'd slept with a stranger. And it was her sister who told you, wasn't it?"

Victoire stared at the older girl.

"Why are you telling me this? I don't care how much of a slag Zoë Lester turned out to be. I'm not the sort of bitch who wants to go and spread dirt on her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend. The important thing isn't how many people Zoë Lester slept with; it's how many Teddy did."

Persis was silent for a moment.

"First," she said at last, quietly, "Zoë isn't Teddy's new girlfriend. They're not together, or anything close to it. Second, I never thought you'd want to spread stories about her, because I know you're not that sort of person.

Third, I hadn't finished. Because the point isn't that Zoë slept with someone else; it's that she might not have slept with Teddy, if the baby isn't his."

Victoire laughed again.

"Persis, I think if Teddy hadn't cheated on me, he'd probably have mentioned it when I accused him of getting another girl pregnant. I think he'd also have mentioned it when he was talking to my father and my uncle about what he was going to do about it. He never denied it, not once. The point isn't whether the baby was his or not; it's whether it could have been. And it obviously could, or he'd have said something."

"What would you say if I told you that Teddy was so drunk that night, he can't remember what happened? And that Zoë can't either?"

"Is that what you are telling me?"

"Yes. Honestly, Victoire, I don't think from the sound of it that it ever happened. I don't think Teddy did cheat on you…"

"But we don't know that," for the first time, there was emotion in Victoire's voice, "That's the point, Persis. He didn't deny it, because he couldn't deny it, because he didn't know. And the very fact that he thought it was a possibility means I could never take him back. I could never trust him. Can't you see that?"

There was silence for a moment.

"I see what you're saying," Persis said at last, heavily, "And I can see it would be hard. I just think that sometimes, there's room for forgiveness, and for second chances. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Yes. But some mistakes are so big that there's no going back. And it isn't a matter of forgiveness. I could forgive him. But I could never trust him again. And I can't be in a relationship without trust."

"So that's it?" Persis said sadly.

"That's it. The end of the story."

Don't worry. It isn't really the end of the story - there is more to come!

I almost changed this chapter, because I almost couldn't bring myself to write it. I'd had Zoe's miscarriage planned for ages, but then last week someone very close to me actually had one themselves - it made it all feel very personal, and it was very difficult to write, but I realised if I changed it, I'd have to change the whole plot. So I left it in, and I think it was worth it.

Anyway, hope you all liked the chapter. Please review!