Discovery and Revealed

"Marysia, why don't you take a shower or a bath?" She was up looking up at Fred with unfeigned trust, even though large tears still trailed down her cheeks. "No more questions. Come on." He took her hand, guiding her to the bathroom. She followed him passively and stood there as he turned on the hot water, then waited until he stepped out. Fred waited outside the closed door for a moment until he heard her open the shower door, and then he walked back to the living room. Throwing himself into his favorite chair, Fred stared out the window.

He tried to recall a wizard that fit her description: short, broad shoulders, shoulder length black hair, some kind of beard, and pale blue eyes, with a large nose, bent – like it had been broken before... Fred couldn't recall anyone that fit that description. But if he's been hanging around the street... Surely I've seen him? But Fred drew a blank, nothing clicked.

Fred glanced down the street at the window to her flat. And he has been in her room... threatening her. That alone made him angry. He has threatened her and placed her under a curse... and who knows what else he has done... Fred took a deep breath to push back the anger that swelled up at that thought. So who is he? How does he know about this stuff her father sent her, and what exactly does he want? The stuff she showed Bill had to be translated. Fred looked down the hall toward the bathroom, relieved he and George had found out in time. As soon as Dad gets here, we can break the spell she's under and find out.

Suddenly, Fred remembered that he hadn't set out towels for her. He walked back to pull a towel from the cupboard, thought of Ginny with her wet hair wrapped up like a turban, and grabbed another. Ginny always uses two, maybe Marysia does too.

He poked his head into the bathroom. The candlelight from six candles lit the bathroom. Okay then, she's still in the shower. I can just set these down for her and go, he thought. The opaque glass of the shower door showed her outline perfectly as sounds of the water and steam filled the room. He could see her move as she washed her hair, combing her long hair out with her fingers and then rinsing it.

He looked away, noticing a toiletry bag sitting on the counter; her wand lay on top of her neatly folded pajamas, which were beside it. She must have Summoned them to her, he surmised. A musty, woodsy scent with flower undertones filled the steamy air as Fred stepped in and set the towels down.

He stood transfixed, watching her as she rubbed the frothy soap on her body, lathering her arms, her breasts, down and around her torso, bending low to wash her legs... He couldn't bring himself to turn and go. He watched, mesmerized as she bent over to clean her legs and feet, for what seemed the longest time.

Straightening up, she turned and twisted under the water, letting it run down over her. He could visualize the water running down her face, running down her front. This is nuts! She'd be furious if she knew I was watching her. But she's so pretty... even just the outline of her body...

Marysia turned around, raising her arms over her head, stretching; her hands were visible above the glass door, opening and closing like a cat in luxury. She arched her back, letting the water massage her, letting the water cascade over her. She turned around again, and Fred shook his head to shake the senses back into his brain, finally turning to leave. He heard the water turn off, and he ran into his room.

Seeing her trunks sitting there, he realized she would be in here in a minute. He quickly chose his clothes from his wardrobe and wheeled around to see her standing there in a towel, clutching her pajamas, toiletry bag and wand to her chest.

"I just needed to get my – um – robes." He hoped that he wasn't blushing noticeably. His cheeks felt very hot suddenly.

"Oh, yeah, right. This is your room after all," she said, blushing. "Did you get everything?" Stepping into the room, she dropped her things on his bed and stood there, watching him, waiting.

Merlin, even dripping wet she is adorable. Get a grip, Weasley! He turned his head to stop staring at her and looked at the books lying on his floor and on his bed. "It looks like my room has been turned into a study hall."

"I do tend to do that – sorry. Michal is always teasing me about my books. I tend to pile them on every surface in my room. I didn't mean to do this to yours," Marysia said, looking at her books and magazines spread about. "These were tossed into my trunk, and I had to pull them out to get my toiletry bag," she offered as an explanation.

Fred picked up a magazine, which read: 'What is sexy this summer,' '50 romantic tips that will excite him,' and '14 ways to please your man.' Apparently, there was a quiz inside. It was a Muggle magazine, as the pictures didn't move.

"Oh, no! Please give that to me!" One of her hands let go of the towel, which split to reveal a line of skin up her thigh. "Please, give me that – it's... please," she stammered. He was amused that she didn't want him to see it.

"I like you saying 'please' to me." Where did that come from? Was he nuts?

As she reached for the magazine, the towel dropped a bit, exposing more of her. This is impossible. She doesn't look like she wants anything, seems innocent on her part... but bloody hell, she's sexy in that towel. I have her in a compromising position, that's all it is. I should just go. But he didn't move, watching her discomfort. As he handed her the magazine, she was blushing a deep rose pink. "This is a Muggle magazine?" Yeah, bloody brilliant, state the obvious!

