To Dare

A/N: Tying up a few loose ends, transitioning a few things and an evil cliffie. I'll post the last few chapters quickly, though. Just a side note--I realized that this time last year, I had just met James and Oliver Phelps (at an autograph signing) and I was frantically trying to get the first draft of this done before the end of the year.

To Dare

Chapter Twenty-One

The Healers released Fred and George the next day, not surprisingly because they proved to be very bad patients. George was merely tired and a bit wobbly from the blood loss, but because of the nerve damage, Fred was less steady on his feet. To commemorate the troll attack, Harry bought Fred a walking stick topped with a lion’s head, which George immediately enchanted to roar loudly if anyone but Fred picked it up. Within a very short time, though, both made complete recoveries.

Thalassa endured their teasing over her dowry, because almost nothing could stop them once they’d got started. She took Hermione’s advice, as well, and finally asked George what he knew of the Auror in charge of investigating her case. He was unusually evasive and reticent.

“Just met her a few times,” he said casually.

Thalassa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Well, what did you think of her, those few times you met her?”

“I dunno. She seems competent. Why are you asking after her?”

“I find it hard to trust her. In fact, if it weren’t for her being your brother’s training officer, I’d just take my chances on my own.” She watched as he shifted uncomfortably and rubbed at the back of his neck. “What is it? What do you know that I don’t?”

“Normally, I’d tell you to trust your instincts, but Tonks is a good Auror--”

“How could you know that if you don’t know her?” Thalassa pressed.

“Well, she’d have to be, wouldn’t she? To be a training officer at her age?”

“I suppose.” She frowned doubtfully. “I just…She makes me feel stupid and gauche. I don’t like her and I don’t know why and that makes me feel petty.” She rubbed her arms as if chilled.

George looked away. “Damn,” he muttered. “All right, I didn’t want to say anything because, well, it’s in the past. I mean, she’s practically married to Remus Lupin now.”

“What’s in the past?”

“Tonks and I had sort of a brief fling, a while back. It was well before Fred and I ran into you at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“And you didn’t think it was important to share that bit of information with me?” Her tone was dangerously quiet.

“We didn’t want to upset you--”

“We? Fred was in on this decision? No, it’s more than that.” The realization dawned and Thalassa felt her heart freeze. “The two of you both shagged her, together. You told me you’d never done that before,” she accused.

“No, you asked us if we did this sort of thing often and we told you the truth.” He sighed. “But we should have told you the rest. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not enough,” she said stiffly.

“Thalassa, love, please.” He reached for her, but she backed away from him. “She went through a bad time after her cousin died and I suppose we thought we could cheer her up. It was just a bit of fun and it was over long before we started seeing you, I swear.”

“You let me think I was the only one.” Her voice shook with the betrayal she felt. “You lied to me. Get out. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

Pain flared in his brown eyes and panic flitted across his freckled features before he thrust his jaw out stubbornly. “No. I won’t touch you. You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m not leaving you without anyone to watch out for you.”

Without another word, she turned her back on him and went into her greenhouse. It wasn’t so much the fact that the Auror was one of George and Fred’s ex-lovers, but rather that they’d shared something with her that Thalassa had thought was hers alone. And the fact that they’d conspired to keep that secret from her. For the rest of the afternoon, she treated George like a piece of furniture as she went about her business.

Thalassa was in the kitchen when Fred came home from work. When he would have kissed her hello, she fended him off. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“What is it?” he asked, hurt and confused.

“Go ask your brother,” she said icily.

“George!” he bellowed, stomping into the living room. “What did you do to make her angry with us?”

There was a short, murmured conference, and then silence. Thalassa continued meticulously chopping vegetables and herbs, stirring sauces, and ladling broth over the roast. Fred and George stayed out of her way, working on some paperwork in the living room. She set the table and laid out the sumptuous meal she’d prepared. Normally, when she was this upset she’d find comfort in making potions. Cookery was nearly the same thing, just safer. The twins came to the table, each bringing a roll of parchment, which they handed to her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“No more surprises,” George said grimly. “We made lists of every girl we’ve dated…”

“Or shagged, or snogged, or whatever,” Fred interrupted. “We’re through keeping secrets from you. Anything else you want to know, just ask.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she replied.

