To Dare

A/N: Because I'm getting just as eager to post these and you lot are to read them. There really isn't much of a cliffie at the end of this chapter, so if I get busy with Muggle stuff over the next few days it shouldn't be too bad. Hey moon_muse! Glad to see you're still along. Oh, and pyrostarglow, I am so going to steal your 'We are the Weasleys, see how we love' line. If anyone wants to read my other fanfics (most of which are not NC-17) there is a link to my Live Journal in my author profile.

To Dare

Chapter Twenty

Fred watched through half-closed eyes as Thalassa rummaged through the contents of her armiore. He could hear her muttering angrily to herself as she threw aside article after article of clothing. Not wanting her fury directed at him, he feigned sleep. When he heard the unmistakable sounds of weeping, though, he couldn’t remain silent. “What’s wrong?” he asked as gently as he could.

She whirled around and nearly lost her balance. “I thought you were asleep.”

He bit his tongue. He had been asleep, before she’d started throwing clothes everywhere. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.

“I c-can’t fit into any of my clothes any more,” she wailed. “None of them, not even the things I have left from when I was fat, back in school.”

Fred was careful not to let any of his frustration show. “Come here.” He rose up on one elbow and held out his other arm to her. She crawled across the bed and collapsed awkwardly onto his chest. He held her until her sobs faded to sniffles and hiccoughs. Then he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re pregnant,” he reminded. “You knew that eventually your regular clothes wouldn’t fit.”

“I know,” she said miserably.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I hate shopping for clothes, especially for bigger clothes.”

He sighed and rubbed slow circles on her back. “Would it help if you had someone to go with you?”

“I wouldn’t ask you or George to do that. I’m sure you’re both sick to death of my mood swings.”

“Not at all,” he denied bravely. “We don’t like to see you upset, of course, but I rather see it as a way to participate more fully in your pregnancy. In any case, I wasn’t thinking of George or myself going with you. I thought perhaps I could owl Hermione and ask her. You could make a day of it, go out for lunch, and do some other shopping as well, a bookshop perhaps.”

“That,” she thought for a moment, “sounds lovely, actually. Do you think she’d mind?”

“Mind? Dangle a trip to a bookshop in front of Hermione and she’ll go anywhere. She’d probably go anyway, just for the opportunity for some girl talk.” Fred had no idea if Hermione even knew what ‘girl talk’ was, but it sounded good.

Thalassa nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “All right.”

“Good. While I send Hodge, pick out whatever you want to wear and I’ll do an Alteration Charm on it.” He hugged her before disentangling himself to go find parchment and a quill. When he returned, she had a dress laid out on the bed. He dutifully enlarged the garment the proper amount and found her shoes for her. While she dressed, he dug out a shirt and a pair of trousers and pulled them on. He glanced up and caught her glaring critically at herself in the mirror.

“It’s too bad the Alteration Charm wears off at midnight. Otherwise you could just do up all my clothes and I wouldn’t have to buy new.”

He went to her, put his chin on her shoulder, and wrapped his arms around her. “You deserve something new. Have I told you lately how unbelievably lovely you are?”

“Oh, Fred, stop it,” she scolded. “I’m as big as a house; my ankles are like tree trunks; and I’ve got spots. Just look at me.”

“I am looking at you. You are absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous. If this is how Dad felt about Mum when she was pregnant, it’s no wonder there are so many of us. He very likely wanted to keep her pregnant all the time.”

“What a thing to say,” she gasped, hiding a smile behind her hand.

“I’m serious. You wouldn’t mind having a few more, would you? That way you’d get more use out of all the maternity clothes you’re going to buy today,” he said in what he hoped was a convincing tone.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I don’t know. Let’s just see how this first one turns out, all right?”

“All right,” he agreed, kissing her cheek.

“Oh!” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. “Feel that?”

A look of wonder spread across his face. “Is that--?”

She nodded.

