To Dare

A/N: Thanks to Morticia_Heartless and Snow for reviewing. Welcome to the party.

To Dare

Chapter Seven

Fred arrived at the apothecary not long before closing. He greeted Thalassa’s mother and waited patiently for her to wave him back. Euryale stared at him coldly for a moment before jerking her head towards the workroom door.

“Thank you.” He nodded politely and removed himself from her presence. When he closed the door behind him, Thalassa acknowledged him absently through the steam rising from the large cauldron. He returned her casual greeting and immediately went to the desk and spread out the catalogue pages he’d been reworking.

They worked in companionable silence for nearly four hours. By now, Fred was accustomed to the way Thalassa became completely absorbed in her work. As far as he could tell, the rest of the world simply ceased to exist for her as she went about her tasks. It made him doubly glad he and George had decided to keep her company when she worked late. Someone could throw a cobblestone through the front window and she’d not hear it. Her intense focus also gave him the opportunity to study her without her noticing. He was amazed by her easy grace and economy of movement. Each chore received the same meticulous care, from chopping and measuring ingredients to washing ladles and sweeping the floor. Sloppiness had always been his and George’s downfall when brewing potions.

He watched her hold her breath as she sifted powdered boneset into the simmering cauldron. She stirred the mixture precisely twice, then swung the cauldron away from the heat. When steam no longer rose from the surface of the murky liquid, she slid finely minced starfish off the cutting board into the mix. Then she dumped in an equal measure of ground shark cartilage. Two more passes with the ladle to distribute the ingredients evenly, and then she covered the cauldron with the heavy cast iron lid and began tidying up.

“All done?” He leaned back in the chair, stretching.

“For now,” she nodded. “That needs to marinate overnight.” She stretched as well, digging her fists into the small of her back.

Fred admired the swell of her breasts under her black work robe.

“Urgh,” she groaned. “I can’t wait to get home and have a long soak in the tub.”

“And supper,” he reminded, stacking pages and parchment together and rolling them up. “You worked straight through teatime.”

She walked over the desk. “It’s hard to work up an appetite when I’m brewing Skele-gro.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You do smell a bit of detention in the Potions dungeon,” he agreed with an exaggerated grimace.

“I wouldn’t know,” she smiled smugly. “I never had to serve a detention with Professor Snape.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. You were the only Gryffindor in his time there to ever escape that torture.”

“Really?” Thalassa put away the last of the supplies and began locking cupboards with taps of her wand. “I’d have thought to share that honour with Ron’s girl.”

“Nah, Hermione got a week’s worth once when Snape caught her hexing Crabbe and Goyle. I believe she objected to them having a go at the little Creevy boy.”

“Ah well,” she shrugged. “Few things set Snape off faster or better than blatant displays of Gryffindor bravery.”

“I’ll bet it pissed him off that his star pupil hadn’t even been Sorted into his house,” he smirked. “How’d you manage that?”

“Not being placed in Slytherin?” They made their way through the shop, checking locks and dousing lights. “No ambition,” she reminded and frowned at him, “and I’m not sure I like your implication that I was ruthless and unprincipled enough to fit into Slytherin. I always expected to be placed in Hufflepuff, but the Sorting Hat said I had ‘hidden reserves of courage.’”

“And do you?” Fred waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well if I do, I never found them at school, or I’d have told Oliver Wood a lot sooner than his last year that I fancied him,” she replied tartly.

He froze. Despite what he’d said to tease George that day in the Leaky Cauldron, Fred always suspected it was Oliver that Thalassa had fancied back then. To hear her say it, though, made his insides lurch uncomfortably.

She paused in the process of tracing the security sigils on the door with her wand and glanced at him. “What is it?”

He opened his mouth and shut it again without making a sound. His mind scrabbled for something witty to say to cover his discomfort. The best jokes stayed close to the truth, he decided. “You. Fancied. Oliver Wood?” He drew the question out in exaggerated disbelief. “I always thought you sat through all our practices because you were a hardcore Quidditch fan.”

“Well, I was. I am.” She sighed. “Oh, what does it matter now why I was there?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t, I suppose. Just a bit of a shock to find out you were Wood’s groupie.”

“Fred Weasley!” She smacked his shoulder. “It wasn’t like that and you know it. Oliver barely knew I existed and besides, the whole lot of you on the team half-fancied him yourselves.”

