"Sophie-Sophie, wake up! We have to go!"

I jolted out of sleep with a gasp and turned to look up in disorientation at whoever had woken me. Fred. It was just Fred. We were home in bed. It was the middle of the night-a cold, February night at that. But what was wrong? What had happened for him to shake me awake in the middle of the night?

"Go where?" I asked groggily, pushing myself up on my elbows as Fred flung himself out of bed, turned on the lights, and began changing out of his pajamas and into his regular clothes. "What's wrong?" I asked. "What's going on?"

I sat up fully and continued to stare at him. He was urgent and moving quickly, but he didn't seem upset in any way. In fact, he actually seemed excited.

"The owl just came-I'm surprised the tapping on the window didn't wake you," Fred said as he tugged on his jeans. He finished pulling them up and buttoned them before hurrying to the dresser to get his watch. On his way, he stopped and bent down to lightly take my face between his hands and give me a quick, exuberant kiss. "Fluer's in labor."

"She's what?" I squeaked as Fred pulled away and continued over to the dresser where he grabbed his watche and fumbled with it as he began putting it on. He dropped it twice, then swore loudly as he picked it up after the second time he'd dropped it.

I'd gotten out of bed at this point and had crossed the room to him.

"Would you please calm down?" I asked with a laugh as I gently took his watch from him and began clasping it around his wrist. "You told me you wanted children, didn't you? If you're losing your shit welcoming a baby that isn't even yours into the world, what does that mean for how you'll be when it is your turn? I'm going to need you to be functional, you know."

"I'm mostly freaking out now because I have to be there, and I have to be there on time," Fred murmured, fiddling with his newly clasped watch. "I can't miss this."

I was quiet for a second before I stood on my tiptoes, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. "We'll get there. Don't worry. I'm not letting you miss a second of this moment either."

Fred grinned and leaned in to kiss me appreciatively.

I got dressed as quickly as possible and met Fred out in the living room where he was pacing back and forth, waiting for me. It was probably the first time he'd ever been waiting for me. I would have savored the moment a bit more, or even teased Fred about it, but now was not the time. I made my way over to him and grabbed his hand, putting an end to his pacing. He looked over at me with a smile and I Apparated us to St. Mungo's.

The second we got there, Fred began tugging me through the lobby and into the lift. I hurried to keep up with him, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder with my free hand.

The lift reached to the labor and delivery ward and the door had barely begun opening when Fred slipped through the small space, pulling me along with him. We hurried down the hallway and skidded around a corner into another hallway where we could see a group of redheads gathered around a room about halfway down.

"Merlin, Fred, slow down unless you want to barrel right into them!" I exclaimed.

Fred didn't seem to listen. He only skidded to a stop right in front of his family, leading to me crashing into him and the two of us almost falling over.

"I'm here, did I miss anything?" Fred asked breathlessly. He looked around from his parents to Ron and Hermione.

"No," Arthur said, shaking his head as he looked at Fred in amusement. "We all only got here ourselves within the last twenty minutes. Bill is in with Fleur now." He tilted his head towards the door to the delivery room. "One of Fleur's friends from work went to stay at their house with Victoire for the night. Fleur's parents should be coming in from France shortly as well."

Fred nodded. "Good, good. And I got here before Ginny and George?" He looked around as if to make sure Ginny, Harry, George and Katie weren't here yet. He beamed. "Wicked." Then, he turned and looked at me, still beaming, and seemingly ignorant to the fact that I was breathless and adjusting my coat, hat, and the strap of my bag that had fallen down my shoulder again. "We made really good time, Soph. We weren't even last to get here. We didn't miss anything. I didn't miss anything."

"Yes, and you nearly ripped Sophie's arm off in the process," Hermione said, clucking her tongue as Molly helped me fix my coat and then brushed some hair away from my face.

"Fleur is nowhere near close to having the baby," she told her son. "We've got hours left of waiting. You didn't have rush quite as much as you did."

"I don't care if we still have to wait days for that baby to pop out," Fred insisted. "I intend to be right here for every minute of it."

"And it looks like you're sober," Ron commented, "so you'll remember it, too."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded as she and Molly both turned to swat at Ron.

"We're glad you're here, Fred," Arthur said, putting a hand on Fred's shoulder and smiling at him proudly. "And I know Bill and Fleur will be too."

Fred nodded and I saw him swallow thickly as he looked back at his dad.

George, Katie, Ginny and Harry showed up not long after and we all waited in the hallway for a bit before moving to the waiting room, where we all tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible in the various chairs and benches set up around the room.

Fred and I shared one of the benches and I immediately leaned against him and tucked my feet up beside me as I fought back a yawn.

"You can sleep, you know," Fred whispered, lifting his arm and putting it around me. "I'll wake you if anything exciting happens."

I shook my head. "I can't. Even if I wanted to, I can't." I snuggled against his shoulder and looked around the waiting room at the rest of the family. "You know...I didn't realize the entire family would show up to wait the whole labor out like this. Your parents and Fleur's parents, sure, but normally I would think that all your siblings and their spouses and everyone would show up later, when all is said and done. But I guess they've never done that, have they? They always show up right from the start with everything...I like that they do that."

"That's exactly how my family is," Fred said, resting his head against the top of mine. "Which made it even shittier that I didn't show up last time. I didn't show up at all, and I was drunk." He paused. "I've mostly always liked that my family's this way, too. Except for the period of time when they kept showing up for me-figuratively-and I didn't want them to. I felt overwhelmed and-and I also didn't think I deserved it."

I closed my eyes and snuggled closer against him as I reached for his hand. "You did-you do. And you're here now," I said. "That's all that matters."

