To Dare

A/N:Thanks to moon_muse for your kind review!

To Dare

Chapter Three

By late evening on Friday there had been a break in the humid weather. In the workroom of Hartwell’s Apothecary, Thalassa was grateful for the less oppressive atmosphere. She started the cauldron boiling and got out the ingredients for the cough syrup she needed to finish before she went home. Liquorice root and honey went into the purified water in the cauldron, and then slippery elm and herbal phoenix tears. She was carefully chopping coltsfoot when she suddenly felt something was very wrong. She froze, knife poised above the cutting board while her scalp prickled and her arms broke out in gooseflesh. She checked the small cauldron at the end of the worktable. Everything seemed to be in order, so what had spooked her? She cocked her head to the side and listened for a moment. Except for the bubbling of the cauldron and her own shallow breathing, all was silent. Too silent, she wondered? What time was it? Was it late enough that Ian had closed up his shop and retired for the night? She squinted through the shadows at the clock on the wall. Eleven-thirty. It was possible Ian had closed early. He usually stayed open until midnight, but if he didn’t have any customers…

Thalassa sifted through her memories of the past couple of hours, trying to think when she’d last heard any noise from upstairs. Someone had clattered up the stairs a short while ago, perhaps as much as a half-hour, but she didn’t recall hearing them leave. As she listened and tried to piece together events she’d only been peripherally aware of, she heard a faint scratching noise that raised all the hair on the back of her head. A moment later, the smell hit her. It was the coppery tang of blood, the stench of death come to call.

She put out the flame beneath the cauldron and swept the coltsfoot into the dustbin. A quick gesture with her wand set off the silent alarms and she snatched up the knife and the still-hot cauldron. She nipped into the large storage cupboard where she’d stacked the completed part of the Hogwarts order and set the cauldron on a shelf. “Nox,” she whispered and the room was plunged into darkness. She shut the cupboard door and locked it with a tap of her wand. She didn’t dare use Colloportus; the squelching noise might alert the intruder to her presence.

Oh please, please, please, she prayed silently. She prayed the alarm spells were as good as advertised. She prayed the Aurors would arrive quickly. She prayed Ian was all right, even though she knew in the marrow of her bones that he wasn’t. She prayed that she wouldn’t be discovered, that she’d be safe, that she’d live to see Fred and George again. Finally, she prayed that if none of her other prayers were answered, that she wouldn’t die without putting up a fight and that at the last, she’d be defiant and not beg for mercy. She quickly wiped first one sweaty hand then the other on her robe. She held her wand ready in her right hand and gripped the knife in her left and waited. Someone or something was moving in the workroom. Long minutes passed while Thalassa listened to the intruder rummage about in the desk. The faint glow of a wand or torch leaked in under the cupboard door and she tried to breathe slowly and quietly. The sudden crash of bottles hitting the floor made her jump. Bloody hell. That’s going to set me back, she thought angrily. There was a commotion in the alleyway behind the shop and then silence in the workroom.

Thalassa held her breath, afraid to move. Her hand tightened on her wand to the point where it was a wonder the slender length of apple wood didn’t snap in two. There was a loud crash as the back door was blown off its hinges. Despite her fear, she found she could still be annoyed about the further damage to her shop. A few moments later a voice right outside the cupboard door said, “Alohamora,” and the lock snicked open. She tensed, but the face she saw when the door swung open was a familiar one and Thalassa nearly fainted with relief. It was Ron Weasley.

“Don’t move,” he ordered her.

With a start, Thalassa realized she was still holding the knife and her wand at the ready. She turned her hands over and extended both weapons to him, handle first. “Am I glad to see you,” she said with a weak smile.

He took her wand and the knife from her and gestured for her to step out of the cupboard. She could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t quite recognize her.

“Fred and George told me you’d been accepted for Auror training, Ron. Congratulations. I didn’t realize they put their cadets in the field so quickly, though.”

