To Dare

A/N: What a long strange trip this has been. You are looking at the culmination of two years of hard work. More if you count the year of trying to get it beta-read and trying to figure out where to post it. Two sites I had chosen to host it on, crashed before I made it to the third chapter.
In the last chapter, I wrote that Thalassa, Fred, and George's daughters were named after James Potter and Oliver Wood, but we all know the girls were named after a different James and Oliver, right? Also, the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes products that look and function like ordinary items, but also have a second, hidden, magical function were inspired by all those cool James Bond gadgets. In an interview once, James Phelps said he'd like to play Bond one day.
This novel has extra information and a few unresolved issues. Please try not to see this as a cliffhanger ending. I did want to leave myself room to write a sequel if the plotbunny jumped me in a dark alley, but I do not have anything approaching a cohesive plot, so it may never materialise. Think of it as a closer reflection of reality. Real life is rarely wrapped up in a nice, neat parcel, ready for shipment. If it's really going to bother you, stop reading at the break.
Thanks again for shopping Taj-Mart.

To Dare

Epilogue

There was a quiet knock on the door and Hermione poked her head in. “Thalassa? You awake?”

“It’s all right, Hermione. I wasn’t sleeping,” Thalassa reassured her.

“Well, I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I’m on my lunch hour. I need to get back to the Ministry soon.”

“All I ever do these days is feed the girls and rest. I suppose I shouldn’t complain about not having to change nappies, but…” she shrugged and chuckled at herself.

Hermione smiled as she came into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “Well I have some news that might cheer you. I’ve found a ritual that you and Fred and George can use for a marriage ceremony.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? Just ‘oh’? The twins have been hounding me ever since they found out you were pregnant to dig up something that would let you marry them both.”

“Hermione, I can’t marry them now.”

“Why not? I know you still love them. What’s the prob—oh, I see. It’s because you can’t have any more children, isn’t it?”

Thalassa nodded. “They’ve made it clear all along that they want a big family. If it’s not ‘You wouldn’t mind having a few more, would you?’ it’s ‘With three of us to raise them, we could field our own Quidditch team.’”

Hermione pressed her lips together, torn between compassion and exasperation.

“Just don’t tell them,” Thalassa urged. “Let them think you couldn’t find anything.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s too late, I owled them this morning. I just wanted to give you a little warning. I think they’ve gone to buy you an engagement ring.”

The blonde witch ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. “Thanks for that, anyway.”

“It’ll be all right, Thalassa. You’ll see.”


When Fred and George arrived home from the work late that afternoon, Thalassa was nearly finished feeding the girls. “Just in time,” she smiled at them. “Athena and Jamie have had tea and are ready to be burped.” She noted the dress shirts and neatly pressed trousers and suppressed a giggle. It truly wasn’t funny. They’d taken some trouble to change out of their work robes and get a bit dressed up. No man wanted to propose with half-digested breast milk on his shoulder. They accepted their duties with good grace, though, each taking one of the girls to pat them gently on the back.

Thalassa refastened her robe and moved the cushions she’d used to help prop up the babies for their feeding. “So, how did things go with Mother today?”

“Fine,” George replied absently. “She stayed out of the workroom and I stayed out of the shop except when she took her lunch. She’s really become quite tolerant since your brush with death.”

Thalassa sighed. “I suppose I should be more anxious to get back to work, but I don’t want to be away from the girls quite yet.”

“I’m not keen on being away from the three of you, myself,” said Fred. “But no choice there. Even with Ginny’s help, covering both shops is a bit of a nightmare.”

“We have something else we want to discuss with you, though,” George said, putting Olivia in her cradle. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet jeweller’s box. Fred had one in his free hand, too. They opened them to reveal gold rings set with teardrop shaped rubies.

“We know diamonds are traditional, but we hoped you wouldn’t mind wearing Gryffindor colours,” Fred explained.

“We had them especially made at Mystik Jewels. Watch.” George picked up her left hand and slid the ring on her third finger. Then he took Jamie from Fred so he could do the same. The rings were made to interlock, the gems fitting together to form a heart.

“Will you marry us?” they said in unison.

Thalassa looked down at the rings on her hand and sighed. The symbolism wasn’t lost on her. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” said George gently. “Hermione’s found a ritual we can use. It won’t be legally binding, but in all the other ways that matter, we’ll be married.”

“What’s wrong? Have you decided we’re not worth the trouble?” Fred tried for a joke.

“No,” she smiled sadly, “never that. I know you’re not going to leave me to raise Athena and Jamie alone, but it wouldn’t be fair to you to bind yourselves to me.”

“This is more of that rubbish you were trying to tell us up at the hospital, isn’t it?” George demanded.

“George,” Fred interrupted, “if you’re going to shout at Thalassa, let me hold Jamie.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but scooped their daughter into his arms. “And for the record, telling a woman that she’s spouting rubbish isn’t the most romantic way to propose.”

“It’s not rubbish,” Thalassa argued. “You want more kids. I know you do. I can’t give you that.”

