To Dare

A/N: Here's the next installment, a little early because cliffies are evil and that wasn't the last one in the story. Welcome to newcomer simulationcait and thanks again to all my regulars who keep bumping up my hit counter *waves*.

To Dare

Chapter Fifteen

In the kitchen, Fred dampened a tea towel, handed it to Thalassa and she began dabbing at the eggnog on the front of her robe. “I should go take this off and charm the stain out,” she sighed.

“You did that on purpose,” Fred accused in a quietly dangerous voice.

She glanced up, startled. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. That was the perfect opportunity to tell everyone and you deliberately spilled your drink to spoil the moment.”

“If I did, can you blame me?” she hissed. “I keep telling you, they’re not going to be happy about this. Why ruin Christmas?”

He thrust his jaw out. “For a Gryffindor, you’re a terrible coward. Are you ashamed of us, then?”

She glared at him, her throat tight with emotion. “No, never that.” She swallowed and then said, “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” She threw the tea towel on the table.

“No,” he replied.

“Very well, but I don’t want to make a big announcement in front of everybody. We tell your parents first, alone.”

“All right,” he agreed.

“Oi, you two,” Ron interrupted, leaning in from the hall. “Harry says to hurry up, he hasn’t given you your present yet, Thalassa.” He looked at them curiously, taking in their angry expressions and belligerent postures. “Trouble?”

“No.” Thalassa forced herself to relax. “Everything’s fine. I’ll just nip upstairs and change. I can charm this out later.” She slipped past Ron and fled up the stairs. She was just pulling on the plain robe she’d brought to wear the next day when Ginny knocked and stuck her head in.

“Are you decent? Good.” The youngest Weasley sidled in. “Percy’s making an ass of himself because he wants to leave and Harry says everyone has to be here when he gives you your gift.”

Thalassa rolled her eyes. “I’d better hurry then, before Percy tries to dock me points or something.”

Ginny laughed. “Good Keeping today, by the way. How’d you ever manage on that antique you were flying?” She put out the candles as they walked out of the bedroom.

“First of all, that antique is a damn good broom. The Firebolt and the Lightning Bolt are both based on the same design.” Thalassa smiled impishly. “And you have to remember that I watched every Gryffindor practice and match that Fred, George and Harry ever flew until I left school. None of them can keep from advertising what they’re about to do. But mostly,” she lowered her voice. “I used an old Slytherin tactic from back in my mother’s day.”

“Which was?” Ginny prompted, eyes twinkling.

“Strategic flirting to distract your opponent.”

“You know, I thought Fred and George were off their game.”

“Fred started it, when he called me a girl.” Thalassa shrugged. “They say all’s fair in love and war. I figure that applies to Quidditch, too.” They both laughed as they entered the living room.

“About time,” Percy groused. “I have an early day tomorrow. Boxing Day, you know.” He puffed out his chest importantly.

“Sod off, Perce,” Fred said genially. “Boxing Day or not, you’ll still be a prat.”

“Shut up, the both of you,” Harry ordered. “Thalassa, Fred and George tell me that the improvement in positive cash flow at the joke shop is solely due to your advice and help. I though it only right that I give you this.” He handed her roll of official-looking parchment.

“What’s this?” She unrolled and skimmed the documents. “You’re giving me thirteen percent ownership of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes?” She goggled at him, stunned. “But--I don’t understand.”

“Harry gave us the money to get started,” George explained. “He holds—held a one-third share.”

“And I’m still keeping twenty percent. Congratulations, partner.” He held out his hand to Thalassa.

“Thank you,” she said faintly and shook his hand. “I can’t believe this.”

George and Fred gave her enthusiastic hugs. “Now you’re stuck with us,” George whispered in her ear.

Then there was the flurry of goodbyes and well-wishing as Percy left and Harry got ready to go.

“Thank you again, Harry. A share of the business is more than I ever dreamed of.” Thalassa smiled wonderingly.

“It seemed like a good way to keep you involved. Those two are great at product development, but not much for the nuts and bolts of running a business.” With a glance around to make sure no one was listening, he added more quietly,” I have to agree with Mrs. Weasley, though. I rather expected an announcement from you and either Fred or George tonight. A share of the business would’ve made a brilliant engagement gift.”

