To Dare

A/N: Whew, nearly there. Please remain seated until the car has stopped moving and thank you for choosing my fic for your reading entertainment.

To Dare

Chapter Twenty-Three

George slumped in the chair next to Thalassa’s bed and watched the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her waxy pallor terrified him, though the Healers had assured him and Fred repeatedly that she was stable and improving. There were no words to describe the fear and despair that clutched at him when he though about how close they’d come—how close they still were—to losing her. It had been two days since they’d brought her to St. Mungo’s by emergency Portkey. Forty-eight hours in which she’d remained unconscious and unresponsive. They’d let him hold the babies even before Thalassa had been moved from Critical Care. Since he’d been allowed in her room, George hadn’t left her side except when absolutely necessary. Fred divided his time between the nursery and sharing George’s bedside vigil.

Oh Merlin, the babies! He still couldn’t quite believe they had twins. Twins! Even though they were nearly a month early, they’d survived the trauma that precipitated Thalassa’s labour. It was almost as if Thalassa had poured all her energy and magic into making sure they arrived safely. Two perfect little girls, they and the uncertain hope offered by tiny sighing breaths in the silence were the only things that kept George sane. “Thalassa, love,” he said hoarsely, taking her cold, limp hand in his, “wake up. There’s two little girls in the nursery that need their mummy.” He pushed a lock of hair off her forehead, mimicking her nervous habit. At least the Healers had repaired the damage done to her face.

The door opened, admitting a green-robed Healer. The middle-aged witch checked the spells layered on Thalassa with brisk efficiency and made a notation on the chart she carried. When she was done, she turned to George. “You won’t do her any good if you make yourself ill. Go get some rest, or something to eat.”

“Soon,” he replied absently. He’d found it easier to agree with whatever the medical staff said.

“Young man,” the Healer began in an authoritative voice, “you will either go voluntarily, or I will have you admitted as a patient and sedated.”

“Try it,” he snarled, standing up.

“Would everyone please shut up?” Thalassa’s thready rasp was the most beautiful sound George had ever heard.

“Out,” the Healer ordered. “Now.”

He ignored her and clasped Thalassa’s hand once more. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his. “George,” she whispered. “Go.”

He kissed her fingers and finally obeyed. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all looked up as he came out into the corridor.

“What’s happened?” Ginny asked after one glance at George’s expression.

“She woke up,” he replied, still stunned. Ginny immediately gave him a hug.

“I’ll go get Fred,” Harry said and sprinted down the corridor toward the nursery. More Healers arrived and some left again while George paced.

“George, mate, you’re making me dizzy,” Ron complained.

“Let him be, Ron,” Hermione scolded.

Fred came running up the corridor. “How is she?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. She woke up and they threw me out. Nobody’s said anything since.”

Fred took one determined step towards the door to Thalassa’s room. Ginny and Hermione jumped forward and caught his arms. He dragged them with him another step before Ron moved in front of him. “Let the Healers do their jobs, Fred,” he warned. “You’ll only get in the way.”

Fred clenched his jaw and looked murderous for a moment before subsiding. Hermione let him go, but Ginny stayed by his side, one hand on his shoulder to offer comfort.

A few moments later, Harry joined them. He shot a questioning look at Ron, who answered with a solemn shake of his head. “Did she say anything when she woke up, George?” Harry asked. “Did she know where she was?”

George stared at him blankly for a moment. “I was arguing with the Healer and she told us to shut up.”

“Then it sounds like she’ll be fine,” Harry said with a confident smile.

Just then, the Healer came out into the corridor, her associates filing out after her and scattering to attend to their other duties. “The healing spells seem to be holding. The fact that Ms. Hartwell woke on her own is very promising, but the next twenty-four hours are critical for the spells to work effectively. She is not to be upset or stressed in any way. You may go in and see her one at a time, for short stretches. Do not tire her.”

“Did you tell her?” Fred asked.

