To Dare

To Dare

Chapter Twelve

George woke early on Sunday. He experienced a few moments of disorientation before he remembered he was in his own bed at the Burrow. It felt much smaller and much emptier than it should and he realized he missed sharing Thalassa’s bed. It was strange how quickly her flat had become as much a home to him as the house he had grown up in. Strange and wonderful, he thought. He rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. It had only been a week ago Saturday that she had finally fulfilled years of his schoolboy fantasies. They’d spent every evening of the last week at her flat, returning home to the Burrow well after midnight, if they returned at all. He could hear Fred snoring quietly across the room and the sound both comforted him and made him feel Thalassa’s absence more sharply.

Today, he told himself. She’ll be here today. The warm glow of anticipation uncurled inside him as he thought of bringing Thalassa home to meet his mother. He’d never brought a girl home before, neither had Fred. The glow faded a little as he reminded himself that they couldn’t tell their parents that Thalassa was anything other than an old friend from school. It was best, they’d decided, to let Mum and Dad get to know her before explaining that he and Fred were both seeing her. They’d have to be very, very careful with what they said and did. Mum had an odd way of figuring out their secrets when they least expected her to. In exasperation once, Fred had accused her of practicing Legilimency. George had just laughed and said that if Mum could read their thoughts, why couldn’t she tell them apart?

Fred gave a snort and a cough as he woke. “Wha’ time ‘s it?” he slurred.

“Eight-ten,” George answered, glancing at the clock. “Are we both going to get Thalassa or are you planning on having a lie-in?”

“’M going. Not having that much of a lie-in,” Fred replied, pulling the covers up and rolling over.

George shook his head and threw back his covers. Might as well get on with it, he thought. Half an hour later, showered and dressed, he tried to roust Fred again with no luck. He left his twin snoring and went down to breakfast.

“’Morning, Mum.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and reached around her to nick a piece of bacon.

“Good morning, George,” Mrs. Weasley replied, slapping his hand, but not hard enough to make him drop the bacon. “So your friend’s coming for dinner today? What did you say her name was again?”

“Thalassa Hartwell, and she’s Fred’s friend too.”

“Hartwell, Hartwell. Is she connected to Hartwell’s Apothecary?”

“Mum, she is Hartwell’s Apothecary. I told you all this before. We went to school together, she was a year ahead of Fred and me, she used to watch all the Quidditch practices, and she had to leave school right before she took her N.E.W.T.s because her father died.”

“If you were such great friends back in school, why haven’t I heard anything about her before?”

“I don’t know,” he said exasperatedly. “We only really got to know each other in my third year. There were other things going on around that time that took up more of your attention. We invited her out to visit during the summers, but her mother was strict.”

“Not allowed to visit boys? Well, nothing wrong with that.”

“Not boys, Gryffindors. Her mum was in Slytherin. Caused a big flap when Thalassa got Sorted into Gryffindor, apparently.”

“Oh, poor dear. I imagine that was rough for her. Well, it was good of you and Fred to make friends with her.”

“Dead useful, too. She was brilliant at Potions, used to look over our homework for us.”

“George!”

“What? She offered to help the whole Quidditch team. Said she didn’t want any of us grounded on account of low marks, but Wood and the girls didn’t really need her help, and Harry had Hermione to look over his work.”

“Trust the two of you to turn a good deed into something selfish like that.”

“Ouch, Mum. That’s not fair. We really were friends, you know. She always said our jokes were what made Hogwarts worth the extra effort. She could’ve gone to a school that specialized in Potions.”

“’Morning,” Fred greeted them sleepily as he slouched in, still in his pyjamas. George frowned at him behind their mother’s back.

“Good morning, lazybones,” Mrs. Weasley replied indulgently. “Tell me more about this girl you’re bringing ‘round today.”

“Just a girl we knew at school,” Fred yawned hugely. “Absolutely mad for Quidditch. Ran into her at the Leaky Cauldron and got to talking about business ‘n’ things. She offered to help us sort out the mess we’d gotten into with the shop. She doesn’t have anywhere to fly her broom for fun, so we invited her here as a way of saying thanks. Not much else to tell.” He shrugged, filling his plate.