Fred didn't reply, but he squeezed my hand and smiled as he gently kissed the top of my head.

Even though I'd thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, I ended up falling asleep on Fred's shoulder for about an hour, but even then it had been a light, restless, and uncomfortable sleep. The waiting room benches were not exactly ideal for comfort and rest.

When I woke up, I noticed that Fred had fallen asleep as well. I smiled slightly as I slowly disentangled myself from him and stood up, gently easing Fred down so he was lying across the bench. As much as he could fit, anyway. He was too tall, so his legs remained dangling off the bench on the floor.

I stretched my arms above my head before lowering them and rolling my shoulders. I was just massaging my neck, when Harry appeared at my side.

"You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you?" He asked. "Or at the very least in the mood for a midnight snack?"

"It's well past midnight," I said with a wry smile, glancing at the clock on the wall across the room. "It's three in the morning."

"A three in the morning snack, then," Harry amended with a smile. "You and I are the only ones awake besides Molly, and she's been telling me to go get something to eat for the last hour.

"But, naturally, she won't eat or sleep," I laughed.

"Exactly," Harry responded. "So, are you in? I'd like some company, actually."

I nodded. "I could go for a three A.M. snack," I said.

Harry smiled and began leading the way to the cafeteria as I walked alongside him in silence. Truthfully, I was a bit surprised Harry had asked for my company. He had been right when he said I was the only one awake, but he and I also hadn't had much opportunity to talk alone over the last nearly two years. Of course he and I had spoken and hung out, but always in a group.

"I could go for a hot cocoa and at least three cookies right now," Harry said as we entered the cafeteria. He glanced at me with a grin. "What about you?"

"I didn't realize I wanted that until you said it," I giggled.

"My treat," Harry said, reaching into his pocket as we approached the counter.

"Harry, no," I protested, but he ignored me.

He stepped up to the counter and, with a smile on his face, loudly ordered two hot chocolates with whipped cream and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"Harry, you didn't have to do that," I sighed as we moved to the end of the counter and Harry paid for the food.

"I wanted to," he shrugged, taking one of the hot chocolates the witch behind the counter was passing him, and then, in turn, passing it to me. He grabbed his own drink as well as the plate of cookies and then led us to a table, where he took a seat and set the cookies down in the middle of the table.

I sat across from him and wrapped my hands around the mug of hot chocolate in front of me, piled high on top with whipped cream.

"Thanks for this," I said, holding up my hot chocolate slightly.

"Don't mention it." Harry reached across the table and took a cookie off of the plate in between us. "This is how I won over Ron's friendship, you know. By buying him food."

I laughed. "I remember you two talking about that. At your birthday party one of the first times I came to the Burrow." I reached for a cookie myself and took a bite. It was delicious. I let out a sigh of happiness. "Are you trying to buy my friendship, too? Because it might be working."

Harry laughed. "You know, it's kind of unfortunate you and I never got to really talk until now. It seems we have some things in common."

I looked up at him as I sucked in a breath. "You mean-what, the way we grew up?"

Harry shrugged and nodded, staring down at the half eaten cookie in his hand as he turned it back and forth. "Yeah, we both grew up orphans and living with families who really didn't seem to care about us much at all." He finally looked up and met my eyes. "Or at least thinking it in your case. You're really lucky you found out your mother was alive. I would've given anything to find out even one of my parents had made it. I still would, honestly."

"I'm not sure if it's entirely the same," I said quietly. "At least you knew your parents were decent people. My father never was. And for a while, I stopped believing my mother was, too."

"But you're lucky you got that second chance," Harry said. "You're lucky you got to find out the truth."

I was quiet for a moment. "I think that's why I chose to continue having some sort of relationship with her. More so for me than for her. I gave myself another chance at having my own mother around. She showed she wanted another chance, too, which helped, but it was still a choice I made mostly for me." I paused. "What about your aunt and uncle and your cousin?"

"What about them?" Harry asked.

"Would you give them another chance?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think they want it. Definitely not my uncle. Maybe Dudley or my Aunt Petunia, but it's hard to say."

"But if they did want it?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Harry said tensely. "But I don't know if I want it either."

I nodded, but didn't press the subject any further.

After a moment where Harry seemed to think about it a bit more, he spoke again. "Dudley I think was mostly only awful to me because, well, his parents were bullies. His dad, mostly, I guess. Aunt Petunia was just-she had baggage."

"Don't we all?" I snorted, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. I sighed. "I don't know, maybe you're right. My mother was just as much of a victim as me-Eric was the main bully. I wouldn't forgive him. Ever."

"That's completely understandable. He tried to kill you," Harry said. "More than once. My uncle never tried to kill me."

"He did lock you in your room, though, yes?" I asked. "With bars on your window?" When Harry looked at me in surprise, I smiled sheepishly. "Fred told me. Well-more so about how he, George, and Ron rescued you in their dad's flying car."

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to downplay what they did-it was all pretty bad. But at the same time, I know they were only scared. And my aunt was harboring jealousy that my mum got to be involved in the magical world and she didn't."

I nodded. "It gets awfully complicated and confusing, doesn't it?" I asked with a dry laugh. "Even if you can see the reasoning behind someone's actions for doing something, whether it be fear, jealousy, vengeance-it doesn't always mean you'll understand it or agree. And it doesn't automatically erase the damage that's been done from their actions. My mother and I have talked about the past several times-we've talked about Eric and all he's done several times, too. And there isn't any more to talk about at this point. Not for me. We've each said all we needed to say and shared what we needed to share. My mother still tries to bring it up sometimes, though. She's still working through her guilt and I get that. But there really isn't any more to say. And personally, what I feel is best for me is to just let Eric and my past fully die."