The Healer’s expression softened into something approaching compassion. “I thought it best to wait until she was stronger.”

“She should hear something like that from us,” George said.

The Healer nodded. “You can go in now.”

Fred and George both took a step forward, stopped, and exchanged a pained glance.

“You’d better let them in,” Hermione said to the Healer. “She’ll want to see them both anyway. The rest of us can wait until tomorrow.”

The Healer just shook her head in exasperation, but stood aside. They brushed past her and hurried to Thalassa. She lay still, her eyes closed. There was more color in her face than earlier and her breathing was deeper, George noted with relief. Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed as she opened her eyes.

She regarded them with a slight frown, taking in their wrinkled robes and unshaven faces. “You two look like hell,” she whispered.

Fred grinned and leaned over to kiss her forehead. George took her hand in both of his. “We thought for a bit there we were going to lose you,” he said.

“I wouldn’t give Rookwood the satisfaction,” she grimaced. “There’s something no one will tell me. What’s wrong? The babies?”

“Are fine,” Fred said soothingly. “Two beautiful little girls. Ten fingers and ten toes each.”

Thalassa smiled at the pride in his voice. She drifted in semi-consciousness for a time, anchored to the waking world only by George’s hands wrapped around hers and by Fred smoothing her hair back from her face. All too soon, a matron came in to shoo them out. They each kissed Thalassa tenderly and she scowled at them as fiercely as she could manage. “Go home and get cleaned up before you come back here,” she ordered them. “And eat something. George,” she raised a shaky hand to point at him, “you go hold the babies for me. Make sure Fred counted those fingers and toes right.”

Her bossiness told them more than anything else that she was going to be all right. “We’ll be back later,” George said. “You concentrate on healing.”

“Who’s out in the corridor?” she asked as they turned to leave.

“Ginny and Ron, Hermione, and Harry,” Fred answered. “They didn’t want to tire you.”

“Would you ask Ginny or Hermione to come in for a minute?”

The matron made a protesting sound.

“Just for a minute,” Thalassa insisted.

Fred and George went out and Ginny stepped in a moment later. “All right, Thalassa?” she asked gently.

“All right, Ginny. Do me a favour, please. Make Fred and George go home. I don’t care how you do it. Set Hermione on them. Set your mother on them. Make them eat something and if you have to slip a Sleeping Draught in their food to make them get some rest, then so be it.”

Ginny chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else?”

“Yes. What is it that no one’s telling me? There’s something wrong with the babies, isn’t there?”

“Nothing is wrong with the babies,” Ginny insisted. “Both girls are just as healthy and sturdy as you’d ever hope. Their grandfather and both grandmothers, all their uncles and near-aunts, Harry and I, are doting on them. They’re running the nursery staff ragged, just as you’d expect, knowing who their fathers are. Listen, you lost a lot of blood. You almost died. Everyone has been very worried about you. I’m sure that’s what has you thinking people are keeping things from you. You need to rest and recover your strength. Soon you’ll be home with two brand-new Weasleys.”

“Tell me about them, Ginny,” Thalassa pleaded.

“They’re beautiful, Thalassa. They have the prettiest red-gold hair. The younger one has these really long fingers and she stretches way out every chance she gets, like she was tired of being cooped up. The older one is just as cute and chubby as can be. There’s all the mischief of their fathers in their eyes and I swear I saw the older one smirk this morning. They’re going to be just as stubborn as their mother, too…” Ginny let her voice trail off, for Thalassa had fallen asleep, a gentle smile curving her lips. Ginny felt her heart contract with sorrow as tears gathered in her eyes. She tiptoed out, closed the door quietly behind her, and leaned against it for a moment, blinking to clear her vision.

“Ginny, are you all right?” Harry asked, touching her shoulder.

