To Die For

Chapter Four

While the Weasley's, Harry, and Hermione all preoccupied their selves with organizing and putting away their school stuff, Christine busied herself with organizing her school supplies and getting settled in. She would be sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione for the last month of summer vacation, so she had quite a while till she had to get on the move again. Sitting on her bed, she summoned all of the clothes and necessities from the contents of her backpack, and used her wand to make the neatly folded piles of her clothing unwrap and hang themselves in her wardrobe.

"So, where've you been going to school for the past six years, if not at Howarts?" Hermione asked conversationally, sitting at the edge of Christine's bed, having, as always, been the first to finish with organizing and packing.

"Beauxbatons," Christine replied casually, "But, I don't live in France; my home is- or rather was- in London."

"But why would you want to go so far?" Hermione asked curiously, "Don't you miss your family?"

"No, I'm an only child, and my parents were never really close to me." Christine said, sincerely. "Besides, my mother was taught there, so it was pretty much already decided for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said sympathetically, grasping her hand comfortingly.

"It's okay, I'm over it." Christine said, trying to shrug the subject off, but had the slight, lingering air of remorse. "I mean, don't get me wrong- I loved them- they're my parents so a some part of me will always remain attached to them, but the main thing is that we were never close. I was never happy with their decisions, and they were never happy with me. End of story."

"That's horrible. What would make you think that?" Hermione inquired.

"They were never around for me," Christine said, "Their life revolved solely around work, money, and the Dark Lord. They never thought about how it might affect me and they were getting us into- they only cared for themselves and how they were praised by their Lord. That I could never forgive them for."

"Oh!" Hermione said reproachfully, pausing to gather her words, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse for Christine's deceased parents actions. "Well, maybe they were just trying to protect-"

"No," Christine interjected sharply, "They had no excuse. They had joined him before I was even born. Even so- what's the price of one person over millions? They had a choice, and they made the worse of two evils. They are completely responsible for their decision."

"So, then what does that make you?" Ginny asked coldly from her own bed, where she lay on her stomach, flipping through the pages of a Quidditch magazine, though not really reading it.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, obviously shocked by Ginny's cool remark, and Christine though stung, remained silent for a moment before answering.

"It makes me coveted." She replied sharply, "They just took out two of their Death Eaters, and their going to want me to be punished for my parent's mistakes by taking their place. Not only that but I am the only living air to my parents fortune, so it makes me a valuable source."

"Yeah- well, that's obvious," Ginny said sarcastically, glancing ruefully at Christine's outfit. It was not that extravagant, really- a blue tank top, blue denim cutoffs, and a pair of white sneakers. But unlike Ginny's outfit, however, it looked new, and not like it was bought from a second-hand shop.

"You know what? I'm through with this conversation." Christine snapped, red sparks flying from her wand. "I don't need to prove anything to you."

"Ginny!" Hermione scowled, but it was all for naught, for Christine had already left, slamming the door violently behind her.

Christine flew down the many flights of stairs, without any knowledge or care of where she was headed. Her cheeks were warm and red from anger and running, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to put as much space between her and Ginny as Ottery St. Catchpole permitted, and she wouldn't stop until she achieved just that.

She had already run down several flights of stairs, and through the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was preparing lunch, and was too preoccupied to notice her. Before she knew it, Christine had flown out of the back door and into the Weasley's odd, over-grown garden.\

Exhausted, she slumped towards a thick oak tree near the pond, and collapsed at the foot of the trunk, out of breath. Leaning against its base, she could feel the back of her shirt sticking to her skin, and she suddenly regretted storming out of the cool of the house.

The forecast hadn't been wrong. The sun, now fully risen, shone high over head, its ultraviolet rays stretching down, and beating on the garden. It was so hot that even the mischief-making gnomes did not dare to venture out of the safety of their holes, which were buried deep underground.

Christine would have preferred to fume in silence alone, but it turned out that luck had different plans for her. Hearing the backdoor slam shut for the second time that day, her gaze flew to the porch. There, she saw Harry descending the old wooden steps and she groaned.

"Christine!" he called, making his way towards the tree, where she was slumped. "Lunch is ready…" He looked casual and friendly as he approached, but as he got closer, he could tell that something was wrong- she was upset.

"Erm." Harry said, rather awkwardly, standing for a moment, as though making up his mind. His mind closed around a decision, and he sat down beside her underneath the tree. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, Christine didn't reply, and Harry thought she wouldn't, as she watched a couple of plimpies jump in and out of the surface of the pond. But, just as Harry started to get up and make his way back towards the Burrow, she poke up, though her voice sounded strained, forced. "Does it ever end?" she asked suddenly, quietly, as she turned to look at him.

Harry, taken aback, did not respond; he stared at her with a blank expression, and after blinking a few times answered: "Err…what? Does what ever go away?"

"Everything." Christine said her eyes glistening with unwanted tears.

"Erm… I don't know what you mean." Harry said, dumbly.

"My parents lied to me my whole life, and lined me up like a pig for the slaughter." Christine whimpered. "And not only that but they left me alone to deal with the consequences of their mistakes, and to carry their burden, labeled by who they were."

"No." Harry said, quietly, his tone, too, sobered." The pain- none of it- ever ends. But I promise it will get easier."

Quite suddenly, and unconsciously, Christine moved closer to Harry, and wound her arms around, pulling him into a hug, and he, taken by surprise, patted her awkwardly on the back. It wasn't intentional, and she realized a minute after, after which she hastily dropped her arms, releasing him from her embrace. "Erm," Christine ventured, "Uh, we should probably get back inside- we'll miss lunch."

"Yeah, come on." Harry agreed. With that, he slung an arm over her shoulder and they departed for the kitchen, unaware of Ginny watching spitefully from her bedroom window.

15