“Hmph,” Mrs. Weasley snorted, treating both her sons to suspicious looks. George was just a little too eager and Fred a bit too casual. Her motherly instincts told her there was more to this visit and more to this girl than her sons were telling her. Their recent late nights and overnight absences let her know they were both dating new girls. Uncanny, how the two of them seemed to start and end relationships at nearly the same time. Was this Thalassa Hartwell Fred’s girl or George’s? Mrs. Weasley’s first guess was George, but it would be just like the twins to put on this act to throw her off. And if this Hartwell girl were important enough to bring home and introduce to the family, why wouldn’t they say if one of them was seeing her? Mrs. Weasley turned back to the thousand and one little tasks that needed to be done to keep her household running smoothly. The mystery would have to wait to be solved until she could observe how her sons behaved around this girl.


Fred and George knocked on Thalassa’s door promptly at ten o’clock. For once, she wasn’t ready. She answered the door in her dressing gown and greeted them distractedly before hurrying back to her bedroom. They followed, exchanging bemused grins. It looked like her armoire had vomited its entire contents onto her bed and then her trunk coughed up everything stored in it as well.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she explained, running both hands through her hair and speaking very quickly. “I thought, to go flying, jeans and a sweatshirt, but I want to make a good impression. How traditional are your parents? Should I wear one of my robes?”

She was so frantic they didn’t want to laugh, but the situation was too ridiculous for words. George put his hands on her shoulders. “Relax, love. It doesn’t matter what you wear. Choose something you like, something that will make you comfortable.”

“George, I’m not likely to be comfortable no matter what I wear. Help, please.”

“Thalassa, fashion isn’t really our strong suit,” Fred said uncomfortably.

“Oh Gods, this is going to be a disaster!” she wailed. “Your parents are going to know what we’ve been doing and they’re going to hate me.”

“They’re not going to know anything of the sort and they’re not going to hate you. You’ve already met Dad and he was very impressed with you.” George pulled her close and hugged her. “Look, Muggle clothes are fine. There’s no need to wear a robe.” He waved his wand over the clothing piled on the bed. Her robes separated themselves from the heap, slid onto hangers, and flew back into the armoire.

“Or a dress,” Fred added, catching on and returning her dresses to the armoire with a wave of his wand.

“What’s your favourite colour?” George asked.

“Blue,” she answered in a small voice. Another pass with a wand and everything of any other colour jumped back into its storage place. Gradually, her choices were narrowed until all that was left were four pairs of jeans and half a dozen shirts.

“There,” George turned her around. “Pick your favourites out of those.”

Fifteen more minutes saw her ready to go, standing in front of the fireplace, clutching her broom in her hand.

“You look gorgeous. Relax.” Fred put his arm around her shoulders.

“We’ve told Mum and Dad that you’re an old friend from school and that you’ve been helping us sort out the joke shop. If anyone comments on you seeming nervous, you can chalk it up to your mother’s disapproval of your friendship with us.”

Thalassa nodded.

“One more thing,” said Fred, turning her towards him.

She glanced up at him enquiringly and he slanted his mouth across hers. He ran his hand down her back, moulding her to his muscular frame. George tugged her broom out of her hand, freeing her to slide her fingers through Fred’s hair. Oh Gods, she did love the way he kissed her. Hungry and forceful, he devoured her, biting her lip, sucking her tongue, licking along her teeth. Both hands were on her back now, massaging her through the thick cotton of her shirt. He worked his way down until his large, capable hands cupped her arse. Pulling her hips tight against him, he gave her a squeeze and then lifted his mouth from hers.

Before she could react to the abrupt ending, George shoved the Silver Arrow at Fred and put his hands to Thalassa’s waist. He pulled her towards him until her back was against his broad chest. Pushing aside her hair, he dipped his head to nibble at her earlobe. She moaned and tilted her head to grant him better access. He bit her gently behind the ear and then bit again, harder, at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Where Fred demanded, George seduced. If Fred was a Midsummer balefire, George was a glowing ember banked against a long winter night. Thalassa quivered as George slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her jeans. “If you don’t stop, we’ll never make it to your parents’ house,” she warned breathlessly and his laugh rumbled against her skin.

