To Dare

A/N: I haven't thanked my reviewers these past couple of chapters, but I don't want anyone to think that's because I don't read my reviews or because I don't appreciate them. I treasure every word and I deeply appreciate you lot taking the time to leave me your reactions and encouragement.

To Dare

Chapter Fourteen

Snow had fallen during the night, blanketing Diagon Alley for the winter solstice. The cobblestones were slippery underfoot as Thalassa went from shop to shop, searching for the perfect gifts. Fred and George had relayed their mother’s invitation to Christmas at the Burrow and Thalassa meant to earn as much goodwill as possible. The twins were getting more insistent about telling their family about their relationship with Thalassa. It was the only note of discord to mar their time with her.

“It’s different for you,” she had tried to explain during their last argument. “You know your parents will always love you, no matter how much they may disapprove of what you do. I don’t have the luxury of that guarantee.” Since that horrible scene at the apothecary, the Burrow had become a haven for Thalassa. Most weekends, Fred and George dragged her to Sunday dinner and Mrs. Weasley seemed to have extra mothering to lavish on Thalassa, as she did with all her children’s friends. That wasn’t something she wanted to give up. In the end, Thalassa prevailed upon them to wait until after Christmas to tell their parents. For today though, she pushed all such worries aside and lost herself in the pure, feminine joy of shopping. When she finally made her way back to her flat, tired and happy, her supply of Galleons was considerably less.

George was waiting impatiently for her. “Where have you been? Fred is out looking for you.”

She blinked in surprise. “I went Christmas shopping. You knew I was going today.”

“It was dark two hours ago. Anything could have happened to you.”

Thalassa bit down hard on her tongue to keep from telling him he sounded like his mother. She put down her shopping bags and hugged him. “Thank you. It’s nice to know I was missed. I’m sorry I worried you. Send Ixchel with a note for Fred. She’ll track him down.” Then she picked up her purchases and spread them out on the table. She Summoned gift wrap, ribbon and Spellotape as George scratched a few words on a scrap of parchment and sent it with Thalassa’s owl. He calmed down then and came over to see what she’d bought.

She proudly showed off her finds: Chudley Cannons tickets for Ron, Weird Sisters tickets for Ginny and a picture frame for Mrs. Weasley that could store up to twenty photos and display them in any order. “I found this at Mystik Jewels for Bill. I had them set it as an earring.” She held up a tiny talon clutching a crystal ball. “It identifies curses within five feet.”

“Handy,” George commented. “And potentially embarrassing if he gets within five feet of you.”

She made an impatient noise. “It has to be activated first. Besides, the Infertility Curse should have worn off long before we open gifts. Look, I found this at Flourish and Blotts for Hermione. Just in from the States.” She held up a large volume on civil rights for magical creatures. “And one of those new spell’phones for Percy so he can stay in touch with the office no matter where he is.”

“I don’t see anything in all this for Fred or me,” George pouted.

“Yours is being delivered tomorrow.” That wasn’t entirely true. Part of their gift was hidden in her lingerie drawer but she wasn’t about to let them unwrap that in front of their whole family, especially since she’d be wearing it when they did.

“Give me a hint?”

“No. It won’t kill you to wait. You’ll still get it before Christmas.”

Ixchel tapped on the window to be let in and Thalassa hurried to open the pane for her. The owl hopped onto her arm. “That’s a good girl,” she praised. “Note’s gone. She must’ve found him.”

A few minutes later Fred slammed the door to the flat and threw his dragonhide jacket on the couch. “Where the hell were you?” he demanded and Thalassa had to endure another lecture while George looked on, grinning. “What’s so bloody funny?” Fred scowled.

“You,” George laughed. “You sound like Mum.”