"Well, yes, my Aunt Janet gave me a subscription as a birthday gift. All the Muggle girls read it. It's very popular." He gave her a quizzical look. "She's a Muggle, my aunt... and... well, we lived with her, in her house..." she was babbling again. I'm standing in a towel, and he is staring at me. Calm down, get a hold of yourself. He was a perfect gentleman last night, and if he was to do anything, he would've done it last night, wouldn't he? But he didn't. It's nothing – he's not leaving, she thought to herself. I'd give anything to know what he is thinking - or maybe not. Fred was looking at her with a mischievous smile that flashed in his eyes. Oh, I love that look. Oh, if only...!

Fred almost laughed at himself as he handed her back the magazine and left the room, holding his robes over his obvious excitement. Blimey, was she, did she still? No! Does she still have a crush on me? Cool, he thought as he left the room. Wonder if she has read those articles?

George was standing in the hall where his door faced Fred's. He had a smirk on his face that Fred suddenly wanted to wipe off. George motioned for Fred to follow him into his room. "Dad was on a raid, but I left him a message at home and at work. I even found Kingsley Shacklebolt and asked him to tell Dad we needed to see him. How was her shower?"

"Wet, I'm sure." Fred crossed his arms. "So, do we open the shop and leave her here, or do we stay with her? Do you think this guy is still around, watching?"

"I think we should, and yes, I think he is out there somewhere, watching. But I don't think he'll come in here, especially if he is alone. He'll wait until she goes back to her shop." George sat down on a chair. "Verity is already here, and I asked her to man the shop. If it gets busy, I told Dennis to stop stocking and help her. I have a bad feeling about leaving her alone until Dad can lift the curse on her."

"Do you think he knows she brought all her stuff here?" Fred asked, moving to the bed to change into his clothes.

"I'm sure of it. I stopped by for a look in her shop before coming back up here. It looks like everything is normal, though," George answered. He had thrown his work robes over his pajamas. Fred balled up his pajamas and chucked them into George's hamper. "I think I'll take a quick shower unless you need a cold one?" George teased.

"No, thanks, showered last week. It's your week, remember?" Fred said, throwing George's pillow at him. George chuckled, throwing the pillow back. Fred caught it and faked throwing back at George before dropping it back on his bed instead. Then he left the room, saying, "I'll go clean up the kitchen; least I can do since she made breakfast."

When George came back to the kitchen, he found Marysia and Fred making potions on the table. The heat protection mats lay under three cauldrons, all bubbling away. "The trick of having multiple cauldrons going at the same time is to have your ingredients ready, or at least most of them." She passed her knife to Fred. "No, use the flat of a knife on the sopophorous beans; you'll get much more juice that way."

"Whoa, where did you learn this?" Fred exclaimed as the bean oozed under his knife.

"Potions master Ogden at St Mungo's actually. I've done internships with my mum there, and she shares workspace with him. Watch your timers. You need to stir in the Murtle sap in this one," she instructed. George was impressed as he stood there. She had Fred making three of the shop's potions at once.

"How many cauldrons do you have going at a time at St. Mungo's?" Fred asked as he stirred in the Murtle sap.

"Add a counterclockwise stir to every seven; it will blend the potion better. A master potion maker can sometimes have six going at a time, not counting the ones that can take a month to make. Then there are those that need to sit for a while, simmering between ingredients. I've seen Mum with eight and on rare occasions ten, but that's because several of them were at different stages or took days to make. If you time it right, it's not so hard. Mum likes to use timers; some use various hourglasses."

As George sat down to watch them, he noticed that the instructions had been rewritten on cards, which were floating above and behind each cauldron. She had made several little stars, a few dashes and arrows where each potion needed to sit and simmer or to be stirred. "It helps if you change the star color when you have passed the step too. Are these really Doxy eggs?" she asked, holding up a glass jar.

Suddenly, a swoosh and a loud spuff could be heard from the fireplace, and Marysia jumped. Fred placed a firm hand on Marysia's arm. "It's probably my dad. George and I are expecting him," he said reassuringly.

A thin, balding man with a warm smile walked out of the fireplace, and a pair of little brushes floated up to swat at his robes.

"Darn these things! Boys, can you get these things off me? Every time I come here too." He smiled at Marysia who turned to watch him in amusement as the little brushes swept the ashes back into the hearth. "Oh, yes, and who is this?"

"Oi, Dad, come on over, need to keep up on this. Trying something new here to save some time," Fred called, waving Mr. Weasley over to the table. "We're almost finished... well, nearly."

"Dad, this is Marysia Duncan, classmate from school." George jerked his head at her and then turned to Marysia. "This is Dad." George never left his chair; he had been amazed, watching Fred and Marysia work.

"Mr. Weasley, I'm delighted to meet you," she said very formally, standing up and facing him to properly shake his hand. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance, sir." George started to laugh, and Fred shook his head.