“I’m fine. It’s just…she’s going to be an amazing mum.” She straightened and stood away from the door, looking around. Fred and George were sitting on a bench across and a little down the corridor. They looked as if they planned to stay there until the matron would allow them back in Thalassa’s room. “Come on.” She grabbed Harry’s hand. “Ron, Hermione,” she called softly and indicated they should all move away from her older brothers. “Thalassa made me promise to drag those two out of here and make sure they got rested and fed.” She wrinkled her nose. “A shower wouldn’t be uncalled for, either.”

Hermione hadn’t missed Harry’s concern for Ginny, nor the fact that Ginny still held his hand. About damn time, she thought. “Leave them to Ron and me. You two should stay here in case there’s any change. If you don’t have anywhere else you need to be, that is.”

“No,” said Harry. “I’ve leave from training until tomorrow, same as Ron.”

“And I’m off until one or the other of the shops opens again,” Ginny added.

“Then that’s settled. We should all be back in a few hours.” Hermione nodded and marched over to Fred and George. “Come on, you two. You need to get out of here for a bit and get something to eat.”

George shot her an annoyed look.

“Bugger off, ‘Mione,” Fred said distantly.

“Get up,” she ordered them.

Ron chuckled softly. “They listen to her about as well as a pair of broomsticks,” he said to Harry before going to help.


Thalassa improved rapidly after that and by the next morning, the Healers pronounced her fit enough to attempt feeding the babies. They managed well enough and the matron assured Thalassa that the process would get easier for her and the girls with practice. She leaned back against a stack of pillows while Fred and George held their daughters.

“We need to name them,” Fred reminded.

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that,” Thalassa replied. “I still like Ariadne, after my grandmother. I know you two liked James for a boy. What about Jamie? It’s used as a girl’s name sometimes.”

George nodded slowly. “That sounds good. You know, it’s the strangest thing, but they get this look in their eyes, like they already know everything and they’re impatient for us to figure it out. What about Minerva?”

“That would be a nice compliment to Professor McGonagall,” Fred commented.

Thalassa frowned a little. “I hate to say it, but I’ve never liked the name Minerva. What about Athena instead? We could still say we chose it to honour Professor McGonagall.”

“I do like the sound of that better, now that you mention it,” Fred said. “So one more name? It would please Mum to no end if we named one of the girls after her.”

Thalassa considered his suggestion for a few moments before shaking her head. “I like the idea, but I just can’t get Molly to sound right with any of the other names.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind one ear.

“What is it?” George asked. “You always play with your hair when something’s bothering you.”

“Do I?” She blinked at him. “Well, there’s another name that I’ve always liked, but I hesitate to mention it.”

“Go on then,” George urged. “Tell us.”

“Olivia.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Fred huffed. “You want to name our daughter after your schoolgirl crush.”

She gave him a deeply offended look. “For your information, I’ve liked that name since I was a little girl. If you think about it, though, I very likely wouldn’t have gotten to know the two of you so well if I hadn’t fancied Oliver Wood back then, and we wouldn’t be arguing about what to name our daughters now.” She closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the pillows as if her speech had worn her out.

“Shh, love, it’s all right. Olivia’s a fine name,” George soothed.

“They’re going to be flying before they can walk, named after all those Quidditch players,” Fred joked, though it sounded a little forced.

“Imagine another pair of Weasley twins as Beaters for Gryffindor in a few years,” Thalassa smiled. “Here, Fred, let me hold her.”

He placed the tiny bundle that was their daughter in her arms. This was the older twin, the one who had inherited her fathers’ stocky build. Thalassa stroked the baby’s brow with a gentle fingertip. “This one is definitely Athena Olivia. George?” He perched on the edge of the bed and turned so Thalassa could study their other daughter’s face. “Jamie Ariadne,” she said decisively. Fred and George exchanged proud smiles and nodded their approval. “Perhaps next time we’ll have a boy and we can name him after one of you. Or if it’s another girl, we can name her after your mum.” When they didn’t answer, she glanced up. “What is it? I thought you wanted a big family. Did you change your minds?”

