Chapter Eight: Falling For The Victim
When Christine woke up the next morning, the idea of death seemed friendly and inviting. She felt gloomy and disgusted with herself, sick both emotionally and physically. The hangover wasn't doing much to help her, either. Her head was pounding like a sledgehammer, her stomach churning nauseatingly. Her skin felt super-sensitive to everything she touched and her bladder was near exploding point- protesting for relief with every unsteady step she took toward the bathroom. The sunlight streaming into the hallway through the window was too bright for her sensitive eyes, and the eruption of bangs and explosions from Fred and George's room a floor above were only adding to her headache. But the physical pain was only the half of what was irritating her.
She had just made love for the first time last night, with the one person she was presumeably in love with. She had one week left until she, Harry, Hermione and the two youngest Weasley's departed the Burrow for Hogwarts. The time that she had spent there had been fun and interesting, no doubt, but filled with loneliness and longing for the Malfoy's, particularly Draco. She had given herself to him in the most private and intimate way, hoping to make that one hour longer, more precious, and to give him the one thing she had denied him up until then to show him she loved him, yet, in turn, made herself more vulnerable in the end. Her plan had backfired dramatically.
Where being intimate with Draco was supposed to bring them closer and deliver happiness, closer, and relief, it had done nothing but leave her feeling more empty and lonely than ever when he had to leave her. She felt dirty and violated, and though she had enjoyed being with him last night, she regretted it dearly now. She had given her only virtue, and she couldn't ever get it back. She hated him for making her feel that way, and she hated herself even more for letting him.
And then there was Ginny- the look on her face last night was so betrayed and heart-broken. Christine didn't fully understand why Ginny's reaction had such an impact on her- after all, Ginny had resolved to make her stay at the Burrow as miserable as she could since Christine's arrival. Christine didn't even get to kiss Harry- she had absolutely nothing to feel guilty and ashamed of herself on Ginny's behalf, but she did, and it was irritating and unnerving. Since when did she care about people's feelings?
When Christine reached the bathroom, an incontrollable wave of nausea caused her to double-over. Slamming the toilet seat up, she held back her hair and leaned over the toilet to retching into it. After a few minutes, when she was sure that all of her stomachs contents had been evacuated, she got up and flushed the toilet, wiping her mouth and began vigorously washing her mouth and teeth with a generous amount of toothpaste at the sink.
As she brushed, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and tried not to be disgusted. Her skin was pale (or at least more than usual), light shadows were visible beneath her eyes, her slick and damp from sweating in her sleep; she hadn't even been able to change out of her now grass-stained dress before she passed out.
Great, Christine thought darkly to herself, not only do I feel like crap, but I look like it too. Before she could collaborate herself, there was a loud, impatient knock from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Oi, Christine! You in there?!" Came George's voice from the hallway. She groaned and dragged herself over to the door. "No." she said, listlessly.
"Huh?" George asked, bewildered, then rapped on the door, more loudly this time. "Oi, Christine! Get your bottom out here, before I blast this door open." She groaned in reply, reaching to turn the doorknob, but was already too late. She could hear George mutter an incantation on the other side and barely managed to step out harms way before the door exploded and fell to the linoleum floor in a shower of splinters.
"You could have waited. I was going to open the door. I could've been naked, George." Christine said ignorantly, her head throbbing painfully as she spoke. Her hands automatically flew to her forehead, as though holding it would make the pain go away. It didn't.
"You're not the only one who has to pee, you know." George replied, rolling his eyes at her, holding out a glass filled with a murky brown liquid to Christine. "Besides, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up. Whoever said Frenchies can't hold a drink was seriously mislead. You look trashed."
She made a face at the mystery potion, unsure of whether or not it would be one of his pranks. It looked like watered down hot chocolate, or dirty paint water and gave off an indescribable odor. "How is that supposed to help me suppress the urge to pee?" She asked wryly, eying him suspiciously, "And more or less, how I supposed to keep that down?"
"It's not supposed to stop you from using the bathroom, blondie." George said gloatingly, looking quite pleased with his little discovery. "It just gets rid of your hang over; that there'll have you healthy and back to normal in no more than five seconds guaranteed."
"What's in it?" She asked, still skeptical. The infamous Weasley Twins were known to be smooth-talkers and appreciate a good practical joke.
"Nothing serious, really." George said casually, making silly faces at himself in the mirror. "A shot of Firewhisky, pepper-up potion, melted chocolate and ginseng."
"O…kay…" She said uncertainly. She took the glass and looked into it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Then, without further interrogation, she pinched her nose, tipped her head back and swallowed the potion in one gulp. Fortunately, it didn't taste the way it looked, and she waited for the potion to kick into effect, ticking off the seconds as she did so.
One…two…three… she thought. With each passing second she could gradually feel the pounding in her head subsiding, until it went away all together; the intensity of the light seemed less severe to her tired eyes, and the nausea ceased. She felt better than ever. She still felt broody though, some lingering anger and guilt was still there, just beneath the surface, but she put it aside, allowing herself to smile gratefully at George. "Thanks. I feel great!"
"Good…now, err…if you don't mind-" George said hastily, with a wink and Christine made a face. She didn't need a visual of George using the bathroom.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Christine said, repairing the shattered door, and then making her way back to Ginny' room to get herself a change of clothes. She grabbed a wrinkled pair of jeans, a tanktop, sweater, and a pair of sneakers and new socks (it was chilly that morning, but warmer later). When she returned to the bathroom George had left, and it was just as clean as before the door, which had been magically mended and replaced properly on its hinges, was blown to smithereens.