"It's never fully dead, though, is it?" Harry asked wryly.

"No, it's not," I agreed. "Fred and I have essentially had that same conversation. But I need to let go of as much of it as possible. I needed to let go of the shame and embarrassment I was carrying around for my scars. I needed to let go of the need to push people away. I needed to let go of the anger I felt. I needed to let go of every bit of my past that was weighing me down. Fred needed to do the same. It wouldn't be right to expect him to let go of Angelina or Percy completely. He just needed to let go of the guilt and the anger. The things that were weighing on him."

"What would you do if you were me?" Harry asked. "About the Dursleys? Knowing some of what they've done and why."

"I don't think I can answer that," I told him. "You said it yourself-I only know some of what they've done. And if you want to give them a second chance, it's up to you to decide if you want to. Or who of the three of them you even want to give a second chance to. I told you I gave my mother a second chance mostly for me. You should do the same. If you want it and you think it's deserved and worth it, then go for it. Maybe it's not worth it with your uncle, but it will be for your aunt and cousin." I paused. "Have you spoken to them since...well, since you last saw them?"

Harry shook his head. "I last saw and spoke to them about three and a half years ago. They were being moved somewhere safe for their protection. In case Voldemort went after them trying to get to me. I don't even know where they are."

"I'm sure you could find out. You're a well-ranked Auror at the Ministry of Magic. You could definitely pull some strings."

"Yeah," Harry said with a sigh, spinning his mug slowly in his hands. He looked back up at me. "What would I even say?" He paused. "What did you say when you found out your mother was alive?"

I laughed bitterly. "You mean when I found out she was alive and had been following me around London in disguise, and had also been my foster mother for about ten years in a different disguise?" I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "I yelled at her. I was furious. But, Harry, our situations may have been similar in some ways-our upbringing without our parents and in homes with guardians who didn't treat us all that well-but they're still very different. As you said, Eric tried to outright kill me. More than once. His ultimate goal was to have me dead. The Dursleys may have done things to jeopardize your health and safety in plenty of ways, but they didn't pull a knife on you. They didn't do half of what Eric did." I shrugged. "You said you didn't want to downplay what they did and I don't want to either. But it's your past, Harry, and forgiveness is up to you."

He nodded and we were both quiet for a moment as we finished off our hot chocolate. When we were done, Harry lifted up the edge of the plate of cookies, tilting the flat bottom that held one last cookie up towards me. "Want the last one?" He asked.

"Split it?" I offered with a smile. When Harry nodded, I picked the cookie up and split it in half, passing one of the halves towards Harry.

We got up to leave a moment later. I stopped to buy a hot chocolate and a few cookies for Fred and George, and Harry got some for Ginny, and then the two of us made our way towards the lift.

When we returned to the maternity ward, most of the family had woken up again with the exception of Hermione and Katie, who were still asleep. Molly was still sitting in her chair, but she was now knitting what looked like a hat-and she was doing it by hand, I noticed. I remembered Fred telling me she only knit by hand when she was anxious. I knew everything was fine and that we were at the hospital for a good reason, but all the same, I knew Molly probably needed something to do with her hands while she waited for news.

Arthur was pacing the length of the waiting room, rubbing his tired eyes every so often. Ron was slouched in a chair, his gangly legs sticking out in front of him as he absentmindedly played a game of cards with Ginny. I couldn't tell what game they were playing, but it didn't look like Exploding Snap.

Fred and George were both standing over by the large, wide, floor to ceiling windows at the far end of the room. Fred was leaning against the wall at the end of the space of windows, staring absentmindedly through the glass into the darkness, while George was standing next to him, facing the windows straight on and leaning his forehead against the glass.

"Hey," I said quietly when I had gotten close enough to them. "I brought you two a snack."

Fred turned his head to look at me, blinking as he snapped out of whatever trance he was in. He smiled when he saw me. "Hi," he whispered, pushing off the wall and turning fully towards me.

George had turned around as well and his face lit up at the sight of the cookies and hot chocolate. "Sophie, you're officially my savior," he said gleefully, taking one of the drinks from me and a couple of the cookies. "I was about to die of hunger before you showed up."

"Sure looked like it," I laughed.

"Fred and I were about to head to the cafeteria ourselves," George explained through a mouthful of cookie. "But we got sidetracked when we noticed it was snowing."

"Is it?" I asked excitedly, my gaze drifting to the window as Fred reached my side and took his drink from me as well as the last two cookies.

"Thank you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I nodded as I continued to look out the window. George was right-it was snowing. Large white flakes were slowly drifting down across the London sky. A good inch or two was already blanketing the streets, rooftops, and any other surface it could reach.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, stepping closer to the window and pressing my palm against the cold glass.

"You look entirely too awestruck," Fred joked. "It's like you've never seen snow before."

I shrugged. "There's just something about snow, isn't there?"

"I guess," Fred shrugged, sticking the remaining half of his cookie into his mouth. "All I know is that it's cold," he went on, his voice muffled as he spoke around the large bite of cookie in his mouth.

I looked over at him and wrinkled my nose. "I could barely understand a word you said."

Fred swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I said that all I know is that snow is cold."

"Astute observation," I commented dryly. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. "I'd say you and George looked pretty enthralled with it yourselves. It's clearly not just me."

Fred just smiled at me. "Thanks for the snack," he said quietly, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

I sighed and felt myself relax at his touch. "Have you heard anything about Fleur?" I asked.

"Bill came out to update us about ten minutes ago," Fred said, dusting cookie crumbs from his hands. "He mentioned something about contractions and I instinctively blocked him out to prevent fainting."

