To Love a Twin

Chapter 4: On the Road

George was talking with Ron about his plans for the new store when his mother's voice resonated through the yard asking everyone to sit down because dinner was ready. He had noticed Kira go into the house earlier.

"Mum," he called to her from the other end of the table, "Kira went inside a while ago. I'll go get her."

"George, if she's not feeling up to it, let her get some rest. You can take a tray up to her."

George ran up the stairs to find her room empty. The closet door and dresser drawers had been left open, revealing that they had been emptied. Percy's overnight bag sat on the bed.

George began to run through the house, checking the other bedrooms, calling her name. He went back down to the kitchen and paced back and forth, agitated, wondering why she'd run off.

Then he noticed, near the door to the cupboard under the stairs, a tissue on the floor. The kind that Muggles used. He walked over and picked it up, noting that it was damp. She'd obviously been crying. He opened the door to the cupboard and saw the bags he had brought her things back in just the night before. Only the backpack was missing. He turned and finally saw the note on the table.

Mr. & Mrs. Weasley,
I want to thank you so much for welcoming me into your home. But, I see now that it was wrong of me to impose on you as I have. I've decided to make my way to London and find a job and a place to live. I will send word when the baby is born.

Thanks again, Kira

George uttered a curse that would have gotten his mouth washed out with Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover in his younger years. He began to pace back and forth, trying to figure out why she'd left. Then, he remembered. A few minutes before he'd seen Kira walk back into the house, Percy had arrived. After speaking to their father for a minute, he'd stalked into the house himself. In his mind he saw, once again, Percy's bag on the bed and remembered his nasty attitude toward Kira the previous evening. Suddenly, it all became clear.

George stalked outside and slammed Kira's note down on the table in front of Percy. "What in bloody hell did you say to her?" he growled.

Percy gave the note a cursory glance and smiled smugly. "Only what all of you should have said yesterday," he said. "I'm not surprised she ran, now that she knows I'm onto her scheme."

"You are such a vile piece of--" said George.

"But, I thought you told Bill she had no place else to go?" interrupted Fleur, who had grabbed up the note and read it. "London? Has she ever even been to London? Et eez not a safe place for such a young girl all alone."

"Yes, Fleur, I know," said George as he raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "I'll get my broom and go after her."

"Wait George," said Mr. Weasley. "She's not even been gone an hour. She can't have gotten too far. You might miss her if you go after her on your broom. I finished repairing Sirius' flying motorbike. Take that, but only use it on the ground. The keys are in the shed on my workbench."

George cast a final loathing look at Percy and stormed off toward his father's shed. A minute later, they heard the sound of the motorbike starting and saw George speeding out of the shed and soaring over the hedge.

As the sound of the motorbike faded, Percy, apparently unconcerned, had resumed eating. He suddenly realized that nine pairs of eyes were staring at him accusingly.

"What is wrong with all of you?" he asked. "I have an obligation to make sure that my family is not being taken advantage of. Besides, I can't believe you let her use my bedroom. Where did you expect me to sleep?"

"Do you think you'll ever be able to think about anyone besides yourself?" asked Ginny.

* * * * *

Kira was thirsty, hot, and miserable. The late summer sun was beating down on her, and the few drivers that had come up the road had not been inclined to pick up a hitchhiker. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she should go back into town and beg her father to let her spend the night and give her bus fare to London. But that would mean she'd have to go by the Weasley house again and by now they probably knew she was gone and would spot her.

In the distance, she heard the approach of a vehicle. As it got louder, she turned around to stick her thumb out and saw it was a motorbike. As it got closer, she recognized George as the driver. For a moment, she had the rather insane thought that she should run for it. But then, as she looked around at the surrounding countryside, at the cows watching benignly from the pasture on the other side of the dusty road, she realized she would never get away. So, she stood there and waited, her eyes looking at the ground.

George stopped the motorbike in front of her. "Get onto the bike, put your arms around my waist, and hold on," he instructed, his voice angry. Kira hesitated a moment and took a step away from him. He noticed the look of fear in her eyes and realized that she was wary around angry men, so he took a deep breath and tried again, more calmly this time. "Please, just get on. I know it was Percy who made you leave. I'm sorry he treated you like that. I'm not mad at you," he added.

Kira simply nodded and did as she was told. With a lurch, the bike jumped into life and surged ahead down the road. It took her several seconds to realize that he had not turned back toward his house. The noise of the bike prevented any attempt at conversation, so Kira simply held onto him tightly and wondered where he was taking her.

They rode for nearly another hour before George steered the motorbike off the main road and down one that could barely be called a road. Out of nowhere, an odd little inn appeared. George grasped Kira's arm and, without a word, led her into the inn. A sign on the front identified the place as the Golden Goblin. Kira, for the first time in her life, found herself inside a pub. A young man, not too much older than George, was wiping down the bar. There were a few older men in the place who eyed her suspiciously. They were dressed in robes like Mr. Weasley.