“Oh, Gods,” he whispered and buried his face in the curve of her neck. The tiny, fluttering movement under his palm filled him with emotion too powerful to contain. His throat ached with the effort and tears gathered behind his eyelids.

“All right, Fred?” she asked worriedly.

He cleared his throat before attempting to speak, but his voice was still husky when he answered. “Yes, excellent. Brilliant.”

She turned around to hug him, a little clumsily with the swell of her belly between them.

“Perhaps I will go with you today,” he said.

“What?” She pulled back to give him a searching look. “You won’t want to be dragged from shop to shop while I whinge about how fat I’m getting. What’s this about?”

“We still don’t know who was behind the break-ins, here and at the apothecary. I don’t want anything happening to you. Either of you.”

She frowned. “I’ll be perfectly safe with Hermione. You know she’s the most powerful witch in a generation. Besides, how are we to indulge in ‘girl talk’ with you about?” Just then, there was a knock at the door. “That was quick,” Thalassa remarked. “Hodge hasn’t even come back yet.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll get the door.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Gods forbid I should sprain my wrist turning the doorknob,” she called after him. She was thoroughly sick of being treated as if she were helpless. Perhaps this shopping trip was just what she needed. It would do her good to get out of the flat and away from Fred and George for a bit. Their constant fussing was beginning to grate on her nerves. She followed Fred out to the living room more slowly, trying not to feel like she was waddling. He was speaking quietly to Hermione, a grim look on his face, while the younger witch listened patiently. Thalassa cleared her throat and Hermione glanced up with a smile while Fred assumed an innocent expression.

“Ready to go?” the younger witch asked.

“Whenever you are. I need to stop at Gringott’s first, though.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I had plans today to meet Harry for lunch. I’ve let him know that you’ll be joining us. He said he was looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Oh.” Thalassa blinked. “That’s nice.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t be going shopping with us,” Hermione reassured her. “It’s just lunch.”

Fred walked over to Thalassa and hugged her. “I want you to be careful today. Don’t take any chances and come home as soon as you get tired.”

“Yes, I know,” she snapped. “How in the world did I survive so long without you to supervise my every move?” She saw the hurt look he tried to hide and was instantly ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, laying her head against his chest. “That wasn’t fair. I know you’re only trying to take care of me.”

“No, it’s all right. You’re allowed to be cranky.”

“I just need to get out for a while. I’ll be in a better mood when I get back. I promise.”

“I’ll keep her safe, Fred, never fear,” Hermione interjected, eager to get underway.

Thalassa was surprised to see Hermione’s car parked out front. “You drove over from your place? How did you get here so quickly?”

“They’ve changed the law. Ministry officials are now permitted certain modifications on their vehicles. Of course, everything has to be registered properly and inspected on an annual basis and the cars have to be disenchanted if we sell them or stop working at the Ministry.”

Modifications, indeed. They caught every light green and traffic seemed to part for them. The ride was much smoother than the Knight Bus, too. Hermione parked in one of the spaces allotted to the record store next to the Leaky Cauldron. “If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll give you a hand up. The seats in this car are really low.” Hermione quickly hopped out and walked around to the passenger side. Thalassa didn’t actually need any help, but she appreciated the sop to her pride that Hermione offered. She knew the younger witch wanted her to stay safely in the car until she could assess the area for hidden dangers. Despite her impatient words to Fred, Thalassa did take her safety seriously and she was glad of Hermione’s caution.

Gringott’s was unusually chaotic when they arrived. Thalassa had to wait several minutes for a goblin to take her to her personal vault.

“That’s odd,” Hermione frowned. “Goblins are almost single-minded in their efficiency. That’s what makes them such excellent accountants.”

Thalassa made no answer. She was clinging to the side of the cart, her eyes focused grimly on a point far in the distance.

“Vault number five hundred, forty-one,” the goblin announced as the cart slowed and came to a halt.

After swallowing hard a couple of times, Thalassa took a deep, steadying breath. Hermione got out to help her negotiate the lip of the cart, the step to the ground, and the edge of the tracks. Thalassa handed the goblin her key and waited for the officious little creature to unlock her vault. She missed her regular goblin. He always treated her with the perfect amount of slightly indifferent courtesy.