“Listen to me,” George began, grasping both her hands in his. “I have loved you since I was thirteen years old. I wasn’t thinking about having kids then. I still love you. Yes, I’d like to have more children with you,” he stressed, “and I’m angry that we won’t have that chance now. Marry me or not, but don’t think I’m ever going to leave you. Those two days, not knowing if you were going to live or die, I realized I can’t live without you. I’m already bound to you. I just want everyone else to know it, too.”

“The problem is that you’re too used to being right all the time,” Fred added. “But you’re not right about this. It’s like George said: we want more kids, but only if we can raise them with you. You’ve already given us two beautiful daughters, and unless I miss my guess, they’re going to be quite a handful. If things get too quiet, we can always adopt a few more. The war made a lot of orphans. It won’t matter that they don’t have our red hair, or your blue eyes. Haven’t we insisted loudly enough that it’s the love that really counts?”

She sighed. “Human Bludgers, the pair of you, and still don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Only when it’s the right answer,” George reminded her with a smile.

“So it doesn’t matter that we won’t have any more babies together?”

“Of course it matters,” Fred said. “I feel cheated. You’re so sexy when you’re pregnant. But we’ll face that loss with you, just like we’ll share every other sorrow and joy for the rest of our lives.”

“And what would you say if I told you the last time I went to the midwife, I had the Paternity Divination done?”

“Did you?” George raised an eyebrow. “A secret like that and you waited this long to ferret it out?”

“Would you like to know the results?” She watched their reactions closely.

“If you want to tell us,” said Fred, unconcerned.

George smiled. “After six months of you insisting we’re all to share in the experience of parenting equally, how could you think the results of that test would make any difference?”

“So it doesn’t matter that you’re both fathers in biological fact as well as love and intent?”

“What?” Fred’s jaw dropped.

“How is that possible?” George asked, bewildered.

“Athena and Jamie are fraternal twins, not identical. If you want to know which of you is father to which girl, though, we’ll need to have the Divination done again.”

“There’s no need for that. We know all we need to know.” Fred smiled down at Jamie. “George and I both have two daughters.”

“Two daughters that deserve to have parents that are married,” said Mrs. Weasley from the doorway.

“Eavesdropping, Mum?” George teased.

She ignored him. “Give them your answer, Thalassa. I’ve waited long enough to be a mother-in-law again.”

“Dear Gods, now I know where they get it. All right, yes. Fred, George, I will marry you.”

There was a suspicious sniffling sound from Mrs. Weasley and she cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could hire Celestina Warbeck for the reception?”

* * *

Somewhere, a man stood at a window and looked out over the city. Moonlight glinted off the tumbler of firewhiskey in his hand. A slight breeze moved the curtains and caused the pages of the newspaper on the desk behind him to rattle. In the dim glow of candlelight, the article on top could be seen.

PRISONER DIES WHILE IN CUSTODY

Gaius Rookwood, arrested on several charges, died yesterday evening after being treated for injuries sustained during his capture. Healers could only speculate that Rookwood suffered a fatal allergic reaction to a potion administered…

The breeze skittered through again, stronger this time, flipping the pages. When the breeze died, the paper lay open to the society pages. In the centre of the engagement notices, a photo of Thalassa Hartwell and the Weasley twins smiled brightly. Then, over the caption announcing their unusual relationship and upcoming bonding ceremony, the image of one of the twins made rabbit ears behind his brother’s head, receiving a punch on the shoulder in return. The woman’s image elbowed them both.

The cut-crystal tumbler shattered suddenly, shards of glass flying. Blood and firewhiskey dripped, unheeded from the man’s hand. He’d chosen poorly, he decided. His target had proved more resourceful and resilient that he’d originally thought her. And his tool, Rookwood had not been adequate to the task. No matter, he had other tools at his disposal, and other means to achieve his ends.

A/N: An Epilogue to the Epilogue

Thank you to everyone who read this, whether you commented or not. Double thanks to my reviewers. At this writing, I don't think AFF enables replies to reviews. Rest assured that I do read and appreciate your words, kind or otherwise. With the publication of Deathly Hallows my fic was definitely chucked into the AU category. To be honest, I didn't think Jo would've allowed as many of the "bad guys" to live as she did and I sure as hell didn't think she'd kill off as many of the "good guys".

The original plan was for this to be the first of four novels, each centering on two of the Weasley children with the last focusing on Ginny, Harry, and the next generation of Weasleys at Hogwarts. This ended on a bit of a cliffhanger because I was setting up for the story arc that would take us through the rest of the series. If you are dying to know what was supposed to come next, I can send you a rough outline. (email me at tajareyul@gmail.com) Considering how long it took me to write this one and the fact that Deathly Hallows pretty much broke my will to live, I don't know that I'll ever write the other three novels I had planned. I do know enough to never say "never", but please don't anyone hold your breath waiting for more.

Again, thank you, one and all. My experience at AFF has been a very pleasant one. I could not have asked for better readers and reviewers.