ALL I WANT ; TMR

two.

The ceiling seemed to open up above the foyer, like a black hole with a sparking gold ringlet lining it. The Larsson children moved out the way, skipping to a safe distance. One girl, however, brought out her wand and conjured a cushion on the floor just below the blackhole.

A body dropped from it, arms flailing as it fell, hitting the cushion with a thud. A boy commended his sister for her quick thinking, before running towards the body. Everyone else followed suit.

Colette blinked, vision still foggy with tears and eyes stinging with pain from the boils on her side. She looked up, gasping at the crowd circling above her. Two boys, and three girls. The eldest of the boys - and furthermore of the group as a whole - held out his hand, lips quirking upwards in a manner Colette deemed comforting. His wavy blond hair was combed to the side, chestnut brown eyes small but the lashes that framed it made it appear larger. She could've sworn he looked familiar, like a washed out colour in her memory. She took his hand, and he helped her pull herself up.

The eldest girl talked first, her blond bob framing her petite face in a way Colette envied. "Oh poor thing, you look like a right mess!" Taking Colette's hand, the girl gave her a wide-eyed look in pity.

"Who are you?" A boy exclaimed from behind her. Colette turned to face him. He was young, probably four or five, chubby little hands clutching his sister's arm. They appeared to be twins.

"Colette. Colette Bardot. I- What year is it?" She asked. Her voice was soft and muted, like a whisper muttered underneath water. She hated the way it sounded. She hated how overwhelmed she was.

"1946. What time did you come from?" The third girl asked. She looked to be 10-11, about Hogwarts admission age, and stood out from the rest of them. While they were all blonde, the girl's hair was a lovely shade of auburn. Colette blinked, the question not registering until after a couple minutes of awkward silence.

"1997..." Her voice trailed off as she spun, taking in her surroundings. She was still in the foyer of her grandmother's manor; yet things were slightly different.

The manor was much more well kept, which added to it's sheer size. The white marble floors were freshly waxed, glistening with the light of the chandelier that hung above them. The main staircase curved along the wall, potted plants hung along the banister. The roman-like columns that held up the ceiling were a stark cream colour, and so were the walls. On the wall near the staircase hung two large portraits. One was of a rather royal-looking couple, and the other of what appeared to be their family. Colette recognized the children in the painting as those surrounding her.

A memory of the manor back in her time crossed her mind. She was still a child, having just moved in. Her grandmother would sit her on her lap, and name each person in the portraits.

Turning to the group of people, Colette pointed at them, recalling what her grandmother told her. The eldest boy, "Aspen."
The twins, "Sterling and Mona."
The auburn-haired girl, "Marigold."

And as she pointed to the eldest girl, her eyes glossed over in a sheen of tears. It turned her vision to a haze of shapes, and yet Colette ran blindly to the girl, enveloping her in a hug. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, whether from relief or mourning, Colette didn't know. They dampened the girls silk blouse, but nonetheless her hands rubbed Colette's back, reassuring her though clearly confused.

"Grandmami," A sob wracked Colette's body, but she let go of the girl. Realization dawned upon the girls face, and a small smile stretched upon her cheeks.

"Please, call me Alice. I'm not your grandmother yet," Colette shook her head, chuckling as she wiped the tears off of her face. She must've looked like a fool, with her wild hair, teared clothes, bruises and boils.