To Love a Twin

Chapter 17: Madness and Manipulation

Sam Jorkins walked into the Leaky Cauldron and spied the young, blond witch sitting at a corner table, reading the Daily Prophet. It had to be her; she was wearing the bright magenta robes from the Weasley brothers' store.

He ordered a pot of tea and sat at the table next to her. After a few minutes, he leaned over. "If you don't mind, could I have the Quidditch section?"

Verity looked up and recognized him, admiring the blond hair, longish, held back in a black ribbon. Sam Jorkins. He had been three years ahead of her at Hogwarts. She knew he was with the Auror office. Her mum and his Aunt Bertha had been good friends.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "You probably don't remember me, but we were at Hogwarts together. I was three years behind you, a Hufflepuff. My mum was good friends with your Aunt Bertha."

Sam flushed. He hadn't recognized the name or her. But, he had spent his last three years at Hogwarts going hot and heavy with a fellow Ravenclaw named Alyce Timmerman. After graduating, Alyce had gone to work for Gringott's South American location and had ended up marrying a wizard she'd met there. Verity Simms sure was a pretty girl. Sam was so charmed by her pretty brown eyes, he nearly forgot what he was there for. Well, he'd better get it over with. The news would be out within a couple hours anyway.

"I see you work for the Weasley brothers' store. I suppose you've heard what happened. I really feel for poor George Weasley."

Verity looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"His wife. Her father was murdered Thursday morning and then, just yesterday, she was abducted, right off the street in Ottery St. Catchpole."

Verity's face turned white. She hurriedly turned to the front page of the paper and began scanning the stories.

"The story hasn't made the papers yet," said Sam, who immediately felt the girl had no connection to the crime. "But, I assure you, it is very true. You're one of the reasons I'm here. We're investigating the possibility that she was abducted by someone from our world, perhaps for ransom. Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging about on Diagon Alley?"

"Heavens, no," said Verity. "Poor Mr. Weasley. Poor Kira, she's pregnant, you know. Who would do such a thing?" She burst out crying.

Sam pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. "I notice that you called her by her first name. Are the two of you close?"

"Oh, she's a Muggle, you know. We've chatted from time to time. Mostly she asked questions about girl stuff, you know, things she needed to know to fit into our world better, about witches robes and whether it was proper to not wear a hat in public. Things like that. She's very nice. Sometimes, she'd invite me upstairs to their flat for tea. She told me to call her Kira. Listen, I'd better get to the store. I don't want the staff learning about this from the papers."

Verity got up and left, obviously distressed by the news.

Sam Disapparated back to the Burrow, obviously charmed by Verity.

* * * * *

Kira lay on the bed in the dark, the gash on her shoulder burning. The room had no windows, so it was still pitch black. She had no way of knowing what time it was. That whack job had come in that morning, turned on the lights, and had shoved a bag of McDonalds through the bars at her, saying that he'd brought her breakfast. She hadn't been able to control her anger. She'd grabbed it, torn open the bag and wrapping and whipped it at him, enjoying the sight of the cheesy egg hitting his face. She'd let out a stream of expletives that would make a sailor blush.

But her moment of triumph was short-lived. He'd rushed to the door and tried to strike her with one of his crutches. She'd backed off just in time to avoid it. Then, he'd stuck his ugly face between the bars, spitting in fury as he'd told her that she was vulgar, that he would not stand for her abuse. He'd told her that he was in control; that he had made her come home to him and he'd make her love him.

"I came home because my father was killed, you didn't make me come back here," she'd said.

"Who do you think killed him and lay that knife in bed with your mother so she'd be arrested? I knew you'd come back to try to save her."

Then, smirking as she paled and reached for one of the chairs for support, he'd said that she would have to be punished. He'd pivoted on his crutches and angrily stormed toward the door, saying he'd see if a day of hunger and darkness would bring about a change in her attitude.

She now knew that other people were meaningless to him. He saw people only as roadblocks to his sick fantasies, to be climbed over or knocked out of his way. There was no reasoning with him. He had lost complete touch with reality.

She felt her stomach clutch in hunger and her babies begin to kick violently, as if to say, "Hey Mum, feed us already." She got up and carefully felt her way to the sink in the toilet. She ran some cold water and used her hands as a cup to bring it to her mouth.

It tasted brackish and leaden. She spit it out, gagging. She realized that this old section probably had lead pipes. She couldn't drink anything that might hurt her babies. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, realizing that she had no choice. She had to calm down and play whatever game Whack-job wanted if she and her babies were going to survive. She let the water run, hoping that it might dispel some of the contaminants. The sound was comforting in the tomb-like silence.