Thalassa felt her insides twist. Perhaps Fred and George were right; it was time to tell their family. Best to get it over with and let the Bludgers fly where they would. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, George interrupted.

“What are you two whispering about over there?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was just complimenting Thalassa on her Keeping today,” Harry lied without a blush and turned back to her. “How did you manage?”

“Ginny and I were just discussing that earlier. Why don’t you have her show you sometime?” Thalassa grinned as Harry’s ears turned red.

“Perhaps I will,” he said with a wistful glance in Ginny’s direction. Soon after, he wished everyone a Happy Christmas and left.

Bill went up to bed, giving the excuse that he was still under the weather from the full moon. Ron and Hermione slipped away to say goodnight to each other privately. Thalassa enlisted Ginny’s help to gather her gifts and take them upstairs. As Thalassa began carefully packing her new treasures in her suitcase, Ginny admired the spiderweb necklace, turning it so the candlelight sparkled on the gems.

“I wish I had someone to give me jewels like this,” she said with a little sigh. “So, which one gave you the necklace?”

“Seeking, Ginny?” Thalassa raised one eyebrow as she folded the jeans and jumper she’d worn earlier and packed them.

“Well, it’s obvious there’s something going on. They both adore you, but they’re not fighting. You behave the same with both of them and none of us can figure out which one you’re seeing. My money’s on George. He told me back in the summer that he’s fancied you since you were both at school.”

“Why can’t we be just friends?”

“Because men don’t give gifts like this to women who are ‘just friends’,” Ginny held up the necklace.

Thalassa was spared from answering by Hermione coming in, flushed and more dishevelled than usual.

Ginny smiled indulgently. “All right, Hermione?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Hermione replied absently. “George said to send you down, Thalassa. He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” Thalassa took the necklace from Ginny and fastened it around her neck. Then she squared her shoulders and walked out, looking for all the world like a condemned prisoner going to face the Dementors.

George was sitting at the table when she reached the foot of the stairs. He smiled to see her wearing the necklace. “Ready?” he asked, standing.

“Not really,” she replied. “But let’s get this over with.”

He took her hand and they went back into the living room. Fred was playing a game of solitaire with the Exploding Snap pack. Charlie and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked up from their conversation.

“There you are, my dear,” Molly said. “I was worried you’d had enough of all of us and gone to bed.”

“No. Truly, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Thalassa answered with a tremulous smile.

“Mum, Dad, we have something we need to tell you,” Fred said and he gathered up the cards, squared the pack and set it aside. “Charlie, if you don’t mind…”

“Say no more.” He stood. “G’night, Mum.” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Dad.” He nodded. “Happy Christmas, Thalassa. It’s always nice to see your face at the table,” he kissed her cheek as well and whispered, “Fred and George chose well.”

She barely managed to keep from gaping at him. He knew. He’d known nearly all along. “Thank you, Charlie. Happy Christmas.”

He nodded to the twins. “Fred. George.”

“’Night, Charlie.”

“Happy Christmas, Charlie.” They spoke at the same time.

He went up the stairs, nearly bumping into Ron between the second and third landings. “What are you doing skulking on the stairs?” He frowned.

“Not tired yet,” Ron answered shortly. “I was going to see if you wanted a game of chess.”

“No, I’m off to bed. Stay out of the living room, right? Fred, George and Thalassa are talking to Mum and Dad. They want some privacy.”

“All right,” Ron agreed. As Charlie continued on up the stairs, Ron cast a speculative look down towards the first floor. He fished in his pocket a moment and pulled out a piece of string.

Ginny stuck her head out the door to her room. “Will you hold it down? Hermione’s trying to sleep,” she whispered. “What are you doing?” she scowled suspiciously, stepping out onto the landing and closing the door behind her.

“Fred, George and Thalassa are talking to Mum and Dad. I heard Fred and Thalassa arguing in the kitchen earlier about telling us something she didn’t think we’d want to hear. I’ll bet you he got her pregnant.” He held out another piece of string to Ginny. “Extendable Ear?”

“What are you, twelve? You’re an Auror cadet, Ron. You know better than to eavesdrop on something that isn’t any of our business.”

“Come on, don’t you want to know?” he wheedled. “Besides, if I’m right, it’s our nephew or niece. That makes it sort of our business.”