Hermione glanced curiously around the inside of Thalassa’s vault. There were respectable piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts--not a fortune by any stretch, but a comfortable nest egg. In one corner, a large pile of Galleons was set aside and roped off. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding towards the gold.

“Hmm? Oh, that’s my dowry. My maternal grandparents settled it right after I was born. I can’t touch it unless I marry a wizard of sufficiently pure blood.”

“You’re joking, right? I mean, that’s archaic.”

“No. It’s mad, isn’t it? That money would’ve come in handy right after Dad died.” Thalassa quickly scooped up a few handfuls of coins.

“Get some to change for Muggle money,” Hermione instructed. We’re shopping for more than robes today. What happens if you don’t marry a wizard of ‘sufficiently pure’ blood?”

They made their way back to the cart. “The dowry? It waits for my first female offspring who meets the terms of the bequest.”

“You realize you could claim all that if you married one of the twins, right?”

Thalassa shrugged. “I have more than enough money for my needs.”

Hermione was silent for a bit. “They don’t know about it, do they?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you going to make me promise not to tell them?”

A sigh. “No. I haven’t anything I can use to extract a promise from you. Tell them if you like.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Look, I gave up on collecting that money when I was thirteen years old. By the time things started getting serious with Fred and George—“ she broke off to laugh softly. “Well, as serious as things ever get with the two of them about--I’d stopped thinking of that money as mine. It’s irrelevant.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t consider money like that irrelevant,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“What are you getting at?”

“Remember when Ron asked if you had any jealous ex-lovers?”

“You think all this is about my dowry? But that’s ridiculous!”

“Is it? How many people know about it?”

“Only every eligible Pureblooded wizard in the British Isles and half of those from the Continent as well.”

“Except Fred and George.”

“Mother doesn’t consider the Weasleys eligible.”

“You need to tell the Aurors about this.”

Thalassa nodded. “All right. I’ll send Ron an owl when I get home.”

“You ought to go right now, and Ron’s only a cadet. You should be giving your information to the Auror in charge of the investigation.”

“The same one who’s his training officer?” Thalassa shook her head. “There’s something about her…I can’t explain it, but I’d rather not talk to her.”

“Oh. Well…”

“You know her, don’t you? Please tell me I’m not going mad. There’s a good reason I don’t trust her, isn’t there?” Thalassa hadn’t meant those last two words to sound so desperate and unsure.

“What makes you think I know her?” Hermione evaded.

“Aside from the fact that she’s your fiancé’s training officer, George said something about you to her once. ‘Do that thing Ginny and Hermione always wanted you to do.’”

“Tonks is…a dedicated Auror. She saved my life, once. And she’s involved with Remus Lupin. Did you ask George about her? Since he knows her too.”

“Nnoo,” Thalassa drew out the word.

“Well, there you go. Talk to George. I’m sure you’ll trust his assessment better than mine, anyway. You can tell him and Fred about your dowry while you’re at it.”

Thalassa rolled that suggestion about in her head for a moment. “You may have the right idea. Come on, I’d like to get our visit to Madam Malkin’s over with.”

When they arrived, every assistant in the shop quickly found something else to do except the most junior stitchwitch. Hermione frowned at the snub, but held her peace.

“What may I do for you today, ma—“ The girl’s eyes flicked down to Thalassa’s ringless left hand and back up. “Ladies,” she corrected.

Thalassa lifted her chin defiantly. “Plain robes in summer-weight wool, please. Maternity. Two black and two purple.”

“And we’ll want to see material suitable for dress and day robes,” Hermione added.

Thalassa opened her mouth to argue, but Hermione forestalled her protest with a little shake of her head and a solemn look. The girl scurried away, leaving the two witches standing there.

“Hermione, I wasn’t planning on buying a dress robe, or day robes; just the work robes.”

