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chapter two, for better for worse [ december, 1981 ]
Charis is sleeping upstairs. Or perhaps she's not, Remus doesn't know. The place is thrashed, empty alcohol bottles littering the wooden floor, blankets draped over the couches and tea-tables. He has not been to the bedroom ever since the night Lily and James passed away, their best friend being the cause of it.
Charis' brother being the cause of it. Remus despises himself for ever giving Blacks any chances, he tries not to think about it because when he does, the tears rush back in and his heart filled with hatred again. He drinks more, sips after sips to numb the pain away.
Charis doesn't drink — well, she loves to. After graduating Hogwarts, the notorious friend group would go from bar to bar everywhere in London, partying and going out for drinks and laughing about stupid jokes.
After her pregnancy, she fell into a habit of avoiding drinks. Not to mention, she has work; someone has to keep this house floating. Post-war economy is fucking ridiculous. She works as a researcher in the potions section, sorely focusing on Dragon Pox and other fatal contagious diseases after Euphemia and Fleamont Potter's deaths.
The cabinet full of various drinks belong to him, and it was nearly half empty already in a month's time.
Remus thinks about going to see her. Perhaps he would find his wife sleeping with that peaceful look on her gorgeous pale face, or perhaps he would find her crying, mascara staining her pillows.
She's in pain too, Remus thinks, he should be there for her. He should go to her, hold her in his arms and mourn together.
After all, he did vow to cherish her in every outcome, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, in every possible way.
He cannot throw way lifetime promises. None of this is Charis' fault, she is innocent soul drowning in misery. Lily Potter was her life. Her platonic soulmate. To imagine a world where Charis and Lily aren't attached at the hip at every second of the day is impossible. She may have spent her youthful years being a Black but she was not Sirius or Regulus Black.
Yet, Lupin finds himself unable to get up from the floor. The floor they used to dance on in the refrigerator light to loud, Muggle music. The gorgeous laughs would tumble out of her lips whenever he would spin her in the air, tell her his heart is entirely full of her.
Now his heart is only full of pain.
Last night was full moon, and for the very first night in a long time, he was all alone. There was no deer, nor a massive black dog or a fat rat to circle him, chase him around anymore.