“We don’t want you to be hurt by something we did in our callow youth, but we especially don’t want you blindsided.”

Thalassa took the rolls of parchment. “The food’s getting cold,” was all she said before she went to lay down on the unmade bed. She just stared at the tightly rolled parchments for a long time. From the weight, she judged them four, perhaps five feet each. It didn’t surprise her that the lists would be long. Even back in their third year, girls had swooned over ‘those daring Weasley twins.’ She worried the loose end of George’s parchment with one nail-bitten fingertip. She didn’t care whom they’d been with before her, not really.

Liar, a tiny voice in her heart whispered. She did want to know, and for so many reasons. She’d said it to Fred: people were moulded by their experiences. Each of those names on the parchments represented a shaping influence, however trifling, on the men she loved. And she didn’t want to be surprised by the knowing look in some other woman’s eyes, that look that said, I know how he kisses, and the sounds he makes in the throes of passion, and how he looks when he sleeps. Most of all, there were secrets in those parchments: sweet, seductive secrets that whispered to the dark currents deep in her soul. Almost without her willing it, her fingers moved, unrolling the parchment a tiny bit. The letters of her name marched across the bottom edge in George’s bold script. There was absolutely no room for another name after hers. She let the parchment curl back on itself. With shaking fingers, she reached for Fred’s list. Just as with George’s, Thalassa Artemesia Melite Hartwell was at the very bottom of the parchment with no space left for another name.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she let go. “Keep your secrets,” she whispered. She’d learned everything she truly needed to know. By the time Fred and George checked on her, she was fast asleep. She roused slightly when they undressed her.

“We’re just trying to make you comfortable,” Fred explained hastily.

“Would you rather we left you alone?”

“No,” she replied sleepily. “Come to bed.”

They hurriedly stripped, crawled into bed with her, and pulled the light summer duvet over the three of them.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven us?” George asked.

“Mm. Perhaps.” She let him put his arm about her and rested her head on his shoulder

Fred draped his arm carefully over her thickened waist. “Well, you fed us, so you must be planning on keeping us. We can work on the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow we have an appointment with an estate agent to look at houses,” she reminded.

“Whatever your heart desires, love,” George said, brushing a kiss on her forehead.


By the end of June, they were sure Thalassa had dragged them to view every available house connected to the Floo network. The estate agent gave them odd looks at first, but Fred and George exerted themselves to be charming and the lure of a large commission helped to smooth over any awkward curiosity. Unfortunately, none of the houses were quite what Thalassa had in mind. Fred pointed out that the flat over the apothecary was still vacant and he and George began building a greenhouse on the roof of Thalassa’s building in Diagon Alley.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” she protested. “We’ll find something soon.”

“Any one of the places we’ve already looked at would have been just fine with Fred and me,” George answered. “You know we wouldn’t care if we lived in the Shrieking Shack as long as we’re together with you. This is just in case you can’t find something that pleases you.”

“I’m sure there’s a suitable house out there,” she said, more hopeful than certain. But as time wore on and Thalassa’s energy began to wane, they drew no closer to finding the right place to start their life as a family.

When Ginny came home from school, Thalassa and the twins took her to their favourite Muggle pub to celebrate. Over dinner, they invited her to work for them.

“I’m sure you have your own plans,” Thalassa said. “But until you get your N.E.W.T. results, it would help us a great deal if you could take a few shifts.”

“You’re welcome to work in either shop,” Fred said.

“And you can practically write your own schedule,” George added.