“Work robes simply aren’t appropriate for all occasions. It’s not as if you won’t get more use out of them in the future.” She glanced around the shop with a frown. “I can’t believe they didn’t offer us chairs.”

“Let it go,” Thalassa sighed.

“I will not let it go. I promised Fred I’d take care of you today.” She marched over Madam Malkin and began to upbraid the older witch.

Thalassa shifted her weight from one foot to the other and rubbed absently at the small of her back. The dull ache there was her constant companion these days and lately her lower abdomen was beginning to compete with her back, feet, and head. Such discomforts were all perfectly normal, the midwife assured her at her last appointment, but that didn’t make them easier to bear.

Hermione returned, still glowering, and within moments, they were provided with chairs and offered refreshments.

“That wasn’t really necessary,” Thalassa said to her quietly, “but thank you all the same.”

“There’s no need to thank me. That sort of behaviour is inexcusable. You’d never treat any of your customers like that.”

“No, but my mother would.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“I didn’t say that it did, only that I understand how Miriam thinks. She has to appear disapproving, or wizarding families won’t send their children here for their school robes any more.”

The stitchwitch returned with the work robes in her arms. Bolts of cloth in a rainbow of colours floated in her wake. Thalassa stood on a step to have the robes hemmed up while Hermione sorted through the fabrics, rejecting some and setting others aside for Thalassa to look over. In the end, Thalassa allowed herself to be talked into four day robes: two in differing shades of blue, one red and one in a swirled brown print. Hermione suggested an antique gold silk for the dress robe, but Thalassa shook her head.

“It’s just a bit much, even for dress robes.”

“It would make a lovely bridal robe,” the stitchwitch tried hopefully.

“That it would,” Thalassa agreed coolly. “But I like this one,” she laid her hand on a bolt of blue silk shot through with silver threads.

“An excellent choice.”

After arranging to have the work robes embroidered with their respective logos, Thalassa paid for her purchases and left her address to have the robes delivered. Then the two women left Diagon Alley to get lunch. Thalassa breathed a tiny sigh of relief to be back in Muggle London, where being pregnant and unmarried was unremarkable.

Harry was waiting when they arrived at the café.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Thalassa apologized. “It takes me three times as long to do anything these days.”

“That’s quite all right. I haven’t been waiting very long. Hello, Hermione.” He gave her a hug.

“Hello Harry. I’m dying to hear your big news.”

“Really? You look remarkably healthy to me.”

Thalassa smiled at the good-natured teasing between the two. “Couldn’t Ron get away from his duties?” She gave Harry a shrewd look. “Or does he already know your news?”

“Good Lord.” Harry blinked at her. “I thought Fred and George were winding me up. So does the ability to practice Legilimency always go hand-in-hand with being good at brewing potions?”

“I’m not a Legilimens. I’m just observant, and a good guesser. Well, don’t keep Hermione in suspense.”

“I’ve passed my entrance exams. I start Auror training next month.”

“Harry! That’s great news! You’ll make everyone proud, I’m sure.” Hermione gave him a glowing smile.

“That is good news,” Thalassa agreed. “What made you decide now was the time?”

“Well, I’ve been recovered from my injuries for some time now and, I dunno, I guess I’ve been getting restless.”

“And it doesn’t help that Ron can't discuss his work with you,” Hermione added ruefully. “I know how much you hate being left out of the loop.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not quite so bad now that I’m not as directly involved, but yes, I hate not knowing what’s going on in my best mate's life. I don’t miss being the centre of attention, but I miss feeling like I’m making a difference.”

“I’d like to start making some differences,” Hermione said fussily.

“Things don’t change overnight,” Thalassa sighed.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked.

“You should have seen the way they treated her at Madam Malkin’s. I have half a mind to stop buying my robes there.”

“Most of her clientele is very conservative. I told you that.”

“Why should they treat you badly?” Harry frowned. “Not because you’re pregnant?”

