To Die For
Chapter Two
By the time, Christine had rematerialized, it had begun to rain, and she apparated in front of her families manor in London. The pouring rain weighed down her golden curls, and they stuck to the side of her face, but she didn't care. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts at the moment.
It had been almost a month since she last set foot on it- since her parents were murdered. And yet the place hadn't changed the slightest bit, it was exactly as she had left it. The manor had belonged to the Balfour family for generations- since her great grandfather had moved from France to settle down in England with his family. Since then it had been passed down in the family, all the way to her.
Christine withdrew her wand and began making her way up the neatly trimmed lawn, passing by rows of flowers of many different kinds, as well as a variety of other decorative plants. Climbing up the stairs of the porch, she unclasped the key from its chain around her neck, and inserted it in the keyhole. Turning the key, she could imagine all the pins concealed within it tumbling into place and unlocking.
Her hand, moist with precipitation, clasped around the smooth surface of the doorknob, and she opened the door. Every light in the manor magically flickered on of their own accord, and she entered the warm vestibule without hesitating to retrieve the key from its lock, nor caring that she was trailing a track of mud and water into the house. The hallway was lined with pictures, all of which moved in and out of their frames; on one side of the wall she could see her five-year-old self, dressed in a frilly white dress with pink lace, being chased in and out of multiple frames by her breathless mother, before being caught by her father, and hugging him.
She was grateful for the fact that she was drenched in rain, so that, should she bump in to any house-elves, they would not notice she was crying, as walked through the elegantly decorated corridors. Her shoes echoed loudly on the highly-polished wooden floor, observing the silent rooms. In the process of her aimless wandering, she wound up in her parents room.
Though she had not intended to end up there, she recognized it immediately.
The room was large, lavishly decorated, and a perfume lingered in the air from the flowers on each table. The room was painted in bright, warm colors, and was very comfortable. Had it not been for the combined effort of the house-elves, the house would probably have no chance of being sold- something the Malfoy's highly objected to, but Christine would not hear of it, she couldn't bear to live there now that her parents were gone.
She crossed the room, and walked into the conjoined bathroom, turning the light on. Shivering, she peeled off her soaked robes, and tossed them carelessly onto the marble floor. Grabbing a towel from the linins closet, and a face cloth she set them aside and turned on the shower. When she was ready, she stepped into the shower and into the hot water, and began washing up, with more effort than she would on any other day, perhaps in the pretense that she believed that if she stayed in the shower long enough, washing, then she could wash away all the pain and doubt that had plagued her since her mother and father passed away.
Perhaps when she got out, she would have rid herself of all the distress and misfortune that had beset her. Maybe she wouldn't be in that empty house anymore. Maybe she'd be thirteen again on summer vacation with her parents in South of France.
Turning the faucet the hot water shut off, and, wrapping a towel around her self, stepped out of the shower, and stood in front of the fogged-up mirror. She concentrated on its surface, squinting slightly, and the fog sub-sided, to reveal her own reflection, the same as it had been before.
With a sigh, Christine, left the bathroom, and reentered the bedroom, where she began rifling through her parent's wardrobe, looking for dry clothing, seeing as all of her clothing was in the Leaky Cauldron.
After a few minutes search, her hands landed on an elegant white dress. Christine was supposed to wear it the previous year for her Sweet Sixteen. However, she and her mother had gotten into a fight the night before the party, and Christine took off, staying with the Malfoy's for a week. She had been so furious she refused to see her for that entire week. Now, she would do anything for her mother to see her in it, not that she'd let anyone beside herself know that.
She retrieved it from the wardrobe, and removed it from the hanger. Closing the door, she changed into the dress, and then lay on the bed. She could still her mother's perfume on the sheets. Christine could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again, and it wasn't long before they came. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, sleep came, providing a temporary sanctuary from the problem she was currently faced with.