“Actually, I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do,” Ginny replied, frowning slightly. “I thought I might apply to work at the Ministry. Dad said many of the departments are still shockingly understaffed. I’d have loads of options.” Her expression cleared and she smiled at her brothers and Thalassa. “But working for you three would be just the thing to keep me busy until then. Shall I start Monday?”

“Perfect,” Thalassa beamed. “You’ll need to run by Madam Malkin’s and order work robes. I’ll owl her and set up an account. Will two be enough, do you think?”

Fred and George left the two witches to work out the details and went to play darts.

“They left you in my care? I’m honoured,” Ginny remarked.

Thalassa neglected to point out that their table was in full view of the dartboard and that, since they frequented this pub, the twins had surreptitiously added a few charms to the doors and windows. She quickly hammered out a schedule with the younger witch and turned the conversation to other topics.

“So what happened with the Quidditch team this year? Ron said you lot got trounced in your last game against Ravenclaw.”

“Wait a minute. Ron said? Since when are the two of you on speaking terms?”

Thalassa had the grace to blush. “Well, when your mum decided the mother of her grandchild couldn’t be all bad, he sort of thawed. It didn’t hurt that I asked him to help me improve my chess game. And whenever he stops by the flat for a visit, I have freshly baked triple-chocolate biscuits.”

“Good Lord. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to steal him from Hermione.”

“Who do you think suggested my strategy? But back to Quidditch: I know it wasn’t a lack of leadership.”

Ginny sighed. “No, at least, I don’t think so. Really, we just lost so many good players over the last few years, what with one thing and another. The other houses started aggressive recruiting and training practices about, oh, six or seven years ago. They’ve all managed to put together crack teams. I started some recruiting of my own, and set up a more rigorous training schedule, but it was too little, too late.”

“Ah well, you couldn’t be as lucky as Wood was. The team Gryffindor fielded when he was captain, they’d have risen from their graves to play.”

Ginny shuddered. “Don’t remind me. We never knew from year to year if Harry would have to do just that.”

Thalassa looked stricken. “Oh Gods, Ginny, I’m sorry. That was incredibly tactless of me.”

“No, it’s all right. I’d expect that sort of comment from Fred. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you picked up some of his bad habits.”

“Out of all his personality traits, I had to adopt that one.” Thalassa grimaced apologetically. But Ginny laughed the moment off and they fell to discussing the potential of the up and coming players.

“So how are you, really?” Ginny asked when they finally exhausted the topic of the less-than-stellar Gryffindor Quidditch season. “All I ever get from Mum and the twins is ‘fine,’ ‘healthy,’ or at worst ‘doing as well as can be expected.’”

“Well, that’s all true,” Thalassa smiled. “I’m frequently tired, which is normal. The hot weather makes me miserable, also normal, but I’m reasonably content. The midwife says the little Bludger here is developing normally as far as she can tell.”

“’The little Bludger’?” Ginny laughed out loud. “That is so…so Fred-and-George.”

Thalassa gave her a slightly annoyed look. “Well, they wouldn’t let me call the baby ‘Pygmy Puff’ like I wanted to.”

“No, I can’t imagine them going for that.” Ginny wiped tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.

Fred and George finished their game and returned to the table.

“All right?” George asked.

Thalassa nodded. “Ginny will be at the apothecary Mondays, Wednesdays, and alternating Fridays.”

“And I’ll work at the joke shop Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every third Saturday.”

“Excellent,” Fred said, rubbing his hands together.

“Now if we could just find someplace to live, everything would be perfect,” George added.

“What’s wrong with your flat?” Ginny frowned.

Thalassa sighed. “It’s easier to show you than explain. Are we done here?”

Fred and George picked up their pints and quickly drained them. “Ready whenever you are,” Fred replied, thumping his glass back down on the table.

In the thickening dusk, the four of them made their way back to the flat.

“I’m beginning to see what you mean,” Ginny commented as they passed decaying buildings and less-than-reputable businesses. “Not exactly a child-friendly environment, is it?”