Christine hopped into the shower and took much less time washing than usual, but scrubbing more vigorously. In a family as big as the Weasley's you could never be sure when someone might just barge through a room. She made a silent promise to herself that she would never again make herself as vulnerable around Draco as she had the other night, that she would be happy, and that she wouldn't do anything else to make herself feel guilty, or upset the Weasley's. At least- not more than I already have to, she thought guilty, with a gulp.
When she was done showering and getting dressed, she pulled her hair into an effortlessly neat ponytail with an elastic and made her way down the four flights of stairs and into the Weasley's kitchen. There, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were already situated around the old wooden table, waiting for breakfast, and Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley had already departed for work. Ginny- who was busy making toast for everyone, and Mrs. Weasley, who was frying bgacon in a pan, worked laboriously as they prepared the meal.
When Ginny noticed Christine enter the kitchen and approach her, she slammed so hard down on the lever that it snapped completely off the toaster. Christine gave her a hopeful, apologetic smile and mended it with her wand. "Erm… Hi, Ginny." Christine said nervously.
"Good morning, Christine, how lovely to see you." Ginny said a flat, clipped tone. She kept her eyes focused on the glowing red beams in the toaster, her expression indifferent, almost bored. It took all the inner-strength she possessed to keep control of herself. What she really wanted was to toast Christine's hands.
"I'm really sorry about what happened last night." Christine said sincerely, her blue eyes pleading almost. "I just thought that…since you and Harry, you know…"
"Really, Christine, I couldn't care less about what you and Harry do with each other, we broke up." Ginny said through gritted teeth, "Besides, I have a date with Krum after breakfast."
"Oh, um. That's nice, but please, call me Chris. All my friends do." She replied timidly- Ginny looked like rubber-band, extended to it's full length- ready to snap at any second.
"Like I said, Christine, I really don't care." Ginny snapped.
"Play nice, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said vaguely, adding the bacon to the plates before starting to scramble some sighed.
"So…am I… forgiven?" Christine said uncertainly, forcing herself to keep eye contact.
"Sure, whatever, if that's what you want to call it." Ginny said bluntly. "Hey, mum, I think Krum's here early. I'll just grab something to eat on the way."
"Alright, dear. Behave yourself." Mrs. Weasley said, just as absentmindedly. Ginny grabbed her bag off the back of Harry's chair, shot Christine a look, and left out the front door, allowing it to slam shut behind her.
With a sigh, Christine crossed the kitchen and sat down at the wooden table between Harry and Ron. "Hi," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself for reassurance, as if she were cold.
"Hey," they replied awkwardly, as Mrs. Weasley finished dishing up breakfast and placed their meals in front of them. They ate mostly in silence. If Mrs. Weasley thought this unusual, however, then she did not mention it, but instead left the room to continue with the rest of her morning routine.
When Christine was little more than half-way through eating her meal, she pushed her plate away and Ron, who had already finished his food, made a grab for the plate. However, Hermione kicked him under the table and he withdrew. "She hates me," she said glaring at her food with disinterest- it was delicious no doubt, but she wasn't in the eating mood.
"She's sixteen, she hates everyone. If she doesn't like us being together she'll just have to deal with it. I made my decision long before I met you, she knows why we can't stay together." Harry said reasonably.
" Yeah, she hates everybody." Christine muttered darkly to herself, "especially me."
"Nah, just forget about it. She hates me half the time and I'm her brother," Ron said dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. "She's doing the bratty thing- being the youngest she's used to getting everything she wants and now that she's not, she's acting out. She probably just has her…what's it called again?...mental period?"
"Ron!" Hermione groaned as Harry winced and covered his ears. "You don't say stuff like that out loud. And it's menstrual, not mental!"
"You say tomato, I say tomahto." He said indifferently.
"Okay…could we please stop talking about Ginny's body fluids and functions, please?" Harry said uncomfortably, twitching unvoluntarilly. He never felt comfortable talking about girls, or the weird things their bodies did, let alone be around them.
"Anyways," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Harry and Ron. "She's just having a hard transition, that's all. Just let things play out and she'll get over it eventually. She has to- you're practically family now."
Christine felt sick from the words. They genuinely cared about her, and she was planning to kill Harry. Regardless of whether she wanted to not. "Yeah, thanks, guys." Christine said in what she hoped would be a convincing tone. "I truly don't deserve you, you know." Well, at least she knew that sounded honest.
"Oh, rubbish." Hermione said, giving Christine a supportive hug. "We love you, and you know it." I do, Christine thought guiltily
"And I love you guys too," she said, with an encouraging smile for Harry, and this time she truly meant it. "I think I'm going to go for a walk though, if you don't mind."
"Umm, okay. We'll see you later then, I guess." Hermione said, still not completely convinced that Christine was feeling any better.
"I'll come with you." Harry said eagerly, pushing his chair away from the table and following Christine to the backdoor.
"Oh no, that's okay. You don't have to, you can stay if you'd like." Christine objected, hoping that she didn't sound rude or too dismissive of him when she said it.
"No. I'll come." He insisted, taking her hand and opening the door.
"Yeah, me too." Ron said dumbly, obviously not understanding that Harry wanted to be alone with Christine.
"No, Ronald," Hermione disagreed, "you can stay here with me."
"Oh, umm okay." Ron exclaimed, apprehension dawning on his face. "Later then."
Harry and Christine walked deep into the woods surrounding the Weasley's home, until they reached an overgrown field, where the grass was up to their calves. The sun, for the first time that summer, was not harsh and unbearable, warming them instead of burning their skin, and a soft, gentle breeze swept over the clearing.
"What's wrong?" he asked nervously after an awkward five minutes of silence.