selenophile || remus lupin

chapter fifty five

26 December 1976

7:42 pm

"Sit down, Ophelia," snapped Walburga. Ophelia had been called to the parlor by her parents for reasons unbeknownst to her, but she assumed they would be anything but good. She knew she was in for a rough night. Following her mother's orders, she sat down on the divan across from her mother and father.

"Why have you called me here?" Ophelia asked, trying to keep her voice sounding polite yet assertive.

"How old are you, girl?" snapped her father.

"16, father."

"Exactly. You're becoming a woman, and you've known your place in our society since you were born, nothing has changed. It is time we discuss it in further detail to prepare you for the near future."

"You didn't-"

"We did, Ophelia. And we want absolutely no back talk from you. You knew this would be coming since you learned to walk, there should be no surprise in this."

"What is it that we've taught you, Ophelia, as a woman?" asked Walburga, as Ophelia let out a deep sigh.

"As a woman, I'm supposed to look presentable, before and after I get married. I'm supposed to care for the men in the family. When I do get married, I am to remain faithful until death, cook, clean, and care for him, and do what he asks unconditionally. I am supposed to birth his children and take care of those children so that they grow into mature adults that marry well, giving our family name more influence."

"Very good, for once I agree with what has come out of that mouth of yours," sneered Orion.

"Just get it over with, please. Who is it that you've betrothed me to?"

"Well, it's not that simple and you should know that. Do you understand how long we've been looking for a suitor for you?" