To Dare

A/N: One more chapter this week--no real cliffhanger here but we're heading into the last few chapters that will be one evil cliffie after another.

To Dare

Chapter Nineteen

Winter released its grip slowly; battering the city with cold, blustery days long after the last of the snow had melted. Fred and George made plans to close the joke shop for their birthday on the first of April, and Thalassa had enlisted Mrs. Weasley’s help to plan a surprise party for them. As many as possible of their old friends had been tracked down and invited. Nearly all had accepted, the most notable regrets coming from Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson. They both gave their training schedules for their respective Quidditch teams as the reason, though Oliver had sent two tickets to Puddlemere United’s next home match. It took every bit of Thalassa’s ingenuity to keep Fred and George from ferreting out her plans. As the date approached, she had to resort to faking dizzy spells to distract them. She knew she’d overdone it when they started giving her worried looks and making noises about moving her next appointment with the midwife forward. Even concern for her health didn’t stop them from hinting madly, though.

“Charlie says they’ve started safaris at the dragon preserve.”

“Quidditch on Saturday. Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin.”

And finally: “You did know we’re closing the shop on Saturday, right?”

Friday at breakfast, she gave them a completely guileless smile. “So, tomorrow’s your birthday. Was there anything in particular you wanted to do? I was rather hoping we could spend the day at the Burrow.”

They looked a little disappointed at that, but smiled gamely. “As long as you’re there, we’d love to spend the day at Mum and Dad’s,” Fred answered.

“We ought to send Lee an owl and invite him,” George suggested.

“It’s awfully short notice. Are you sure he won’t have other plans?” Thalassa asked innocently.

“He knows to leave our birthday open on his calendar,” George replied confidently. But Thalassa was right. Hodge brought Lee’s regrets to the joke shop that afternoon. Sorry. I can’t make it this year, he’d written. We should get together soon. “What kind of world is it when your best mate from school can’t even spare you a few hours on your birthday?” George said in disgust, throwing the parchment down on the counter.

“Let it go,” Fred said. “I wasn’t looking forward to him and Thalassa renewing their acquaintance, anyway.”

“Good Lord, Fred, are you still fussed about them? They were kids, for Merlin’s sake. And she’s been remarkably generous about our own far more extensive pasts.”

“He never said anything about it.” Fred leaned on his hands against the counter. “Not once in all this time. He showed her the secret passage. I never even took Angelina down there. And you heard her: ‘I’ll always be grateful. He made me feel special.’ Exactly how special did he make her feel?”

“Not special enough for her to have shagged him,” George pointed out.

“Not then, perhaps,” Fred returned darkly.

George sighed impatiently. “You know, I should be the one who’s angry at Lee. He knew how I felt about her. If she needed comforting, he could have steered her in my direction. Besides, you have nothing to worry about. She is having your baby.”

“It might be yours. And this wasn’t exactly something she chose to do.”

“Well then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Look, I know mood swings are normal for pregnant women, but I can’t help feeling she’s just fed up with us. What if she’s decided this is too difficult? She’s so careful to make sure everything’s fair and even. That has to get tiring, and we’re not always easy to live with. Then in steps simple, uncomplicated Lee, who makes her feel special and she’s gone.” He snapped his fingers.

“All right, who are you, and what have you done with my brother? Merlin’s beard, man, if you’re that worried, give her a dose of that fatal Fred Weasley charm.”

“And how long before that gets stale? She’s never said, you know, why she loves me. She tells you all the time. To me, she only says, ‘later’.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?”

“You’re not jealous of Lee. You’re jealous of me.”

Fred scowled.

“Not that I’m not gratified,” George continued. “I’ve been jealous of you where she’s concerned for ever, and with just as little reason.” He glanced at his watch. “Half five. If you leave now, you can get to the apothecary before they close.”

Fred stood there for a long moment, chewing his lip. “Fine,” he said at last. “Fine.” He turned and walked out.

The trip to the other end of Diagon Alley took too little time for Fred to decide what to say. He avoided any unpleasantness with Thalassa’s mother by simply using the back door that led directly into the workroom. When he walked in, Thalassa was talking to someone through the Floo.

“That’s fine, thank you.” She sat back, ending her conversation.

“Who were you talking to?” Fred tried to keep the accusation out of his tone.

Thalassa started and turned toward him. “When did you come in?”

“Just now. Who were you talking to?” he repeated.

“The midwife,” she lied calmly. “I’ve been having so many dizzy spells lately. I was a little worried.”

“Oh. What did she say?”

“That it’s likely I’m trying to do too much. I’m to take it easy for a few days, try to get more sleep, and call her back if my symptoms get worse.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. George and I have only been telling you to call her for a week, now.” He helped her to her feet.

“Why are you here so early? Nothing wrong, I hope.”

“No. I was missing you. If you’re done for the day, let’s get out of here.”

“And do what?”

“Anything. I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Oh good,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck. “Because I’d planned to window-shop for baby things today before you got home.”

“So soon? You’re barely three months along. Isn’t it a little early for the nesting urge to kick in?”

“You’ve been reading the parchments from the midwife,” she said, surprised.

“We’re all in this together, remember?” He kissed her forehead.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps it is a little soon, but I feel so—“ she searched for a word to describe her state, “rushed. Like I’m more pregnant than I ought to be.”

“But the midwife agreed that you got pregnant at Christmas.”

“I know, but look.” She stepped back and pulled her robe tight across her front. Her belly was slightly, but visibly rounded. “I shouldn’t be showing this much, either. Already I can’t fit into a lot of my regular clothes.” She glanced up when he didn’t comment. He was still staring at her middle, a surprised look on his face. “Fred?”

He heard her voice as if from far away. Why hadn’t he noticed the change to her shape before now? Suddenly it hit him that this was real. This woman standing in front of him with a slightly worried frown on her face was having his baby. In a few months, he wouldn’t be simply Fred Weasley, former Beater for Gryffindor, one-half of the infamous Weasley twins, part owner of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, and prankster extraordinaire. He’d be a daddy. His heart seemed to swell in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Could we—er—skive off the shopping and go home instead?”

“I’m not that big yet. It doesn’t show at all under my robes.”

“What?” He gave her a confused look. “What are you going on about?”

“That I’m getting fat. You don’t have to be ashamed to be seen with me.”

“That’s not—I could never be ashamed of you,” he insisted. “And you’re not fat. You’re beautiful. Is it so hard to believe that I want you to myself for just a little while?”

“It wouldn’t if I felt beautiful, but I don’t. I feel huge and clumsy. Shall we compromise? We’ll go home, but let’s stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies first. I want to have a look at their toy broomsticks. After Ginny leaves school, it’ll be twelve more years before Gryffindor will have another Weasley on the Quidditch team. I want to make sure she’ll be ready.”

“He,” Fred corrected gently.

“We’ll see,” Thalassa smiled smugly.


Somewhat later, they lay spooned together in her big four-poster bed, sated and nearly content.

“So,” Fred began, kissing her shoulder. “I’ve been curious about something.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

She chuckled. “You didn’t leave me much choice.”

“No, I mean it. We’re business partners, living together, you’re quite possibly pregnant with my child, and since you refuse to get married, we’re as committed to one another as we’re ever likely to be. Don’t you think it’s time you told me why?”

“I never figured you for the type to want to talk about feelings,” she said, half teasing and half apologetic. “I always thought it was enough that I do love you without having to explain it.”

“But you tell George all the time.”

“Ah.” She rolled over to face him. “I’ve been neglecting you lately, is that it? You’ve gotten jealous of George.” She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “I love you for many of the same reasons that I love him. As you two are fond of reminding me, you are identical twins. But,” she forestalled his protest, “to be more specific: I love you, Fred Weasley, for your sense of humour and your bravery. I love you for your unswerving loyalty to the people you care about. I love you because you’d rather have fun than power and because family is more important to you than money. I also have to admit that you look equally good in jeans or Quidditch robes and the way you fly a broom is a joy to behold.”

You could just as easily be talking about George when you say all that,” he said a little petulantly. “Although I’m making an assumption on that last part. I’ve never paid much attention to how he looks in jeans or on a broom.”

Thalassa smoothed her hands over Fred’s chest, enjoying the play of muscle under supple skin lightly dusted with hair. “Well, up until today, I’d have said that I loved you for your unshakeable self-confidence and your cocky, devil-may-care attitude. Now I can add to that your willingness to let me see a more vulnerable side of you.” She slid one hand up to caress his cheek and run the pad of her thumb across his lower lip. He automatically kissed her thumb. “Since you seem to be concerned with how my feelings for you compare to how I feel about George, though, perhaps this will help. I love that you’re willing to let me try to solve my own problems first, before you jump in and rescue me. It shows you have confidence in my abilities.”

“George has confidence in you. He just thinks you’ve had only yourself to rely on for too long.”

“And I love him for the way he tries to take care of me. Hey,” she gave him a look of mock disapproval. “Did you just defend George to me? I thought you were busy being jealous of him.”

Just then, the front door opened. “I’m home,” George called.

“We’re in bed,” Thalassa answered, rolling on her back.

“Why am I not surprised?” she heard him sigh and she and Fred smiled at one another.

George stepped around the armoire and threw his jacket across the foot of the bed. Well, I see you’re resting with your feet up.” He leaned over to kiss Thalassa.

“Mm. Strange that you should complain when you’re,” she glanced at the clock, “an hour and a half late. What kept you?”

“Ron stopped by the shop for a bit.” He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Oh? Official business or family duty?”

“Family duty. He wanted to wish Fred and me a happy birthday.”

George wasn’t telling the truth, Thalassa knew. Ron would be at the Burrow tomorrow for the party, but she couldn’t confront George without spoiling the surprise. She’d just have to corner Ron tomorrow and find out for herself what was going on.

Fred nudged her. “Show George.”

“Show me what?”

Thalassa pulled the covers down to her hips. She watched George’s gaze drift over her naked form.

“Lovely as alwa—hey!” His eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t think you were supposed to be getting big just yet.”

“Me either, but the parchments the midwife gave me did say that thinner women tend to show more and sooner.” She made a sour face. “Just my luck, I finally got to a size I like and my reward is looking as big as a house when I get pregnant.”

“Well, I think you’re beautiful,” said George with a warm smile.

“Really?” she asked, the doubtful look on her face conveying her need for reassurance.

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “Even if I didn’t, the fact that you’re going through all these changes just to have my—our,” he corrected, “baby, would make you beautiful in my sight.”

“Oh.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry,” he said, dismayed. He gathered her in his arms.

“I c-can’t help it,” she sniffled against his shoulder.

“Shh. It’s all right,” Fred soothed, sitting up to snuggle against her back. “Cry all you want. It gives us an excuse to hold you.”

She laughed a little, despite her tears. “You don’t need an excuse to hold me. I like the feel of your arms about me. Although, at the rate I’m expanding, it won’t be long before it’ll take both of you to get your arms all the way around me.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t have a long reach like Bill or Ron,” George murmured, nuzzling her neck, “since you like having both of us about.”


Even later still, Thalassa slept peacefully in George’s embrace. Fred smiled. “Well, that’s one way of making sure she gets the extra rest the midwife advised.”

“So she finally went in?”

“Used the Floo to talk to the office. Had her head in the fire when I got to the apothecary this afternoon.”

“Did you two get everything sorted out?”

Fred glanced away. “More or less.”

“Which is it, more or less?”

“I got her to tell me why she loves me.”

“That’s good,” George said neutrally.

“Yes,” Fred replied as though he’d just realized something. “Yes it is. You know, I used to think Wood was brilliant, but he was an idiot. Imagine throwing away the chance at her love.” He gently smoothed a lock of hair back from Thalassa’s face.

George raised his eyebrows. “No thank you. It gives me the cold sweats just thinking about the possibility of losing her. I’m glad she talked to the midwife.”

“Stubborn she may be, but not foolish, thank Merlin.” Fred carefully got out of bed so as not to disturb Thalassa. “I’ll get cleaned up and fix supper.”

“I’ll stay here and make sure she gets her sleep.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Fred mocked.

George ignored his teasing. Instead, he studied Thalassa’s sleeping face. There were faint shadows under her eyes and he could well imagine the midwife telling her to get more rest. He knew she had to be overtaxing herself. He’d read the parchments from the midwife too, and pestered his mother half to death with questions. Thalassa should be exhausted, but she still maintained an almost normal pace, working her usual schedule, minus Saturdays, at the apothecary, and refusing his and Fred’s offers to take over more of her share of the chores around the flat. Thankfully, her morning sickness had been relatively mild, mostly just manifesting as decreased appetite. He and Fred had occasionally been able to urge her to eat a bit more and now George realized part of her problem might be concern over gaining too much weight.

Perhaps concern over her changing figure was part of the reason she’d been less interested in making love, as well. That had been a disconcerting development. After the first time they’d been together and until she’d gotten pregnant, Thalassa had never refused him or Fred, even initiating their play on many occasions. Over the past couple of months, though, she’d been far less enthusiastic about physical intimacy, not even wanting to cuddle. Tonight was the first time in a long time that she’d even <>said she enjoyed being held. Hopefully, her lack of interest was temporary. He couldn’t deny that he missed the regular sex, but it was more the loss of the closeness that bothered him. The way they were able to communicate without words, body to body, was a great joy and comfort. More than just her shape was changing, that was for certain. He’d have to find a way to adjust to the changes.

He burrowed his hand under the covers to rest gently on her belly. A baby. His baby. The idea was scary on so many levels. Dad had said it: raising a child was the most perilous task a man could take on. What the hell did he and Fred know about changing nappies, or feeding a baby, or even holding one? And what about setting a proper example, or discipline, or patience, or any of the things that children really needed? Thalassa’s health was a concern, too. Women still died in childbirth, even with proper care and magical support. Fleur had died, and the baby with her. Oh, he wanted kids, but he hadn’t thought much about the process of bringing them into the world. Well, not beyond the initial effort that required his participation, anyway. He’d never considered what women had to endure.

Thalassa stirred slightly. “You’re making it itch,” she mumbled.

“I’m making the baby itch?”

A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “No, silly, me. You’re making my tummy itch. My skin’s all dry. There’s a bottle of lotion on the nightstand, if you wouldn’t mind putting some on me.”

George complied, careful to warm the lotion in his hand before rubbing it into the skin of her abdomen. “I didn’t think you were supposed to be getting itchy skin for another couple of months yet.”

“You too?” She raised one eyebrow. “You know, if you and Fred had studied this diligently in school, you would have gotten better marks,” she chuckled.

“We weren’t quite as invested in the subject matter back then.” He accepted her teasing with good grace. It was a relief to have her joking with him instead of snapping and snarling like a caged werewolf.

“Well, I don’t itch all the time, and I’ve always had rather dry skin. I suppose it just goes along with getting so much bigger this quickly. What time is it?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

He glanced at the clock. “Near ten.”

“So late? I need to fix supper.”

“Fred’s taking care of it. Stay here with me a bit.”

“I wanted to cook for you,” she protested. “It’s your birthday.”

“Not for another couple of hours yet. I’d rather you held me.”

“I’ve been neglecting you too, haven’t I? I’m sorry. I’m trying, but—“

“Shh. I’m not feeling neglected.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “And if I was, you wouldn’t need to cook for me, or tidy up after me, or guard my secrets with your life. Just put your arms around me and kiss me.”

“I think I can manage that,” she whispered and suited action to words.

“And let me do some things for you.”

She gave him a satisfied smile. “You’ve already done plenty for me.”

“I meant about the flat. Fred said the midwife told you to get more rest.”

“But—“ Argh. She couldn’t contradict her own lie without spoiling tomorrow’s surprise.

“No arguments. From now on, no standing and no lifting. If you need something done, ask one of us. And no unnecessary magic, either.”

“What am I supposed to do all day?” she asked exasperatedly. “I can’t do half my work at the shop because I shouldn’t handle either the components or the finished potions and what I can do has to be made in small batches because I can’t stand in front of a hot cauldron. You won’t let me do anything here that involves standing or lifting.”

“Have you not had any luck finding an assistant?”

She sighed. “No, and I’m beginning to think I never will.”

“Well, then, what if Fred and I help? We’re not as good as you, or even Ginny, but I daresay we can both be trusted not to blow the place up.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said irritatedly.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that it was,” he said placatingly. “Look, why don’t you try us out on some of the potions that aren’t quite so dangerous for you to be around. Then when you see how we do, you can decide if you still want to keep looking for someone else.”

“I suppose we could try,” she said doubtfully. “But that still leaves me without anything to occupy my time.”

“You have plenty to occupy your time and energy. You’re growing a baby. But,” he placed a silencing finger against her lips, “I suppose if Fred and I are going to help out at your shop, you could give us a hand by working the front counter at ours a couple of days a week. We'll clean up the flat upstairs so you'll have a place to lay down for a rest in the afternoons. Other than that, you should relax. Get more sleep. Read a book, whatever. I know you didn’t plan to get pregnant, but you can’t carry on as if nothing has changed.” He hugged her close for a moment. “In the meantime, let’s go get cleaned up. Fred should have something edible for us shortly.”


They all slept late the next morning, Thalassa only dragging herself out of bed to visit the loo.

“Wha’ time ‘r’ we s’posed to be at Mum ‘n’ Dad’s?” Fred mumbled when she crawled back under the covers.

“Not until this afternoon,” she reassured him.

“Mm,” he grunted his approval, snuggling up against her back.

“You don’t have to wait until then to unwrap your presents, though,” she said.

“I unwrapped my present last night,” he smirked against the curve of her neck.

“Oh, you.” She gave him a gentle poke in the ribs with her elbow.

