A Dark Green Box and a Silver Ring

(Charis Black/Casper Crouch)

By Espoir Noir

Charis felt as if she were in a library. That oppressive, stuffy feeling she always got when she walked into a room full of books was pushing down on her. And she had that urgent need to scream, to fill the silence with sound, which she always had in libraries. Dora would say she was being silly, that books were inspiring. She'd get that look of passion in her eyes and begin to lecture Charis on the importance of reading and knowledge.

"Charis, are you listening to me?" Her mother's voice broke her reverie.

"Yes." How could she not? Her mother had a high, whine of a voice that grated on your ears every time she spoke.

"Then go and get dressed!"

Charis rose from her seat, knowing now was not a good time to disobey her mother. She climbed the stairs to her room slowly, trying to put off the inevitable moment when she would have to see Caspar again. They'd told her she was lucky. "You should be grateful anyone wants you after what your sister did." She wasn't stupid. The only reason Caspar Crouch wanted her was because she was beautiful. Dora was pretty, and Ella had brilliant eyes, but she, Charis, was beautiful. Her black, wavy, hair nearly reached her waist, and stood out sharply against the paleness of her skin. Her eyes were a deep brown, wide and clear. She had a slender figure, and she was neither too sort nor too tall. Charis knew though that it was her lips that gave her such startling beauty. They were full, and rounded, and curved easily into a smile. And they were naturally dark, to the extent that she hardly ever needed lipstick. Her Uncle Herbert had once told her that the way she held them, ever so slightly parted, would make him want to kiss her if she weren't his niece.

She reached her room and took out a velvet, plum-coloured dress. Her mother would chide her later because Caspar liked her in crimson, but she wasn't in the mood for pleasing Caspar. She changed excruciatingly slowly. She smiled to herself, imagining her mother making awkward conversation downstairs. Caspar wasn't exactly a man of words, although he was charming enough when occasion arose. Eventually she decided she could put it off no longer, and began to make her way down the stairs.

They were in the drawing room, talking quietly. Caspar stood quickly when she entered, and she curtsied.

"Mr. Crouch", she said.

He bowed. "Miss Black."

He took her hand, which she had proffered rather unwillingly, and kissed it.

Her mother took that moment to excuse herself, saying she had 'household duties.' Charis sighed inwardly. That meant there was no chance they would be interrupted. Her father was at work, Dora had moved out when she married four summers ago, and Ella, well, there was no possibility that Ella would come to her rescue.

The two stood in silence. Charis enjoyed the look of confusion and anxiety that came over Caspar's face when he wasn't sure what to do.

"I have something for you", he said hurriedly.

What a surprise. He always brought her something. Usually jewellery. She wouldn't have minded except that she had to remember exactly what he'd given her so that she could wear it when she saw him.

"Oh?" she said, feigning surprise. He nodded and bent down to retrieve a dark green box from beside a chair, which she hadn't noticed when she walked in.

"Happy Valentine's Day", he said softly, handing the heart-shaped box to her.

Of course. How could she forget? Unbidden a memory rushed into her mind of a conversation. It had happened so long ago she was surprised she remembered it. Lucille McMillan had slid onto the Slytherin table excitedly. "Have you heard?" she'd asked, not waiting for Charis to reply. "Aubrey Crouch has proposed to Alexandria Rosier! On Valentine's Day!" She'd leaned in conspiratorially. "Apparently it's tradition for the Crouches to propose on Valentine's Day. Isn't that romantic?" The memory faded. Today was Valentine's Day.

His eyes were on her and so she gently prised the lid off the box. Inside were twelve heart-shaped chocolates. Each one was half dark brown and half white, and each carried the words 'I love you', written in curling letters.

She desperately didn't want to look up at him. The answer she was supposed to give was dreadfully obvious, but Merlin would rise from his grave before she said it. Finally, she raised her eyes to his, and attempted to conjure some sincerity to her face.

"Thank-you", she said, "They're beautiful." She didn't tell him that she didn't eat chocolate. She hadn't eaten it since Ella had left. Late at night, Ella used to sneak up to Charis' room, and they'd eat stolen chocolate together, giggling as they imagined Dora's face if she saw them.

He smiled, and for a moment she felt sorry for him, that he believed her words. She felt sorry that he loved her when she couldn't return the feeling.

"Please, take a seat", she said, sitting down elegantly herself. He followed suit, but sat on the very edge of his chair, as if it would be impolite to be further back.

"I was going to bring roses", he said earnestly, "but I thought you mightn't like them because they're so traditional."

He was perfectly correct, for once. Dora would have thought roses were 'lovely' and Ella would have considered them terribly romantic, but Charis thought they were very passé.