George rolled his eyes. "That makes two of us." He looked at me. "Anyway, I think Fleur's about ready to actually have the baby. That's what I managed to get from Bill's update, anyway." He shook his head and looked at Fred. "Merlin, it takes bloody forever to have a baby, doesn't it? It's been hours and the baby hasn't even really started to come out yet. And Fleur still had to endure a bunch of pain beforehand."

"I'm grateful I never have to go through it," Fred said with a short laugh as George nodded in agreement. When they saw the look on my face, they both froze for a second and then cleared their throats awkwardly.

"Sorry, Soph," George said, patting my shoulder. He glanced at Fred. "I'm going to go see if Mum needs anything."

As he walked away, I fiddled with the hem of my sweater. I could feel Fred's eyes on me, but I didn't look up. Not until he reached out and hooked a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head up so I was looking him in the eye.

"What's up?" he asked. "Talk to me."

I studied his face for a moment before sighing and shaking my head. "We'll talk later. I'm not sure now is the time."

"Why not? We've got time."

I shook my head. "Later," I insisted, stepping away from him and starting to walk away.

"Soph-," Fred persisted, a pleading note to his voice. He reached out and gently grabbed my arm. "Come on. Is this about us having children one day? You're still not sure if you want to?"

I stared down at his hand on my arm. Sometimes I hated how persistent he was. Truthfully, I was still trying to piece together just how to express my feelings to him. I could barely make sense of them myself.

How could I possibly feel like I wanted children but didn't want them at the same time? The thing was that I didn't think the problem was that I necessarily didn't want them. I did. With Fred. I just knew it wouldn't be easy. It would be painful. And all my experiences with pain had been utterly brutal. They had never resulted in anything good.

Beyond that, I still worried that I wouldn't be able to be a good mother. I worried that I was still too fucked up to be entirely responsible for a small, innocent human. I knew I'd have help, but I couldn't rely on my loved ones for everything. A lot of becoming a parent was going to fall on my shoulders. Could I handle it? I knew how badly Fred did want children, and I was so afraid of disappointing him, too. I just wasn't sure he could ever understand. Or if he did, maybe he wouldn't be as sensitive about it as I hoped. He'd just said himself he was glad he'd never have to endure labor. The way he'd said it made it seem like some kind of brush-off. It made me feel isolated, even though I knew that wasn't true and it hadn't been Fred's intention.

"Fred, I-" I began, looking up into his face. I was cut off, however, by a commotion across the waiting room. I whirled around to see a Healer had come into the room and the rest of the family had jumped up to gather around her.

"Hold that thought," Fred told me with a quick kiss to my forehead. "We're going to talk about this later-I promise." And with that, he was tugging me across the room to where his family was gathered.

"She had a beautiful and healthy baby girl," the Healer was saying. "Mum and baby are both doing wonderfully. In a few minutes, I can let you go in to see for yourselves." She paused and I saw her scan the group as if doing a quick headcount. "In small groups, of course. Don't want to overwhelm anyone."

"A girl," Fred said. He beamed down at me. "I have another niece. We have another niece, considering you're going to officially become their aunt soon enough."

I smiled. "Congratulations, Fred."

He pulled me into a tight hug before taking my face between his palms and kissing me, pausing for a moment only to smile against my lips and then kiss me again.

"Oi, Fred, quit sticking your tongue down Sophie's throat and hand over the Galleons you owe me."

Fred and I broke apart to see George standing beside us, holding out an expectant hand to Fred.

Fred sighed and began reaching into his pocket. "Fine, fine," he mumbled. "It was seven Galleons, was it?"

George scoffed. "As if you don't remember."

Fred rolled his eyes and dropped the Galleons into George's hand. "The next baby will be a boy, I swear it."

"You're confident Bill and Fleur will even go for a third kid?" George asked, raising his eyebrows. "How confident, would you say?" He jingled the coins in his hand. "I could use another seven Galleons."

"You're going to be out fourteen Galleons eventually," Fred answered. "Seven when they have baby number three, and seven when they have a boy."

"You're on," George replied as he and Fred shook on it.

"Do you two bet on absolutely everything?" I asked.

"Yes." Katie had joined us now and she looked at me with an exasperated expression at Fred and George's newest bet. "When they started testing their Skiving Snackboxes back when we were at school, they even bet on which one of them would get the most sick."

"You didn't," I sighed, glancing between Fred and George.

"We did." Fred looked at me proudly. "I won that one. Bet on George getting the most sick. He vomited so much, he got dehydrated and had to go to the hospital wing for a rehydrating potion."

"And that's a good thing?" I asked in shock.

"Of course not. But he was fine. Good as new in a matter of minutes. And I won the bet."

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, staring up at him in bewilderment as I shook my head.

"Thank you," Fred answered, taking a slight bow.

I laughed and lightly shoved his shoulder.

Fred, George, Katie and I waited for a little while longer to be able to go in to see Bill, Fleur, and the new baby. We had to wait until Fleur's parents and sister had gone in, as well as Molly and Arthur. And then Molly told us to go in next before Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny.

The baby was beautiful. She was so small and fragile looking, with tiny hands and feet, but long, dainty fingers. She had a faint smattering of freckles and a thin layer of platinum blonde hair.

"She's precious," I breathed out, approaching Fleur's bedside. She was cradling the baby in her arms, gazing down at her fondly. Bill stood on the side of the bed opposite me, leaning sideways against the headboard with his arm stretched across it as he looked down at his daughter over Fleur's shoulder.

"Eezn't she?" Fleur asked happily, glancing up at me with a grin. She only met my eyes for a millisecond before she had returned her gaze to the baby.

"Have you decided on a name?" Katie asked.