“Presents?” George asked sleepily.

“On the worktable,” she confirmed.

He kissed her and rolled out of bed.

“And brush your teeth before you come back to bed, dragon-breath,” she called teasingly after him.

“I suppose that applies to me, too,” Fred sighed

“Well, you are singeing the back of my neck,” she giggled. She gave a yelp of surprise as he growled and nipped at her ear. He got out of bed and padded after George, though. They were both back in a few minutes, carrying their presents with them. Moments after that, the bed was covered with shreds of wrapping paper and ribbons. Thalassa got them both shirts that read ‘Quidditch Dad’ and teacups that proclaimed ‘World’s Greatest Dad’. There was also a CD for each of them from their favourite bands. They took great delight in thanking her appropriately. Between that, a short, recuperative nap, and a bath that nearly resulted in the three of them going right back to bed; they managed to stay occupied until it was time to leave for the Burrow.

Fred and George wanted to wear their new shirts, but Thalassa wouldn’t let them. (“They have to be washed first.”) Her wardrobe choices were limited to clothes she had left from when she’d been at school, but she managed to find a baggy pair of jeans and a loose-fitting peasant blouse with a drawstring neck. She would have worn one of her robes, which were, as she’d said to Fred the day before, more forgiving of her new shape, but the twins liked seeing her in Muggle clothes. Fortunately, most of the people that would be at the party hadn’t seen her since she was at school, so they wouldn’t realize that she was bigger than she normally appeared. Before they left, both Fred and George double-checked the locks and security spells. Then, three pinches of Floo powder later, they were bursting into the kitchen at the Burrow. Thalassa stumbled a bit stepping out of the fire.

“Careful,” George caught her arm to steady her.

“Where is everyone?” Fred asked, looking around the empty kitchen.

“Probably outside,” Thalassa answered. “I owled your Mum yesterday and asked if we could eat in the garden if the weather was nice enough. You two go ahead. The little Bludger is pressing on my bladder.”

“We’ll wait for you.”

“No, go on. I won’t get lost.”

They gave in and headed out the back door. She peeked through the curtains to see the cloaking spell drop and hear everyone shout, “Surprise!” Then she waited a few minutes before quietly joining the crowd of well-wishers.


Thalassa stood in the meagre shade of a still-leafless oak tree, hands clasped over the slight bulge of her tummy, and surveyed her handiwork. So far, the party was a huge success. Under a huge striped awning, the tables groaned with the weight of the feast laid out on them and the butterbeer flowed freely. The modified Warming Charms she’d asked Hermione to work kept the Weasleys’ garden at a comfortable twenty-one degrees. Everyone was laughing, talking, and catching up on each other’s lives. She smiled and gave a little nod of satisfaction.

“Thalassa Hartwell, is it really you?” a familiar voice asked from behind her.

She turned and her smile widened. “Lee. It is so good to see your face again. I’d have missed you more, but I hear your voice all the time.”

“The curse of being a public figure.” He gave her an enthusiastic hug. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“At my shop in Diagon Alley, for the most part,” she answered, returning his embrace.

He held her by the shoulders at arm’s length to look her carefully up and down. “Er—Thalassa? Forgive me if this is out of line, but are you pregnant?”

She grinned. “No, you’re not out of line, and yes, I am pregnant.”

“Well I have to say that impending motherhood certainly agrees with you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier, or more beautiful.” He ran his hands down her arms to clasp her hands.

“You still know exactly what to say to make a girl feel good about herself.”

“So who’s the lucky—“ he broke off, feeling her left hand for a ring. He frowned. “Where’s the father?” he corrected.

“Right behind you, so I suggest you take your hands off her.”

Lee whipped around so fast Thalassa had to duck to avoid being hit by his dreadlocks. “George!” he exclaimed. “I should’ve known, you lucky dog. When’s the wedding?”

Thalassa chuckled. “After all this time, you still can’t tell the difference between George and Fred?”

“Fred? But—“ Lee’s features registered complete shock and his chocolate skin paled a couple of shades.

Fred stepped around Lee to slide a possessive arm around Thalassa’s waist. “That’s right,” he growled, “so keep your eyes in your head, your hands to yourself, and be very careful how you speak to her.”

“Fred,” Thalassa began, half teasing and half in warning. “Stop it. Lee will start to think you’re serious.”

“I’m always serious where you’re concerned.”

“Does George know about this?” Lee finally found his voice.

Thalassa and Fred exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

“Oh I get it. Good one. You really had me fooled.”

“Come on, let’s go find George,” Thalassa said when she’d recovered.