"The chocolates are beautiful", she reiterated.

"I would have brought you jewellery", he continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "but you said last time that I was spoiling you too much."

It had been an attempt to get rid of him for a while. If he didn't have anything to bring her, he didn't have any reason to come. It had worked too. Not that she was surprised. Her father was always saying what a pity it was that she hadn't studied harder, because she had a brilliant mind.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, and clapped for the house elf without waiting for his reply.

"No", he said.

It was the first time he had ever refused her something. He was incredibly eager to please, something Charis criticised him for behind his back at every opportunity. But she wasn't sure if she liked this change in character.

"I mean", he said quickly, "I'd love some tea, but how about we take a walk in the gardens first? It's such a nice day."

Charis looked out the window. A fine mist clung to everything, and the dark clouds in the sky looked as if they might burst open at any moment.

"As you wish", she said, and stood gracefully. He looked relieved. Charis glanced at the house-elf who was waiting patiently for instructions. "My cloak", she told it.

She had no idea what she was going to say to him. Well, she did. She just wasn't sure how she was going to say it. She wished she hadn't forgotten it was Valentines Day, wished that she'd had more time to prepare herself.

They were in the garden, although garden was rather an understatement. It was more of a park. Highthorn House was set on an immense tract of a land, with most of the space devoted to gardens, despite the substantial manor that was situated at the front of the property.

Caspar looked at her a moment, and then, as if making a decision, led the way down a cobbled path. Charis followed curiously. A sense of dread began to settle into her stomach as she realised where he was going. The Courtyard.

The Courtyard had been built, according to her great aunt Elladora, in the late fifteenth century by Cygnus Black as a gift for his wife, Abelinda Nott. As such, every stone was covered with roses of varying colours, and there were numerous niches perfect for secret meetings. It was the epitome of romance, and whenever they'd played games as a child, the Courtyard had been where they'd had weddings. Ella had spoken countless times of how when she was engaged, she'd be proposed to in the Courtyard. Of course, it hadn't happened. If you're going to betray your family by running off with a blood-traitor they're not going to let you back into the garden just so you can live out your childhood fantasy. It was ironic, thought Charis, that she, who had never wanted such romantic nonsense, was getting what seemed a double helping, while Ella had been married in a shabby, poky, little office at the Ministry.

Caspar was gazing steadily at a stone wall when Charis caught up with him. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and Charis was surprised at the look of seriousness on his face. He twisted his hands.

"Charis", he began, using her first name for only the second time, "I have courted you now for seven months. Each time I see you my heart beats faster. Every time you speak I feel as if a harp is playing. Your beauty is beyond compare. Your passion for life inspires and awes me. Charis Ursula Black", he dropped to his knees before her, "Will you marry me?"

He'd managed quite a lot of sincerity for a rehearsed speech, Charis thought. Even his eyes seemed more alight than usual. But it wasn't as if she really had a choice. This was only protocol, designed to appease her.

"Yes", she said. She was a Black. It was her duty. That should have been the only thought in her mind, but instead she felt a pain in her chest, as if someone had died. It was her duty, she reminded herself again. She had to do what her sister had failed at. She couldn't be the traitor Ella had been. It would ruin her family, socially and emotionally. And it would ruin her. She didn't know any other life, she couldn't. She was a Black. And she would remain so.

"Yes", she repeated, smiling. Caspar didn't notice that her eyes remained cool.

He rose to his feet, and slipped a slim, silver ring on her finger. It was engraved with roses, and was inset with a smooth piece of ruby.

"The jewel glows", he said, "Whenever I'm thinking of you." Charis had a feeling it would be glowing rather a lot.

"I'm engaged", she told her mother once Caspar had left.

Lysandra clasped her youngest daughter to her chest in a rare display of emotion.

"Oh Cherry", she said, "I'm so glad". Charis' face remained impassive. "And he proposed on Valentine's Day too, how romantic!"

"It's tradition", said Charis shortly.

"Darling, aren't you happy?" asked her mother, slightly concerned.

Charis had never considered her mother anything but bright, but the current question forced her to rethink that opinion. Happy? How could she be happy? The marriage had been decided on when she was barely eighteen. She had been given no alternative apart from "You wouldn't want to let us down like Cedrella, would you?" She didn't even like Caspar, let alone love him, and now she was expected to tend to his every whim and bear his children. And her mother thought she should be happy?

"No", she replied, and left the room.

It was the dark green box on the bed that made her cry. Its sweet treasures that must have been chosen with anxious care. And the tiny words that were a reminder of the life she would never have. Tears ran down her face, little raindrops of sadness. She sobbed until she felt she could have filled an ocean. She was only upset, she thought to herself, because she didn't eat chocolate.