“That combined with this.” She held up her bare left hand and wiggled her ring finger. “But really that was mild compared to the service I get at some other places. Women with children will sometimes cross the street to avoid me, as if my lax morals were contagious.”

Hermione snorted. “Lax morals, my eye. Half of them were pregnant when they got married.”

“Ah, but they got married, you see. In their opinion, I’ve had my dance and not paid the piper.”

“They’ve never lived with Fred and George or they’d know you pay dearly by putting up with them,” Harry laughed.

“That’s not fair, Harry. They’re very good to me, if a little overprotective. Did you know that George Apparates all the way up to Hogsmeade just to buy me chocolate from Honeydukes? And Fred does the washing-up every night so I don’t have to stand at the sink. He does half the cooking, too. And neither of them gets a good night’s sleep any more because I toss and turn. And they’re just as patient as can be when I’m moody and snap at them for no reason. And…” She choked as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Hush,” Hermione said gently, handing her a serviette and shooting Harry a warning look. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see that they’re madly in love with you. We’re all amazed at how mature the twins have become. They’re going to be great dads, too.”

Thalassa gave her a watery smile, then an odd look crossed her face.

“What is it?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“I think—yes, the baby is moving.”

“May I--?” He held out his hand tentatively, a wistful expression in his eyes.

“Of course.” She guided his hand to the spot where she’d felt the movement. The baby obliged by kicking again.

“It feels like a Snitch,” he said with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Only you, Harry.”


George looked up with a frown as Fred walked in through the front door of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I work here, or had you forgotten?”

George ignored his twin’s sarcasm. “Where’s Thalassa?”

“She needed to shop for maternity clothes, so I sent Hermione with her.”

“Just the two of them? Are you mad? What if something happens? What if--?”

Fred had already suffered through his worry and he wasn’t going to allow George to second-guess him. “Relax. She’ll be as safe with Hermione as she would be with either of us.”

“Still…”

“If I’d known you wanted to shopping for clothes with her—“

“No, no.” George held up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “I’m just worried for her safety. Have you read the paper today?”

“Not bloody likely since you took off with it this morning. Why?”

“See for yourself.” George pushed that morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet across the counter.

MISSING GOBLIN FOUND

The body of a missing goblin was found late yesterday. Roff the Relentless had not reported for work at Gringott’s in three days…The body was found in Hyde Park by Muggles. Ministry of Magic officials had quite a logistical mess to sort out, as the Muggle newspapers had already been alerted…

“Roff…isn’t that the same goblin that handled Thalassa’s vaults?” Fred asked, a frown creasing his forehead.

Gorge nodded. “I didn’t want her upset by this, but I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence.”

“Think the Aurors have made the connection?”

“I sent Ron an owl first thing this morning.”

“Are we ever going to be through with this?” Fred muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

George shrugged. “Should we try to alert Hermione?”

Fred thought a moment. “No,” he said slowly. “’Mione’s used to dealing with hidden dangers and she already knows to be extra-vigilant. At the moment, I’m more concerned that if Thalassa doesn’t get some time away from us, she’ll bin-bag us the next time we get on her nerves.”

“Well, I’d like to get out of here early today. Those Second-Hand Gloves won’t charm themselves and the leather to make up Two Left Feet Boots came in this morning.”

“All right. I’ll do up the gloves and then give you a break at the counter so you can enchant the boots.”

They each worked feverishly at their tasks and closed up promptly at five, chivvying the last of their customers out of the shop. They Apparated directly from their premises in Diagon Alley to the alley behind their renovated warehouse flat. George wrinkled his freckled nose. The hot weather made the rubbish bins particularly rancid this afternoon. There was a sound like two concrete blocks grinding together and Fred barely had time to register that they weren’t alone in the alley before two massive hands crashed down on their necks. George realized the stench in the alley had nothing to do with the overripe and overflowing skips. He almost laughed as the memory of the Hallowe’en of his and Fred’s third year at school swam to the front of his pain-addled mind. Then he felt himself lifted and thrown against the side of the building, hard.

