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Chapter 8: Shopping Trips
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Buford Benning opened the back door loading dock doors where the deliveries came in. The truck usually delivered between five and five-thirty. His head ached. He couldn't even remember coming home from the pub last night. He was pissed off at having to be up so early. Usually, Kira met the delivery each week, but now he had to do it himself. He couldn't expect his useless wife to do it. She didn't know the difference between a pork chop and a rump roast. The delivery guy would cheat him if she met the truck.
Once more, he cursed the little tramp for making him throw her out. He hated having his wife work the counter. He worried that Madelaine would start talking to people, would make friends. He didn't want her having anyone to turn to. He wanted her to know she was alone. It kept her in line.
Buford heard the truck pull into the back. He went back and watched the driver unload his order, counting the boxes of hams, weighing the sides of beef he'd soon be cutting into steaks and grinding to make into beef patties. As soon as the driver left, Buford got to work. He had to do this all alone now too. He had turned Kira into a damned good butcher. She was a good cook too. Not like her useless mother. Madelaine screwed up boiling water.
At seven sharp, he unlocked the front door and turned the sign over so the side that read 'open' faced the street. He was in the large, walk-in freezer when he heard the bell on the door tinkle and an odd clicking sound. He came back out to the counter and saw it was the town's librarian. The clicking sound came from his crutches as they struck the floor.
"Morning," he said. "You're about awful early. How can I help you today?"
"Well, I'd like to know if you might have a nice pork chop. I only need one. I live alone, you understand," said Nathan.
"Do you want it cut from the rib or the loin?"
"Umm...I really don't know."
"How 'r you planning on cooking it? Are you gonna bake it or fry it?"
"Um...fry it," he answered.
"Best make it from the rib. I'll cut it an inch thick then. Any thinner and it'd dry out."
As the butcher began to cut the chop, Nathan said, "How is your daughter? She hasn't been in the library for over a week now."
"I don't give a rat's ass how she is," Buford growled. "Threw her the hell out. The little tramp went and got herself knocked up. I deposited her on the doorstep of the boy who done it, that weird family who lives in that ramshackle dump just outside of town. Unless they threw her out, she's probably still there."
"You...you threw her out?"
Buford ignored the question as he wrapped the man's pork chop in white paper, securing it with a piece of masking tape. "That'll be 93p."
Nathan paid the man, discomfited to find that she was no longer living here. He knew of the family. He'd seen them come into town from time to time. They never used the library. The only time one had was two winters ago, when that boy had come into the library with Kira and they'd sat, heads together, reading a book. Nathan had thrown them out. There was no way he could get all the way out to their house to see if she was still there. What excuse could he use to go there?
Luck must have been smiling on him. As Nathan made his way up the street to the library, he saw a woman and a teenage girl coming toward him. They each carried a basket on their arms.
"Now, Ginny, dear," the woman said, "we need to buy some things for George and Kira. You know how he is. I'm sure he doesn't have a thing in that flat for them to eat. We'll take a nice basket of fresh things from the garden with us when we visit tomorrow. Make sure to remind me to take some jars of my homemade jams and sauces."
"Do they even know we're coming? Shouldn't we give them a few more days to sort of, get settled first?"
"Don't be absurd. This is George. You know he and Fred never stood on ceremony."
"But this is George and Kira. They just got married yesterday. But I do have to admit that I'm dying to know how he pulled it off."
Nathan thanked God. Surely this was a sign that Kira was meant to belong to him. As they came near, Nathan smiled. "Good morning, ladies. Always good to get the shopping out of the way early, isn't it? What a glorious day this looks to be."
Mrs. Weasley stopped and looked at the Muggle man, taking in his crutches. She immediately felt sympathy for him. So many Muggles in the town gave them the cut. It was refreshing to have one be so friendly. "Good morning, sir," she said. "Yes, it is a lovely day."
"My name is Nathan Lockslip," he said, holding out his hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am the town's librarian. I don't believe I've ever seen you in the library. We have a wonderful collection. I do hope you will consider making use of it, you and your family."
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "How kind. I have heard of you. My new daughter-in-law told my husband about the library and mentioned you. He has been thinking of stopping in."
"I'd love to see him. Did I hear you mention Kira?" he asked. "Such a nice girl. She loves to read, you know."
Mrs. Weasley beamed. "Kira and my son were married yesterday. They're living in London."
"London? Well, please, when you see her, offer her my congratulations," said Nathan pleasantly.
They parted, with Nathan going on to the library and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny walking toward the Wizard market in the center of town.
"Well, Ginny, that Muggle seems such a nice fellow, doesn't he?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny turned her head and looked at the man's retreating back as he moved speedily down the sidewalk on his crutches. "He seems kind of creepy to me," she said.