Thalassa gave him an annoyed look. “So did you.” She went to Fred and kissed his cheek. “Thank you both for your concern, but I was perfectly safe. Diagon Alley was as crowded as I’ve ever seen it and on the way home the Underground was packed with Muggles. I was never alone all day. Next time before you panic, send Ixchel. She’s the best owl I’ve ever known. I’ll bet she could find me even if I were wearing an Invisibility Cloak.”


On Christmas Eve, Euryale kept the apothecary open until noon. Thalassa finished the scent-free burn salve she’d developed for Charlie. According to Mrs. Weasley, the dragons didn’t like the smell of any of the products currently available. At closing, Thalassa handed her mother an elegantly wrapped package.

“What’s this?” Euryale looked at it suspiciously. “If you think you can buy your way back into my good graces…”

“Oh just open it, Mother,” Thalassa sighed in exasperation. “Business has been exceptionally good this year. As your partner, I felt I owed you a token of my appreciation.”

Euryale unwrapped the flat box and opened it. Nestled in green velvet was a silver torc shaped like a serpent. Emerald chips glittered for eyes and the mouth was opened to reveal delicately sculpted fangs.

“It will tell you if someone’s lying to you. All you need to do to activate the spell is prick your thumb on one of the fangs.”

“It’s beautiful,” Euryale said stiffly. “Thank you.”

“Happy Christmas, Mother.”

“Happy Christmas,” the older witch responded, subdued. “You go on ahead. I’ll lock up today.”

“As you wish.” Thalassa gathered her things and left, humming a Christmas carol. She found Fred outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the new Lightning Bolt on display.

“It’s supposed to be even faster and more manoeuvrable than the Firebolts,” he said when she slipped her arm through his.

“I see they managed to get Harry Potter’s endorsement.” She nodded to the banner strung across the top of the display window. “First time I’ve seen that from someone who wasn’t a professional Quidditch player.”

“Yeah, Mum said the company’s been after him for months.”

After a last look, they headed off to the Leaky Cauldron. “Where’s George? I thought you were both meeting me today.”

“He said he had some last-minute shopping to do. How did your mother like her gift?”

“Well enough to accuse me of trying to buy my way back into her good graces.” They walked into the taproom followed by a swirl of snowflakes, ordered hot rum punch and found a table near the fireplace.

“Your mother is unbelievable.” Fred shook his head.

“She’s not wrong. I am trying to bribe her.” Their drinks arrived and she took a sip of her punch. “You have to understand, my mother is Slytherin to the end. She values power in all its forms and precious little else. My association with you and your family adds nothing to her consequence, so she disapproves. I wish I could’ve gotten her something that would tell her others’ secrets, not just their lies.”

“That would take dark magic to accomplish.” He frowned. “And do you really think it a good idea to put that kind of power in her hands? You said it yourself, she’s Slytherin to the end.”

“Slytherin doesn’t necessarily equal evil, though it often turns out that way. And you’re right, it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea, but she would’ve loved it, all that juicy gossip whispered right in her ear. If you’d let me shop in Knockturn Alley, we might be keeping Christmas Eve at Hartwell House.”

“If you went shopping for dark artefacts, you might not be keeping Christmas at all.”

“You worry too much. Whatever happened to the Fred Weasley I knew at school? He would’ve thought a trip down Knockturn Alley was a great lark.”

“Guess he grew up, poor sod,” he said morosely.

“Pathetic,” she teased.

“What about you, then? Willing to risk your neck to find a Christmas gift for a woman who’s disowned you, but afraid to come clean to the family about our relationship.”

Thalassa’s smile faded. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until after the holidays.”

“We have to tell them sooner or later. It’s getting harder and harder to avoid answering their questions.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Your mother’s done everything but send me a Howler. I just don’t want to ruin Christmas. It’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Now who’s worrying too much?”

“What’s with you two? ‘Tis the season to be jolly, or hadn’t you heard?” George had just arrived, red-cheeked from the cold.

“Same row, different day,” she replied, standing up to give him a hug. “Cup of cheer before we go, or are you ready now?”