"George!" cried the fellow behind the bar. "What brings you to this part of the county?"

"Hi Chester," said George. "I need a room for the night for my friend and myself. And we'll need some dinner sent up."

"Sure thing, George," said Chester. He took another look at Kira, leaned closer to his old school chum, and whispered, "That's a Muggle you're with, isn't it, George? She's a pretty one too. Damn, George. I didn't know you like to swing that way." He turned to open a drawer and pulled out a key. "Number 14, George. And my mother has some shepherd's pie in the back I'll heat up for you." With a glance at Kira, he smirked and asked, "Do you want a bottle of wine sent up? She looks a little tense. Don't blame her, considering who she's spending the night with."

"Thanks, Chester, for the room and the comedy routine." George said dryly, taking the key. "Forget the wine; milk will be fine." George spied a copy of the Daily Prophet on the bar. "Mind if I take this up to my room?"

Chester was taken aback. "You're spending the night with a girl who looks like that and you're worried about catching up on current events? Hell, George, are you feeling all right?"

"Never better, Chester," he said, turning away. Once more, he took Kira's arm and led her upstairs to the room.

"George," she asked once he had locked the door behind them. "What is this place?"

"Me and Fred were good friends with Chester in school. He was a couple years ahead of us. His family owns this place."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"To London. The more I thought about it, I realized that although my family is great, except Percy that is, they can be overwhelming. So, I'm taking you to London where me and Fr...I mean, where I live. There's a bathroom down the hall if you want to get cleaned up."

Once Kira had taken her backpack into the bathroom, George went back downstairs and asked to borrow one of the messenger owls that the inn kept on hand. He quickly wrote a note to his parents telling them that he'd found Kira and was taking her to his flat over the shop on Diagon Alley, asking them to give him some time alone with her.

During his ride on the motorbike, he'd come up with a scheme that, although a bit risky, if it worked out as he expected, would have Kira agreeing to marry him by the end of the week. In fact, he might be able to manipulate things so it'll be her idea. He walked back into the room and looked into the mirror. "Don't worry, Fred, I'll take care of everything," he said to his reflection.

Kira came back into the room wearing a pair of pajamas with pink kittens on them and her hair, still damp from the bath, pulled back into a pony tail.

Inside, George had to admit that he felt a twinge of jealousy toward Fred. She was a pretty girl even if, at the moment, she looked to be about twelve years old. He could hardly believe that she had been his brother's lover and that she was going to be a mother. He could see, now, that the pregnancy was beginning to show, just a little. Until now, she had worn loose, over-sized blouses. But the thin cotton of the pajamas and tight, matching tee-shirt definitely revealed her little secret.

Kira noticed where his eyes were directed and blushed. "Yeah, I know," she said. "I wasn't going to be able to hide it much longer, was I?

"I guess not," said George.

"I was afraid my father would force me to have an abortion, so I didn't want him to find out until it was too late to have one."

"You should have come and told me," said George.

"I know that now," she said. "I'm not accustomed to having people treat me kindly."

Since Fred's death, George had been going over and over their relationship. Fred had always been the one to leap first, although it was usually in response to whatever hair-brained scheme George had thought up. George had actually been the one who had noticed Kira first and who had suggested that they make the Muggle butcher shop one of their regular stops when they went into town.

Most people, even witches and wizards, used to find it impossible to discern which of them was which. But somehow Kira, right from day one, knew. It had been impossible to fool her with their old switching identities trick.

Her attraction to Fred had been immediate, and obvious. While she had laughed and joked easily with George, handing out verbal spars as well as she took them, with Fred, she was quieter. When she had looked at Fred, her eyes had held a caress. George remembered being confused over it. Why? He and Fred had been identical, the same voice, same mannerisms, and the same irreverence for anything serious or stodgy. Why had she chosen Fred? It wasn't a question George felt he could ask. If he did, George was more than half afraid of what the answer might be.

"George," she said. "It just occurred to me. There's only one bed in this room." Her face began to turn a pink as the kittens on her pajamas. "I mean, I know that you don't--you know--like me like that, but what are people going to think?

George had thought of that too, but had figured that, in the long run, it would not matter once they were married. But she didn't know that. "I don't really care what people think," he said. At her look of surprise, he asked, "What?"

"It's surprising is all. Of the two of you, Fred was the one who never cared what people thought. My family doesn't exactly have the best reputation in town. I'm pretty used to having people look down on me, not want their children to be my friends. Fred wasn't afraid of anyone or anything, not even my father. Once, we were together down in the park, you know, in the gazebo. I spotted my father coming and went to run, but he just held me close and we stood there. My father passed right by us, not six feet away and he didn't even see us. I was shaking so bad because he'd have killed me. But Fred wasn't afraid at all."