“That’s not it. We’d love to have more children with you.” George sighed. “You were right yesterday. There is something we’ve kept from you.” He looked to Fred in mute appeal.

“Did anyone tell you that you nearly bled to death before we could get you here?”

Thalassa nodded, sick with apprehension.

“What they had to do to stop the bleeding, well, you can’t ever get pregnant again. There wasn’t any other option.”

She looked from Fred to George and read the truth in their faces. “I—I see,” she choked out. She began to shake. “Fred, you’d better take her back,” she said in a wobbly voice.

He gently scooped Athena up and settled her in her bassinet. George shifted Jamie into the crook of one arm and took Thalassa’s hand in his. Fred sat on the bed next to her and put his arm around her.

“You both lied to me,” she accused. “Ginny did, too.”

“Not exactly,” Fred hedged. “You kept asking if something was wrong with the babies.”

“You knew what I meant.”

“Yes, we knew,” said George quietly. “We wanted to give you time to recover your strength, and we wanted to be here with you, to be here for you, when you found out.”

She heard his voice as if from far away. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some sort of nightmare. Suddenly, Jamie began to wail. George looked down in surprise at the squalling, red-faced infant in his arms. Thalassa came out of her fog of despair. “Give her to me, George.” He did so a little awkwardly and Thalassa immediately began making shushing noises. “Hush, little one. Mummy is here, and your daddies. Nothing can hurt you while we’re about.” She continued to croon reassurances until Jamie quieted and fell asleep. Surprisingly, Athena slept through the whole fuss.

“Are you going to be all right?” George asked.

“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Thalassa sighed. “What’s done is done and nothing can change it. I have two babies that need me right now. I can’t waste time crying for the others I’ll never have.”

“You don’t have to be brave all the time.” Fred gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’re all in this together, remember?”

She was too tired to contradict him. There would be time enough to explain that she wouldn’t keep them with her now that she couldn’t… She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against Fred’s shoulder, unable to finish the thought.

“Do you want us to take the girls back to the nursery so you can get some rest?” George asked gently.

“Not really. I feel like I’ve missed so much already, but I suppose you’d better. As Ginny pointed out yesterday, we’ll all be home soon enough. I should get as much rest as I can now.”

George took Jamie back and she immediately began to cry. “Why doesn’t she like me?” he complained.

“She doesn’t like the change,” Thalassa explained. “Hold her up against your shoulder and make shushing noises. Don’t forget to support her head. And relax. She’s picking up on your nervousness.”

“You’ve been a mum for all of two and a half days and you were unconscious for the first two. You are such a natural,” Fred marvelled. “The girls are so lucky.”

A knock on the door spared her from revealing her knowledge came from shelves full of books and hours of conversation with his mother. She quickly finger-combed her hair; grateful she’d been allowed a bath earlier that morning. “Come in,” she called. She expected more Weasleys and was surprised to see that her visitors were Remus Lupin and Severus Snape.

Snape was a shadow of his former self, a reflection viewed in a broken mirror. His greasy hair, once coal-black, was streaked liberally with grey. He bore visible scars now too, and he walked with a slight limp. His complexion was pasty and there was a very conspicuous spell-band on his arm. To track his movements and to prevent him from doing magic, Thalassa realized.

Fred jumped up, interposing himself between his family and Snape. “Who let you out of Azkaban?” he demanded.

George thrust Jamie into Thalassa’s arms and reached across the foot of the bed to pull Athena’s bassinet closer, away from Snape.

“That is none of your concern, Mr. Weasley.” Snape’s icy hauteur was unchanged. “Suffice it to say that I am here at the request of the Ministry of Magic.”

Lupin quickly hid a smile at Fred and George’s protectiveness. It was time to lighten the mood. “Congratulations, Miss Hartwell. Girls, I believe?”

“Yes, Athena and Jamie.” She glanced curiously from him to Snape. “What brings you two gentlemen here?”