Ginny sighed, took the string from him, and they crept down to the first landing.


Thalassa sat down on the couch, Fred and George on either side of her.

“At last,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. “So tell me my dear, which of my boys has won your heart?”

Taking a deep breath, Thalassa glanced first at George and then at Fred. “Both of them,” she said simply.

Molly’s smile faltered. “But I—what do you mean, ‘both of them’?”

“She loves both of us, Mum, and we both love her,” George explained gently.

The senior Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks. “I’m afraid we don’t understand,” Arthur began carefully. “Are you asking for our advice on how to resolve this?”

“No, Dad,” Fred answered. “There’s nothing to resolve. The three of us are going to build a relationship together.”

Thalassa sat there, saying nothing, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. George took her hand in his.

Mrs. Weasley jumped to her feet, hands on hips. “Fred and George Weasley! How dare you coerce this poor girl into one of your pranks? Hasn’t she been through enough?”

“This isn’t a prank!” Fred interrupted. “We’re serious about this.”

“Well that’s just nonsense!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.

“Please, try to understand—“ George began.

“Understand!” she shrieked. “Fred, you—“

“George,” Thalassa corrected automatically.

“What’s that?” Mr. Weasley looked at her blankly.

Thalassa flushed, realizing her error. “That’s George,” she explained weakly. “Mrs. Weasley called him Fred.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she huffed. “I’m distraught. Is it any wonder I got a little confused?”

“Thalassa’s never once gotten us mixed up,” George said with quiet pride, squeezing her hand in encouragement.

“That’s neither here nor there. You three can’t actually mean to—that is, you can’t—it’s just not done!”

Fred took Thalassa’s other hand in his. “We’re not fooling ourselves. We know this won’t be easy, but it’s what we want.”

“What does your mother say about all this?” Mrs. Weasley indicated the relationship with a shaky wave of one hand. “I can’t imagine she’s thrilled with the idea.”

“No,” Thalassa said bleakly. “’Thrilled’ is not a word I’d use to describe my mother’s reaction.”

“She threw us out of the apothecary,” George said indignantly.

“Said we ‘debauched’ her innocent daughter,” Fred added bitterly.

Thalassa squeezed his hand in warning. Had she been alone with Fred and George, she might have laughed and reminded Fred that he'd worried that they had done exactly that. “Actually,” she admitted reluctantly, “my mother has said that she no longer has a daughter and she assured me that if my father were alive, he’d have me bricked up in a tower.”

“Surely you see her point,” said Mr. Weasley. “I’m afraid only disaster awaits you if you continue down this path.”

Angry protests erupted from either side of her, but Thalassa cut across Fred and George’s arguments. “Enough! I told you this is how it would be.” She gathered the shreds of her dignity and faced Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “I’m so sorry to have upset you both especially after you’ve made me so welcome. I’ll not impose on your hospitality further.” She choked out the last few words and fled.


On the landing above, Ron and Ginny stared at one another in shock. Ginny removed the Extendable Ear and handed it back. “Too bad I didn’t take your bet,” she chuckled.

“How can you laugh about it?” Ron was appalled. “It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be such a prude. If they’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t know how they stand it. I mean, Harry’s my best mate, but I could never share Hermione with him. It’s just…”

“Shh.” She tugged him back into the shadows as Thalassa ran, crying, through the kitchen and out the back door. “I’m going to bed,” Ginny whispered. “You’d better not let Fred and George catch you listening in.”


Back in the living room, Fred jumped to his feet. “No woman could ever be good enough for any of your sons, is that it?” he exploded. “Thalassa, wait!” He ran after her.

George stood more slowly. “We know we’ve been a huge disappointment for you in so many ways and truly, we didn’t expect you to be enthusiastic about this, but you like Thalassa. You were perfectly willing to welcome her into the family when you thought she’d chosen just one of us. Do you have any idea how hard it was for her to tell you this tonight? It took both Fred and me to convince her you’d react better than her mother. And by the way, she wouldn’t have told her mother at all, but the woman walked in on the three of us snogging in the back room of the apothecary.”

“George!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, hands flying to cover her ears. “There are some things a mother just doesn’t want to know.”

“Obviously.” He laughed bitterly. “Thalassa was right, she did tell us this would be your reaction. Fred and I thought you’d be able to see how happy she’s made us.”