“He’s over there,” Fred pointed with his chin, “Talking to Katie and Alicia.”

“Even better,” Thalassa nodded. “That way we only have to explain this once. Today,” she amended with a sheepish glance at Fred.

“We could just make an announcement in front of everyone,” he suggested blandly.

Hmm,” Thalassa pretended to consider his words. “No, I don’t think so. I haven’t the stomach for a repeat of Christmas.”

Fred chuckled as they set out across the garden.


George was waxing enthusiastic about his Lightning Bolt when he saw Thalassa approaching with Fred and Lee. He stopped mid-sentence to drink in the sight of her.

Katie and Alicia turned to see what had so thoroughly ensnared his attention and Katie snickered. “Don’t cock it up this time, Weasley,” she teased.

“What?” he said bemusedly, not really hearing her. His former team-mates shared a giggle.

“Are you enjoying your party?” Thalassa asked, giving him a hug.

“Of course. I can’t believe you managed to keep all this from Fred and me. How long have you been planning it?”

“A little over a month,” she replied smugly.

“This party was your doing?” Alicia was surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m quite capable of writing out a few invitations and hiring a caterer.”

“Sorry,” Alicia apologized. “I only meant I thought you were just a guest like everyone else. You rather dropped out of sight after you left school.”

“I went to work at my parents’ shop. The business was a mess by the time Dad died. It took over a year to start showing a profit again.”

“Good practice for helping George and me get things turned around at the joke shop,” Fred commented.

“And how long has that been going on?” Katie asked.

“Since August,” George answered.

“That’s not all,” Lee interjected and Thalassa blushed furiously.

“Go on then, tell us,” Katie grinned. Then her eyes widened as she properly looked at Thalassa. She turned on George. “You weasel!” she accused. “We’ve been standing here chatting for twenty minutes and you didn’t tell us you’re going to be a father. And why weren’t we invited to the wedding?”

“Because there wasn’t one,” Thalassa said simply.

“Why not?”

Fred and George each took one of Thalassa’s hands. “Because she’s said she won’t marry just one of us,” George replied.

“This is a joke, right?” Alicia asked after a long, stunned silence. “I mean…” her voice trailed off as the truth sank in.

Katie chuckled. “Ah, Hartwell, who knew such a wild woman was hidden under those robes?” She gave Thalassa a hug.

“Katie, I am not wild.” She heard a sound like a smothered cough from behind her, Fred or George, she wasn’t sure which. Thalassa shot a quelling glance over her shoulder at them and they smiled back innocently.

“So,” Lee began hesitantly, “Fred actually is the father?”

“We don’t know,” George admitted. “The three of us are going to raise this baby together, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

“So did you plan it that way, or did you suddenly forget how to brew a contraceptive potion?” Alicia asked waspishly.

“’Licia!” Katie rebuked.

“I’m sorry, but really,” the former Chaser huffed. “This is just beyond all reason. I’d expect this sort of madness from Fred and George, but you were always so sensible, Hartwell. What were you thinking, getting involved with both of them? Or either one of them, for that matter?” She gestured angrily at the twins. “Oh, what’s the use?” Alicia turned and stalked away.

“What in Merlin’s name was that all about?” Fred stared after Alicia, stunned.

“Well, you can’t expect everyone to take news like that calmly,” said Katie prosaically.

“No, no, that part we understand, more or less. It’s the ‘either one of them’ that has us confused,” said George.

“Ah, well,” Katie coughed a little self-consciously. “She took it hard when you two left school the way you did, without letting any of us know ahead of time.”

“We didn’t even know ourselves until just before,” Fred said, irritated. “What did she expect us to do, stick around to let Filch horsewhip us?”

“You could have given us a little warning,” Lee offered. “I mean, we knew you weren’t going to sit your N.E.W.T.s, but we were all surprised when you just took off. You didn’t give any of us a chance to say goodbye.”

“Et tu, Lee?” George said mournfully.

“Just saying, you know. A hint would’ve gone a long way towards soothing some ruffled feathers.” He gave Fred a meaningful look.

“Where did Alicia run off to?” Harry had joined the group. “I wanted to talk to her about those Lightning Bolts.”

“She’ll be busy for the next little bit accepting Fred and George’s apologies,” Thalassa sighed. “Go on,” she said to the twins, making a shooing motion with her hands. “Mend your fences.”

George gave her a grateful look, but Fred made a sour face. Still, they both headed off in the same direction Alicia had taken.