“Not really, no,” Thalassa agreed. “It was ideal for my purposes when I decided to get out of Diagon Alley, but now…” she shrugged. “Come on up, though. You’ve never seen our place.”

Ginny made a sound of amazed delight at her first sight of Thalassa’s flat. “I love what you’ve done here.”

“Thank you,” Thalassa smiled. She proudly showed Ginny around, pointing out small details.

“You haven’t given your landlord notice yet, have you?” Ginny asked once she’d seen everything.

“Not yet,” Fred answered, “but he’s aware that it’s only a matter of time.”

“Have you thought of subletting it?” Ginny asked with a gleam in her eye.

“I hadn’t until now, but I don’t think your Mum would be pleased if you moved in here.”

“Oh, she’ll fuss, I’m sure, but if you’ll leave your security spells in place…” she gave Thalassa a hopeful look.

“Hmm. Let me sleep on it.”

“Fair enough. I should be getting home. Mind if I use your Floo?”

“Help yourself. I’ll see you at eight o’clock Monday morning.”

“Bright and early,” Ginny agreed.


The arrangement worked well. Ginny proved to be much more efficient at brewing potions than either of her brothers and Thalassa felt confident letting her work without supervision. Even after Ginny’s N.E.W.T. results came in (‘O’s in Transfigurations, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, ‘E’s in Potions, Muggle Studies, Charms, and Herbology) she continued to work in the two shops. Thalassa took her to task for that decision.

“I thought you were going to apply to work at the Ministry. With those marks, you could go to work in almost any department you cared to.”

“I like what I’m doing,” Ginny protested. “Besides, until you have that baby, you need me around here.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way to manage. And what about that rumour that the Harpies were recruiting you?”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you heard that, did you? Well, as much as I love Quidditch, I don’t want to spend twelve hours a day in the exclusive company of other women.”

“There are other teams.”

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know why you tease Fred and George about being human Bludgers. You’re just as stubborn as they are. Look, I’m under orders from Mum to stay here and help keep you safe. I—ah—think she’s still spooked over what happened with Fleur. She didn’t want Bill to marry her, and then Fleur and the baby died.”

Thalassa paled. “No one told me Fleur had been pregnant,” she whispered. “No wonder Fred and George are so smotheringly attentive. And Bill swings back and forth between being just as overprotective and avoiding me like I’ve got dragon pox.” She sank into her chair, one hand cradling her swollen abdomen.

Ginny eyed her warily. “All right, there?”

Thalassa waved a shaky hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Well, either this will be a nice change of tone, or more bad news. Mum's throwing a birthday party for Percy on Sunday. I think she'd especially like you to be there to prevent Fred and George from playing any trick on Percy that will ruin his day."

Thalassa smiled wanly. "Tell your mum I'll be happy to attend. I always felt a little sorry for Percy, you know? In a family as large as yours it's hard to find one's niche. Percy and Ron always seemed to have the worst of it."


Thalassa was beginning to feel a little desperate and cross. If one more person predicted the baby's gender based on some obscure symptom, touched her tummy or gave her uncolicited advice... She supposed she shouldn’t begrudge people the opportunity to celebrate new life after they’d all lost so much, but she was already having a hormonal time of it and it made her extremely uncomfortable to upstage Percy on his special day. Fred and George had disappeared early on, and Ginny had slipped out a full quarter of an hour ago.

Enough of this. She stood and started making her way to the door. “If everyone will excuse me a moment,” she said apologetically. “The baby has decided that my bladder makes an excellent trampoline.” She didn’t wait for anyone’s response, but hurried down the corridor to the lav. She hadn’t lied, precisely, just exaggerated her need. When she was done, instead of returning to the living room, she diverted through the kitchen on her way out to the garden. Or she intended to, but her path was blocked by a couple embracing in the middle of the Weasleys’ kitchen.