Nathan let himself into the library. He navigated the stairs to the main floor and paced back and forth, agitated. London. How would he ever find her now? She had to return to Ottery St. Catchpole. He had to make her return. She had to come back so he could give her shelter.
He looked up the street at the butcher shop and saw Kira's father give his wife a shove out the door. A few seconds later, a broom came flying out. The woman slowly stooped to pick it up and began sweeping the walk. Nathan smiled as a plan began to form in his mind.
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Kira and George began the next day grabbing breakfast at a Muggle restaurant on Charing Cross Road, where he read her a note that had arrived by owl that morning from his Mum. "Mum, Dad, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are coming to visit tomorrow," he said. He rather wished they'd have given them a bit more time to settle in, but he also knew there was no stopping his mum.
"I'll make a pot roast. I'll need to buy some potatoes, onions, and carrots to go with it."
Then they mounted the motorbike and drove to Sainsbury's. George walked along behind her admiring her bottom, which was clothed in a pretty white and light green floral-patterned sundress that ended mid-thigh. Damn, but she has nice legs too, he thought.
But then he caught some other bloke staring at her too, and glared at him. The fellow looked mildly embarrassed and walked off to another aisle.
Kira pushed the cart along, in the aisle containing the dishes, giddy at the thought of setting up housekeeping She decided to brighten up the flat, with it's stark, off-white walls and plain wooden floors by adding splashes of bright red. Although purple was her favorite color, red had always been a close second. She spied dinner plates that were white with a thick red band around the edge. But there were also dishes that were white and the red band was adorned with white polka dots. She grabbed both and held them up to George.
"Which do you like better, George?"
George, who had still been mentally debating whether her legs or her bum were her finest feature, wasn't prepared. "Uh...um...they're both really fine." His face turned a bit red when he realized he was still actually talking about her body.
"George, that's an amazing idea. You're so right! We can get both. I'll buy from the open stock instead of a boxed set. We can get the solid red dinner plates, the polka dot salad plates, the white bowls that have red polka dots all over them, and these red and white striped mugs. You are brilliant!"
"I am?" he asked as she began to load the cart with eight of each item. "Why are you buying eight of everything when there's only two of us?"
"You have a big family, George. What will we use tomorrow when your family comes? We definitely need service for eight, at least. We should probably get service for twelve in case they all show up at once.
"Not quite, because Percy will never be welcome after the way he treated you."
"He's your brother, George. I don't want to be the cause of a rift in your family. You have to forgive him. I have."
"Maybe you're just a little more generous than I am. I still want to hex him into next year."
"I don't know about that. I doubt that I'll ever be able to forgive my father," she said. "So I must not be that good a person."
"He's another one I'd like to hex."
"I don't think I'd stop you, so long as my mother didn't get hurt. But let's not ruin our day talking about him."
She pulled her list back out of her bag and consulted it. She had written it on a paper napkin at the diner that morning, using that pen that held purple ink.
"Let's see, flatware. It should be nearby. We definitely need service for eight." Then she swept the cart up to the next aisle and turned to the left. George followed along, resuming his admiration of her backside.
George found himself put to the test again when she held up two boxes of flatware and asked him which he liked best. He stared at one and then the other and wondered if she was trying to trick him. They looked exactly alike.
"Um...that one?" he asked, pointing at one randomly.
"I think I like that one better myself. It's simple and the tiny diamond cuts along the edges of the handles are a classy touch. The other set is too plain. And I love the little caddy that comes with it. I hope it will fit into the drawer."
"My thoughts exactly," he replied, hoping he wouldn't be asked his opinion on anything else.
They had already filled the basket with an assortment of odd things Kira deemed essential. Some looked like they may be dangerous. There was a set of white earthenware canisters with the words, Flour, Sugar, Coffee, and Tea written on them, in red, of course. There was a matching receptacle for the large, bright red cooking spoons, and something she called spatulas. There were mixing bowls so she could mix something, chopping boards, a set of pots and pans, and enough cleaning supplies to kill a troll. The scary looking things turned out to be an egg slicer, cheese grater, a garlic press, and a meat tenderizer.
He hoped she'd say they were done, but she snapped her fingers and said, "Onto the glassware aisle."
George had never known that one needed different glasses for juice and water. She was thrilled to find some that were clear with a thin red line around the rim. Eight of each joined the rest in the cart. Then it was on to cutlery. Kira spent a lot of time here, carefully inspecting each and every knife. "Let's see, I'll need a butcher knife, a chef's knife, a fillet knife, a paring knife, and steak knives," she said.
Eight steak knives, right?" George asked.