“So, Katie,” Thalassa determinedly changed the subject, “what’s it like, working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports? Is it exciting and glamorous, or tedious and boring?”


As the party started to break up, Thalassa sat in one of the chairs under the awning with her feet up while Mrs. Weasley fussed over her. Thalassa smiled at the older witch’s scolding. George could have said exactly the same things to her and she’d resent it. From his mother, the words conveyed acceptance into the family. Nearby, Ron sat with Hermione, his arm about her shoulders. Thalassa hated to disturb the couple, they had so little time to spend with each other, but she still wanted to know what business had sent him to the joke shop the day before.

She cleared her throat to get their attention. “Ron,” she began conversationally, “George said you’re the reason he was late home yesterday.”

He gave her an uneasy look and disentangled himself from Hermione. “That’s right,” he confirmed.

“He told me you’d stopped by to wish him and Fred a happy birthday, but you and I know that wasn’t true.”

Ron directed a speaking look at Hermione and the younger witch rose. “Come on, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll help you start tidying up.”

He waited until Hermione and his mother were out of earshot. “I don’t want you to get upset with George. Or Fred, either.”

“I’m not upset with them. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“After your flat was broken into, they said I should look into what you did during the war, and that I should start at the Potions Lab of St. Mungo’s.”

Thalassa swallowed. “And?”

“Do you remember a Kevin Kirkbride?”

“Yes. He worked there at the time.”

“And you didn’t think to mention him as a potential suspect?”

“No. Why should I? I mean, he was thoroughly unpleasant, but I didn’t have any personal contact with him.”

“Fred and George said you had a run-in with him at the Leaky Cauldron one night.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it a run-in, exactly. He came in with a crowd and used the opportunity to make a few snide comments.”

“Fred and George said you were pretty upset. From what they said, more upset than a person might expect over a few comments from someone you had no personal contact with.”

She sighed. “There were…extenuating circumstances.”

Ron said nothing, but waited for her to elaborate.

“It was the first time we’d gone out, the three of us, together. You know…” she let her voice trail off delicately.

He blushed. “Go on,” he prompted.

“We were celebrating my birthday. I’ve had bad luck with birthdays in recent years and I’d stopped celebrating them.” She shrugged. “I was having a really good time, and then Kirkbride showed up and ruined it.”

“So you had no idea that he’d been sacked because of the discrepancies you brought to the administration’s attention?”

“What? No, of course not.” She remembered finding the unexpected shortages and suggesting the inventory tracking system she used at the apothecary, the same system she’d helped Fred and George set up at their shop. “The lab was always running short of something. I just thought it was a mistake in the paperwork, or possibly just the casual pilfering you normally get.”

“It turns out he had a proper little black market operation going. Sold whatever he could lay his hands on and didn’t care to which side of the war.”

“Really?” Her tone was one of curiosity, rather than shock. “Still, I can’t think that getting him sacked would be enough to motivate Kirkbride. Why kill Ian? He had nothing to do with any of that.”

“Which is why I’m inclined to discount him as a suspect, but everything has to be investigated. I went to the joke shop yesterday to see if Fred and George had anything else to tell me. Since you brought it up, what can you tell me about what you did at St. Mungo’s?”

“If Fred and George told you this much, they must have told you I don’t like to talk about it.”

He gave her a bleak look. “Thalassa, none of us likes to talk about that time. Hermione and I still have nightmares.”

She stared at him in horror. Good Lord, how could she have said something so tactless? “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.”

He waved away her apology. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

Thalassa glanced about. “All right,” she agreed. “But let’s take a walk. I don’t want this overheard.”

Ron unfolded his lean frame and offered her a hand up out of her chair. Mrs. Weasley was back over instantly. “You’re supposed be resting,” she scolded.

“I’m supposed to get moderate amounts of exercise, too,” Thalassa countered.

“Keep your hair on, Mum,” Ron grumbled. “I won’t let her tire herself out. Fred and George would have my--er--head on a platter if I did. We’re only going to have a bit of a chat while we wander about the garden.” He tucked Thalassa’s hand into the crook of his elbow and they set off on a meandering path that never took them too close to anyone else. She told him everything, including things she’d barely hinted at to Fred and George. Throughout it, he only interrupted to ask her to clarify some detail or another. When she was done, she felt an odd lightness, as if she’d set down a burden she’d been carrying too long. Which, she reflected, wasn’t inaccurate.

Ron was silent for a time, mulling over what she’d told him. “Huh,” he said, finally. “Snape, you say? Wonder what that was about. Still, I'm niety-nine percent sure he had nothing to do with you current troubles”

"Ron, I know what Professor Snape did. Well, not everything he did, obviously, but this, it just isn't his style."