The slight frown between his eyes cleared. “Of course. Thalassa Hartwell. What were you doing hiding in the cupboard?”

“I should think that was obvious. Oh—“ she stopped as she caught sight of the devastation that had been her workroom. It was actually worse than she feared. It looked as if someone had run down the aisles with their arms outstretched, sweeping everything they could reach off the shelves as they went.

One of the other Aurors, a youngish woman with pink streaks in her hair, came over. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Thalassa stared blankly at her for a moment before the other witch’s words sank in. She cleared her throat and said, “To a point, yes.” She recounted the events that led to that moment. When she finished, there were questions: Did she know who might want to break into her shop? Had she noticed anyone suspicious hanging about? Could she tell if anything was missing? Thalassa’s answers were no help.

Ron was looking around the workroom, careful not to touch anything. “Tell us again what you heard after you hid in the cupboard,” he said, closing his eyes as if trying to imagine the sounds as she described them.

“I heard someone moving about, the desk drawers being opened and slammed shut, someone rummaging through boxes, and all the bottles and crocks hitting the floor. Then there was a ruckus in the alley. I suppose that was you lot, because right after that the door came crashing in.”

“Nothing else? No onw speaking?”

“No, nothing.”

He opened his eyes and nodded, giving the female Auror a significant look.

“What is it?” Thalassa asked, and then she made the connection. “Whoever was here didn’t use the Floo or Disapparate. I’d have heard them speaking their destination, or heard the pop. They must’ve used a portkey or, or an Invisibility Cloak.”

“No,” the third Auror, a middle-aged man with glasses, said cheerfully. “No Invisibility Cloak. I’d have seen.” He tapped the earpiece of his glasses.

Ron turned back to Thalassa. “Why were you here so late? Doesn’t the shop close at six?”

“I was brewing extra stock,” she answered shortly.

He gave her a shrewd look and she got the feeling he knew she wasn’t telling the complete truth.

“We need to check on Ian, upstairs. I’ve got the key. I’ll let you in.” She fished in the pocket of her work robe and produced an iron ring of keys.

Ron and the female Auror exchanged another look. “That might not be the best idea,” he began.

“No,” Thalassa said firmly. “You’ll need someone to identify…” she swallowed. “You know, if he’s…”

“All right, then,” Ron nodded. “Lead the way.”

She went out through the shop to the street and in the door squeezed between storefronts.

“Lumos.” Ron held up his wand, lighting the stairwell. When they got to the top of the stairs, the smell of blood was unmistakable. “You don’t have to go in. There are spells we can use,” he told her.

She turned to him, white-faced and teary-eyed. “I have to know,” she said in a tight voice. “Ian was more than a tenant, he was a friend.”

He sighed. “Unlock the door and step back. I’ll go in first to make sure it’s clear. I’ll call you when you can come in.”

She nodded and used her key. A brass plaque of a bear’s head on the door growled at her. “The Persistence of Memory,” she gave the password and the door swung open. She stepped aside and Ron went in alone. After a few moments he returned to the doorway. “It’s bad,” he told her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have to,” she insisted. “Where?”

“Over by the chair. Don’t touch anything.”

The first thing she saw was the huge pool of blood that spread across the floor from somewhere behind the reclining chair where Ian’s clients sat when he did their tattoos. As she stepped around the chair, avoiding the puddle, she saw Ian’s lifeless body. It was obvious what had happened, his throat was sliced wide open. A look of surprise was on his face. Whoever had killed him had taken him unawares. “Oh, Ian,” she whispered sorrowfully.

“That’s him, then?”

“Yes,” she choked. Suddenly, it all became too much for her. She spun and ran out, tripping down the stairs and stumbling out into the street. She fell to her knees on the cobblestones and lost her dinner. When she was done, a handkerchief was thrust in front of her face. “Thanks,” she muttered, taking it and wiping her mouth.