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. "Of course," she said, pleased that he was finally catching on. "Now, on to the linens," she added, turning the cart and marching off. George followed behind her, going back to amusing himself by watching her cute bum as it swayed in the pretty flowered sundress.
Finally, she had selected an assortment of kitchen towels (red and white checks), bath towels (white with red trim), new sheets (something called sage green), and blankets (again, sage green) and they headed toward the checkouts. Once outside, they steered the cart toward the rear of the store, where they had parked the motorbike. Kira sat on the motorbike and watched, amazed, as he disapparated with their purchases, over and over, until he had taken every last bag of stuff to the flat.
Then, they drove back to Charing Cross Road, where they found a little Muggle restaurant and had lunch. Then, it was off to the market to buy food. Once more, Kira loaded the cart with boxes, jars, and tins of things that looked alien to George.
She stopped to look at the meat, but shook her head. "This meat is really poor quality," she said. "I have to find a real butcher shop. I'll wait and buy the roast tomorrow morning though. I don't trust that old icebox. It looks too dodgy to me. But I can buy the potatoes and the broccoli. Oh, I forgot. Your mother wanted some instant potatoes. She turned the cart around and headed back to that aisle.
After checking out, George disapparated with the groceries to the flat once more. He was getting exhausted. When he apparated in the alley near the Leaky Cauldron where he had left Kira and the motorbike, she was gone. He stepped out to see her up the street a bit, looking in a shop window.
It was a sewing shop. He couldn't take anymore. He said he'd wait outside. She went in and he watched as she filled a small hand basket with spools of thread, packs of needles, a pair of scissors and other supplies. He saw her speaking with the older lady in the shop at some length. Then, she selected lengths of several different materials. When she came outside, she was happier than he'd ever seen her.
"George," she said, "you won't believe what just happened!"
"You've just bought the last thing, anywhere, and there's nothing left for anyone else?" he asked, more than half seriously.
She giggled and wrinkled her nose at him. "No, silly," she said, "the lady who runs this store, her name is Yvonne, we got to talking about my projects and she offered me a job in her shop. It would only be in the afternoons a few days a week, but she wants me to actually do my projects here, in the store, as a sort of live demonstration of how to do them for the people who come in and don't know how to sew. She has sewing machines in there, and I'll be able to use them, for free, and earn some money besides. And anything I make I can keep. I'll be able to make myself some maternity clothes. Isn't that great?"
"My store makes enough money that you don't have to work," he said. "I can afford to buy you clothes."
"But it's so much more fun to make them," she said. "Come on George, don't be stuffy. You're going to be down in your store every day. I might as well come here and do this. She wants me to start Monday at noon until four. Please. I really want to do this. It isn't even about the money. It's about having the chance to do something, to meet people, to be free to do as I please for the first time in my life."
"All right, if you really want—"
He was cut off by Kira throwing herself at him and kissing him, on the mouth. It seemed to take her as much by surprise as it did him. Her face turned red as she stepped away from him. They walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron side by side, not talking. He stopped and she kept walking. He'd forgotten that she couldn't see it on her own.
"Kira," he said, "this is it. Let me see your ring a minute."
Kira looked at her grandmother's wedding ring and slid it off her finger, handing it to him. He quickly looked around and pulled out his wand. He touched it to the ring, and it glowed orange a second. Then, he slipped it back on her finger. She looked at the Leaky Cauldron, surprise showing in her face.
"I put a spell on your ring so that you will be able to see the portals to the magical world, and pass through the barriers. The spells we place to hide our world from Muggles will not have any effect on you so long as you're wearing your ring. Also, I've been thinking. To help you out around the house while we're still living here, I'm going to hire a House Elf."
"What is a House elf?"
"They're these little creatures who are able to do magic. A house elf would be able to help you, I don't know, sort of navigate the magical world while I'm working, light the stove, make sure there is ice in the icebox. Portkey things back to the flat so you don't have to carry them. Things like that. Until recently, they have been enslaved, but our new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, freed them. Many chose to stay with their former owners, but they are now being paid. Others have banded together to create a company and are hired out to witches and wizards who need some help around the house. The Americans freed their House Elves after they won their independence. Our House Elves are basically copying what the ones over there have done."
"So there are witches and wizards in America too?"
"We're everywhere, actually. But the Americans, in particular, have some odd ideas. My mum and dad met the High Leader of the American Supreme Coven years ago. He and my dad charmed a Ford Anglia so it could fly and turn invisible. They told me that he really distrusts the Ministry. Harry says that Kingsley has tried to reach out to them, only to be politely but firmly rebuffed."
"A flying Ford Anglia? Imagine that." Kira said as she reached out and grasped the handle of the door. Grinning, she bowed and ushered him inside.