Fleur nodded. "Dominique," she responded.

"That's a beautiful name," I said quietly, staring down at Dominique in awe. I felt Fred's hand on my hip as he stood beside me, also looking down at his niece.

"She's really beautiful," he said, tearing his gaze away from the baby to look at Fleur, then Bill. He met his brother's eyes and smiled. "Really, really beautiful. Congratulations to both of you."

Bill grinned at Fred before coming around to our side of the bed and giving his brother a hug.

"Glad you could make it this time around," he whispered. "And I'm glad I'm not chasing you down at the Leaky Cauldron to give you a piece of my mind."

Fred let out a dry chuckle. "I am too, believe me."

"Fred was a wreck trying to get here on time," I said with a smirk. "He could barely even function."

Bill let out a loud laugh and even Fleur giggled.

"I was trying to make up for last time," Fred said, holding up his hands in defense.

"You'd better get it together, then, before it's your turn," Bill joked, nudging Fred.

Fred laughed and shoved his brother as my cheeks turned red and my stomach flipped. No one seemed to notice my reaction except Katie, who gave me a quizzical look of concern. I simply shook my head and averted my eyes from her face.

I knew the way I was feeling wasn't anything to be ashamed of. I knew it wasn't. But why did it still feel that way regardless? Why did I feel so awful about my hesitation to have children?

I know why, I thought, as I looked over at Fred again. Partly, anyway.

Fred wanted a family. He wanted kids. And meanwhile, I felt conflicted about doing so. The idea of disappointing him pained me. But I also felt that starting a family wasn't something to be done if both people involved weren't completely sure they anted to. There were two of us that would be involved in starting a family. If I wasn't into it one hundred percent, then where was the fairness in going through with it? To me, to Fred, to our future child? If my heart wasn't fully into being a mother, whether due to fear or otherwise, wouldn't that turn me into the version of my own mother that I'd believed she'd been for sixteen years? The mother that didn't care? The mother that didn't want her own child?

I took another look at Fleur holding Dominique and get my eyes full with tears as my hands trembled. I couldn't do this here. I had to go calm myself down.

Silently, I made my way towards the door and managed to slip out into the hallway unnoticed.

Planning a wedding, I was coming to find out, was one of the most surreal, most stressful, but also most fun things I'd ever done. I was busier than ever trying to plan the wedding, get everything done on time, continue my work at the Leaky Cauldron, and also handle selling my photographs-something that had really started to take off. I had begun to think Fred was right and that I really should take the leap and make it a real career instead of just a side job. I had even started to look at a few spaces that I could rent and turn into a photography business. I hadn't found much yet, but I also didn't have a lot of time for searching. I was hoping once things calmed down, I'd be able to really put some effort into finding a place.

As it was, there were already choices upon choices to make, and while it could feel overwhelming at times, I did love being able to make every single one of the choices. A lot were made with Fred's input-it was his wedding, too, after all-but some were my choices alone to make. Such as finding a wedding dress.

I brought Rachel, Kayla, Allie, Ginny, Katie, Martha and my mother along to shop for one in March. It seemed like quite a lot of people to shop for one dress, but I couldn't imagine leaving any of them out. I wanted them all there. The thing was that a lot of people meant a lot of opinions. And while some of their opinions were the same, others were not. So I had a lot of different opinions at my disposal. Which also meant I was sent into a fitting room with several dresses to start with.

"Would you like me and Martha to come in and help you?" my mother asked quietly as I clutched the dresses that I was holding to my chest and struggled to open the door to the fitting room.

I turned to look at both women over my shoulder and sent them a smile. "Please."

Martha and my mother both beamed. Martha took some of the dresses from my arms and my mother pushed open the door for me. Once she'd shut and locked it behind us, I began stripping out of my clothes as Martha selected a strapless dress made of satin with a thin silver band around the waist. "I picked this one out," she said. "I thought it was lovely."

"It is lovely," I agreed. Martha held the dress out to me and began helping me into it. I glanced over my shoulder at my mother, noticing she'd been quiet the last few minutes. I froze slightly when I saw her gazing at the scars on my back with a pained look on her face. Had she not seen them? She'd been at Ginny's wedding when I'd worn the open-backed dress. She had to have seen them.

"You knew they were there," I whispered. "And didn't you notice them at Ginny's wedding?"

My mother nodded, her eyes still on the scars. "But I could barely bring myself to look at them. Now, I can't seem to look away."

I didn't say anything as I finished getting the dress on. I turned towards my mother, spinning my back and my scars away from her view. Martha began doing up the back of my dress as I met my mother's eyes.

"You'll get used to them after a bit," I said. "It only took me a few years." I rolled my eyes.

"It's not funny," my mother insisted fiercely. "If I had only been a better mother. If I'd only fought harder to distract Eric that night-kept him away from you just a bit longer-he wouldn't have caught up to you and hurt you like that."

"And then maybe it would have been you instead," I commented with a slight shrug. "It's something that happened, and it's over now. There's nothing either of us can do. We can't change the past, and we can only talk about it so much. And personally, I'm tired of talking about that night. Or anything Eric did, really."

There was a note of finality to my voice as I spoke. I meant what I said. I was so beyond discussing those scars anymore. I was beyond the looks on peoples' faces when they saw them. But it was all in a different way now than before. Before, I wanted to ignore the scars because I was ashamed. Now, I didn't want to talk about them-or more specifically the night I got them-because it was all a thing of the past. It had happened and I'd overcome it. The scars were there, they were part of me and I couldn't change that. I'd finally learned to just accept it. Accept it and almost embrace it.