Ron helped her to her feet. “Listen,” he said in a low voice. “If there’s something you’re not telling us because you’re afraid of someone, tell Fred and George. They’ll make sure I get the information. I promise we’ll keep your name out of it.”

“I’ve told you everything I can,” she said.

“Did they get the stuff you’re making for the school?”

She gave him a measuring look. Was this why he’d been sent out on this call even though he had just started his training? “Who said I’m making anything for a school?” she asked, playing it safe.

His lips twitched into a small smile. “All right, did you notice that anything in particular got destroyed?”

“No,” she answered. “The damage appeared to be random. It’s lucky you lot arrived when you did, before whoever-it-was found my hiding place in the cupboard.”

He lifted one eyebrow and gave her an impressed sort of look. She knew he understood she hadn’t hidden out of fear for her own safety. She was guarding the Hogwarts order stored in the cupboard.

“Well played,” he said quietly. “Do you know how to get in touch with your tenant’s family?” he continued in a normal tone. “They’ll need to be notified.”

“No. Ian didn’t talk about them much. He told me once they’d disowned him.”

Ron nodded. “Just one more thing: we’re going to try to keep this out of the Prophet for a few days so don’t talk to anyone else.”

“My mother will need to be told. She’s half-owner.”

“We’ll take care of that. We’ll have some questions for her as well.”

Privately, Thalassa was relieved. She hadn’t been looking forward to telling her mother that someone had broken in and destroyed most of their stock and supplies while she’d hidden in the cupboard.

“You’d better get home, now. We’ll have someone to escort you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll just Apparate.”

“Are you sure? All right then, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. The forensics wizards won’t be done until late and you’ll just get in the way. We’ll send you an owl when it’s clear for you to come in and clean up.”

“Thanks, Ron.” She smiled weakly. “It really was quite a relief that you answered the alarm tonight. I can only think of a handful of people I’d have rather seen at that moment.”

He gave her a grin that evoked the image of the boy she remembered from school. “Go on home and get some rest. Owl us if you remember anything else.” He handed her wand back to her.

She stepped back, concentrating for a moment, turned and Disapparated.


On Saturday, while taking a break from enchanting sweets, Fred read through Thalassa’s notes. “I can’t believe she did all this on Sunday. Are you sure she wasn’t in Hufflepuff?” He scanned a paragraph explaining the relationship between seasonal availability, labour costs and customer demand. Thalassa had outlined three methods for calculating a fair price for their products, adjusting to take Arithmantic principles into account. “Or Ravenclaw?” he added as his mind suddenly boggled.

George chuckled. “She said she wasn’t used to having free time.”

“She needs a hobby. Did you look at these?” he held up the sheaf of parchment pages.

“I’ll admit I don’t understand everything she’s got in there, but I’m not surprised. Potions and Arithmancy were her best subjects in school. It makes sense that connections we miss would be obvious to her. Plus, she worked in her parents’ shop for how many years before she took it over?”

“You know, if we’d had her help all along, we might not be in this fix.”

“I should have tried harder to stay in touch,” George said regretfully. “We were friends. Whatever she went through during the war, she shouldn’t have had to deal with it alone.”

“How do you know she had to deal with anything at all?”

“Just the look on her face when the subject came up. Something got to her.”

“How do you mean? You don’t think…”

“I don’t know,” George interrupted. “I couldn’t even guess who might know what she did during that time.”

“Just ask her.”

“That’s what Ginny said.” He shook his head. “Until Thalassa decides she’s ready to talk about something, only dosing her with Veritaserum could get anything out of her. And I wouldn’t put it past her to take an antidote with her tea every morning as a preventative.”

“I’ll bet a dose of the old Fred Weasley charm would have her talking in no time. Of course, she might be talking about something a bit more immediate than what she did during the war.”

George felt a lurch somewhere in the region of his solar plexus at the thought of Fred charming Thalassa, but said only, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Fred threw down his quill in disgust. “I can’t make heads or tails of this. We’re just going to have to go see her again and get her to explain it.”