He let her go reluctantly. “But you’re not nervous any more, right?”

“Mm, and I thought you just couldn’t keep your hands off me,” she teased as she took her broom back.

“Well, that too,” said Fred as he lit a fire in the grate with his wand. George took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it on the flames. He stepped into the emerald fire and said, “The Burrow.” When he had spun away and disappeared, Thalassa followed suit, holding her broom tight against her body. Travelling by Floo wasn’t her favourite method of getting from one place to another, but she didn’t feel comfortable Apparating somewhere she’d never been before, no matter how detailed a description she was given. She hadn’t told Fred and George, but it had taken six tries before she’d passed her apparition test. She still sometimes thought the examiner had simply passed her because he was tired of seeing her face.

Her spinning slowed somewhat, so Thalassa knew she was approaching her destination. As soon as she saw George’s form through the flames and soot, she leaned forward and threw out one hand. He caught her neatly, helped her out of the big kitchen fireplace, and took her broom from her. He grinned and she couldn’t help but smile back. Fred followed her out of the fireplace a moment later. “Found the right fire, I see,” he remarked, brushing ash from his shirt.

She hastily ran her hand through her hair. “Oh, I must look a fright.”

“Here, I’ve got it,” George soothed. With a murmured spell and a flick of his wand, he cleaned the soot off her.

Thalassa didn’t have time to thank him before a plump, diminutive witch with fiery red hair and snapping brown eyes stepped forward. “Hello, my dear,” she greeted Thalassa.

George moved aside. “Mum, this is Thalassa Hartwell. Thalassa, our mum, Molly Weasley.”

Thalassa nodded and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“I’d like to say I’ve heard so much about you, but my boys have been remarkably close-mouthed. Why don’t you come take a seat in the living room and we’ll have a nice chat?”

“Mum,” George began in an exasperated voice. “We didn’t invite Thalassa out so you could interrogate her.”

“That’s all right, George. I don’t mind,” Thalassa said mildly. Gone was the panicked, insecure girl of earlier and in her place was a self-assured young woman. She followed Mrs. Weasley down the short corridor to the living room. “I don’t suppose you have any baby pictures of Fred and George you’d care to show me?” her voice floated back to the twins. They exchanged a pained look and groaned audibly.


After an hour of Mrs. Weasley’s questions, which Thalassa answered carefully, often with questions of her own, Charlie arrived unexpectedly. Introductions were exchanged and Mrs. Weasley bustled off to prepare dinner. Mr. Weasley made his way in from his shed and peppered Thalassa with questions about her Muggle ‘artefacts’ until dinner was ready. When Mrs. Weasley called out for them to come to the table, Thalassa leaned close to Fred and murmured, “I like your family.”

“Only because you didn’t grow up with them,” he whispered back.

“I grew up with you two and Percy, Ron and Ginny too, to a certain extent. You didn’t get to be who you are all on your own.”

The conversation at the table was more of the same delicate question-and-answer, search-and-evade as before. Thalassa sensed she was gaining Mrs. Weasley’s grudging approval and she was able to relax a bit more. They were halfway to the pudding before talk turned to other subjects.

“Ginny sent an owl the other day,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“So soon?” Fred glanced up with a slight smirk.

“Probably reporting herself for missing curfew,” George snorted.

Mrs. Weasley gave them a reproving look. “They made her Quidditch Captain.”

“Should’ve done that in the first place,” grumbled Fred.

“I’m sure Professor McGonagall was concerned that the responsibility would be too much on top of Ginny’s duties as Head Girl,” Mr Weasley replied.

Thalassa raised her eyebrows. “Head Girl and Quidditch Captain? You must be very proud.”

“I am,” Mrs. Weasley replied with a smile. “We’ve been so blessed. Two Head Boys and a Head Girl and all of the family were prefects except Fred and George.” She favoured the twins with an annoyed look.

The comment had the texture of a very old complaint and Thalassa chuckled. “Well, they couldn’t very well both have been prefects, could they? Would you have had them share the badge? Because I can’t imagine either of them doing anything without the other being right in the thick of it as well.” Fred gave her knee a squeeze under the table and she did her best not to react.