My mother seemed to understand that I didn't want to talk about it anymore and she didn't say anything else. I turned back towards the mirror and began adjusting the skirt of the dress I had on, meeting Martha's eyes in the mirror as I did so.

She smiled at me. "What do you think of this one, dear?"

I turned myself from side to side as I examined the dress from various angles before turning around and looking over my shoulder so that I could see the dress from the back.

"I do like it," I said slowly.

"But?" Martha prompted with a small smile.

"I think I want to try something a little..." I trailed off as I tried to think of the correct way to phrase what I wanted.

"A little less plain?" Martha asked. She looked at me in almost amusement.

"Yeah," I said slowly.

"Huh...interesting," Martha said. "I thought plain and subtle would be more your style. Anything more than that would draw more attention to you than I thought you'd like."

It was almost as if she were teasing me and I let out a quiet giggle. "I didn't say I wanted an iridescent, flashy dress covered in diamonds," I said. "But a lot of attention is going to be on me anyway, so why does it matter if the dress draws a little more?"

"Still," Martha said slowly. She smiled at me almost proudly. "You were so happy to fade into the background when I first met you. You were content with wearing the most plain and least expensive clothing you could find. You wouldn't wear anything that would expose your scars. And now you aren't worried about any of that. I'm really proud of you, Sophie." She beamed and looked as if she were holding back tears for a moment as she turned to my mother. "You should be proud of your daughter as well. She's a lovely girl and she's done so well in overcoming everything that's happened to her."

My mother nodded, her own eyes growing tearful. She met my eyes in the mirror. "I am proud of her," she said. "Of course I'm proud of her."

I couldn't help the sudden feeling that I was about to cry myself. My lip trembled for a second before I turned and threw my arms around both my mother and Martha, pulling them into a tight hug. I didn't say anything, but I also didn't think I had to.

There was a sudden knock on the fitting room door.

"Sophie, do you have any opinions on feathers?" Kayla asked innocently from the other side.

My eyes widened as Martha and my mother both laughed. "What do you think?" my mother asked, nudging me and giggling. "Are feathers attention grabbing enough for you?"

I pulled open the fitting room door and saw Kayla standing there holding a dress with a skirt made entirely of feathers, which even extended in a diagonal strip across the chiffon looking bodice, and extended over one shoulder.

"Absolutely not," I told her firmly. "No. Go put that away right now."

"Why?" Kayla whined. "It's loads more interesting than the one you've got on."

Martha cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at Kayla. "I rather like the one she has on. I picked it out."

"Sorry, Martha, but do you want Fred to yawn out of boredom when he sees Sophie or do you want him to be mentally undressing her as she walks down the aisle?"

My mother let out a laugh that she disguised into a cough as Martha simply gaped at Kayla.

"Kayla!" I squeaked, giving her a look.

"For one thing," Martha finally said, still staring at Kayla, "I'd hope he wouldn't be yawning or mentally undressing her. And even if he did mentally undress her, as you say, he wouldn't be doing it if she were in that feathered...thing." She gestured her hand wildly at the dress Kayla was holding.

"I can understand wanting to wow him," my mother said patiently, "but I think he'll be impressed no matter what she's wearing. It doesn't really matter what she has on. Not to Fred. So the dress should be something Sophie wants."

Kayla sighed and held the dress up to me. "And you don't like it?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No."

Kayla rolled her eyes. "I knew it was a long shot," she muttered. "I'll go put it back."

"Do you like it?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at her. "Maybe you could ask the shop owner to put it on hold for the day when Chris asks you to marry him."

Kayla snorted with laughter. "Well, they'll be holding it for a long time because Chris positively refuses to get a move on." She gazed at the dress in her hand. "Besides, I don't do feathers."

"And for some reason you thought I would?" I asked.

Kayla just shrugged. "It was worth a shot." She smiled at me wryly. "Just wait until you see what Ginny's about to bring back here for you."

"As long as it's not feathery, I think I'm open to seeing it," I answered.

"Four words," Kayla said, holding up four fingers and lowering one as she listed off each word. "Form-fitting, plunging neckline." She shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a completely sexy dress. But if you won't even go for feathers, I doubt you'll go for that." She wiggled the feathered dress in front of me teasingly.

"I don't want feathers because, first of all, I am not a bird," I said. "But I was just telling Martha and my mother that I wanted something attention-grabbing, but not over-the-top. I was thinking more along the lines of lace or beading or embroidery. But feathers?" I shook my head and giggled. "And I'd also like a dress I can breathe in, so I'm not sure I'll like Ginny's suggestion either."

"I'll go let her know," Kayla said with a smile. "That should be fun-letting her know that you shot down her dress pick before you even saw it."

I shrugged and smiled. "Well, you'd think she'd know what I'd like by now. Tell her to think like Sophie, not Ginny, today. Same goes for you." I smiled wider and gestured to the feathered dress. "Think like me, not you."

Kayla nodded. "Got it. Do we have to act like you, too? Because I don't think I can go that long without talking."

"I don't think you can either," I agreed. "But while you're out there, could you tell everyone to hurry back? I'm going to try on a few others I have with me and I'm going to want opinions."

"What for?" Kayla sighed dramatically. "You clearly don't enjoy my opinions at least." She sighed again and trailed a hand over the feathers on the dress she was holding.

"Just shut up and go," I laughed, shooing her away.

We spent hours at the dress shop, and at one point, I lost count of how many dresses I'd tried on. The others seemed to get a better idea of what I was looking for as time went on and brought me back a few lovely options. I picked out a few myself that I either thought were pretty, or didn't end up liking as much once I was wearing them. Even the shop owner was helping by bringing suggestions of her own, but nothing had really felt right to me. Not yet.