“Let’s go. Fred and I still have to get back to the Burrow tonight.” He gave her a hungry look that told her he didn’t intend to waste what time they had sipping rum punch in a public tavern. When they got back to her flat, she made them wait in the living room while she changed into the bit of crimson satin and lace that she’d bought more than two weeks ago. Their reactions were predictable, but satisfying all the same.

The next day an insistent tapping at her window awakened Thalassa. She wrapped the quilt around herself and went to let in a screech owl weighed down with a large package.

“Thank you, Sophia.” She took the owl’s burden.

Her own owl hooted a sleepy protest at having to share her perch.

“Oh budge up, Ixchel. Can’t you see Sophia’s half frozen?” Thalassa eagerly unwrapped the package. Sophia was her mother’s owl, so this could only be her Christmas gift—an unexpected offering. It was a new dress robe of soft, midnight blue wool. At the cuffs, hem and collar was a delicate pattern of stars worked in silver thread. The card, unsigned, simply wished her a Happy Christmas. Not peace, then, Thalassa interpreted, but a definite cease-fire. The thought gave her hope for the new year as she went to take her bath and get ready. She’d packed her suitcase the morning before and the gifts for today were neatly bundled in a large sack. She dressed in jeans and jumper but decided to bring her new robe to change into for tea. She had just sent Sophia off with a prettily worded thank you note when the twins’ new owl, the other part of their Christmas gift, arrived with a hastily scrawled message for her.

Bring your broom. Harry showed up. We’ll play four-a-side Quidditch.
--Fred

Thalassa groaned. It was too late to shop for any more gifts and she couldn’t show up with something for everyone but Harry Potter. She cast about for something appropriate, but what did she have to give the most famous, not to mention very rich, wizard on the planet? The photograph on the mantel caught her eye. A candid shot of the Gryffindor Quidditch team the year they had won the Quidditch Cup; it was one of her most prized possessions. She hated to part with the picture, but it was the only thing she had that would make a fitting gift. She dusted it off and quickly wrapped it before she could change her mind.

The clock chimed the hour, reminding her it was time to leave. She moved Ixchel’s perch on to the glassed-in balcony that doubled as her greenhouse, made sure there was plenty of food and water and shooed the owls out. They could get outside from there to hunt if they wanted to. Thalassa lit a fire in the grate and gathered up her suitcase, broom and the sack of presents. A pinch of Floo powder and she was gone in a burst of green flame.

The kitchen at the Burrow was warm and filled with the rich smells of baked goods and roasting meat. Fred and George rose from their seats at the table to give her wide grins and warm hugs. George took the sack of gifts and Fred relieved her of her broom.

“I’m glad you’re here, my dear,” Mrs. Weasley greeted Thalassa. “Now perhaps these two will get out from underfoot.”

Thalassa laughed. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Weasley.”

Fred put Thalassa’s Silver Arrow outside and returned to take her suitcase. “You’re in Ginny’s room. I’ll show you where it is.”

“All right. George, those just go in under the tree. Be careful, because some of them are fragile.” She turned and followed Fred up the crooked staircase. The Burrow was always a delight for Thalassa. Apparently held together with nothing more than magic and love, the house symbolized everything she envied about Fred and George’s upbringing. Fred stopped on the third landing. “You’ll have to get the door,” he told her. “It won’t open for any of us blokes.”

“Handy charm,” she commented, turning the knob. “I suppose if I had you lot for brothers, I’d learn something similar.”

Ginny’s room was bright and cheery. Posters of Quidditch teams hung side-by-side with prints of unicorns and winged horses. Frilly yellow curtains matched the bedspreads on the three twin beds crowded up against the walls. Fred put Thalassa’s suitcase down on the nearest one and turned to her with a leer. “Alone at last.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he finally raised his head, she gave him a faintly reproving look.

“Not wise, snogging me in your sister’s room, when she or your mother or Hermione could walk in on us.”