“Perhaps if one of them had been a prefect, it might’ve kept both of them out of trouble,” Mrs. Weasley insisted.

“Dumbledore would had to have been completely mental to make either of us a prefect,” George snickered.

“Imagine if he had been,” Fred shuddered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d gotten one of those badges in the post.”

Thalassa smiled at him. “You would’ve sent it right back, just like I did.”

A hush so complete fell around the table, it was like someone cast a Silencing Charm. She looked around in surprise. Five Weasleys stared at her in shock. She felt her face grow hot and she dropped her gaze.

“You sent back a prefect’s badge? I didn’t even know you could do that.” Fred sounded awed. “And I thought George and I had brass. I wish I could’ve seen the look on Dumbledore’s face when the owl dropped that package on his plate.”

Thalassa risked a glance at him. The shock was still there, but now it was mixed with admiration and amusement. On her other side, George gave a strangled cough as if he were trying to choke back a laugh. “Well, yes,” she admitted hesitantly. “I thought right off it must have been a mistake. It’s like George said, Dumbledore would had to’ve been out of his mind to make me a prefect.”

He hastily cleared his throat. “You were a brilliant choice for prefect,” he said loyally.

She gave him horrified look. “What sort of friend would I have been if I’d let them put me in a spot where I’d have had to report you and Fred for breaking all those rules you ignored as a matter of routine? Especially after all you did to help me the year before.”

“It would have been excellent,” Fred argued. “You would have been in the perfect position to keep us out of trouble by covering for us.” The rest of the family looked on with amusement as Thalassa, Fred, and George carried on among themselves, disregarding everyone else.

“I couldn’t do that, either,” she said irritatedly. “It wouldn’t have been right. Besides, it would’ve undermined my authority if the other students found out I was using my position to keep you from getting caught.”

“I don’t see how you could’ve thought it was a mistake,” George said. “You stared down a whole dungeon full of Slytherins once a week to tutor them in Potions. After that, telling off a bunch of first years for running in the corridors would’ve been easy enough.”

“What’s this?” Mr. Weasley interrupted and then George had to recount the story.

Thalassa corrected him several times to downplay his glowing descriptions of her bravery. “No, George,” she said at the last. “I keep telling you, the only reason I was able to go there every week was because I knew if they hurt me, you and Fred and Lee would’ve made them very sorry.”

“Well, then, what about the time in the Three Broomsticks when you gave Marcus Flint a right bollocking?”

“That was nothing,” she said dismissively. “He was just trying to provoke you lot into brawling. I couldn’t let that happen, and that time I had Alicia and Angelina to back me up as well as you three. Even Adrian would’ve stood up for me, I’m sure.”

“Come on, you weren’t a Gryffindor for nothing,” Fred said. “What about that time you showed Draco Malfoy for the utter prat he was?”

“You can’t call that brave,” she argued. “I was four years older than him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Percy never stood up to that little toerag like that,” George countered.

“Yes, well, I’ve never wanted to be Minister for Magic.”

“I’ll bet that was a treat, though,” Charlie smirked.

“Oh it was.” George nodded. “It was his first year as the Slytherin Seeker and she called him ‘Snitchbait’ for having a go at me. Then she broke his nose for calling her a cow.”

“I didn’t break his nose for calling me a cow, George. That would’ve been petty. I broke his nose because he embarrassed you when he said I was your girlfriend.”

Charlie set down his fork. “Let me get this straight. You humiliated Draco Malfoy, Lucius-Malfoy-the-Death-Eater’s son, and broke his nose for trying to pick a fight with George and for calling you George’s girlfriend?” He laughed. “Ah Gods, that’s rich.”

“She got away with it clean too,” Fred smirked. “No points, no detention, it was a thing of beauty.”

“He brought it on himself,” Thalassa said defensively. “He started in on Ron and then these two,” she indicated Fred and George on either side of her, “were all set to jinx him right there in the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast. I just presented myself as a more entertaining target. If Malfoy hadn’t stepped on the hem of my robes and tripped me, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to hit him with my elbow on the way to the floor.” She shook her head. “I’m still not sure there wasn’t some involuntary magic involved in that. And I didn’t get away with it, Fred. That incident killed the Potions study group. Professor Snape decided I was too clumsy to be left alone in his classroom. So you see,” she concluded, “I really was not prefect material.”