“All right,” George agreed readily. “We can stop by the apothecary after we close. She’s likely to still be there, working on that big order she was talking about.”

The rest of the day passed slowly for George. He’d missed Thalassa, but he hadn’t realized how much until that day in the Leaky Cauldron. When they’d all been at Hogwarts together, she’d been his and Fred’s most appreciative audience, whether at a Quidditch match or during one of their many pranks. She was the first person other than Lee Jordan that he’d told about their dream to open a joke shop. She was the first other than Lee that had expressed any enthusiasm for the plan, too.

“That’s a brilliant idea, George,” she’d said. “It’s about time Zonko’s had some competition. Their stuff’s all got a bit stale of late.” A shadow clouded her face. “That is, if you’re sure you don’t want to play Quidditch after you leave school. The way you two get those Cleansweeps to perform, it’d be a real treat to see you on top-of-the-range broomsticks.”

If any other girl had complimented the way he flew his broom, George would’ve assumed she was fishing for an invitation to go up to the Astronomy Tower and snog. Thalassa had been different, though. The few times he’d suggested something of that sort, she’d assumed he was making a joke.

Finally, it was time to close up shop for the day. They counted out Ginny’s wages and paid her.

“Tell Mum we won’t be home for dinner,” George said.

“In fact,” Fred added, “if we’re late enough we may just come back here and sleep over the shop.”

George gave Fred a sharp look. That was the excuse they used if they had dates and they planned a night of it.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That story would be a lot more believable if you were open on Sundays. Behave yourselves, or at least be careful. I know Mum wants grandbabies, but I’m sure she’d prefer you to be married to the mothers first.” With that, she left them staring open-mouthed after her.

“When did she grow up?” Fred wondered aloud.

“The first time she stepped off the train at Hogsmeade station, remember?” George said with a rueful shake of his head.

They locked up and headed down Diagon Alley to Hartwell’s Apothecary. When they arrived, there was a crowd gathered and the whole place was surrounded with an Aurors’ crime scene barrier spell. The twins exchanged an alarmed look.

“What happened here?” George asked one of the people standing around gawking.

“Someone was killed here last night. They brought a body out a while ago.”

George felt his blood turn to ice. He saw Fred had a stunned look on his face.

“It might not be her,” Fred said with a slow shake of his head. He pressed his lips together and a determined, almost angry expression stole across his features. “Come on, let’s go check her flat.”

“And if she’s not there?”

“She’ll be there,” Fred said, thrusting his chin out determinedly. It was only because George knew his brother as well as he knew himself that he could hear the uncertainty in Fred’s tone.

They Apparated to the alley behind Thalassa’s building. She’d told them the other night that it was the safest place to do so. There were few windows facing the alley and little reason for anyone to be there, even during the day. They raced up the stairs and pounded on her door.

“Thalassa!” George yelled. “Open up!”

After a moment they heard her muffled voice from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

“George and Fred,” he answered, nearly overcome with relief.

“How do I know it’s you?”

Fred rolled his eyes and grinned. “Well, now we know it’s her.”

George cast about for some way to prove they were who they said they were. “The other night, when you had us over for dinner, you served us some American dish. It was really spicy and you said next time you cooked for us you’d ease up on the hot peppers. I said not to bother, that I liked the head rush.”

The door opened and Thalassa stood there, barefoot. Her hair was mussed and her t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled, almost as if she’d slept in her clothes and just recently got up. Her face was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed but at that moment, she was one of the most beautiful things the twins had ever seen. She stepped back to let them in. As soon as she closed the door behind them, George caught her in a fierce hug.

“Oof,” she grunted in surprise, but after a moment she returned his embrace, burying her face against his neck.

“We went by your shop,” he murmured. “You can imagine what we thought.”