According to Ginny, and even Martha and my mother, once I found the right dress, I would know. But I hadn't felt that yet, which had me feeling slightly panicked now, hours into my search for a wedding dress. What if I never found a dress that made me feel the way Ginny had described?

Finally, after trying on a strapless, lacy dress and not feeling wowed by it, I let out a sigh and turned around to face the entourage of people I'd brought with me. "Most of these dresses-I'm trying them on and they're pretty, but I don't feel like it's the dress. You know? I thought-I thought I'd feel..." I let a puff of air out of my mouth. What had I expected to feel? Had I expected the feeling to be obvious? Right now, all I felt was like I didn't have a clue.

"You'll feel like you've just found the only dress you could see yourself getting married in," Ginny said. "The one that makes you feel like the most gorgeous person alive and that you can't see yourself walking down the aisle without."

"I haven't felt that way about any of the ones I've tried on," I sighed, leaning against the wall and running a hand through my hair.

"It's okay," Martha said comfortingly. "You don't have to find a dress today. It's not like your wedding is tomorrow."

"But what if I never find a dress I feel that way about?" I asked, looking up at her.

"You will," Martha assured me.

Just then, the shop owner appeared at the end of the hallway that led to the fitting rooms. She had a dress in her hands and she was smiling. "I think I may have found the one," she said proudly, presenting it to me.

I smiled and reached out to take it. It was lovely. It was an a-line dress with off-the shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. The sleeves and bodice were covered with a lace that looked like vines, which extended down to varying lengths over the skirt, which was made of layered tulle.

"Go try it on," my mother urged me.

I nodded and looked up at her. "Come help me put it on?"

She grinned and stood up, following me into the fitting room. She helped me out of the dress I was currently wearing, and then helped me into the new dress. The moment I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt a breath of air escape my lungs. My stomach dropped and I felt like my heart had temporarily stopped beating.

"Honey, you look beautiful," my mother said with a wistful smile as she stood beside me, also admiring me in the mirror. She adjusted my hair, lightly arranging some pieces in front of my shoulders. "We could curl your hair and leave it down. Maybe pin a section of it to the side with a hairpiece. Perhaps one that looks like vines-to coordinate with the dress..."

I tilted my head as I imagined what she was saying. "I think this is the one," I whispered. My mother was right. I did look beautiful. Not that I hadn't looked beautiful in any of the other dresses I'd tried on. But this one was different. I couldn't even fully explain it. I just felt different in this dress then I had the others. I let out a sigh of joy and ado something almost like relief. I had begun to doubt this feeling had even existed.

"You think this is the one or you know this is the one?" My mother asked with a knowing smile.

I grinned. "I know it. It's just like Ginny said-I can't see myself walking down the aisle in anything else but this dress." I continued to admire myself in the mirror. The way the dress fit me, the way it seemed to accentuate all the right places, the way I felt in it-it was all perfect.

"Why don't we go show the others, then?" My mother whispered, smiling proudly at me in the mirror.

I nodded and turned for the door, letting my mother open it so that I could step out of the fitting room.

The second I did, Kayla let out a loud whistle. "Damn," she said.

"Kayla," Martha scolded her warningly. She shot w glare Kayla's way before sending an apologetic look at the shop owner.

"I just mean," Kayla said, brushing off Martha's glare, "that that is the best dress yet, Sophie. You somehow manage to look both beautiful and sexy at the same time."

"I do?" I asked, blushing slightly.

"You look incredible!" Rachel exclaimed. "And Kayla's right. For the most part, you look radiant. But at the same time, that dress fits you really well. You have to buy it."

Everyone else expressed their agreement.

"How much does it cost?" Martha asked.

I hesitated. I'd gotten so wrapped up in falling in love with the dress, I hadn't gotten the chance or even thought to look at the price.

Martha saw the look on my face and laughed. "You know what? Don't worry about it. This dress is your dress. I can see how much you love it." She leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. "You get changed back into your regular clothes and I'll go pay for the dress."

"Martha, are you sure?" I asked. "I can-"

"You're not to do a thing," Martha interrupted, holding up her hand. "Tom told me this morning-he said, Martha, you make sure you buy Sophie whatever dress she wants. Which, to be honest, I planned to do anyway. You want this dress and Tom and I are insisting we buy it for you."

"I'd like to pitch in, though," my mother said. "I'd really like to be able to contribute what I can."

Martha looked at my mother, an odd mix of emotions on her face. I knew the two of them got along well, but there were times like these where the roles they'd played in my life seemed to clash.

"It's alright, Rebecca," Martha said. "Tom and I are more than happy to pay for it."

"Any money I have is technically your money anyway, isn't it?" My mother asked hopefully. "Considering I work for you. Please...let me help out somehow. My daughter's getting married and for a while, I didn't think I'd ever be around to see it."

Martha looked at my mother with a mix of defiance and awkwardness before glancing at me. I shrugged and nodded slightly and Martha sighed. "I suppose we can work something out," she said. She tilted her head towards the front of the shop. "Come on, then."

Martha and my mother left and Rachel came back into the fitting room with me to help me out of my dress. By the time we made our way to the front of the shop, the dress had been paid for and we were ready to go.

We went out to lunch in Hogsmeade and then meandered in and out of the shops before ending the day with a stop for ice cream back in Diagon Alley at Florean Fortescue's. After that, most of us went out separate ways. My mother, Martha and I, however, headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. We all agreed that we ought to show Tom my dress. As much as he tried to say he had no interest in dress shopping, we knew he'd be honored that he was one of the first to see it.

"How'd you do?" He asked as the three of us entered the pub. He was in his usual place behind the bar and he looked at us curiously as we passed him and headed up the front staircase.