“Nobody’s ever sent back a prefect’s badge,” Mrs. Weasley insisted indignantly.

“Well, I did,” replied Thalassa a little defiantly. “And I stand by my decision. Besides, being a prefect would’ve interfered with my watching Quidditch practice.”

“Aha, so that’s the real reason you turned it down.” Fred waggled a finger at her. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that it might’ve impressed Wood if you were a prefect?”

She choked on her butterbeer and color flooded her cheeks.

“Shut up, Fred.” George reached around Thalassa to punch his twin’s shoulder.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you, George, but I’m quite capable of dealing with Fred on my own.”

“If you ask me, it sounds like you would’ve done an excellent job as prefect,” Mr. Weasley commented. “Keeping Fred and George from getting into fights and risking your safety just to help other students with their Potions lessons; why, you might’ve even made Head Girl.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t have the marks for that, and truly, I did not want the responsibility. I think I’ve done just fine for myself all the same,” she said seriously. “And I don’t think Fred and George are any less kind, or brave, or successful because they weren’t prefects. It’s no guarantee that someone will turn out all right in the end. You-Know-Who was one when he was at Hogwarts, and Head Boy, and look what he made of his life.”

“Who? Percy?” George teased.

“That is not funny, George,” Thalassa snapped. “I know Percy can be annoying, but that was mean and he’s not here to defend himself.”

“So now you’re sticking up for Percy, too?” Fred shook his head. “What is it about the lot of us that rouses your protective instincts?”

“Well, in your case it certainly isn’t your charming manner,” she said tartly.

“Ouch.” He winced. “Next time let George hit me, would you?”

Soon the conversation returned to what Thalassa assumed was normal for the Weasleys. Fred began describing to his father some Muggle invention he’d seen while Mrs. Weasley fussed at Charlie for not coming home more often. George took advantage of the others’ preoccupation with their own conversations. He leaned close to Thalassa and said in a low voice, “Malfoy didn’t embarrass me.”

She slid her gaze sideways at him. “I was standing right behind you. You blushed to the part in your hair,” she returned in an equally quiet tone.

“I was angry that he made it sound like having you for my girlfriend was something to be ashamed of, especially since he said it in front of everyone before I’d worked up the nerve to ask you proper.”

“You’re having me on,” she accused. “’Hadn’t worked up the nerve.’”

He shrugged. “You weren’t like other girls. You were special. I didn’t know how to approach you and when I finally did, you thought I was joking.”

She looked down and pushed her food around on her plate. “I’m sorry for that. I suppose it was too incredible to believe after you had to rescue me from that squib, Rookwood. Some Gryffindor I was, letting him intimidate me like that.”

“Don’t feel bad about that, he was a nasty piece of work. Besides, you made a very fetching damsel in distress.”

Neither of them noticed that Charlie was listening with interest and Mrs. Weasley was beaming at them from across the table.

Fred finished his conversation with Mr. Weasley and turned to Thalassa and George. “If you two are done eating, let’s get out the brooms.”

Thalassa jumped a little and turned to him with a bright smile. “I can hardly wait. As soon as the washing-up is finished we can go out.”

“No dear, you go on.” Mrs. Weasley smiled indulgently. “Charlie can help me.”

“Oh but—“ Thalassa began in some confusion. Mrs. Weasley’s attitude had undergone a complete reversal.

“House rules,” Fred interrupted, pushing back his chair. “First visit, you’re a guest. After that, you’re family. Come on, we’re wasting daylight.” He took Thalassa’s hand and pulled her to her feet. She laughed and gave in gracefully. Soon, they were headed out to the orchard, broomsticks in hand.

Mrs. Weasley watched them from the kitchen window and sighed contentedly. “She’s perfect for George, don’t you think?” she asked Charlie.

“I make it a point to stay out of things that aren’t my business, Mum.”