He managed a horrified expression for exactly two seconds before he burst into laughter. He put his arm around Thalassa’s shoulders. “Don’t be angry. We always suspected a passion for something more than the game brought you out in all sorts of weather. The look on your face, though, was absolutely priceless.”

“It’s not that funny,” she muttered darkly. Then she regained her sense of humour. “Well, yes it is, I suppose,” she chuckled. They continued down Diagon Alley, past shops closed hours ago. “So I was that obvious. You all knew I was sighing over Oliver.”

“Er, well, not exactly.” He hesitated. “I thought it must have been Wood, and Angelina agreed with me. Alicia never cared to speculate as far as I know. George thought you fancied me and Katie thought you had your eye on George. Wood,” he went red to the roots of his hair, coughed, and then continued. “I think Wood believed you, ah, fancied Katie.”

Thalassa stopped short, wand upraised to tap the brick that opened the passage to the Leaky Cauldron. “Please tell me you’re winding me up again,” she whispered.

He said nothing, only gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “No wonder he looked so odd when I—oh Gods.” She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Fred took her hand in his and touched her wand to the appropriate spot. “What does it matter now what he thought then?” he asked gently as the bricks shifted aside to form the doorway.

She scowled to hear her own words turned back on her. “You’re right, of course. It doesn’t matter now. Let’s go, I think I am starting to get hungry.” By the time they reached her flat, her stomach was growling loud enough for Fred to hear it.

“Why don’t you go ahead and draw your bath while I cook something for us?” he offered.

“Can you cook?” she opened her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yes,” he replied, affronted. “Well, as long as it’s not too complicated,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Mm-hm. Come on, then. I’ll show you where everything is. Remember, please, that my kitchen is set up Muggle-style, so no wand.” She showed him how to use her appliances and left him to it. When she emerged from her bath twenty-five minutes later, he had managed a passable omelette and soup from a tin.

“That smells good,” she complimented, rolling up the sleeves of her dressing gown.

He looked at her reproachfully. “I told you I could cook.”

“So you did,” she agreed dryly and picked up her fork. For a while there was only the clink of cutlery and the sound of chewing. Finally, Thalassa pushed her plate and bowl away with a satisfied little sigh. “That was brilliant, Fred. Every bit as good as one of the Leaving Feasts at Hogwarts.”

“Ye Gods, woman, you must have been starving to think this compares in any way to what those house-elves could whip up.”

“Maybe a little,” she smiled impishly. “It was nice to not have to cook after slaving over a hot cauldron all day. Thank you.” She covered his hand with hers.

Fred felt a jolt at her warm touch. He turned his hand over and curled his fingers around hers to try to prolong the sensation. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, content to sit quietly and allow him to hold her hand. He lost track of time as they simply kept each other company without talking. He marvelled at how tiny her hand appeared in comparison to his. She kept her nails short and her otherwise smooth skin was marked with various small scrapes and cuts. He ran his thumb over an old burn scar. He heard her quick intake of breath and she tried to pull her hand away.

“Fred,” she began warningly.

“Shh,” he turned her palm up. “I’m going to read your future.” With the forefinger of his other hand he traced the lines of her palm. “I see you have a generous spirit,” he intoned,” and you don’t shy away from hard work.”

“That’s not my future,” she interrupted but didn’t try to pull away again.

“I’m getting to that.” He stroked her palm with a gentle touch, eliciting a shiver from her. “You will be successful in business and have a positive influence on the fortunes of others. Ah,” he smiled, “there’s love in your future. Someone from your past: a superb athlete with an excellent sense of humor.” He risked a glance at her face. She kept her eyes down, staring at their joined hands, and her cheeks were pink. “Hmm, what’s this?” He stood, drawing her up with him under the pretext of turning her hand more toward the light. “Here’s the courage that earned you a place in Gryffindor. And—this,” he pulled her to him and kissed her.