“Mum’s too busy in the kitchen and Hermione and Ginny are outside with everyone else. Besides, I won’t be able to kiss you like that under the mistletoe later. I had to get it out of my system now.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy and appreciate your attentions, but you could’ve just waited until tomorrow when you see me home to my flat. Besides, I would hope that there’s no getting me out of your system.”

There was a scratching at the door and Fred let her go to open it. George walked in, rubbing his hands together. “All settled? Excellent. Everyone will be waiting up at the paddock.”

“Just let me get my cloak.” Thalassa turned away to open her suitcase.

“One moment.” George caught her arm. “Since I won’t get to kiss you under the mistletoe…” He pulled her to him and brought his mouth down on hers.

After long moments, she ended the kiss. “Were you listening outside the door, then? Because that’s almost exactly what Fred said.”

“No, but we are identical twins, you know. We’re bound to think alike.”

“Yes, well, right now I’m thinking we should get back downstairs before we’re tempted to clue your family in to the exact nature of our relationship in a spectacular fashion.” She picked up her cloak.

They grinned at her comment, but allowed her to shoo them out.

“Wait ‘til you see what Harry brought for our Christmas presents,” Fred said gleefully on the way down the stairs. Floating outside the kitchen door next to her Silver Arrow were two brand-new Lightning Bolts.

“Brilliant,” Thalassa laughed as she admired the sleek lines of the racing brooms. She was surprised to see the serial numbers next to the lightning bolt insignia on the handles were two, on Fred’s, and three, on George’s.

“It was the only way he’d endorse them,” George explained. “He made them cough up the first seven off the line. He gave the first to Ron and he took the seventh.”

“So who didn’t get one?”

“Percy. Harry got him some new planner-organiser thing based on those Muggle hand-held computers.” Fred chuckled. “Perce almost wet himself.”

“Like you two weren’t just as excited to get these,” she scolded, laughing.

George turned to her with a serious look. “We didn’t know he’d brought us these when we sent Hodge this morning, so I’ll lend you mine when we play.”

“That’s quite all right,” she refused as she took up her Silver Arrow. “Grandma flew this beauty in ’41 when the Harpies won the Cup. She’ll do fine for me.”

“Come on,” Fred urged. “The others are nearly done up at the paddock.” The rest of the Weasley siblings, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were gathered at the top of the hill, wands upraised. The air was hazy with spells.

“What are they doing?” She was puzzled.

“Wait and see.” George smiled mischievously. As the three of them drew near, the others lowered their wands.

Hermione turned as the rest went ahead into the clearing. “You’ll only have about an hour and a half before the cloaking spell breaks down, but it’ll be time to quit then anyway and get cleaned up for dinner. Hello, Thalassa. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” Thalassa responded with a smile and followed the others.

She experienced a moment of disorientation as she stepped over the edge of the layered spells. Inside the ring of trees, the old paddock had been enlarged to a full size Quidditch pitch, complete with fifty-foot high goals.

“Merlin,” she whispered in amazement. She was reminded once again of the rarefied company she kept by associating with Fred and George. Five wizards and two witches had done the cloaking spell that had taken a team of fifty Ministry officials to weave for the Quidditch World Cup, though on a somewhat smaller scale. Plus, they’d worked the complicated spell that created larger space within a smaller area, and conjured the goal posts out of nothing—all for an hour and a half’s worth of entertainment.

“Oi, you three!” Ron called. They hurried over to where the rest were clustered around a pile of protective gear and the crate that held the balls. There was a flurry of Christmas greetings and introductions. Fred and George had tried to warn her about Bill’s appearance, but nothing could have prepared her for the web of angry red scars that crisscrossed his face. There was something undeniably feral in his expression, or perhaps the tilt of his head, as well. Thalassa did her best not to show how unnerved she was, but the angry glitter in Bill’s eyes told her he wasn’t fooled.