“Oh.” Thalassa stumbled to a sudden halt. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

The woman lifted her head from the man’s shoulder and Thalassa realized the couple were Remus Lupin and Tonks. Her face was tearstained and blotchy and her hair was a dark brown instead of the crayon-bright shades the Auror usually sported.

“Quite all right,” the other witch sniffed. “Don’t suppose you can help but intrude with your big, pregnant belly sticking out in front of you like that. Probably even carrying twins.”

Thalassa gasped at Tonks’s spite. What had she done to earn her dislike? Besides questioning her professional integrity and competence by deferring to her trainee, you mean? the voice in Thalassa’s head asked, sounding nastily like her mother.

“Dora, you’re being unreasonable,” Lupin rebuked gently.

“It’s just so unfair,” Tonks nearly wailed. “We’ve been trying for two years now and all she has to do is forget—“

Thalassa’s jaw dropped as she realized that Tonks was jealous of her.

“Our troubles are not Thalassa’s fault.”

“But you’re a werewolf,” Thalassa blurted out, astonished.

“And I suppose you’re one of those that thinks werewolves shouldn’t be allowed to breed,” Tonks snapped.

“That’s not what I meant,” Thalassa shot back, stung. “Aren’t you worried the baby will be born a werewolf?”

“Of course we are,” Lupin said mildly. “That’s why Nymphadora has been taking Wolfsbane Potion.”

Thalassa frowned. “But Wolfsbane Potion is a powerful contraceptive. While you’re taking it, it’s almost impossible to conceive or impregnate anyone. If you’re both taking the potion…”

“Why didn’t the Healer tell us that?” Tonks demanded.

“I imagine your Healer gets his or her information from the Werewolf Registry.”

“And the Registry isn’t well-disposed to help werewolves reproduce,” Lupin finished.

“Look, you’re going to have to stop taking the potion. It’ll take three months to clear out of your system, and then you should be able to try again.”

“Remus can’t go three months without taking the potion,” Tonks protested.

“No, of course not. You stop taking it first,” Thalassa explained. “And use some other form of contraception, not a potion, for those three months. Then Remus will have to cut back on his intake of Wolfsbane. Instead of taking a dose every day for the whole month, try just the seven days around the full moon. Once you start trying again,” Thalassa blushed, “check frequently so you can determine as soon as possible that you’ve become pregnant. Then you can start taking Wolfsbane to prevent any complications. What dosage did your Healer recommend?”

Lupin told her and Thalassa blanched in shock. “That’s far too much. Even if you’d managed to conceive, that high a dose would act as an abortifacient. I wouldn’t take more than a tenth of that for the first three months at least.”

Tonks and Lupin exchanged a look of guarded hope. “Thank you, Thalassa,” said Lupin, not taking his eyes from Tonks’s face.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my big, pregnant belly out for a turn around the garden.”

Two spots of colour appeared on Tonks’s cheeks. “Sorry for that,” she apologized.

“No, it’s all right,” sighed Thalassa. “Merlin knows I’ve been unfair to you as well. Let’s just call it even and be done.”


The investigation stalled, much to everyone’s frustration. Ron seemed to take it as a personal affront that the case had dragged on for the better part of a year with no progress. Fred and George, though still cautious and overbearingly protective, were relieved that no new crises arose to mar their enjoyment of Thalassa’s pregnancy. Without her usual escape of overwork, Thalassa began to obsess over each new ache and symptom. The knowledge that Bill’s wife had died in childbirth had shaken her more than she’d wanted to admit. When her morning sickness made an unwelcome reappearance, she arranged with her midwife to have extra tests run.

That day, she left the apothecary at noon, over Ginny’s objections.

“Just let me call over to the joke shop through the Floo. I’m sure Fred or George can get free for an hour or so to go with you.”

“No, Ginny. I told you: I don’t want to worry them with all these tests I’m having done.”