She responded almost instantly, leaning into his embrace. He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head in his hand. She opened her mouth to him and he feasted on the sweetness she offered. Like strong drink, she went straight to his head. What started out light and teasing quickly grew into something much more. His other hand left the small of her back to tug at the knot in the belt of her dressing gown. It loosened and he parted the cloth to caress the satiny skin of her midriff. She squirmed at his touch. Ah, he thought, she’s ticklish. He skimmed his hand upward over her ribs, stopping at the lower curve of her breast. He could just feel her heartbeat against his thumb. She quivered and held her breath. He ached to move his hand that last little bit, to feel her soft flesh fill his greedy palm, but it was too soon. Timing was everything, whether staging a prank or a seduction. He’d taken this faster than he’d intended. He forced himself to slide his hand around to her back and trace slow circles on her smooth skin.


The touch of Fred’s lips on hers was a revelation to Thalassa. Her few forays to the Astronomy Tower at school had not prepared her for this. Shocks of bliss sizzled along her nerve endings and made her skin tingle all the way down to her toes. For the first time in recent memory, she acted without considering the consequences. Her head swam when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and she nearly fainted when she felt his hand on her bare skin.

How could this be Fred kissing her, touching her? They’d only ever been friends. His outrageous pranks and jokes had made her laugh and she’d encouraged his mischievous inclinations at every reasonable opportunity, not that he’d needed encouragement. When had friendship grown into this breathless attraction? The memory of a long-ago Quidditch match surfaced in her mind. The day had been cold but bright and the sun on his hair had been like molten copper. He’d just made a spectacular save, deflecting a Bludger away from the Gryffindor Chaser in possession of the Quaffle. After he’d sent the Bludger careening towards the opposing team’s Seeker, he’d turned on his broomstick and smiled at her as she cheered herself hoarse in the stands. Then he’d zoomed off to the other end of the pitch, but the memory of his cocky grin had kept her warm for the rest of the afternoon. Another memory quickly followed, this one of George looking fierce as he threatened to hex Gaius Rookwood for accosting her in the corridor near the Slytherin common room. It was the first time she’d noticed that Oliver Wood wasn’t the only handsome boy on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Great Circe! She was thinking about George while she was snogging Fred! She wrenched herself out of Fred’s embrace with a protesting moan and clutched her dressing gown closed. What was wrong with her? Eyes wide, she backed unsteadily away from him. He looked confused and a little hurt.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I mean we can’t… oh, Gods. I don’t know what I mean. I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Too much, too fast?” he guessed. “Still carrying a torch for Wood?”

“What? No!” she squeaked. “No,” she repeated more calmly. “It’s just that,” she cast about for a reasonable explanation for her behaviour, “I don’t know that I want to risk ruining our friendship.” She nervously ran her free hand through her hair.

“That’s a pretty weak excuse. Are you sure there’s not someone else?”

She turned away under the pretext of retying the belt of her dressing gown to hide the guilty blush she could feel flooding her face. “I’m serious, Fred. It just doesn’t seem—wise. We make a good team, you and me and George. You’re both very dear to me. If a relationship between us didn’t work, I’d lose both my best friends.”

“George isn’t like that.”

“You think not?” She turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. “When has he ever failed to stand by you? Or you, him? Even if you’re right, it would surely make things uncomfortable between the two of you.”

He frowned, considering her words. “You can’t deny you feel something for me,” he said at last.

“No,” she sighed. “I won’t try to lie to you. I am attracted to you. I think I have been for quite some time.” But I’m also attracted to your twin brother, she thought, and that’s the real reason I think this is a very bad idea.

“I still think you’re not being completely honest with me, but I’ll let it be for tonight. It’s late and you have another long day tomorrow. I warn you, though, I’m not giving up.”

She followed him to the door where he stopped and gazed at her searchingly for long moments. Then he pulled her into his arms once more and kissed her quite thoroughly. When he released her they were both breathing raggedly. “Goodnight,” he said softly and went out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Thalassa stood there a long time, fingers pressed to her lips, staring at the closed door. At last she gave herself a little shake and locked up. She put their dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and went to bed. Sleep eluded her, however. Her thoughts chased each other around inside her head like platinum-armoured nifflers until dawn.


George looked up from the midnight snack he was scavenging when Fred Apparated in the kitchen of the Burrow. “Bit late,” he observed. “Everything all right?”

“More or less.” Fred shrugged. “We’ll talk after I’ve cleaned up.” He turned and took the stairs two at a time. He stopped at the room he’d shared with George since they were infants only long enough to kick off his shoes and pick up his dressing gown before heading off to the bath. What he really needed he couldn’t have, so he’d have to settle for a cold shower or a bit of privacy. It took both.