“Harry and Charlie are captains,” Ron hurriedly explained. “Each team gets a Keeper, two Chasers and a Beater. Your Beater will have to double up as a Chaser as well. We’ll only use one Bludger for safety. Mum’ll kill us if we end up eating Christmas dinner at St. Mungo’s. No Snitch, either. We’ll just play until our time’s up. Losing side has to do the washing-up without magic.”

Thalassa looked around. “Isn’t Hermione playing?”

“Nah,” Ron replied. “She volunteered to monitor the cloaking spells for us. And Percy is our ref.”

“Sure you don’t want to swap brooms with someone, Thalassa?” Fred asked. “Percy doesn’t need a Firebolt just to ref.”

Percy was carrying Harry’s old broom. “Hey!” he protested.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

They quickly divided into teams: Harry, Bill, Fred and George against Charlie, Thalassa, Ron and Ginny.

“Right, then,” Charlie began outlining their strategy as they donned arm- and shin-guards. “Ron, Ginny, you two are the Chasers. You’re familiar with how Fred, George and Harry play. Do the unexpected; keep them off balance. Thalassa, with your older broom, I think it’s best if you play Keeper. We’ll run interference for you.”

She nodded. “I was going to volunteer if you hadn’t said so.”

As they split up to take their positions, Fred called out: “Hey, Charlie! Your Keeper’s a girl!”

Thalassa tossed her head in a thoroughly feminine gesture and shot him a smouldering glance. “Noticed that, did you?” she teased.

It was a grand game. The Lightning Bolts lived up to their name, all but leaving trails of afterimages behind them. Thalassa was able to hold her own only by virtue of having watched George, Fred and Harry at so many practices at school. Their brooms were faster than hers, but their body language laid out their strategies for her to read. She was able to anticipate their moves enough of the time that it greatly diminished the advantage the Lightning Bolts provided. She also flirted incessantly, if subtly, with Fred and George and it threw off their game to a flattering degree.

Charlie’s team was ahead by a single goal when Fred objected to one of Percy’s calls. He pulled out his wand and sent a snowball zinging straight at Percy’s head. From there, the game degenerated into a snowball fight that even brought Hermione into the fray. Nobody bothered to catch the Bludger, though, and they still had to dodge it, as well as the snowballs. Finally, Hermione reminded them that the cloaking spells were about to fade. They abandoned the fight and began stripping off their gear. The Bludger was caught and wrestled into the box. Fred still argued about Percy’s call, saying that the score should’ve been tied, but Percy refused to reverse his judgment.

“If you hadn’t started throwing snowballs, you could’ve played another fifteen minutes and you might have evened up the score.”

“Let it go, mate,” Ron said. “Besides, you’ve upheld your tradition. You and George always manage to get into a snowball fight on Christmas. Remember the time you got detention for nearly knocking Quirrel’s turban off?”

“That wasn’t actually at Christmas, but yeah. Could’ve saved us all a lot of trouble if we’d just hit him a little harder,” George grumbled.

“Wouldn’t that have been something?” Harry teased. “What a headline for The Prophet: ‘Weasley Twins Save Wizarding World With Prank’. Maybe then I could’ve just enjoyed my years at Hogwarts instead of having to battle Voldemort or one of his minions every year.”

Thalassa stood by in shock. She was wholly unused to such casual references to the struggle against Voldemort—she could barely even think the evil wizard’s name! Fred noticed her distress and changed the subject.

“Good Keeping, Thalassa. You should have tried out for the House team back at school.” He took her broomstick and looked at it suspiciously. “Unless this isn’t standard issue.”

“No, everything’s original except the tail twigs. Hey!”

George had scooped her up and settled her sidesaddle in front of him on his Lightning Bolt. “Just a quick flight around the pitch before it’s only the paddock again. These brooms truly are brilliant,” he said by way of explanation as he took off with her into the sky.

“Now that’s the way to sweep a girl off her feet,” Ginny commented and they all groaned at her pun.