"I'm with you on that. Not the sort to fail in the attempt, is he? But with him out of commission and Slughorn dead, there aren't that many master-level potion brewers out there. Most of them are far more inaccessible than you are. I see why you have all those security measures in place at your flat. And I suppose I never really thought about what other people did for the war, and how they dealt with, you know, things. We were all right in the thick of it, just trying to survive."

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I thank all the Gods of mercy that your losses were as few as they were. I can think of at least one person who would’ve been happy to reduce the world’s population of Weasleys by two or three.”

“More than that, I’m sure. Lucius Malfoy would’ve danced a jig on our ashes if he could’ve wiped out the whole lot of us.”

She gave a little twitch. “You shouldn’t say things like that. I’m torn between being horrified at the thought of all of you, dead, and wanting to giggle at the thought of Lucius Malfoy ever having done anything so undignified as a jig.”

He chuckled. “That was terribly Fred-like of me, wasn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” she agreed. “I wasn’t thinking of the senior Malfoy, actually, when I was counting your enemies. Whatever happened to Draco?”

Ron grimaced. “Officially, missing and presumed dead. Unofficially…” he paused and gave her a sidelong glance, “he’s disappeared. Before that, though, he stripped Malfoy Manor down to the timbers and cleaned out the family vaults at Gringott’s. He shipped Narcissa off to Merlin-knows-where, poisoned the house-elves, and torched the Manor. When the Aurors investigated, they found Lucius’s corpse in the ruins, killed by an Avada Kedavra. Apparently patricide is a Malfoy family tradition.”

“Great Circe,” she whispered, and then shook her head. “Well, I don’t feel so badly now for breaking his nose that time.”

He stopped. “I’d forgotten about that. I wonder…Did you have any other dealings with Draco?”

“Not even in his most twisted dreams. I’m sure he has a mile-long list of more important targets for revenge than me. It would take plotting of the most serpentine sort to connect him to my troubles.”

“I s’pose you’re right, much as I’d like to blame all the world’s ills on that arrogant git.”

“Looks like the party is well and truly over,” she said, glancing around.

“Mm, well, once the word spread about you expecting a bundle of mischief, they couldn’t wait to bugger off and tell everyone that hadn’t made it to the party.”

“Oh? The expected birth of another Weasley is that gossip-worthy? It’d take some of the pressure off me if someone else would neglect their Infertility Curse.” She gave Ron a bland look, and then grinned as he blushed and spluttered. “Relax. I was only teasing. Hermione has too much sense to want to start a family right away. Just remember you Weasleys are a fertile lot and be careful.” He went an even darker red, and Thalassa took pity on him, changing the subject. “Who’s that with Charlie?”

“One of the other keepers from the dragon preserve. Transferred from the States. Sinti-something-or-other. Pretty sure he fancies her, but with Charlie, it’s hard to tell.”

“Yes, I noticed he plays a deep game.”

They exchanged a knowing look and began to laugh. They’d ended their circuitous path near to where Fred and George clowned with Lee. Her laughter attracted their attention and George strode over.

“You’re not overextending yourself, are you?”

“No, Ron’s under strict orders from your Mum not to let me.” She turned to her escort-interrogator. “I hope you found our chat as helpful as I did, Ron. I feel loads better for having talked that out.” She stretched on tiptoe to give him a sisterly kiss on the cheek.

George held out his hand to her and she went to him with a contented smile. “What was all that about?” he wanted to know.

“Oh, just an exchange of information. I wanted to know what really brought him to the joke shop yesterday. He wanted to know what I did during the war.”

“And you told him?” he was surprised.

“It seemed important. I think, in an odd way, it helped him. I know it helped me.”

George shook his head. “I’ve never known you to spill your secrets that easily.”

“Your brother has secrets all his own. I don’t think keeping them brings him much joy. So, everyone gone but family?”

He recognized her tone of voice and allowed her to change the subject. “As long as you’re counting Lee and everyone’s dates as family.”

“Too bad Ginny couldn’t have been here,” she sighed. “It’s fun watching her and Harry try to pretend they’re just friends now.”

“Love, you have a deliciously wicked sense of humour.” He slid his arm around her waist.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way,” she laughed.

He leaned close to murmur in her ear. “You’d be surprised at all the ways I want you.”

She shivered at the sensual promise in his voice. “Then let’s get Fred and go home so you can start surprising me,” she whispered.