Mr. Weasley was momentarily taken aback by her formality. "Delighted to meet you, too. You attended Hogwarts with these two?"

"Yes, sir, I attended Hogwarts. I was a year behind Fred and George, actually. We didn't have any classes together, unfortunately." Her manner was still formal, but her smile was warm, and Fred realized it was her up-bringing again. After all, she came from a family with house-elves, and the Muggle outfit she's wearing says money all over it.

"Dad, come sit down. Do you want anything? Would you like a Coke?" George asked.

"What's a Coke?" Mr. Weasley asked as he sat down, watching Fred move from one cauldron to another.

"Oh! You know about Cokes?" Marysia beamed at George. "Have you ever tried a root beer?" Marysia's smile was still warm and friendly, and her formality was fading. But before Mr. Weasley could ask what a root beer was, Marysia noticed Fred picking up some ground Assame seeds. "Watch it. You are doing the wrong one. Stir in the chopped Waynoka roots to the first, and then add the slug juice to that one," she said mildly, catching Fred just in time. "See, that one in the middle isn't quite orange enough yet, but this first one is turning blue." Fred nodded and followed her direction. "You'll get it. With practice you'll be doing six at a time!"

She turned back to Mr. Weasley to answer his question. "Coke is a Muggle drink actually. I didn't know you knew about Muggle drinks. Most wizards are clueless about Muggle stuff." Mr. Weasley, however, had been watching George in anticipation as he walked up to him with the Coke. He turned to her and was about to say something before George cut him off.

"Six! Do six at a time?" George asked, astounded. He handed Mr. Weasley the cold Coke in a bottle and sat down, watching Fred as he moved between the three potions going at once.

"You can if you know your potions well. Fred said that these are regular products for your shop. So you must know them pretty well, right?" George just nodded. "I marked the points on your ingredients cards here, timing markers where ingredients need to be added or stirred, when it needs to simmer and when you have to let the potion sit. If you co-ordinate the potions so that the stars fit each other, you can have more than one cauldron going at a time. In a way it's like cooking a big meal with several dishes. Of course, it's easier if you have someone to help too. It's just timing."

George looked amazed. "This is going to really help a lot!"

"So, Marysia, is it? You're familiar with Muggle drinks then?" Mr. Weasley asked as he sipped his Coke. He let out a small burp, which caught him by surprise. "Oh, my – excuse me."

Marysia looked at him, beaming as Mr. Weasley covered his mouth, blushing. "Yes, I've – um, had them before." Marysia hesitated. Have to be careful talking to wizards about Muggle stuff, not all wizards are open to it. But Mr. Weasley has such an expectant look... Her puzzled expression made George shake his head and Fred laugh.

Fred gave her a soft prodding in the ribs. "Dad loves Muggles, anything Muggle. It's an obsession." He changed the last two stars that marked the ingredients he'd added. Marysia nodded.

"Fred!" Mr. Weasley admonished him, his tone stern, but his eyes were full of interest.

"I've had Cokes, like the one you have there, and root beer, ginger beer, Seven-up and orange soda. My brother Sebastian likes beer. I've had that too, but it's an acquired taste, I think," she said, passing Fred some Fennel leaves he'd diced.

"What do they taste like?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Do they taste like this?"

Marysia laughed. "Ginger beer tastes a bit like ginger, but very sweet, Seven-up has a bubbly lemon taste, and orange soda is like bubbly orange juice. Root beer – it's, um... different." She faltered, looking at George for help, but he shrugged, amused by her attempt at trying to explain this to his dad. "And beer – is, well, beer. It's alcohol, and if you drink too much, you get snockered." Marysia turned back to the potions. "They are hard to describe if you haven't had one."

Marysia made suggestions to Fred constantly as they finished up the potions. Finally, it was time to siphon them into bottles. George grabbed a box of containers, and they each took a cauldron and emptied the potions into the containers.

"Well, boys, this is all entertaining, but your message sounded urgent," Mr. Weasley spoke up as the last of the potions were cleaned up. "Your mother and my boss said you were looking for me, George?"

"Dad, we think that Marysia here may be under the Imperius Curse," George said, looking at his dad seriously. After setting the cauldrons in the sink to be washed later, George stood between the kitchen and the table.

"Or it could be a Confundus Charm," Fred added, equally serious. He shifted his chair to face his dad and brother. Mr. Weasley looked at his boys, nodded and faced Marysia. She was sitting there dumfounded, turning to look first at Fred, and then turned to look at Mr. Weasley and George. "There has been someone following Marysia for a few days now, possibly a week," Fred continued. Marysia drew in a sharp breath, startled that they were telling him this. "But whoever he is, he has her under some kind of curse."

"She had trouble telling us any kind of description of him until we gave her our Truth potion," George added. Mr. Weasley nodded thoughtfully.

"She was mumbling about him in her sleep last night," Fred said calmly.