Ron clapped Fred on the shoulder. “Tough luck, mate. Looks like the legendary Fred Weasley charm finally failed you.”

“Things aren’t always what they seem, Ron,” Fred replied with a smirk, but refused to elaborate.

They all trooped back to the house, George and Thalassa following more slowly, in close conversation.

“Fred and I want to tell them tonight,” George said in a low voice.

She looked at him, dismayed, and saw his face was set in determined lines. “This is a bad idea,” she warned. “Your family is not going to want to hear news like this on Christmas.” They stowed their brooms in the shed.

“It’s not going to be that bad. Everyone likes you. They already think you’re seeing one of us, they just can’t figure out which one. They’ll likely be a little shocked at first, but I’m sure they’ll be able to see how much we love you and they’ll accept it. You know, Mum told us last night that, bodyguards or not, we’ve been spending too much time alone with you if one of us doesn’t have honourable intentions.”

“Bloody hell,” Thalassa sighed. “Just don’t say anything at dinner,” she begged, trying to put off what was rapidly becoming inevitable. They had arrived back at the house and they kicked snow off their boots in silence and ducked inside.

“The others are already upstairs, showering,” Mrs. Weasley informed them. “Why the lot of you thought a game of Quidditch before tea was a good idea, I’ll never know. Well, go on, and see if you can chivvy the rest of them along. Dinner in half an hour!” she called after them.

Thalassa stopped at Ginny’s room to get her things while George continued on up another flight of stairs to his and Fred’s room. It was a good thing the plumbing was just as magical as the rest of the Burrow. With ten of them trying to fit in showers before tea, they’d have run out of hot water in a hurry otherwise.

Christmas dinner was a noisy affair with twelve people packed in around the table, although it seemed that a variation of the spell used to enlarge the paddock had been cast on the kitchen. Even so, Thalassa couldn’t imagine how they could’ve made any more room. If there had been even one more person, the Burrow would surely have burst at the seams. Laughter flowed around the table and conversations frequently began with, “Remember the time that…” Fred and George had brought stacks of their new Weasleys’ Crackers, which were very similar to wizard crackers, except they didn’t ‘crack’ when pulled. The noises produced varied from door slams and rooster crows to belches and a slightly off-key trumpet fanfare.

“One in ten has a genuine Wheezes product,” George said proudly.

After that, everyone refused to touch any of the sweets that spilled out. Ron’s fez turned out to be a Headless Hat and Bill got a trick wand that turned into a bouquet of tulips. Everyone laughed when an exact replica of a Gryffindor prefect’s badge tumbled onto Thalassa’s plate. Fred helped her pin it on. “The ‘P’ stands for ‘Prankster’,” he joked.

“Does that mean I have to report you when you’re actually behaving yourself?” she teased back.

When dinner was done and the last piece of pumpkin pie fought over, Bill, Harry, Fred and George began clearing the table while everyone else filed into the living room. Thalassa lingered in the doorway, watching them work.

“What are you smirking at?” Fred demanded.

“I just want to fix this in my memory forever.” She held up her hands to frame the four of them in her view. “Gringott’s best curse-breaker, the inventors of Skiving Snackboxes, and the saviour of the wizarding world up to their elbows in soapsuds like a bunch of house-elves.”

Fred made a rude noise and George threw a wet sponge at her.

“Better not let Hermione hear you talk like that,” Harry warned, laughing. “’House-elves should be free to seek whatever employment they wish,’” he mimicked Hermione’s indignant tones.

Thalassa chuckled and left them to their chore. She joined everyone else in the living room and let Charlie and Ginny talk her into a game of Exploding Snap. Hermione and Percy were embroiled in a spirited discussion on a new creature-rights law that was being debated up at the Ministry while Ron and Mr. Weasley played a fierce game of wizard chess and Mrs. Weasley knitted. After half and hour and only two crashes of breaking crockery, Fred, George, Bill and Harry crowded into the room. Knitting, chessmen and cards were put away, political discussion tabled and cups of eggnog were passed around.