"Why do you come upstairs and see for yourself?" Martha asked with a teasing smile.

We made it back up to the flat, where Martha began ushering me into my old room. "Come on, let's put the dress back on and surprise him with you wearing it."

With a giggle, I shut and locked the door and immediately began changing into the dress, with the help of Martha and my mother. When we were almost done, we heard a knock at the door.

"Let's see it, then," Tom said.

"Just a moment," Martha called back with a laugh of her own.

Finally, once I had the dress on, Martha crossed the room to the door and pulled it open, stepping to the side so that Tom could see me.

The moment he did, he stared at me for a second before his face melted in a warm smile. He walked over to me and took me all in. "You look lovely," he said quietly.

"Thanks, Tom," I whispered. I looked up at him and was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "Are you crying?" I asked in surprise. The fact that he was suddenly emotional shocked me. I'd never seen Tom get emotional in all the time I'd been here.

"No," he said, his voice slightly strained as he swiped at his eyes. "It's just-there must be some dust floating around."

Martha and I looked at each other knowingly.

"Come off it, Thomas," Martha said, putting her hands on her hips. "I've cleaned this flat regularly since the day we moved in, and Sophie's helped since she's been here as well. There's no dust. And even if there was, it's never made your eyes water like that."

Tom shot her a look before turning back to me. "I'm very proud of you," he said quietly, a small smile on his face. "The comparison between you standing in this very flat a little over a year and a half ago wearing a tattered cloak, dirty, bleeding everywhere, and now, standing here heathy and happy in a wedding dress of all things...it amazes me."

I smiled at him. "So you like the dress, then?"

Tom laughed. "I love it," he replied.

"Good, because I was seconds away from giving up on finding a dress at all before I found this one." I looked over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror as I spoke. I couldn't see either one of my scars in this dress. I might have been just about able to see the tops of them if my hair hadn't been in the way, but I wasn't worried about it in the least.

"It was a nice stroke of luck," Martha agreed, adjusting the skirt just slightly.

"By the way," I began, turning away from the mirror to look back at Tom. "I never officially mentioned this to you, but I'd like you to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day." I paused. "If you'd like to, of course."

"Like to? I'd love to," Tom answered, a note of slight surprise in his tone. "But you're sure you want me to do it?"

I looked at him in surprise of my own. "Of course. Who else would I ask?"

"Well I just thought," Tom began, glancing at my mother. "I thought you would consider someone else, or walk by yourself."

"She's already discussed this with me, Tom," my mother said reassuringly. "And I agree that you should be the one to do it."

"Everyone's always telling me that I'm not the same girl I was before," I said. "And they're right. I'm not. The old Sophie would've been happy to isolate herself and be alone—but to the point where she wouldn't even be getting married. But now—now I want people by my side. I don't want to walk down the aisle alone."

Tom ran a hand over his jaw as he thought about what I'd said. Finally, he nodded and stepped forward to wrap his arms around me in a tight hug. I smiled as I hugged him back. It was one of the few times we had hugged at all, and it was the very first time that he had hugged me first.

"I'll be happy to do it," he said quietly.

I smiled even wider. "I'm glad."

Tom pulled away and cleared his throat. "It, uh-it means a lot that you asked me."

I smiled. "Of course. Like I said, there's no one else I'd even consider asking."

Tom nodded once and ran a hand over his jaw again. Finally, he cleared his throat again. "I'm going to go put on some tea." He looked around at all of us, from Martha, to my mother and then to me. "Will anyone else be having any?"

Martha clucked her tongue and let out a chuckle. "When he doesn't know what else to do with himself, he makes tea," she muttered to my mother as I snorted with laughter.

"I've noticed," my mother whispered back.

"Are you having any or not, Martha?" Tom asked irritably.

"Yes, dear, thank you," Martha said, reaching up to pat Tom's cheek. He softened at her touch and nodded before turning towards me.

"Sophie?" he asked. "What about you?"

"Yes, please," I answered with a smile.

"Rebecca?" Tom asked, looking at my mother.

"I'd love some. Would you like any help?"

"No-no, I've got it," Tom said, heading for the door. "It'll be done in a bit."

Martha rolled her eyes as she and my mother exchanged a look.

"I should've known better than to try and interfere with Tom and his tea," my mother said. "I've been here long enough to know how he is about it."

"Like I said," Martha shrugged. "He does it when he doesn't know what else to do with himself. You should've seen him back when Sophie was having nightmares. He was like a lost boat out at sea. Making her a mug of tea was his go-to."

My mother glanced at me as Martha spoke. I saw the pained look flash across her face, but neither one of us addressed it. I knew she'd probably always feel badly that I had gone through so much pain in my life without her-and a lot of it because of her. I knew she hated that I had been having such terrible nightmares and hadn't been able to do a thing about them until Fred put in hours of effort, work, and experiments to come up with the Sophie's Wings potion. But I'd meant what I'd told her on New Year's Eve. What was done was done. There was no changing it no matter how much pain the past brought to either-or both-of us. All there was left to do was move forward.

Martha and my mother helped me out of my dress and I changed back into my regular clothes as Martha hung the dress up in the closet. We'd agreed it would stay here at Tom and Martha's for safekeeping and to avoid Fred seeing it. I knew if I kept it with me, Fred would try to snoop. And I didn't want him to see it beforehand. I found myself wanting to surprise him on our wedding day. Just because I myself didn't care much for being surprised didn't mean that I couldn't get a bit of joy from surprising other people-especially when I knew other people did, in fact like surprises. So, as much as Fred was sure to protest, the dress would remain a surprise until our big day.

Our big day that, as completely nervous as I was about it, I also simply could not wait for.