At work, people were constantly poking her as though she were a bare, abusing her patience. Charis was at a good position now, getting promote but her back was also against a wall. One wrong move and she would be fired. Her and her husband could not afford that.
The woman near her dressed in a brown suit was whispering to his colleagues, no doubt muttering trash about Charis. This was growing to be a regular occurrence.
"I'm so sick of the likes of these purebloods getting away with everything," she harshly said, a bitter look on her face, "does the Ministry truly believe she and her family aren't death eaters? Same with the Malfoys, no way they were not on the dark side."
"She belongs in Azkaban," the other replied, as though their voices were inaudible, "with that murderer brother of hers."
Charis pulled out her wand and hexed the girl, a small cut at her cheekbone and blood dripping rapidly all over her experiment. She was left struggling to breathe and dramatically screaming-crying, shocked in pain.
Currently, she was sat with her boss who sent her a look of disappointment and disapproval, "I just promoted you, Charis, and you disappoint me with such a behaviour."
"They were trash talking me and my family." She muttered in monotone. Charis had quite enough of everybody's bullshit at work.
The woman shook her head softly, "then you come and complain to me, not physically harm your co-workers," she scoffs, "I'm sorry, Charis, I can't have you around here if you cannot control yourself."
That struck a nerve but she kept her composure, "I won't do it again," she pleaded, she does have control, does she not? She has taken her medications, has learned to not allow her seer-abilities to heighten to a point of danger, controlled her emotions through everything she'd been through, "Please, ma'am, I need this job, you can't fire me."
"You should've thought of that before hexing your colleague, Charis," the woman sternly told her. "I'll have to let you go."
So, Charis got fired.
On the way home, Charis was thinking about a proper way to tell Remus about what had happened. She should not be this terrified about telling her husband that she got fired. Considering her behaviour was justified, right?
"Remus, honey?" She called, the words seeping off her dry tongue and echoing through the house. The door shut loudly due to the breeze, and she startled herself. Her eyes scanned the house, not a sight of him anywhere.
She found him laying on the floor of the kitchen, sprawled on the ground and staring at the ceiling.
Charis found herself glancing up too, wondering what is so interesting up there but it's just blank.
"The ceiling, Charis," Remus gapes, blinking rapidly, "is beautiful."
Charis kneeled on the ground besides his body, removing some messy strands of dusty brown hair that framed his face and fell over her head.
He raised his hand and his knuckles softly brushed her cheekbone. For a moment, Charis' heart exploded. She took a shaky inhale, letting her eyes shut and feeling that lingering touch of his hands with every nerve of her body, memorising it thourgouhyl.
So when he stops touching her for another couple of months, she can drown in this very feeling.
"Blimey! You're much more beautiful," he blinks, moving down to stroke her bare collarbone with his finger, "so beautiful."
"Let's get you to bed, love," she uttered, a faint rosy tint to her cheekbones. She was flustered like a school-girl at the compliment— even after all this time, never quite used to Remus calling her beautiful.
"Love, love, love," he muttered to himself, then slurred out, "love doesn't last, nothing lasts forever."
"Stop being so gloomy," she taps the muscle on his bicep, "come on, get up."
She tucked him to bed and decided to take the couch. They have not been sleeping together in the same bed and she doesn't want to startle him by breaking that habit, or something of that sort.
"I love you," she whispered in his ear before he passed out.