When he returned to the bedroom. George gave him a slight scowl, but made no comment. “Nicked you some extra, in case you were hungry.” He indicated a sandwich and a bottle of butterbeer on the nightstand.

“Thanks.”

George waited patiently, sipping his own butterbeer until Fred had wolfed down his sandwich. “So,” he prompted.

Fred took a large swallow from his bottle and sighed. “Do you remember when I teased you about Thalassa coming out to all our practices because she fancied someone on the team?”

“Yes, you said you thought she fancied me.”

“No, I said Katie thought Thalassa fancied you. Angelina and I always thought she fancied Wood.” He paused to sigh. “And we were right.”

“Hm,” George replied noncommittally, fighting the urge to hex Fred until he came to the point.

“Hearing her say it tonight, it was like taking a Bludger to the gut. How daft is that? All she did was confirm something I’d suspected all along.” He closed his eyes. “I wanted to go track down Wood and beat him senseless.”

“I think I can understand how you felt,” George said through gritted teeth.

Fred, for once, was oblivious to George’s distress. “I’m falling in love with her.”

“That’s just too bloody bad for you,” George replied heatedly, “because she’s already spoken for.”

Fred’s eyes snapped open then. “I thought you’d given up on her,” he said, dismayed. “You said she only ever thought of you as a friend. Oh Gods, George, I’m sorry.” How could he have mis-read George that badly? He looked distinctly ill as his twin glared at him. “What the hell are we going to do?”

George held his bottle of butterbeer in a white-knuckled grip and he looked like he wanted to throw it at Fred. “That all depends on what happened between the two of you tonight.”

A faraway look crept into Fred’s eyes and a small smile played about the corners of his mouth as he recalled the truly amazing snogs he and Thalassa had shared.

“Fred, I swear by all that’s holy…”

“Relax, George, she turned me down. Said she valued our friendship too much to risk losing it.”

“I know you. You didn’t just leave it at that, did you?”

“Actually, I did.” He looked surprised at his own actions. “Oh, I told her I wasn’t giving up, but I thought it best to give her some time to think things over.”

“Then that gives me time to let her know she has another option.”

“Git,” Fred accused.

“Tosser,” George returned.

Fred clutched his chest and grimaced. “A direct hit,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

“You do have it bad, don’t you?” George asked, surprised. “When was the last time you polished your wand over someone who didn’t have a staple through her navel?”

“Not since Angelina,” he admitted. “I’m truly sorry, George, but I can’t help the way I feel.”

“I know,” George replied seriously. “I should have told her how I felt a long time ago. I can promise you I’ll correct that oversight at the earliest opportunity.”

“And may the better man win?”

“If you like.”

“All right.” Fred lifted his bottle in a toast and downed the contents in one long gulp.

George did the same. “If you hurt her, twin or not, I’ll thrash you to within an inch of your life,” he promised with a steely glint in his eye.

“Same here,” Fred replied with a thin smile.


The next day George left work early to go to the apothecary, but before he could find a way to tell Thalassa what was on his mind, Fred showed up as well.

“I thought you were going to make up more Portable Swamps.” George glared at his twin.

“We’re out of marsh mallow and swamp gas,” Fred lied, straight faced.

Thalassa glanced at the two of them in surprise. “I thought you were improving your inventory-tracking system. You shouldn’t run out of supplies for your hot-selling items like that.”

“Just a glitch in the system. I fixed it so it won’t happen again,” Fred said.

“It had better not,” George said with a warning note in his voice.

Fred took one of the notebooks from the stack on the desk and perched on a stool at the worktable while George seethed. Thalassa ignored both of them as long as she could, but the tension between the twins was almost a physical thing. She didn’t know what was wrong with them, but when she caught them glaring daggers at one another for the third time, she decided she’d had enough.

She slapped both hands down on the granite worktable. “What is it with you two today?” she snapped.

They both stared at her in surprise, but offered no explanation.

“Are you having some sort of dispute over the shop?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Well, whatever it is, settle it. I can’t concentrate with the two of you pawing the ground and snorting at each other. Go out in the alley and duel it out if you have to, but hurry up and get it over with. I’ve got some delicate work to do and you’re getting in my way.”

“Sorry,” Fred mumbled. George echoed him half a second later.