“That’s enough, George,” Mr. Weasley said sternly. “You’ve given your mother and me a terrible shock tonight. If we didn’t react with as much grace as you might have hoped, you should recall that we’re only human. However, I stand by what I said: this might be a pleasant enough lark, but I see no future in this relationship.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Father,” George said stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe the woman I love needs me.” With that, he stalked out. He found Fred and Thalassa in the frozen garden, clinging forlornly to one another in the moonlight. He joined them, wrapping an arm around each.

Thalassa raised her tearstained face from Fred’s shoulder as she slipped one arm around George’s waist. “Oh George, it was so much worse than I imagined,” she cried. “ We broke your mother’s heart.”

“She’s been breaking her heart over us for years,” Fred brutally dismissed his mother’s distress.

“That’s as it may be, but I’d have given almost anything not to see that look on her face.”

“It will all blow over in a few days,” George soothed. “Perhaps a couple of weeks and then they’ll realize we’re serious and come ‘round. For now, though, we need to get inside. It’s freezing out here.” He shivered.

“I’m not staying here tonight,” Thalassa hiccoughed. “I’ll go back to my flat. Just get my things out of Ginny’s room.”

“At least wait in the kitchen where it’s warm,” George urged.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear it to see your mother look at me like I was a particularly bad infestation of Bundimuns.”

“I’ll go,” Fred volunteered. “I’m turning blue.” He disentangled himself and went back into the house. He could hear his mother still crying and railing in the living room while his father tried to console her. He tiptoed up the stairs and scratched on Ginny’s door. “Gin, you still awake?” he whispered.

She opened the door, still dressed. “What is it?”

“Pass me out Thalassa’s things. She’s going back to her flat tonight.”

“Mum and Dad took it that bad?”

“You heard?”

She nodded. “Extendable Ears. Sorry, Fred. Ron and I couldn’t resist. Hold on.” She retreated back into her room and Fred heard the soft murmur of conversation between her and Hermione. She returned after a moment with Thalassa’s suitcase, robe and cloak. “Will you be back tonight after you see her home?”

“No. George and I will come back tomorrow for our things. We’ll stay over the shop or something.”

“Tell Thalassa not everyone is angry with her. You can always send me an owl, or Hermione. You’d best leave Ron out of it, though.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“Be careful. And Fred?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t give up. Thalassa’s a really great person. I can see why you and George love her. I can even sort of understand why you’re willing to do whatever it takes to be with her. Love is too precious a gift to pass up.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “When did you get to be so much wiser than me?”

She smirked. “I was born wiser than you, you prat. Go on, they’re waiting for you.”

Outside, Thalassa stood in the circle of George’s arms, the last traces of her tears freezing on her cheeks. She didn’t feel the icy wind that cut through her thin robe, or the snow that melted and soaked her boots. Her misery had taken her beyond such lesser discomforts.

George shivered. “Hurry up, Fred,” he mumbled.

Thalassa tipped her head back to look at him. “Idiots,” she said, belatedly pulling out her wand and casting a Warming Charm on him. “Tell me when it's enough.”

After a moment, he sighed, “Ah, much better. Let’s get our brooms out of the shed.”

She stumbled along beside him as he retrieved their brooms. Soon after, Fred returned carrying Thalassa’s things and his and George’s jackets. George quickly shrugged into his jacket, as the Warming Charm did nothing to block the wind. Thalassa settled her cloak around her shoulders in a swirl of black wool and took her robe and broom.

“Ready to go home?” Fred asked.

Thalassa nodded and Disapparated with a pop. Her building was quiet, most of her neighbours having gone to stay with their families or else spending the holiday in a self-medicated stupor. The flat was cold and George went to light a fire. Thalassa draped her cloak on the rack behind the door and made sure George had hung up her broom. She made a small adjustment to balance it more securely on its hooks. She stepped back, eyed the wall space and with a flick of her wand, produced two more sets of hooks for Fred and George’s brooms. Wordlessly, she took her suitcase from Fred and began to unpack. As the silence stretched, she carefully put away her clothes and gifts. At the last, she placed the snow globe Ginny had given her and the Chocolate Frog card in its frame from Charlie on the mantel where her picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch team used to reside.