“No one’s been able to produce an adequate antidote for Mr. Rookwood’s snakebite. The Ministry even summoned Severus in the hopes that he might have some knowledge lost to the rest of us. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he’s had no luck. We were hoping you knew the proper antivenin.”

“Hoping to get them to commute your sentence?” George snarled.

“That is not the issue at hand,” Lupin interrupted.

“I’m not surprised you haven’t had any success.” Thalassa smiled thinly. “One of the components is unavailable.”

“And that would be?” Snape prompted.

“Three drops of my blood.”

“That can be obtained.”

“Given freely and knowingly.”

“Ah. Then we are at an impasse. Lupin, I believe impassioned appeals to her Gryffindor honor are your area of expertise. I’ll leave you to it.” He left the room, but they all knew he wouldn’t be far away.

“Bastard,” George muttered.

“Not in front of the girls, George,” Thalassa reproved, handing Jamie back to him.

Lupin sighed. “Severus is correct, Miss Hartwell. It’s my job to convince you to give us what we need.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Give me one reason why I should, because I could give you twenty why I shouldn’t.”

He met her gaze steadily. “Because you’re not a murderer,” he said with quiet confidence.

“I have hundreds of deaths on my conscience, every one of them worth more than ten like Rookwood.”

Lupin shot questioning looks at Fred and George. George wisely remained silent, but Fred just shrugged and said, “The potion they gave the dying during the war, she brewed it.”

“That’s not your secret to tell,” George rebuked his twin.

Thalassa sighed. “George is right, Fred, but I kept Remus’s secret back at school, he’ll keep mine now.”

A surprised look flitted across the older wizard’s face. “You knew?”

“Of course,” she replied matter-of-factly. “My father helped invent Wolfsbane Potion. It would be a sad day when I couldn’t recognize that potion by the smell.”

Jamie began to fuss again and this time Athena woke and added her protests. George stood and paced with Jamie while Fred picked up Athena and began to hum a badly out of tune lullaby. Lupin watched them for a few moments with a pained expression.

“All right, Moony?” George asked.

Lupin started and passed a shaking hand over his face. “Yes. I was just reminded of James, watching the two of you with your daughters. I take it Jamie is named for him.”

“Yeah. We figured Harry wouldn’t mind,” Fred said. "And, no offence, but there just isn't a good feminine equivalent for 'Remus' or 'Sirius'."

Lupin smiled. "That's true." He turned to Thalassa. “Do you mind if I tell you a story, Miss Hartwell?”

“If you wish,” she nodded her agreement reluctantly.

He told her the tale of how he and Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew met and became friends. His raspy, tired voice never faltered and the story would’ve made Thalassa smile if she hadn’t already known what became of the four when they were grown.

When he finished, she shook her head sadly. “But in the end, Peter betrayed you all,” she reminded gently, “and James died of it. Sirius, too, if not as directly.”

“Just so,” Lupin agreed.

“I remember it, you know. When V—when he fell the first time. I was five. My father took me up on the roof of the apothecary to watch the fireworks. He told me I should remember that night, for a great evil had been driven out of the land. I didn’t even know what evil was then, and we all celebrated too soon.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t the end of the story. Peter redeemed himself at the last. He sacrificed himself to save Harry. I was with him when he died. He asked for forgiveness, and I gave it.”

“How could you? He as good as killed your best friends.”

“Withholding forgiveness wouldn’t have brought them back.”

She scowled. “Rookwood isn’t likely to beg my forgiveness.”

“No, but refusing to give us the antidote won’t undo the wrong he’s done you.” The silence stretched for long moments. Even the babies had settled down, as if they sensed the gravity of the situation. Lupin continued. “Peter didn’t die from his injuries. He was mangled beyond repair, but still alive when I reached him. He was in terrible pain. He said he’d been a stupid, blind coward and he was sorry for all the harm he’d done. He asked my help to cross over so he could apologize to Sirius and James and Lily. I held the Cup for him to drink and it brought him the grace it promised.”