Thalassa picked up her wand and pointed it at them. “I wasn’t joking. Get out. Take a walk, clear the air, and don’t come back until you can both behave yourselves.” When they didn’t immediately move, she yelled, “Now!”

They scrambled to their feet and hurried out the back door, each giving her a nervous look as they went. She shook her head as they left and she turned back to her work.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” George snarled as soon as the workroom door clunked shut behind them.

“I never said I was going to step aside and make things easy for you,” Fred replied, folding his arms across his chest. “You had six whole years at school to let her know how you felt.”

“Three,” George corrected. “I didn’t actually notice her until third year, when she was having problems with that Slytherin git.”

“Whatever. You could’ve stopped by to see her at any time after we left school but you never did. I think you only want her now because you think I might get into her knickers.” Fred accused, unfairly, and he knew it.

George slammed his fist into Fred’s mouth, cutting off anything further Fred might’ve said. The two of them scuffled about the alley for a while, trading blows and throwing one another against the narrow alley walls. Finally, George gave Fred one last shove and turned his back on his twin. It was the signal that he considered the fight over. For a time there was only the sound of them gasping for breath and spitting blood. George’s eye was beginning to swell shut and his ribs ached.

“You broke by dose,” Fred complained.

“Good,” George smirked. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to stick it where it doesn’t belong.”

“Git. You’d bedder fix it or eberybody will be able to tell us abart.”

“Better and better,” he said but he took out his wand anyway. “Hold still,” he steadied Fred with one hand on his shoulder. “Episkey,” he said and Fred’s nose returned to its usual shape and size. “There. Now you can bugger off and leave Thalassa and me alone.”

“Not on your life.”

“You want to go another round?” George clenched his fists and thrust out his jaw.

“Only if you insist. Look, George,” Fred sighed. “What did you expect me to do? Stand tamely by while you charged in and carried her off? You and she have a history that I don’t share. The only secrets you ever kept from me had something to do with her. You know things about her that she may never tell me. I’m fighting for her the only way I know how.”

Despite himself, George felt a pang of sympathy for Fred. “I always thought she fancied you back when we were at school.”

“I know. You said.”

George continued as if Fred hadn’t interrupted. “That’s why I didn’t try harder at the time. I didn’t want to be just a substitute for the real thing. Now you tell me she didn’t fancy you at all, that it was Wood the whole time. I can’t help thinking what a bloody fool I’ve been. Just give me this one chance, please, Fred? If she truly prefers you, I’ll back off and leave the way clear for you. Hell, I’ll be your best man at the wedding.”

Fred blanched. “Nobody said anything about a wedding.”

“Then you’d better clear off right now, because I mean to marry her if she’ll have me.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Fred protested. “Just that things hadn’t got that far yet. You can see her home by yourself tomorrow. I’ll stay out of your way then, but not today.”

“Fine,” George agreed with a sigh and they turned and went back into the workroom.

Thalassa took one look at their battered, bloody faces and immediately started scolding. “Merlin and Morgana! What did you do, try to kill each other?” She scurried about, snatching potions off the shelves. “Sit,” she ordered them and she got clean flannels and wet them down at the basin. She folded one cloth into a square and poured a few drops of a cooling potion on it for George’s eye. Then she carefully cleaned the blood off Fred’s face. “Where are you bleeding from? I don’t see where…”

“George broke my nose, but he’s already fixed it.”

She grabbed his chin and turned his head to the light, examining his nose from several angles. “Hmph. Good job, it looks the same as it ever did. Here,” she poured a mild healing draught in a clean beaker and handed it to him. “Go over to the basin and rinse and spit. Your lips are split and beginning to swell. If you’ve got a loose tooth, be sure you push it where you want it first.” She turned back to George and checked his eye. The swelling was beginning to subside. “Can you see out of that at all, George?”

He cracked his eye open a tiny bit. “Yes.”

“Good. I think we’ll just leave that cooling potion on it for a while.” She poured him some of the same healing draught she’d given Fred and pointed to the basin in the corner.

Fred came back, moving a little stiffly and wincing as he sat down on the stool again. “Where else are you hurt?” she demanded, running her fingers over his scalp and checking for bumps.

“I took a couple of shots to the ribs.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal darkening bruises.

“So did I,” said George plaintively.

She exhaled an impatient sigh and picked up a ceramic crock of liniment. “Fine, both of you, shirts off.”