She sank to her knees in front of the fire, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and rocked back and forth, beyond words or tears. Fred and George exchanged a worried look. Fred went to her, picked her up and carried her to the bed. She didn’t resist as he stripped off her boots and socks.

“Your feet are like blocks of ice,” he scolded.

George appeared and put a glass in her hand. “Drink it,” he ordered.

With both hands, she raised the glass to her lips. She choked as the first gulp burned a path down her throat to her stomach. He’d poured her a double shot of the firewhisky she kept on hand.

“All of it,” he insisted when she tried to give the glass back. She obediently downed the whisky and then made a face. It was the first emotion she’d shown since they left the Burrow. She began to shiver violently and George caught the empty glass as it slipped from her nerveless fingers.

“Come on,” said Fred, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get you out of this robe and into bed.” He unfastened her robe enough to slip it off her shoulders. “Fuck!” he swore as his hands brushed her skin. “You’re frozen all over.” He grabbed his wand and started to do a Warming Charm on her.

She stopped him. “D-don’t, F-Fred. I c-can’t feel it,” she said, teeth chattering. “You c-could burn m-me.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You’ve nearly got frostbite.”

“You’ll j-just have to do s-something I can feel.”

At a loss, he looked down helplessly into her wide, blue eyes. Then his glance flicked up over her shoulder to question George silently.

Thalassa stepped over the crumple of black wool at her feet. Something in her had shattered tonight, the razor-sharp shards laying open her soul. All her worst expectations had been realized, save one. The men she loved still stood by her in defiance of their family’s disapproval. A need unlike any she had ever felt before seized her. She took three quick strides towards Fred, startling him and backing him up against the wall. She stretched on tiptoe and pinned him there with a demanding kiss. When she pulled back, his eyes held a look of dazed surprise. She roughly pushed his shirt up and yanked it off over his head. She reached for his belt, but George caught her from behind, trapping her arms at her sides.

“Shh. Easy,” he rasped in her ear.

She struggled against his iron hold for a moment before subsiding.

“This is a rough game you’re playing,” he warned. “Be sure this is what you want before you start.”

“George, I need—” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I need,” she finished simply.

“Very well,” he murmured, shifting his hold to free her arms. “We’ll give you what you need. You tell us what to do.”


When Thalassa awoke in the morning, she was alone. She felt blissfully sated for the span of three heartbeats before she remembered the events that caused her to be here instead of at the Burrow. Then she noticed that her skin felt bruised all over, her head pounded and her stomach churned. She rolled on her side and touched the dent in the pillow where Fred had slept. It was cold. She wallowed in self-pity for a full minute, feeling deserted and neglected. Well, perhaps not neglected, she thought, remembering her activities with Fred and George once they’d all returned to her flat last night. Goodness, had she really done that with George? And when Fred—? Colour drenched her cheeks at the memory and she buried her face in the pillow. Oh Gods, facing them again was going to be more than a little uncomfortable. Whatever had possessed her last night?

It could only have been the hopelessness she’d felt after the row at the Burrow. Even though she’d expected the Weasleys to disapprove of her relationship with Fred and George, it still hurt far more than she’d thought it would. Never having been a part of a truly loving family before, she was now completely adrift. Some part of her had hoped she’d be wrong about Mrs. Weasley’s reaction. Thalassa had never been more sorry to be proved right.

She sat up slowly, giving her uneasy stomach time to adjust. There was no sense moping. What was done was done. Even if she were to break up with one or both of them, there was no going back. The words couldn’t be unsaid; the truth couldn’t be unknown again. Although, at this point, she wouldn’t have minded going back in time to stop George from giving her that firewhisky. She didn’t think she’d ever been this hung over before, and certainly not from such a small amount of alcohol. Perhaps it was just the dehydration that made her feel so wretched. Tears, sweat, saliva and other fluids—she’d expended them all last night. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, rose unsteadily to her feet, and staggered around the wardrobe to her work area. She grabbed the worktable for support and noticed a scrap of parchment on top of the cluttered surface. She squinted at it, trying to get her eyes to focus.

Thalassa, she read. We’ve gone back to the Burrow to pack up our things. We thought it best to let you sleep. We’ll be back after Mum’s through telling us how we're ruining all our lives. Love, George and Fred

Then, in a back-slanting hand was a postscript: Last night before we left, Ginny and Hermione said to tell you not everyone is upset about us. Love, Fred and George.