Fred heard a sickening crunch as he hit the bricks and then slid to the ground. He couldn’t be sure if the sound came from himself or George, though. He laid on the pavement trying to reach for his wand, but his hand wasn’t listening to his brain. Hands much smaller than a troll’s searched his pockets and withdrew his keys. Fred assumed George received the same treatment, but before he could gather his scattered wits, their attackers left.

George fumbled with his wand and managed to mutter the spell to enchant some of the more solid pieces of rubbish to fly up and rap on the windows of their flat. Please, Gods, let them be home. Let Hermione still be here, he prayed. Apparently, the deity assigned to watch over good-hearted mischief-makers was attending to His or Her duties at that particular moment, because the window three stories up opened.

“Oh, sweet Merlin!” Hermione’s shrill cry was music to George’s ears and he allowed himself the comfort of unconsciousness.


Waiting at St. Mungo’s had been nerve wracking and horrible. Thalassa and Hermione had given their statements to Tonks while the Healers were still working on Fred and George. The news of Thalassa’s dowry wasn’t well received.

“I’m sorry,” Thalassa said defensively. “It’s like I told you: I’d stopped thinking of that money as mine a long time ago, and really, I’ve had no persistent suitors.”

Tonks blew her fringe, emerald green today, impatiently out of her eyes. “If you could provide us with the guest list from your come-out party, it would be helpful.”

Thalassa hated feeling stupid and wrong-footed in front of this woman. What was it about the Auror that set her teeth on edge? Surely, if she were good enough for Remus Lupin… “I’ll see what I can do,” she said stiffly.

The Healer had brought them news of Fred and George’s conditions shortly after that. The laundry list of their injuries was impressive, even for survivors of a troll attack: severe concussions, a broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder, whiplash and a fractured C5 vertebra, assorted broken ribs, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, and enough bruises, cuts and scrapes to spread over an entire Quidditch team. The Aurors went in and took the twins’ statements first. Then the family was allowed in. Thalassa was too distraught to be surprised when Bill insisted on going in with her, but she was grateful for his support. She’d seen Fred and George battered and bloody, after a hard-played Quidditch match, or occasionally duels or fights when they were back at school, but this…

At her soft cry, George opened his eyes. “Shh,” he said, holding out one arm to her.

She perched gingerly on the edge of his bed and let him pull her into a clumsy embrace.

“Don’t fuss,” he whispered. “We’re going to be fine.”

“You almost died,” she choked.

“’Almost’ doesn’t catch the Snitch.”

“You can fuss over me. I don’t mind.” Fred’s plaintive voice drew a smile from her.

She carefully kissed George’s cheek and pushed herself awkwardly up to go to Fred’s side. “Perhaps I should’ve taken you shopping with me.”

“Next time, I’ll insist.” The ghost of a grin played about the corners of his mouth. He squinted at her. “Is that one of your new things?”

She glanced down at her maternity jeans and deep rose-pink blouse. “Yes. Do you like it?”

“It suits you. ‘Mione didn’t have to bully you into buying pretty things, did she?”

“A little, at first,” Thalassa admitted. “But then I got into the spirit of things and spent far more than I’d planned.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see what else you bought.”

“Well, when we get home I’ll give you a proper fashion show.” She leaned over and brushed a kiss against his temple—the only part of his face that wasn’t bruised or scraped. When she straightened, she said, “Your mum and dad are here, and Percy. They’ll want to see you. I know Ron pulled rank and came in with the other Aurors.”

“You’re not to be alone,” George said firmly.

“I won’t be,” she assured him. “Hermione stayed and Harry’s here, too. I think we can all work something out.”

“I’d say Percy could cool his heels in the waiting room, but he’d be absolute rubbish for protecting you,” said Fred sullenly.

“Just this once, I’m going to overlook that remark owing to the severity of your injuries,” she replied, steel in her voice. “But you should know that Percy dropped everything to hurry over here and he’s been a pillar of strength for your mother. I won’t ask you not to take the piss out of him, it would make your mother think you were dying, but take it easy on him, please.”