“We’re not wearing anything underneath,” Fred teased.

She slammed the crock back down on the worktable. “If you can joke about it, you’re not hurt that badly and you can do it yourself,” she snapped, turning away.

Fred caught her wrist awkwardly with his off hand. “I’m sorry, Thalassa. Please, would you do it? You’ll be able to see better where I need it,” he wheedled.

“Oh all right, in a moment,” she agreed crossly, shaking off his hand. “George, did you hit your head?”

“I don’t really remember. I might have.”

She checked his scalp for bumps as well. “Either you didn’t, or your head is as hard as one of Hagrid’s rock cakes. I’m betting on the latter at this point.” She picked up the crock of liniment again. Fred had peeled his shirt off and she began smoothing the salve over his bruises, trying not to notice the broad expanse of muscle that was his chest. She was glad her face was already red from anger, because she was certainly blushing now. When she was done, she turned to George and performed the same service for him, and found she had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to distract herself from her increasingly erotic thoughts.

“Let’s have a look at that eye.” The swelling had gone down considerably, but it was beginning to purple alarmingly and the eye itself was bloodshot. “Tip your head back,” she instructed and she applied a tiny bit of the liniment to the bruising around his eye. “You don’t want to get any of this actually in your eye, so be careful. I’ll get some drops.” She washed her hands thoroughly and got a small bottle with a dropper in the cap. The bruising was already beginning to fade, so she wiped away the liniment with a clean cloth and put the drops in George’s eye. “There. Anything else?”

They both held out their hands. There were bruised and split knuckles and one of Fred’s fingers was a dark red-purple and bent at an odd angle. Thalassa swallowed quickly at the sight and looked away. “George,” she said in a shaky voice. “Do you think you can fix that, too?”

He looked at the injury and shrugged. “Sure, no problem.”

“All right. I’ll just take care of your hands first, then.” She dabbed some of the healing draught where the skin was split and then rubbed in the liniment.

He curled his hands into fists a couple of times to limber them up again and then took another look at Fred’s hand. “You know, I think this is just dislocated, not broken.”

“Do you want a numbing potion, Fred?” Thalassa asked.

“No, just talk to me to distract me.”

She started applying the healing draught on his other hand. “Do you remember when you and George and Lee coated the Slytherins’ broomsticks with itching lotion and they all had to be put in restraints in the hospital wing so they wouldn’t claw their privates off while they waited for the antidote to take effect?”

“How’d you know we did that?” he gaped at her.

“Who else would’ve done it?” She smiled wryly. “It was a grand prank, if a little mean. I lied to cover for you three on that one. Told McGonagall that we’d had a row because you were causing a ruckus in the Common Room during the time when you were actually in the broom shed. What about the time you ‘borrowed’ Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to break into Snape’s quarters? Did you find out anything as scandalous as you were hoping for?”

“No, I—“ he broke off and there was a ghastly, wet pop as George reduced the dislocation.

“All done there, George?” Thalassa asked.

“Yeah. Just needs a bit of that liniment.”

She handed him the crock and rushed to the basin where she leaned over the edge and promptly vomited.

Fred and George exchanged a guilty look.

She ran water to clean up her sick and rinsed her mouth and the ends of her hair that had gotten splattered. Then she rested her forehead against the cool stone rim of the basin and breathed through her nose.

“We’re sorry, Thalassa,” George apologized. “We’ve been a royal nuisance tonight.”

She waved a dismissive hand weakly in his direction. She didn’t want to try to talk yet. When she finally began to feel steadier, she straightened up and fixed them with a stern look. “I hope she’s worth it.”

“What?” Fred yelped.

She gave him a hurt and disappointed look. “The woman you’re fighting over. Men don’t generally get into fistfights like that over anything else.”

They exchanged an astonished look, and then turned back to her.

“Don’t bring that row back here,” she warned. She was shaking with fury and the after-effects of being sick. How dared Fred kiss her the way he did last night and then come here today fighting with George over some other woman? “If you two ever behave like this again around me, I’ll knock your heads together for you.”

“You’re the only woman we’d fight over,” Fred said.

She gasped and her eyes darkened alarmingly while color came and went in her face. “I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” she said severely. “I think I’ve had quite enough for one day. You two can help me clean this up and then I’m going home.”