Thalassa regarded him, stony-faced and dry-eyed. Then she sighed. “Could you please let us have a moment alone, Remus?”

He nodded and left the room. Fred and George sat down on either side of Thalassa, each cradling a tiny, pink-blanketed bundle against a broad shoulder.

“What will you do?” Fred asked.

“Whatever the three of us decide,” she answered. “This affects the two of you as much as it affects me. No potion or spell can restore what’s been taken away, not without resorting to the darkest of magics. I don’t expect you two to stay with me now that I can’t have any more children…”

“What?” George stared at her in shock.

“That doesn’t matter to us,” Fred hastened to reassure her.

“This changes how we envisioned our futures.” She spoke firmly, overriding them. “So I ask you: what would you have me do?”

They were still reeling from her statement and they looked at one another uncertainly. Fred took a deep breath. “When Rookwood was holding you at knifepoint, I’d have killed him without thinking twice. Now, though,” he shook his head, “I’d give them the blood. If anyone deserves to go to Azkaban, it’s him.”

“George?”

He sat there, staring stonily off to the side. Though he still held Jamie gently, his jaw was clenched. “No,” he said roughly. “For two whole days we didn’t know if you were going to live or die. I stayed here, just watching you breathe, wondering if the next breath would be your last. We have you back, finally, and because of how he hurt you, you doubt our love for you? Let him die, and I hope it’s slow and painful.” His voice shook with emotion. He stood and tenderly placed Jamie in her bassinet, surreptitiously wiping his eyes while his back was turned.

Thalassa opened her mouth to argue, but changed her mind. “We need to come to an agreement. My first instinct is to say no. Rookwood isn’t likely to change and become a decent human being. If he ever gets out of Azkaban, he’ll be back to his old habits before he reaches the mainland. But, I agree with you, Fred. It was easier in the heat of the moment when he was threatening the babies. Now, well, my blood’s just not quite that cold.”

George cleared his throat. “That’s just it. It’s your blood. Whatever we say, it has to be your decision. I’ll stand behind whatever choice you make.”

“All right,” she nodded. Remus Lupin’s story had given her an idea she was sure he never intended her to form. “I think I can come up with a solution that will satisfy all our wishes. Would you take the girls back to the nursery, please? And ask Snape to step in when you go.”

Fred leaned over and kissed her before putting Athena in her bassinet. George pulled Thalassa into his arms and just held her for long moments, his face pressed to the curve of her neck. “I don’t like leaving you alone with him,” he muttered darkly.

“I’m in no danger from him.” She hugged George tight before letting him go. With quiet Locomotor spells, they took their daughters and left. Moments later, Snape entered and shut the door behind him. Thalassa wished, not for the first time, that she’d been able to master Legilimency. What lurked in the dark corners of her former professor’s soul? She’d once respected him for his uncompromising standards and superior knowledge of potions. Was it only that ambition and envy had narrowed his options, or had he been caught up in a game too deep to control? Could she trust him now to carry out her plan?

“And what is your decision?” he asked.

She met his piercing gaze steadily. “One would think I could take satisfaction in the fact that the man who tried to kill me is dependent on my mercy, but somehow the thought fails to bring me any comfort. This is how you make the antidote.” She listed the ingredients and described the process in a steady, clear voice despite her exhaustion.

Snape produced a small phial and a knife from his pocket.

“Before I give you my blood, I want your word on something. When you take Rookwood the antidote, take along a Euthanasia Draught. I’m sure you can manage that somehow. The Lab here has some left over that I brewed for them. Give him the choice of which potion to take.”

Snape raised one eyebrow. “You show the mercy of a Slytherin. Very well, you have my word.” She held her hand out to him and he made a careful cut on her palm.

She watched her blood drip into the phial with morbid fascination. “A Slytherin wouldn’t tell him which potion was which.”

Snape pressed a clean cloth to the cut on her hand. “If he paid attention to his Potions lessons, he won’t need anyone to tell him the difference.”