“Always defending Percy,” George grumbled.

“Then learn how to play fair,” she chided. She turned and left.

They both watched her go as if their gazes alone could keep her safe. Bill cleared his throat. “Want to tell me about it before Mum gets in here?”

George sighed. “We were mugged by a troll and someone else we didn’t see.”

“Didn’t smell,” Fred corrected. “They tried to take our keys.”

“Tried?”

“The keychains are charmed so we can’t lose them. Within two minutes our keys were back in our pockets.” George drew in a sharp breath. “Bill, she’s got to be kept safe.”

There was no mistaking George’s meaning. Bill ground his teeth. “She’s carrying Mum’s grandchild. She’ll be safe.”

Then there was no more time as the rest of the family rushed in the door. Percy didn’t stay long, but he looked pale and worried enough that it lent credence to Thalassa’s assertion that he’d ‘dropped everything’ to be there for the family. Perhaps he truly had leaned that some things were more important than furthering one’s career. Harry stepped in just long enough to tease them for being caught off-guard by something as big and smelly as a troll.

“Bugger off,” Fred growled. “You and Ron were lucky and that’s all there is to it.”

Later that night, Thalassa stared sleeplessly up at the ceiling in Fred and George’s room at the Burrow. Everyone else had agreed that it was too dangerous for her to stay at her flat alone and she’d seen the sense of that. But the bed was too big for her by herself, and the room too quiet. She’d grown accustomed to the twins’ light snoring and she felt lost without the solid warmth of them on either side of her. Laying there willing herself to sleep wasn’t working. She threw back the covers and struggled out of bed. Perhaps some warm milk would do the trick. She carefully made her way down the crooked stairs to the kitchen.

Thalassa had the milk heating in a pan on the cooker when she heard footsteps descending the stairs behind her. Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen, looking dishevelled in his worn dressing gown and threadbare slippers. “Everything all right, Thalassa?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged and gave him a wan smile.

He returned her smile. “Is there enough there for two?”

She poured more milk into the pan.

“Worried about Fred and George, or is it something else?”

“Oh, it’s everything, I suppose,” she sighed. “All these things keep happening, and now I’ve involved your family. You know my troubles could easily have followed me here.” She laughed softly, mirthlessly. “Of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten up to check on me.”

“I would have checked on you in any case. And your troubles are our troubles. You’re part of this family too.”

“You’re very kind to say that…”

“It’s not a kindness, it’s the truth. I realize Molly and I didn’t react well when you and the lads told us how you felt about one another, but you’ve become like a daughter to us. You’re going to give us a grandchild, and we’re just over the moon about that. And don’t worry about Fred and George. The Healers gave us every reason to expect a full recovery. They’ll be home tomorrow and back to their usual tricks so quickly you’ll wonder if they were ever hurt in the first place.”

“I know,” she said quietly,

“They’ve come through worse.”

“I’m sure they have.”

“It’s not your fault, you know. Fred and George are more than capable of finding their own way into trouble.” He thanked her absently when she placed a mug in front of him. “Have you felt the baby move yet?”

Off balance from the non sequitur, Thalassa blinked at him. “How did you know?”

“You’re in your fifth month. So I take it you have?”

“This morning.” She smiled at the memory. “Fred was there. He’d just said—“ Thalassa broke off, blushing.

“Something improper and irreverent, I’m sure,” Mr. Weasley said, eyes twinkling.

She nodded. “But romantic, all the same.” They sipped their milk in companionable silence until Thalassa yawned.

“Shouldn’t have any trouble sleeping now, I expect,” Mr. Weasley remarked. “I’ll tidy up here.”

Thalassa didn’t argue. A pleasant heaviness had begun to settle into her limbs and she wanted little more than to slide under the covers and sleep for days. She drained the dregs from her mug and pushed to her feet. “Goodnight, Mr. Weasley. Thank you.”

“If you want to thank me, you could start calling me Arthur.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “All right. Arthur.”