Thalassa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and at the moment, either seemed likely to upset her tenuous equilibrium. She sank to her knees and began rummaging through the boxes under the table for a hangover cure. She quickly found it and, clutching the bottle of pink-and-green liquid, pulled herself to her feet and tottered off to the loo. The potion had a tendency to induce vomiting in some people, and she wasn’t going to take any chances. She did have a few uncomfortable moments after gulping a dose, but she managed to keep it down. She started to feel steadier almost immediately.

The next order of business was a bath. She positively reeked of sex—not surprising considering how many times the three of them had accomplished the feat last night before falling into an exhausted slumber. She blushed anew. Gods, it was a wonder she could walk at all. She soaked in the tub until she became thirsty enough to consider drinking her bathwater. Then she dried off and wrapped the towel around her, not bothering with her dressing gown. She stood at the kitchen sink and drank glass after glass of water. Then it was back to the loo for a long pee. Sitting on the toilet, she noticed large bruises on her inner thighs. She hadn’t seen the marks before; the hot bath must have brought them to the surface. From the shape and placement, they could only be from gripping her broomstick too tightly during the Quidditch match. No wonder she was so sore this morning: a game of Quidditch with some of the best players to come out of Gryffindor in the last few years, then freezing her arse off for a full twenty minutes out in below-zero weather having an emotional meltdown, capped off with several hours of energetic lovemaking. Energetic lovemaking, hah. More like merciless shagging.

Muscles all up and down her back twinged when she stood. She padded back to her work area. Somewhere in the boxes under the table she knew she had some liniment that would help with the bruising and sore muscles. One of these days, she’d have to organize the potions she kept at home. She was still there on the floor, searching, when the door opened. George stood in the doorway with Fred right behind him.

“What are you doing?” George asked, surprised to see her there in nothing more than a towel.

“Shut the door,” she snapped.

Fred gave George a push and kicked the door closed behind them. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for some liniment. Ah, here it is.” She pulled out a jar and stood, holding it out. “Who wants to rub it in?”

“I do,” they both said, grinning as they set down their trunks.

“Fine.” She handed over the jar, turned her back to them and dropped her towel.

“Go lay down on the bed,” George told her.

“Not on your life. It took me fifteen minutes this morning just to peel myself off the sheets.”

Fred snickered and started massaging the liniment into her right arm and shoulder while George worked on her left side.

“Go ahead and laugh,” Thalassa said irritatedly. “As soon as we’re done here, we’re going to take the sheet off and flip the mattress and wash the pillows and duvet.”

“What about the bed curtains?” George asked, giving her a wide-eyed look when she turned her head to gape at him.

“Perhaps we should leave that for tomorrow,” Fred said, a smile in his voice, “in case we get carried away again tonight.”

She groaned and ducked her head.

George chuckled. “Pay up, Fred. I told you she’d still be able to blush, even after last night.”

“Oh, you two,” she growled, exasperated. “Listen, about last night…” Complete honesty, she reminded herself. “I’m, ah, a little embarrassed about some of the things that I—that we did.”

Fred had moved around in front of her and she could barely meet his concerned gaze. Behind her, George pushed aside the long swath of her hair so he could kiss the back of her neck. “I don’t know why you should be embarrassed. You were amazing,” he murmured against her skin. She shivered and closed her eyes, but opened them again when she heard Fred’s gasp of shock. He was staring in horror at her bruises.

“Did we do that to you?” He knelt at her feet and began smoothing the liniment over the purple and red marks.

“No,” she answered, a bit surprised. “That happened during the Quidditch match, trying to force my Silver Arrow to perform more like a Lightning Bolt.”

He made a tsking sound. “You don’t have to hurt yourself to impress us. We already love you.”

“Good Lord, Fred. Up until this moment, I would’ve sworn you didn’t have a sensitive bone in your body. Falling in love has made you a changed man,” George teased.


At the Burrow, Molly Weasley stared hard at her twins’ hands on her clock. They stayed stuck fast on ‘Home’ as they had all last night after Fred and George left with Thalassa. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, as she turned away, unable to face the evidence of what she viewed as a triple betrayal.