A/N: Holy cow was this was beast of a chapter (kind of, Ch. 6 is longer). Anyways, once again, thanks to everyone who took the time to check the story out, it means a lot! We're getting some glimpses of George and Harry noticing each other, how exciting! That sounded lame, okay, whatever, here you go lovelies!

Chapter Four: A Drive Through Hell

The seats in the car were tattered but surprisingly comfortable. There was a strange red stain that Harry didn't want to think about. The rumbling of the car beneath him brought comfort he didn't expect while clutching the bag close to his chest.

"Wait till you meet the rest of the family, they'll be excited to see another face, especially mom!" Ron said, patting Harry on the back.

"There's more of you?"

The passenger twin, who Harry believed was George if his haughty expression was anything to go by, scoffs loudly.

"Yes, there's more of us," He says, his expression cold in the rearview mirror.

Harry couldn't hold back the involuntary shudder at those eyes. They were like shards of ice, chilling him to the bone. Harry wasn't sure what he did to make them hate him so much, but there would be no relaxing until he was far from the two.

"Mom, Dad, and Ginny should be pretty far in by now, right?" Ron voiced beside him.

Harry stared out the window, blanking the rest of the conversation out. It didn't matter to him anyhow. The sky was calm, the rain having stopped a few minutes ago, though the clouds overhead promised more.

It fitted that this day is dreary, for Harry hadn't been any more helpless in his entire life. Not even when he'd accidentally opened the wrong door to a snake pen at the Zoo, thinking it was a bathroom door when he was ten.

Dudley fainted, and the snake slithered towards him before being captured by a handler who was conveniently close by. Harry argued with his Aunt and Uncle that at least Dudley hadn't been eaten. He didn't get to eat for two days after that.

As the group weaved through the various cars getting thicker as they drove into the city more, Harry realized how bad things had gotten. The sidewalks became littered with lumps of things that he didn't want to focus on. It was too surreal.

"Don't look at them," Ron said gently beside him.

Harry turned to him, Ron's face a mix of pain and sorrow. Harry could relate. These were people, regardless of the monsters they may have become at some point. They didn't deserve to be dead, especially the smaller forms wrapped around taller frames.

"What happened?" Harry's whisper was heard by everyone in the car, sending a somber note to everyone.

"No one knows," Ron said quietly, fiddling with the hem of his sodden red t-shirt. "Dad said someone went mental and bit a load of staff at St. Mungos. After that, the infection spread pretty quick. Dad's a part of the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Said something might have been shipped over from a foreign country and they don't know how to stop it."

Harry grew more solemn at the words. If the government couldn't fix it, then would it spread indefinitely until everyone was dead? How could this be the fate humanity was handed and so suddenly at that?

"There's no fixing it," Fred voiced from the front of the car. "Even if those things could be cured somehow, they change. They aren't… They're not really alive anymore."

"No one can confirm that!" Ron said hotly.

"Stop trying to kid yourself," George responded, backing up Fred's claim. "You and I both know that normal folk don't stomp around, half-way dead with wounds that should render them immobile. They walk around, nearly in pieces until they can find something to eat. We're just fodder, waiting to fall in the arms of one."

"Why do you have to be so bloody depressing!" Ron crossed his arms, glaring at the twin. "We're not going to die, not while we have each other. The more people we have, the better to stand against them."

"The more people we have, the more chance that they'll turn around and try to hurt our family," one of the twins said.

Harry wasn't paying attention anymore. It seemed like this was a frequent discussion with them, going by the restlessness in their voices. He understood where Ron was coming from, but any what-if should be thrown out the window in favor of self-preservation, at least in his opinion.

Harry was staring out the window again, and he could've sworn he saw some of the various lumps moving around as the sun met the large buildings halfway. It was turning dark, and he wasn't sure how safe they'd be driving through such a densely traversed place like London.

There! With the car going barely twenty through the city, weaving in and out of abandoned cars, he could spy a lump raise its head or so he thought. Perhaps he imagined things after losing so much oxygen to his brain earlier.

The car stopped, and Harry had to put his hands on the back of the passenger seat to stop his forward momentum. Why did they stop? He looked up and saw what the other three had gone silent at.

Grotesque; the first word that came to Harry's head. The man's jaw was hanging by a thread of skin, the blood around it looking dried up ages ago. He had an empty socket for an eye, which leaked liquid that Harry didn't want to venture a guess at, nearly making him throw up in the process.

The man gave a hiss, his jaw trying to work with the mouth, but it proved useless as the wound reopened and bled profusely. He didn't seem to notice as he drew closer to the car, his gait lopsided from what was a broken ankle, the foot dangling loosely at its side.

"Fred, drive," George whispered in horror.

"Dad would kill us if we wrecked Angela!" Fred shouted. The thing must have heard him, a guttural scream tearing from its throat as it bashed the hood with bloody fists.

"Would you rather be killed by that thing!?" George screamed as it tried to climb on the car. Its jaw broke loose of the sinew holding it together, splattering pieces of skin and fluid on the hood as it dragged itself along it.

Fred cursed under his breath and fumbled with the gear shift, trying to hit reverse. He slammed on the gas and the tires squealed against the asphalt. They rocked forward against more hisses behind them as they collided with more bodies.

"Where the bloody hell did they all come from?!" Ron screamed as a hand hit the window, the owners face blank, mouth wide.

"Just drive the damn car!" George roared as a hand broke through the window on Fred's side.

It grabbed Fred's shirt, nearly bringing him close enough to bite. Fred screamed, trying to shake the hand off of him to no avail. From the backseat, Harry pulled out the switchblade in his pocket and stabbed at the sallow white flesh, the fingers finally letting go.