Kira remembered that there had been a small refrigerator in the room. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She made her way back to it in the dark and opened it. Finally, she had a light. She stuck her head inside and cried tears of relief. She had never felt so grateful for anything in her life. The refrigerator was empty, but there was a small drop down door that hid a freezer compartment. It was coated with ice. She scraped at it with her fingertips and licked the cold crystals from her nails.

She turned around to see what else she may have missed. There was a microwave on top of the refrigerator. To the right of the cell door was a small table with two chairs. The bed took up the entire left wall. Next to the door to the toilets was a dresser. She opened the drawers. Empty, except for some towels and wash cloths. On top of the dresser was a supply of soap, lotion, toothpaste and a toothbrush, shampoo, a comb and brush, and a small plastic cup. She grabbed the cup and used its rim to scrape more ice from the freezer. There was even a bottle of perfume. She held it in front of the open refrigerator door and peered at the bottle. Obsession. Kira had to laugh at the irony. She opened it, sniffed and grimaced. It was dreadful, but it might make for a good weapon to splash into Whack-Job's eyes.

Then, she spied her purse on the floor, half under the bed. Miraculously, it had not dropped off her shoulder as she was being dragged into the cell. She found her wallet, comb, lipstick, a cardboard nail file, her purple ink pen. She cussed at the nail file for not being metal. It would have made a good weapon too. She found the bottle of pregnancy potion Healer Whitney had given her and drank some, for once not even caring about the bitter aftertaste. Luckily, the bottle was nearly full. Then she hit pay-dirt. There was the apple George's mum had given her as she'd left the Burrow Friday morning and a good-sized brick of fudge from Honeydukes. She opened the fudge and took a bite, savoring the taste. She remembered George once telling her that chocolate was good after a Dementor attack. Well, George, she thought, it was good after a whack-job attack too. She would save the apple for later.

The refrigerator began making clicking noises. She realized that she couldn't just leave the door open like that or it'd break. She moved it out from the wall a bit and saw that the microwave had not been plugged in. She plugged it in, set the digital clock to 1:11 and shut the refrigerator door. She had no idea what time it really was. She'd given up on having a watch because they just didn't work right in Diagon Alley. Something about the magic interfering, George had told her. At least she had the faint green glow of that to provide some light. She lay on her side on the bed, watching the green glow. She saw it change to 1:12...1:13...1:14. Before it changed again, exhaustion had caught up with her, and she had fallen into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

Jack Townsend stood on the front steps of the police station, fielding questions from the press. The story had finally broken, and the entire country seemed swept up in the Find Kira hype. He had impressed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley into answering the toll-free 'Find Kira' hotline. That had been weird too. He'd actually had to teach them how to use the telephones. Unfortunately, so far, the only calls had been from people offering their prayers and from a few cranks who swore they'd seen her getting beamed up into a waiting U.F.O. One interesting chap, however, had suggested she was Dr. Who's latest traveling companion.

"Detective Townsend," said a woman reporter, "I'm Fran Yeoman from the London Times. Is the abduction being investigated as a separate crime from the murder of Mr. Benning, or do the police believe the two are related?"

"We are actively pursuing all possibilities, Ms. Yeoman."

"Detective, I'm Stephen Caster with the Herald Express. Has the husband's alibi been corroborated?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley was at Church of the Holy Angels on Wingley Street making a food donation when his wife was abducted. He was seen by the priest and several of the parishioners there."

Suddenly, Jack was blinded by a large flash. As he blinked the black spots from his eyes, he saw a blond woman with curls that looked like mummified sausages. She was tall and held a notebook and...was that a...a...quill? Her cameraman wore a long purple cloak and his camera looked like something stolen from the Victoria and Albert Museum.

"Detective, is there any truth to the rumor that this woman was carrying children that were not, in actuality, her husband's and she ran away to escape humiliation because she had learned that a public revelation of this fact was impending?"

"Who the hell are you?" asked Jack.

"I'm Rita Skeeter, from the Daily Prophet. Is there a reason that you're not answering my question?"

"Other than the fact that it doesn't dignify a response? I'll answer it. If, indeed, there is such a rumor going about, then I think it was made up just two seconds ago. It is a total fabrication, fodder for only the most yellow of tabloids. Now, if you all will excuse me, I have a pregnant girl to find." Jack walked back to the door to police station. At the last, he turned, intending to cast a loathing look at that last reporter, but he couldn't see her. It was as if she and her cameraman had vanished.

He entered the station and walked down the hall to his office. He glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. Kira Weasley had now been missing for twenty-four hours. Jack was exhausted. He realized that he'd not eaten in over a day. Reaching for the telephone, he began to dial a local delivery place. But he suddenly thought of Madelaine Benning, sitting in that cell, alone, cut off from all news of her daughter.