"He wasn't afraid because he'd probably cast a disillusionment charm over the two of you so your father couldn't see you."

"You mean he made us invisible?"

"Not really, the charm sort of makes you blend in so you're not noticed."

Kira merely looked bemused at the idea. "I've always wished I could be invisible," she said, "especially when my father was in one of his moods.

At that moment, came a knock on the door. George answered it and admitted a chubby woman wearing a long green and yellow patchwork dress and a white apron. "I've brought your dinner up, George. How's your mother doing? I'm planning a trip into town this week. I was thinking of stopping by to visit." She waved her wand toward the table by the window and the tray that had been floating behind her wafted over and set itself down with a clink.

"She'd like that Mrs. Redford." He saw her look at Kira, taking in the fact she was pregnant.

"Are you going to introduce me to your...friend, George?"

"Um, yeah, Mrs. Redford, this is Kira. Her parents run the Muggle butcher shop in town. We were just staying at my parents' place and now we're traveling back to London to my home. We have so many...um...plans to make, you understand."

"Oh! So, your parents know then?" Suddenly she was smiling.

"Oh, of course. They are thrilled."

"Well, all right then. I was a bit surprised when Chester had said you'd wanted milk. But I understand now. Welcome to our inn, Kira. I attended Hogwarts with Molly and Arthur. You must not worry. I am not one of those witches who disapproves of mixed marriages. My own father was a Muggle. I'll be going. You two are probably starving and would like your privacy. But if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

As the door closed behind the large woman, Kira was clearly confused.

"What was she talking about? And what did you mean by plans to make?"

George shrugged and adopted an innocent expression. "I've no idea what she was going on about," he said. "And as for the plans we have to make. Don't you think we should be making plans for you and the baby? Now, let's sit down and eat. Chester's mom is almost as good a cook as my own, and I'm starving."

George stretched out on the bed, reading the newspaper he had brought up with him. Kira remained sitting at the table, looking out the window as the sky gathered darkness unto it, lost in thought. For the first time, she had the luxury to stop worrying about the pregnancy, and began thinking of her baby--Fred's baby. She placed her hands over ther slight swelling at her mid-section and reveled in the sense of triumph that suddenly surged through her.

She hadn't lost Fred after all. She had this piece of him that would be hers forever. They had, in their own way, managed to thwart death. She thought she felt a slight movement under her hands. Was it the baby? But it couldn't be. She'd gone to the library and looked through a couple books, and it had said that most women began feeling life after the eighteenth week. By her calculations, she was only fourteen weeks along.

She smiled as she remembered being too embarrassed to ask Mr. Lockslip, the librarian, for help finding a book on pregnancy. She had looked it up on the computer catalog herself and had gone upstairs into the tall stacks to locate the section. Then, she'd stood there and read, marveling at the pictures of what was going on inside of her. Soon, she became aware of a clicking sound that was getting closer and closer. She hurriedly shoved the book back into its spot on the shelf. That noise was the sound Mr. Lockslip's crutches made as he made his way around the library. She stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights, as he rounded the corner of the row of shelves.

"Kira, I noticed you coming upstairs," he had said. "Are you finding everything all right?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. I found just what I needed," she had answered. Then, she had slipped by him and gone back downstairs, not noticing that he had walked along the shelves until he cam to the spot where a book's spine hanging just over the edge of the shelf where she had so hastily shoved it. The title was What to Expect when you're Expecting

Kira yawned and placed her head on her arms. She closed her eyes and began to silently speak to her baby, telling him or her about Fred. Soon, the day caught up with her and her thoughts grew more disjointed as she fell into a deep but restful sleep.

George noticed she had fallen asleep sitting at the table, her head resting on her arms. He folded the Daily Prophet and threw it on the floor. He got up and folded back the covers, then walked over to Kira and gently lifted her in his arms. After getting her in bed, he was just about to pull the blanket over her when he stopped. He knelt at the side of the bed and, fascinated, softly placed his hand over the telltale bulge of Kira's stomach. She slightly shifted in the bed and brought her hand over to cover his.

In her dreams, Kira was back in the woods with Fred. They lay together in the little copse where they used to meet. She felt his hand on her stomach and smiled up into his eyes, softly saying his name.

For a moment, George allowed himself the luxury of imagining that this was his wife, his child. He felt conflicted. He was thrilled that he would be able to help raise his twin's child. Since Fred's death, he had gone through life as if he were as insubstantial as a ghost. But now, he also had to face the fact that he felt envious of Fred.

In life, Fred had moved beyond him. He had fallen in love and created a child. George was determined to not only fulfill his brother's role in the baby's life, but in Kira's as well. Then, he heard her breathe out his brother's name in her sleep.