“I can’t help it. I want grandchildren. When are you going to settle down with a nice—“

“Yes, Mum,” he interrupted. “George and Thalassa make a lovely couple.”


Thalassa waited until she and the twins reached the tree line before rounding on them furiously. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole prefect thing was so important to your mum?”

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d sent back your badge?” Fred countered, laughing.

“Because you would’ve thought it was just dead funny and you would’ve told everyone. How do you think that would’ve made Meghan feel to know she only made prefect because I turned it down?”

“You’re right,” George agreed cheerfully. “We wouldn’t have thought of it in that way and to tell you the truth, I still think the whole thing is dead funny.”

“Oh, you,” she growled and stomped a few paces ahead.

He lengthened his stride and caught her arm. “Don’t be angry. You know I wouldn’t have told anyone if you asked me not to.”

She sighed. “I know, and I’m not angry. I just wanted your parents to like me.”

“They like you,” Fred reassured her. “Dad already thinks the world of you for taking care of your Muggle neighbours the way you do and Mum would probably love any girl we brought home as long as she didn’t have the Dark Mark branded on her arm.”

“That’s such a comfort,” she drawled sarcastically. “She wouldn’t be so blind to my faults if you told her I’m seeing both of you.”

“We’ll have to tell them eventually,” George said.

Thalassa just stared at him for a long moment. “You’re mad."

“You’re not the first to point that out,” Fred smirked. “But if you don’t want our family to know about us, why is it so important that they like you?”

“Because,” she floundered, “because it just is.” She scowled over her own emotional paradox. “I thought we were here to fly.” She threw her leg over her broomstick and kicked off from the ground. “Race you down to the end and back.” She leaned forward over her broom and darted down the row of apple trees.

George and Fred were after her in a heartbeat. At first, they couldn’t quite catch her, not that Fred was really trying. He preferred to hang back and observe Thalassa’s form. He never would’ve suspected she flew so well. She gripped the handle with her knees and hands only, keeping her elbows in and her feet tucked up close. Her back was straight as she leaned low over her broom. She had nearly perfect racing form. It afforded him a fine view of her backside, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

George pulled a little ahead as they all returned to their starting point. Thalassa’s delighted laugh floated on the wind, her good humour apparently restored. “Well done, George.” She was only slightly out of breath.

“Well done yourself,” he complimented.

“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fred. “What happened?” she teased. “I’ve seen you fly. If anything, you’re faster than George.”

“I was admiring the scenery,” he said with a leer.

She turned pink as his implication sank in. “I see. Well, the next time you let me win, for whatever reason, admiring the scenery is all you’ll be doing.”

He laughed. “Now you sound like Angelina.”

Her breath caught in her throat and for a second she looked like he’d slapped her. Then she forced a light laugh. “That’s high praise, indeed.” She slewed her broom around and sped away into the trees once more.

“Well that was bloody brilliant,” George said caustically.

“Oh, sod it. I didn’t mean it like that,” Fred sighed. “Give us a minute, would you, George?”

“No, let her work off some of her temper first. Come on.” He took out his wand and conjured several middling sized spheres in various colours. “She flies pretty well, doesn’t she? Let’s see how she does with a few Bludgers to dodge. Oi! Thalassa!” he called “Heads up!”

For the next forty-five minutes, they all did their best to avoid the darting spheres. Each color produced a different effect when it hit. Some were cold, some felt sticky, and one gave Fred the hiccoughs for five minutes. The last one caught Thalassa square in the chest and gave her a warm, glowy feeling. When she landed, she wobbled for a few steps before Fred grasped her elbow to steady her.

“All right, there?”

“All right,” she answered. “What was that?” Her words were the tiniest bit slurred.

“Firewhisky effect. It’ll last a minute or two.” George smiled. “Fred can help you walk it off.” He left them there and headed back to the house.

“You never used that training strategy in practice,” she said in a faintly accusing tone.

“It was something Bill and Charlie came up with for us. Wood never liked the idea.” He turned her to face him. “Before you sober up completely and remember that you’re angry with me, I want to apologize. I’m an insensitive git and I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said, blinking up at him.