"Shite!" Fred slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and tore through the bodies in front of the car, leaving a streak of blood on the windshield.

A mess of gore plagued their view before Fred ran the wipers. It slid away slowly, the blood smearing across like thick gel, bits and pieces collecting near the dash on the outside. It was all they could do to keep focused on anything else but the gruesome parts falling with a splat as they raced away.

They drove for a while, not daring to slow down in the middle of the town again. Never had Harry been so shaken in his entire life. He'd lost the switchblade in the scuffle, but thankfully Fred hadn't received a scratch. They were all on edge, and George kept eyeing Harry from the rearview mirror.

"H-hey, you okay?" Ron's voice beside him had Harry nearly jumping out of his skin.

He nodded shakily to Ron, trying to smile, though it came out more like a grimace. The rest of the drive was silent. Nearly a half hour later and they were nearing London.

The road in between kept them shaken, with the feeling of eyes from all sides. They were on alert, even though they had passed a few roadblocks miles back. Nobody greeted them at the entrance of the city. There were no military officials, no bodies of the dead, nor were there any hint of survivors mulling about.

"They said the city would be less dangerous because there were more police in the area," George muttered.

"Dad said most of the government officials already skipped town. Most of them are probably gone by now. I'd have done so too." Fred's voice was morose, his hand unconsciously grasping the ghost of the grip there a while ago.

"Were you planning to get to the station too?" Harry questioned, drawing their attention.

George shrugged, "We all decided that being sitting ducks would be suicide, so we figured London would be as good as any. Our brother Percy warned us to stay put, but Dad had other plans. We were hoping for Kings Cross and their private train for the government and their families. The 9 and ¾ express would take us across the pond if we wanted. That's as safe as anything else, I suppose."

Harry hummed to himself. What would he have done when he arrived at the station? Holed himself up in the smoker's area, hoping to last the time he could before he ran out of food? What a plan.

"Dad said there were scheduled pickups for this week, so we had to hurry our way down here with what we could carry. Between all of us, that's a bit of stuff."

"Besides, Ron wanted to see his girlfriend anyway," Fred smirked, seeming to perk up a bit at the conversation.

Ron spluttered beside him, his face resembling the shade of his hair. Harry smiled, feeling lighter at the banter. Things wouldn't be easy, but at least he had people with him, for now.

"Thank you."

Harry startled away from his musings glanced up to Fred and Georges eyes in the mirror. The car stopped as they neared the station. Outside there were many other vehicles, though a bright green box-van stood out the most.

"For what?" Harry wasn't sure what they were appreciative about, but he wouldn't complain if it meant they weren't going to choke him to death again.

"Saving me," Fred whispered, his hand still on the tear of his shirt.

There was dried blood near the rip, and Harry was glad it wasn't Fred's. Regardless of what the boy had done before, he didn't wish that kind of death on anyone. The world had enough of whatever those things were already.

"It's no problem," he said back.

"No, really, I don't…" George looked pained for a moment. "I don't know what I would've done had something…"

The words trailed off, and everyone in the car couldn't help but think on the events that might have occurred. A knock on the hood broke them out of the melancholy. A tall, middle-aged man resembling the three redheads smiled back at them brightly in the floodlights of the car.

"'Bout time you lot got here!" His words were met with broad grins from the others who jumped out to hug the man.

Harry sat in the back, unsure of how to proceed at this point. Would they let him tag along on the train? Was this his stop? It had been formerly, why would they want him with them?

Harry watched as they all began to chatter happily to each other. He wished for the same. His heart ached, and the tightness in his throat acted up again.

He really wished he'd stop being such a baby about these things. He could survive on his own, he'd done that for the first fourteen years of his life with no problem.

With that thought, Harry slipped out of the back and snuck away from the group as they continued to talk, the sun finally disappearing in the horizon. It was better this way. He didn't know who these people were, and if the rest of the group were as welcoming as the twins were at first… He didn't want to think about that.

The stars in the sky were nearly nonexistent behind the clouds still roaming across the inky darkness. It was serene, and Harry felt everything leave his mind at once. The strange morning filled with what he could only hope was a terrible dream, but he knew better.

This was really happening, and it wasn't going to stop anytime soon if it ever did. Harry sat on a bench on the opposite side of the station where the group was catching up. He gave up on trying to run if they were going to come after him, let them, there was nowhere else for him anyway. The streetlights flickered on, a golden glow surrounding the smokers shack nearby.

A calm silence fell as Harry craned his neck, letting his head fall backward. A deep breath escaped his lips with hands raking across his face in frustration. Even though they didn't see any monsters, he still wasn't safe. Any venture deeper into the city could spell doom, especially if he went looting through houses for supplies.

He wasn't sure the world was so far gone yet, though all life seemed to disappear without a trace in London. How wide had the infection spread and for how long had he gone without noticing? Hadn't Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia been afraid of even the smallest hint of a cough? Why did it take so long for people to react?

Who were the redheads and what was their purpose in taking him along? Why was he so conscious of George's gaze at him through the whole car ride? Would he even last a day all by himself?

Too many questions and no answers in sight. It would be hard from here on out, especially on his own, but Harry was determined to give it his all, even if he was reckless by relaxing in the open. It wasn't long after he rested his head back that the sound of footsteps had him opening his eyes in alarm.

"It's dangerous to go off alone."

Harry scoffed. Of course it was, but that didn't mean he wasn't about to put up a fight if it came to it. The deep voice behind him sent shivers through his spine and with his head still looking towards the sky, a shade of red entered his vision from above, with eyes smoldering down at him.

Yeah, it was dangerous to be here, but maybe Harry welcomed the danger.