“Better to have them worry than have them skin me alive for letting you go by yourself.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll Floo over to the midwife’s.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Honestly, it’s just a few blocks down Diagon Alley, and the midwife’s office is in sight of the joke shop. Everything will be all right, Ginny. Don’t fuss.”


Thalassa left the midwife’s office with a smile on her face. She turned and started up Diagon Alley towards number ninety-three. She wanted to see Fred and George straight away and tell them her news. The sidewalk was unusually crowded for this time of day and someone jostled her from behind, making her lose her balance. She didn’t even have time to curse the clumsiness that went with late pregnancy before someone caught her arm in a claw-like grip. Something pressed against her side for a moment and she felt a sickening swoop and the familiar tug behind her navel that signalled transport by Portkey. What the hell?

Once her head cleared from the unexpected shift in location, she opened her eyes. She only had a moment to register a squalid little room, a disused office, before a foul-smelling rag was clamped over her mouth and nose. She tried not to inhale, but she was still out of breath from the journey by Portkey and struggling against whoever was holding her only used up her oxygen faster. Gods, don’t let them hurt the babies, she prayed before the waves of darkness washed away her ability to think anything at all.

When she came to, she was bound to a chair. Her head pounded and her mouth was as dry as dust.

“Not so high and mighty now are you, Hartwell?”

The voice was familiar, tugging at a loose thread of her memory. She craned her neck, trying to see her captor. He stood in the shadows behind her. “Who’s there?” she finally croaked after a couple of attempts.

“You must not be completely recovered from that Muggle potion yet. I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me.”

Thalassa wasn’t in the mood to play games. She took a deep breath and let her head loll forward. She knew that voice; she just couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t necessary to know who stood behind her to know he was her enemy, though. She tested the strength of her bonds carefully. Whoever he was, he tied a good knot. “I don’t know what it is you think you’ll gain by kidnapping me—“

“Oh, I stand to gain a great deal, not the least of which is the satisfaction of finally teaching you your place.” He stepped forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. Very slowly, he brought a large knife around so she could see it. He placed the blade against the side of her neck, over her carotid artery. “Let me make this very plain: your continued existence depends solely on my patience. Cooperation is your very best chance to survive. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” she said in a tight voice as she looked into the cold blue eyes of Gaius Rookwood.

“Very good.” He gave her an evil smile and moved the knife away. His other hand was still tangled in her hair and he drew his fingers through her tresses, separating one lock from the rest. He wrapped the strands around his fist and yanked cruelly, ripping out a chunk of her hair. “A token to send to your lovers,” he sneered. He folded her hair up in a piece of parchment and moved out of her field of vision.

She blinked back tears of pain and focused her attention on breathing slowly and evenly. She swallowed the insults she wanted to snap out and waited.

“I’m surprised you haven’t been demanding to know what this is all about,” he sneered as he sealed the parchment with a drip of black wax.

“I already know what this is about. I just didn’t know who was behind it, and I’m even more confused now. You never could brew a decent potion. What do you want with my father’s notes?”

He tied the parchment to the leg of a raven and opened the window for the bird. “Once I have those notebooks, I’ll be able to hire anyone I like to brew the potions for me, so don’t think your value to me extends beyond acquiring those notes.” He laughed when he saw the hint of a satisfied smile on her face. “I suppose you’re thinking the books are safe in your vault at Gringott’s. Your lovers’ keys might be magically attached to them, but yours isn’t.”

Thalassa realized with a start that she couldn’t feel the chain about her neck, nor the familiar weight of her key against her breastbone.

“That’s right,” he smirked. “And as long as I have you, they’ll do exactly as I say.”

Thalassa didn’t see the point of arguing, so she held her peace. Fred and George might pretend to accede to Rookwood’s demands, but they’d be plotting a way to rescue her.

Almost as if he’d read her thoughts, he leaned against the desk casually. “And of course, they’ll be planning some elaborate rescue attempt,” he said dismissively. “I’m rather looking forward to the look on their faces when all their clever plans come to naught.”