She lifted her head and loosened her hold on him. “What did you think?” she asked gently.

He let her go reluctantly. “Someone said there’d been a murder and the Aurors brought out a body earlier today.”

Fred shoved him aside and also grabbed Thalassa to hug her. “We thought it was you.”

She put her arms around him and leaned against him. “No. It was Ian. Someone killed him and broke into the workroom through the air vent. They tore it apart.”

“Did you find it this morning or did the Aurors contact you?” Fred asked sympathetically.

“Neither,” she said, blinking up at him. “I was there.”

He blanched, making his freckles stand out starkly against his skin. “What do you mean you were there?” he demanded.

“I was working late. I heard a noise and hid in the cupboard.”

She’d never seen either of them look so horrified in the entire time she’d known them, and suddenly they were both trying to hug her at the same time. She wrapped an arm around each of them for a few moments before pushing them away. “Geroff,” she mumbled, colour staining her cheeks.

They released her and she ran her fingers though her hair, smoothing it down. She took a seat in the armchair. Fred claimed the end of the couch closest to her and George dropped down on the floor in front of her chair.

“I’m touched by your concern,” she said. “Truly I am, but didn’t Ron tell you anything?”

“We haven’t seen Ron in a couple of weeks,” George said. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He was with the Aurors that answered the alarm last night. I thought he’d have contacted you. He told me that if I had any information I didn’t feel comfortable reporting directly to the Aurors, I should tell you two and you’d get the message to him.”

“That’s Ron,” Fred laughed a little. “Drag everyone around him into whatever he’s involved in, but don’t tell them what role they’re to play.”

“Do you have anything you want us to pass on?” George asked.

“No, I told him everything I could think of last night.”

Suddenly Fred lunged across her and grabbed her left wrist. He turned her arm up to the light. “What have you done?”

She looked down at her arm in surprise and pulled it out of his grasp. There was a huge, blistered welt there. “Oh. I must’ve burned myself last night.”

“You burned yourself last night and you didn’t realize it until just now?” George frowned at her. “I thought you were good at noticing details.”

She turned her head slowly to face him, very white around the mouth and nose. “Oh, I am,” she said in a dangerous tone, breathing shallowly and unevenly. “Last night I knew something was wrong when I noticed the smell of blood drifting through the vent. Then, when I was hiding, I noticed the sounds of all my hard work smashing on the workroom floor. And later,” she leaned forward slightly, her eyes glittering. “I noticed straight off the pool of Ian’s blood all over the floor. Perhaps you didn’t know, but there’s a lot of blood in a person. It looks like even more when it’s not in them any longer.”

“We know,” George said quietly.

She blinked at him, taken aback.

“During the war,” Fred explained. “We saw plenty of blood, oceans of it, and some of it came out of people we knew and liked.”

“Of course, how thoughtless of me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” George laid his hand on her knee. “This isn’t a contest to find out who’s had the worst experience, or who’s suffered the greater losses. No one should have to see one of their friends dead, particularly not by violence.” He stood. “Where’s your burn salve?”

“I’ll get it.” She unfolded herself and pushed up out of the chair. She swayed on her feet for a moment and George took her elbow to steady her. “Thanks.” She moved past him and on into her workspace, George and Fred trailing after her. She knelt down, pulled a box out from under the table and selected a blue ceramic crock from the various containers inside. Opening it, she smelled the contents and then put the crock on the table. Fred helped her to her feet and George picked up the salve.

“Hold out your arm,” he ordered and she obeyed. He smoothed the salve over her burn with a gentle touch. “Are you burned anywhere else?”

“Possibly.” He brow crinkled as she thought for a moment. Then she pulled up her t-shirt to expose her midriff.

The twins both hissed at the sight of the angry, red weal that spread across her ribs on her left side and extended down into the waistband of her jeans.

“How far down does this go?” George asked.

She looked down at her side. “Not too much farther, I think.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Fred winced at the thought of that large a burn.