"What we know is that he is about a hand shorter than us, broad shoulders, pale blue eyes, and dark hair, possibly a beard." George looked at Marysia, who was looking really nervous again. "She gets really scared, can't talk about him, acts like she's fighting a curse when she tries."

"Almost went hysterical this morning when the Truth potion was wearing off." Fred looked at his father. "Thought that you'd know what's going on?"

"Also, thought you should know, working at the Ministry and all." George leaned back against the wall. "We'd have her tell you, but..."

Marysia jumped up to run at the mention of 'the Ministry,' with a look of pure terror, but Fred had been ready this time. He grabbed her and pinned her arms with his own as panic overtook her. Mr. Weasley was stunned. George flicked his wand, binding her feet together and coiling a rope up her body as Fred loosened his hold. Fred lifted and carried her to the couch.

Mr. Weasley followed. "Unusual, but I don't think it's the Confundus Charm. Could be the Imperius Curse... or not...." Fred winced at the look of utter terror she now had for his dad as Mr. Weasley looked at her intently, gauging her sudden reaction. She blatantly refused to answer any of his questions and struggled against the bindings, then began to cry. "You say this wizard has been hanging around her?"

"Yep," both Fred and George said in chorus.

"Unusual reaction though. Should have brought Kingsley with me, he's better at this than I am, Auror after all." Mr. Weasley turned. "I may need his help. Regardless, he should know about this anyway. I will be a moment," he said and then Apparated out.

Fred sat next to Marysia as she struggled, tears running down her face.

Two loud cracks brought Mr. Weasley back with a tall, bald, black wizard as they Apparated into the room. Marysia was trying desperately to get free of the rope binding her. Fred and George watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt and their father asked Marysia several questions.

"I think it's possible, Arthur, both maybe... could be a Predomination or Subordination curse, or an Enslavement spell, used as a curse – but they are old charms and quite difficult. Usually the Imperius Curse is used, easier. Whatever... it's very strong." Kingsley looked at her expression. "She is absolutely terrified of me."

Fred and George repeated what they had told their father, and about Marysia's actions and reactions, and patiently answered Kingsley Shacklebolt's questions.

"She went hysterical when she heard I was from the Ministry. Before that she was ever so polite," Mr. Weasley added. "The boys said she isn't able to talk about this wizard, but she is fighting a curse, whichever one it is. I think she's under the Imperius Curse to make her obey him"

"Could be, could be, but that's not the only one. Could be the Confundus Charm, but she doesn't seem confounded, maybe confused. It doesn't sound like she can't remember him, only cursed so she can't speak about him or his intent... clever," Kingsley said. "She's definitely under more than one..."

Kingsley and Mr. Weasley tried different counter-spells on her as they broke down the spells and curses that had been placed on her. He must have had plenty of time to practice these old spells on her, Fred thought angrily. Oh, when I get my hands on him... Once the spells were removed, Mr. Weasley undid the Binding spell George had cast.

Marysia was able to freely tell them about the wizard who came into her shop or flat daily, and followed her every move, and how he had placed the Imperius curse on the wizards who had been hired to help remodel the shop.

"What about the journal and these papers he has been asking you about?" Kingsley asked.

"I'm not sure what papers he wants actually, and he didn't know either. He looked at what Dad had sent to me, and whatever he's looking for wasn't there. He hasn't seen the stuff that came in the latest box though. I only got them day before yesterday, and I was keeping them separate. He always asked to see the papers I'd finished translating, so I always showed him just the finished stuff. He was mad because it wasn't what he wanted. He asked me again before I came here to have dinner with Fred and George, but we were interrupted, and he had to leave. He was really mad," Marysia explained. She was shaking. "The new stuff... I was careful to never completely finish any of it, so I wasn't compelled to show them to him." She looked up. "But they knew something was up," she said, moving her hand, demurely indicating Fred and George. "And I wanted to tell them - so badly..." She began to cry again. Fred wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she cried. "Said... if I told, if I said – anything about him – he'd know... he would kill me."

"Where are these papers now?" Kingsley asked.

"Bill has a copy. He took a copy of them last night to figure out the symbols that she didn't know," Fred stated.

Mr. Weasley's face paled as George finished. "Marysia asked that he put her copies in her vault in Gringotts."

"Bill! I better find Bill," Mr. Weasley cried out.

Kingsley nodded to Mr. Weasley. "Find him, find out about these papers and what they say unless Bill hasn't finished translating them. I'm going to try to find our mischief maker." He turned to Marysia as Mr. Weasley Apparated out. "Young lady, I'm going to ask you to do something that goes against every fiber of my being."

*~*****~*

Author's Notes:

I owe a big debt of gratitude to Phoenix and Notsosaintly for all their hard work and time in cleaning this story up and making it presentable. Thank you both. I appreciate it more than either of you can know.