“All right, more presents.” Fred gleefully rubbed his hands together and took a seat on the couch next to Thalassa.

“I already gave you and George yours,” she chided.

He looked crestfallen. “You mean you’re not going to let us help you open yours?”

She laughed and with a wave of her wand, she passed out the gifts she’d brought. George and Fred stacked an embarrassingly large pile of gifts in front of her and proceeded to advise her on what order they should be opened. There were CDs from Bill, a ‘Weasley jumper’ and homemade baked goods from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and her own set of wizard’s chessmen made of onyx and white quartz from Ron. Ginny gave her a snowglobe that held a tiny model of Hogwarts. Hermione had knitted her a hat and mittens in Gryffindor colours and Percy got her a new pair of thin dragonhide gloves for work. Charlie gave her the Chocolate Frog card of her grandmother from the ’41 season out of his collection.

“We saved the best for last,” George said, handing her two flat packages. “From Fred and me.” He perched on the arm of the couch next to her.

She hesitated a second before she opened them, hoping the twins hadn’t gotten her something that would make telling their family about their relationship moot. The first package held a narrow band for her hair, so delicate it could’ve been woven spider silk. The second was a matching necklace wrought to look like a spiderweb. Tiny crystals like dewdrops glittered where the threads crossed.

“Oh,” was all she could say. Fred and George exchanged delighted grins over her head, but everyone else looked on in varying degrees of surprise, confusion or speculation.

Finally Ron broke the tension. “Eurgh. Why is it always spiders with you, Fred?” Everyone laughed and Thalassa breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Er, Thalassa,” Mr. Weasley said when the laughter died down. “My gift is delightful, but what is it, precisely?” He held up a mass of gears, pulleys, electrical wires and light bulbs.

“It’s a sculpture I commissioned from one of my Muggle neighbours. He calls it The Soul of the Machine. Watch.” She stretched over and lightly tapped the conglomeration with her wand. “Kinesa,” she said and the gears began to move, slowly at first, and then faster until the light bulbs began to glow and blink. She tapped it again, said, “Cessare,” and it stopped. “It’s not enchanted, you see. It just uses magic as a power source.”

“Brilliant,” he laughed.

“Thank you. I’ll let Michael know you like it.” Thalassa smiled her contentment. As she glanced around the room, everyone was admiring each other’s gifts.

“What’s that she gave you, Harry?” Fred asked.

“A picture from when we won the Quidditch Cup.” He turned it around so they could all see the team celebrate their victory again. “Colin Creevy’s work isn’t it?”

Thalassa nodded. “He always had a good eye.”

“Did she manage to clean all the slobber off where she drooled on Oliver Wood’s image?” George teased.

She elbowed him. “I told you I was over him ages ago,” she said, annoyed. “I know it’s not much, Harry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s perfect. That was one of my happiest days at school.”

“Mine, too,” she said quietly. “By the time the next year started, my father was ill and then when I left school…well, you know.” A wave of sadness washed over her and for a moment she thought she might cry. Fred casually shifted his knee over to touch hers and George leaned back on his elbow against the back of the couch, brushing her shoulder in the process. Comforted by their subtle caresses, Thalassa gave herself a mental shake. “But I’ve had time since to store up plenty of happy memories.” She reached for her eggnog and took a sip.

“And still time for many more,” Mrs. Weasley said briskly. “Actually, we were all hoping for a special announcement today.” She looked expectantly at Thalassa and then flicked questioning glances at Fred and George.

Thalassa’s cheeks soaked with colour and the hand holding her cup shook so violently she spilled eggnog down the front of her robe. “Oh, no!” she cried.

“Come on,” Fred stood, pulling her with him. “We’ll get that cleaned right up.”

They hurried into the kitchen as behind them, Mrs. Weasley complained, “What did I say?”