"Bloody hell," muttered Jack. He completed his call, doubling the dinner order. When it arrived, he carried the food to the holding area and ordered Mrs. Benning brought back to interrogation room number two. Then, he went in and set the boxes of food on the table. Madelaine Benning seemed surprised to see him.

"Ms. Hawkins says that I'm not supposed to talk to you unless she's here," she said.

"We know you didn't do it. I'm keeping you here for your own protection. If someone has a vendetta against your family, I can't make you a target. I brought dinner. I know the food they serve here sucks. Just sit down and eat, and I'll bring you up to speed on the search for your daughter. You don't have to say anything."

As they ate, Jack talked. He told her about the search going on right now in the surrounding woods and countryside. He told her about the hotline, the fliers, and the national attention the case was getting. He did not tell her about the bloody sweater. He had only told the husband about that, assuring him that location of the two holes indicated that the bullet had merely grazed the outer left shoulder, a non-fatal wound that would bleed quite a bit. But, Jack had seen a light go out in George's eyes as he'd looked at the sweater in its plastic bag, the light of hope.

As he spoke to Madelaine, he began to wonder how any man could have looked at her and only seen a punching bag. Although she looked older than her thirty-nine years, closer to his own fifty, he noticed that she was possessed of a natural grace and pretty eyes, a darker blue than her daughter's.

* * * * *

Harry, Sam, and Merkel walked up and down the street Kira had vanished from, using magic to enter and search each building. Sam and Merkel had disillusionment charms placed on them. Harry was under his invisibility cloak. George had told them about the sweater with the bullet holes. They were no longer pursuing the possibility that a wizard had been behind the abduction. Wizards had no need for handguns.

"I'm going to go search the clothing store," said Merkel. "Sam, that shop next door is empty; you search that one. And Harry, why don't you handle the library across the street?"

Harry crossed the street and pointed his wand at the security alarm on the wall inside the lobby. "Silencio," he said. Then, he took care of the door. "Alohomora," he said.

The door opened and he stepped inside the lobby. He walked up the steps into the library, looking around the dark maze of shelves. He saw the stairs, near the main reference desk, that went up to the upper floor. He climbed them. Harry was, for a moment, reminded of his midnight visits to the Hogwarts library. He began to walk the perimeter of the building, first the upper floor, then the main floor, to see if there were any doors. Back in the lobby, he saw a door with a sign that said, 'Basement; Staff Only.' It was locked, but he quickly took care of that.

Using his wand to light the way, he silently walked down the stairs, stopping to check another door at the bottom. It was only a janitor's closet, containing a large sink with a hose attached, a bucket on wheels, and mops. He walked on. The walls were lined with more bookshelves, filled with books that were much older than the ones in the main section. It was odd. The basement seemed to be much smaller than the library upstairs. He came to another locked door and opened it. It was an office. A small sign on the desk read 'Nathan Lockslip, Librarian.'

Because the library was deserted, he held his wand to his throat and called out, "Kira!" His amplified voice echoed off the thick concrete walls of the basement until they finally died.

He waited. Nothing. He wished that he could use the Accio spell, but the power of it would be too strong. She could be harmed, slammed against a wall or something. The only time he'd tried it on a human was the year before when he'd thought Hagrid was dead. But he was a half-giant, not a pregnant girl. The spell was not meant to be used on living beings.

Inside her cell, Kira moaned and rolled over. In her dream, she was in the cemetery at Hogwarts, running among the tombs. She heard her name being called from all directions at once. The dream Kira called out, "I'm here," over and over, but nobody came for her.

* * * * *

Nathan turned his key in the lock and opened the door to the library. It was Sunday; the library was closed. He could spend all day here, with Kira. It was nearly noon. He used the phones at the circulation desk to call a local pizza place and ordered a pizza and some cola to be delivered. When it came, he carried the food to the elevator and inserted the key in the panel that would allow the lift to go down to the basement. If she spewed any abuse on him today, he'd sit and ignore her, eating the pizza in front of her, letting her smell it.

Kira had washed and changed her clothes by the light of the refrigerator, dressing in one of the outfits she'd bought just before Whack-Job had lured her into the library. She had taken special care to put on lipstick and even a bit of the stinky perfume Nathan had provided. When she heard the sound of the bookshelf moving, she sat docilely on the bed. She stashed her purse under the bed, with the apple core inside it.

Nathan stuck his face between the bars and looked over at her. "I'm waiting," he said. "Do you want to eat today or not?"

"Yes," said Kira, hating herself almost as much as she hated him. "I want to eat."

"Then, I'm waiting for your apology. I want you to call me Nate, like my mother used to. I want you to smile at me. I want you to make me happy."

