the grudge ... remus lupin

007, curse on our house

chapter seven, curse on our house
[ february, 1982 ]

          Charis Lupin does not have Sirius Black's arms to wallow in anymore. Charis Lupin does not have James Potter to go to whenever she is in need to feel warmth and somebody else's happiness. Charis Lupin does not have her girls, Marlene, Mary and Lily to gossip with whenever she faces a funny customer or is tired of toxic masculinity. Charis Lupin does not have Remus Lupin anywhere whenever she needs to be loved. 

What Charis Lupin does currently have is a satisfactory job. It does not accommodate her into joyous moments or bless her with presence of girl-friends but it keeps her busy. 

The Wizarding World is not a fan of Charis. In fact, people's hatred for the Blacks is often hidden by their fear and respect considering Orion Black had half the Ministry in his pockets. Charis doesn't have her family to protect her anymore from the cruel reality, from all the disrespect and hateful glares. 

This often leads to clashes at her workplace, and after the war was won, various strangers often resorted to bang at her wooden door, shouting prejudicial slurs. At work, in her laboratories surrounded by scientists of the wizarding world, she would keep her head low, pleading to blend into invisibility to avoid those murmurs and whispers of judgement. 

Charis would not have cared if it did not make everything harder for Remus. Remus Lupin, a half-breed who could not keep a job for more than four months due to not only his condition but also the mere fact that he is married to a Black. Albeit he does not bother to work anymore, Charis is there to pay debts for the house, pay bills, and take care of everything. 

Perhaps he would be better off without her.

Despite all the name-calling, a lot including herself believed Charis was not a Black anymore, despite her father's promises, "you'll always be a Black, no matter who you marry." Charis Lupin does not have a family anymore.

Blacks don't endure, they draw blood. 

Now, despite her clashes and multiple rows she had gotten herself involved in over the last few months, her boss Sia Callaway was a fantastic woman. Patient and incredibly calm when it came to Charis and her temper. Callaway guaranteed Charis a promotion by the end of the week for her work, extra galleons that she could really use (if she manages to not get involved in arguments by then).

Charis concludes Remus could use this good news, perhaps he would be motivated to get a job this season. Pride brewed in her chest for persevering hard times; after all, she was still a young woman with ambition and glittering dreams. 

"Remus," she says, placing her purse down as she enters her home, "there is something I need to tell you," her best smile on her face, eyebrows relaxed to convey the peacefulness of a illuminating spring day. 

Except not everybody could particularly feel the spring hue, the hints for a new start and that included Remus. 

Remus was strained to their messy house in the outskirts of town, which consisted of ashy cigarettes and empty bottles of liquor, tiny pecks of litter which scattered themselves across the dim-lighted space, and with time, he found himself married to darkness. Metaphorically.

Perhaps, even before all this, he had married darkness, not metaphorically. He married a Black, did he really expect for no curses to linger over his head?

The house she spent an hour organising this morning was completely thrashed. Her eyes filled with horror, she glances around the expanse of the messy living room — sofa cushions, broken wine bottles, flipped over coffee-table and other out-of-place pieces scattered everywhere. 

"What did you do to it?" He exclaimed, hands digging into the closets and searching along the sofas for something, "where did you put it, Charis?"

"Hold on, hold on," Charis marches nearer, almost tripping over some rolling candles on the floor, "let me help, what are you looking for?"

"Where the fuck is it?" He grumbled beneath his breath, breathing heavily. Charis can feel his rage. She doesn't like his rage. 

"Where is what, I don't understand—"

"What did you do to the frame?" Remus asks, and all the confusion starts to fade away, "what did you do to it? The photo frame."

"It's right here," Charis carefully moves past Remus, eyes trained on him intensely to ensure his sudden movements does not make her unnecessarily, involuntarily flinch. "Right here, love."

She reaches up to the top shelf of the glass-wardrove that contained all sorts of medals, show-pieces and photos, her fingers wrapped around the golden frame to hand it to Remus who harshly snatched it from her. A sigh of relief leaving his lips. 

Through that barrier of momentary relief, Charis can once again feel his rage. Rage against her, or life in general, perhaps.

"Did something happen?" She asked softly.

"Plenty has happened the last year," he says, "do you really need more?" 

"I can..." she hesitates, biting the insides of her cheeks. "I can feel your anger."

"Perhaps it would be easier if you weren't an empath," Remus turns his back on her, "save us both a load of trouble."

Charis' eyebrows furrowed, no longer relaxed. Spring starting to feel like winter again, "I thought you loved how I'm an empath."

A pause, a moment of silence passed before he declared, "don't touch my stuff again."

All the pride in Charis' chest vanished, and this time, all she felt was bitterness, "maybe don't completely thrash my place the next time you have a meltdown."

Remus looked at her, and his teary irises bore so much anger, "your place?"

"My place, I'm paying rent," she spat, "that frame is mine too, Lily gave it to me." That seemed to have hit a nerve.

"If you ever misplace this frame again," he took a step closer, and another, and another until Charis could feel her back hitting the wall behind her, her lips pulled into a frown the second the icy-coldness soaked through the fabric of her shirt. She exhaled, and her chest rose to meet his heaving one as he placed his palms on the wall on either side of her head, his figure towering over her own so closely that she couldn't move, "you're fucking dead to me."

Suddenly, her promotion did not mean much anymore.

Charis Lupin cried alone for there was no Sirius Black anymore.