She gave him a bemused half-smile. “Well, it does now.”

“Take your shirt off.” George made a little up gesture with his hand.

“No!” she exclaimed, tugging her shirt back down and taking a step back. “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“Like we didn’t notice,” Fred smirked.

She gasped and blushed. “Give me that,” she muttered, snatching at the crock of salve. “I’ll do it myself.”

George held it out of her reach.

“George!”

“What?” He gave her an innocent look.

She bit her lip, unsure of what to do or even how she should react. Though, she supposed, she did set the standard by flirting with them the other night.

“Relax, Thalassa,” George said. “We’re not going to attack you. You’ve had a traumatic experience and you’re injured. Let us take care of you.”

Still she hesitated.

“I know what it is,” Fred said to George. “She doesn’t want to show us her tattoo. Here,” he took pity on her and carefully bunched up her t-shirt just enough. “Turn,” he instructed and he tied the tail of her shirt in a knot on the opposite side from her burn. “You’ll have to take your jeans off, though. I can’t roll them down and tie a knot.”

“No, I can’t. I’m not wearing anything under them either.”

George sighed in exasperation. “It’s not as if we’ve never seen a naked female before.”

“You haven’t seen me naked before,” she all but snapped.

Fred eyed her up and down. “Can’t tell for sure, but you seem to have all the standard equipment. Except for the tattoo, of course.”

“Just undo the button,” George reasoned. “If you’re right and your burn doesn’t spread too far down, that should be enough.” He began applying the salve to her side.

She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Her burn was beginning to throb now that her attention had been called to it. She grabbed the edge of the table and leaned back against it for balance. Fred unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the waistband away from her skin. The burn didn’t extend much beyond that point and George was able to treat the injured flesh without further insult to her modesty.

“There, all done.”

“Thanks,” she said in an embarrassed little voice and tried not to think about how good it felt to have George’s fingers on her skin or about the little flutter in the pit of her stomach when Fred undid her jeans. “I see now why Wood used to call you two human Bludgers. You don’t exactly know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Sure we do,” George contradicted cheerfully. “When it’s the right answer.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Fred asked, giving her a measuring look. “You seem awfully unsteady on your feet. Unless you’ve been drinking,” he teased, leaning close and taking an exaggerated sniff.

She grimaced and pushed feebly at his shoulder. “No, I haven’t been hungry.” Her stomach lurched at the thought of food.

“When was the last time you did eat?” George frowned.

“I had a sandwich last night,” she answered. “Well, I ate, but I lost it after…”

“You need to try,” Fred said. “Do you want me to make you something light?”

“No, I can make it myself. Are you two hungry? I’ve got a casserole in the freezer I can heat up.”

“You don’t have to cook for us,” George protested. “We’ll go get some take-away.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got food and it’s already paid for.” She moved off towards the kitchen, tugging her shirt down in back.

While the casserole was baking, she made herself some toast and tea. She managed to keep that down well enough to have a bit of the casserole with Fred and George. After dinner while Fred managed the washing-up, George applied another coat of salve to her arm. The burn across her middle was already healed.

“How did you burn yourself anyway?” he asked.

“I was doing up a small batch of cough syrup when I heard someone trying to get in through the vent. I took the hot cauldron with me into the cupboard. If I’d left it on the table it would have given away the fact that I was still there.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe you had the presence of mind to think of that while someone was breaking into your shop.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, I suppose I have Professor Snape to thank for that. The most valuable thing I learned in his class was to keep my wits about me at all times. I bloody well didn’t need him to teach me how to make Shrinking Solution.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did,” he smirked.

“So why did you two stop by the apothecary?”

“We were coming to ask you about some of your suggestions.”

“Well, I’m here. You’re both here. Crack on.”

“You don’t want to work on this now. You should be resting.”

“What I need is something to take my mind off,” she paused, “things. Come on, put on some music and let’s get to work.”