"I'm sorry, Nate, for the terrible names I called you. I can see how much you love me, how hard you worked to make this place for me. I'll never be nasty to you again. I promise. Forgive me."

"Now apologize for allowing that boy to touch you. Tell me that you hate him and despise the brats growing inside of you. Do it. Now, or I'll walk out of here and let you starve to death."

Kira chose her words carefully. "Nate, you must know how my father was. I only used him to have a chance to get away from my father. If I had known that you...but you never said anything, Nate. I didn't know you cared for me. You hid your feelings too well."

Nathan saw her looking at him, tears in her light, icy blue eyes, his mother's eyes. He believed her. Those eyes could not lie.

"Come here, to the door," he said.

Kira got up and walked to the door, fearing that he might try to strike her again.

"Closer, come right up to the bars."

When she stepped to the bars, he grabbed her and pushed his face into hers, kissing her, shoving his tongue into her mouth. She gagged and forcibly stifled a wave of nausea.

"Now, I forgive you," he said, releasing her. "I should have told you how I felt, given you a clue. I see now how I forced you into that boy's arms. I should have taken you sooner. I began planning this when you were just a child. If I had taken you then, you would have been mine for so long now. Those would be my babies. But it doesn't matter. Those babies will be disposed of quickly enough. Then, you can forget about them and their father in my arms. I'm so happy you put on some of the perfume. That was my mother's favorite." Nathan slid the box of pizza under the three inch gap he had left under the bars. He also handed her the bottles of cola.

"Nate," she said, "I'm pregnant. I'm not supposed to drink colas. Surely you read about pregnancy in the books you said you were reading. I need milk, whole-grain breads, fresh fruits and vegetables. This pizza will be all right, but I can't eat junk food all the time."

"I thought you despised those brats, why should you care if you eat right for them?"

"I don't. I don't. Really. I care for me. If I don't keep my strength up, eat right, I will have a more difficult delivery. I want to be strong and healthy, for you, Nate. Only for you. I need fresh water too. I can't drink the stuff in the sinks. The pipes are lead. You don't want me to get sick, do you?"

"Oh. I understand. Of course. I hadn't thought of it that way. I'll get you what you need to stay healthy and safe. I only want you to be safe, you know, Kira."

"I know. Can I have a lamp in here, Nate? And maybe some books? Please? It is so hard, waiting for you to visit me. The time goes so slowly."

She was hit by a sudden inspiration. People had to be looking for her by now. Maybe she could bring suspicion on his head by having him buy things no single man would need. "Oh, and I need vitamins too; try to find some that say prenatal or pregnancy. And clean bandages for my shoulder. It really hurts. And can you buy me some skeins of yarn, knitting needles, and sewing supplies? I love to sew. That would be a great pastime too."

"Yes, I suppose I could bring you all that," Nate said. "My mother used to do all sorts of knitting and embroidery."

"Thank you, Nate," she said, smiling. At least the knitting needles would make good weapons should he ever actually open this door.

Nathan smiled and left the shelter, neglecting to even close the bookcase or the door in his happiness. He realized it halfway down the street to the market. Oh well, he figured. Nobody would be going there today. But he had to be more careful.

Nathan filled his cart in the market before realizing he had no way to carry everything in one trip. It would look suspicious if anyone saw him lugging bags upon bags into the library. So, he bought only the most necessary items, a few bottles of spring water, milk, a loaf of bread, some butter, and an assortment of fresh fruit and vegetables, some tins of soup. He realized she'd need to cook the vegetables in the microwave, so he bought her a little white plastic container with a lid. He grabbed a box of plastic spoons and forks, the kind used at picnics. He couldn't believe that he had not thought of all this earlier.

Kira had eaten three slices of the pizza, washing it down with ice she'd scraped from the freezer, letting it melt. She heard the clicking of his crutches on the marble library floor, coming closer. She once more sat on the bed, waiting for him. When he came into the shelter, she stood and rushed to the door. "Nate," she said, smiling. "You're back."

"I couldn't get you everything," Nate said, panting, out of breath from his haste to return to her. "I can't carry more than two bags at a time. But I got the milk, water, fruits and vegetables. As for the lamp, you can have the one from my office. The sewing store is closed on Sundays. I'll go there tomorrow on my lunch hour. I'll go up to Boots and get the bandages and vitamins for you too, right now."

He took everything from the bags and passed them to her through the bars. He then went up into the library and brought her some books, then brought her the lamp. He could not fit the shade through the bars, but the lamp itself slipped through easily. She put the food in the refrigerator and placed the lamp and books on the table.

"Thank you, my love," said Kira, inwardly sneering as she saw a beatific smile took over the Whack-job's face. "Thank you for saving me."