“No, I shouldn’t have brought up—well, I just forgot that I might not be the only one jealous of someone’s past.”

The effects of the Firewhisky Bludger were starting to wear off. “I’m not jealous of your past, Fred. Your experiences have made you the man you are. I entered into this relationship with my eyes open. Angelina was your first love. I understand that if she decided she wanted you back, you’d be gone. I accept it, but I’d rather not be reminded of it.”

“But that’s not true,” he protested. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to look into her eyes. “Listen, what Angelina and I had was wonderful, but it can’t compare to what you and I have. She and I were just kids. We realized rather quickly that we wanted different things out of life. Do you know what she did when Umbridge kicked me off the team? She said it was my own fault and accused me of not taking my responsibility to the team seriously.” He grimaced. “Angelina never would have sent back a prefect’s badge so she wouldn’t have to report George and me. She wouldn’t have sacrificed one of her dreams for me, no matter how satisfying it might have been to break Draco-bloody-Malfoy’s nose. I’m only sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner for the treasure you are.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“Are we perfectly clear on this?”

“I think so. Yes,” she replied faintly.

“Good, because we really should be getting back to the house.” He turned away, but before he could take a step, she caught his wrist.

“Wait.”

He gave her a questioning look. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled, bringing his mouth down to hers.

“Mm?” he gave a muffled grunt of surprise and wrapped his free arm around her for balance. This was a different sort of kiss than the ones she usually gave him. She was often playful, or passionate, but this kiss was serious and earnest and open. He felt her uncurl her fist and flatten her palm against his chest, right over his heart. Couldn’t she feel that it beat only for her? When she ended the kiss, he still held her, trying to regain his equilibrium.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ve been unfair to you. I know you said you loved me, but I didn’t really think it was a lasting sort of love. I figured you wouldn’t be with me very long.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he whispered, making the words a vow.

She sighed a little sound of contentment, and the ground beneath him stabilized. “Good. Let’s get George and go home,” she said with a grin, looping her arm around his.

He chuckled and they started back across the garden. “Good Lord, woman, you’re insatiable.”

She blushed and let go of his arm to give him a playful shove. “And you’re complaining?”

He threw back his head and laughed. Then he caught her around the waist and pulled her up against him. She clutched at his shoulders, nearly knocking him in the head with her broomstick. He picked her up off the ground and swung her around in a tight circle. “No, I’m not complaining,” he growled in her ear. “But aren’t you lucky to have both George and me at your beck and call?” He kissed her cheek as he set her down.

“Didn’t it ever occur to you that it’s having the two of you about that inspires me?”


Charlie sat at the kitchen table, reading the sports page of the Sunday Prophet when George came in. “Where are Fred and Thalassa?”

“Out talking in the garden,” George replied, getting a butterbeer.

Charlie folded up the paper. “Is that wise, leaving them alone like that? You know how Fred is.”

George pretended to misunderstand. “What are you going on about? They’ve been alone together loads of times. We couldn’t very well close the shop to be her bodyguards.”

“Just a little brotherly advice.” Charlie shrugged. “You don’t want to let her slip through your fingers again. Even Mum approves.”

George narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had a strict nose-out policy, Charlie.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Have it your way, oh—“ His gaze was fixed past George at something out the window.

George turned to see what had caught Charlie’s attention. Fred and Thalassa walked up from the orchard, arm-in-arm. Fred leaned close to say something to her that made her blush and she unlinked her arm from his to push at his shoulder. Her reply made him laugh and he picked her up and spun her around, careless of the broom in her hand. When he set her back on her feet, he kissed her cheek. Good, George thought, they made up.

Charlie sighed. “I did warn you, George,” he began sympathetically. He caught sight of the look on his brother’s face. “You knew!”

“Keep your voice down.” George scowled at him.

“Mum’s going to be so disappointed. She thought you were the one seeing Thalassa. She’s very likely knitting baby booties right now. Too bad, because we all know Fred’s the love them and leave them sort.”

“Would you shut it already?” George hissed.

Charlie continued, undaunted. “You’re taking this awfully well. It’s odd, really. From the charming scene at the table earlier, anyone would’ve guessed the two of you were a couple.”

George felt his face grow hot. His insides twisted as he watched the truth dawn on Charlie. Damn, Thalassa’s going to kill me, he thought.

“Sweet heaven,” Charlie whispered. “You’re both seeing her. How far has it gone? Oh my Gods, you’re both shagging her!” He barely managed to keep his voice low enough not to carry into the other room. “What the hell are you thinking?”

George ground his teeth in frustration. Thalassa would be through the door any second. He needed this conversation to be over. “Please, Charlie, whatever you think of all this, don’t say anything to make her uncomfortable,” George quickly pleaded before Fred and Thalassa came in.

“George, this was a brilliant idea.” Thalassa smiled sunnily at him. “Thank you for suggesting it.” She walked over to him and kissed his cheek, neatly lifting the butterbeer from his hand. She downed a huge gulp and handed the bottle off to Fred. He took a long swallow and handed it back to George with a casual, “Thanks, bro'.”

Charlie watched their interaction with a guarded expression. It wasn’t surprising that the twins would try something like this. They’d been flying in the face of convention since they could toddle. To bring their shared mistress home and introduce her to their parents, though, that was just not on. Still, Thalassa didn’t seem like the sort of woman that would carry on with two men at the same time, whatever ‘that sort’ was. She seemed like a perfectly nice, normal witch. Well, as normal as anyone who’d turned down the honor of being a prefect could be, he thought. She seemed equally devoted to both Fred and George, defending them to Mum like that, and she certainly had the knack of reining them in when they started to get obnoxious. The twins were both of age, had been for a few years now, as hard as that sometimes was to believe. Whatever game they were playing, it wasn’t really any of his business, and he had other, more important matters to occupy his attention. He stood up. “I have to be going. Thalassa, it was a pleasure meeting you.” He held out his hand to her and she shook it.

“The pleasure was mine, Charlie. I’ve heard so much about you from Fred and George. I’m sorry I missed your visit to Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Oh? Weren’t you there at the time? I thought perhaps these two had just neglected to introduce you in all the excitement.”

“No. What with N.E.W.T.s and all, I didn’t feel much like watching any game that wasn’t Quidditch.” A shadow crossed her features as she thought back to her horrible last year at school. Then she resolutely pushed her sadness aside. “The next time you’re home for a visit, we should all get together and go for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, talk Quidditch and whatnot. I’ll bet you have some fascinating stories about Fred and George when they were small.”

He grinned, making the family resemblance obvious. “I do, at that.”

“You know quite enough of our secrets already,” Fred protested.

“There’s no such thing as ‘enough’ when it comes to secrets,” she replied. “Besides, you owe me at least one after letting me put my foot in it with your mum.”

George laughed. “Your obsessions are showing.” He turned to Charlie. “She collects secrets the way Dad collects plugs.”

“Yes, well, I learned my lesson about spilling my secrets today, didn’t I?”

They all laughed at that and the sound drew the elder Weasleys into the kitchen. “Did you have a good time flying in the orchard?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Yes I did,” Thalassa nodded. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I’ve had a lovely day.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Mrs. Weasley beamed.

“Even though she wasn’t a prefect?” Fred teased.

“Fred!” Thalassa smacked his shoulder. “I swear I’m going to owl Ginny and ask her to teach me that Bat-Bogey Hex you keep talking about.”

“Ow,” he complained. “Between you and George, I’ll be black and blue tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to learn to either duck or keep your mouth shut, lad,” Mr. Weasley advised. “She’s another one like your mother.”

At that, Mrs. Weasley proved his point by smacking his arm with the tea towel in her hand and they all laughed again. Charlie soon left and Thalassa, Fred, and George did as well, Apparating to the alley behind her building.

As soon as they’d gone, Mrs. Weasley sighed happily. “She’ll fit in nicely. George made a good choice.”

“George?” Mr. Weasley gave her a surprised look. “I thought she was Fred’s girl.”

“No, didn’t you hear her and George over dinner? He’s fancied her since they were at school together.”

“Hmm.” He shrugged. “I could’ve sworn that was Fred I saw her with in the garden earlier. It’s difficult to tell those lads apart at a distance.”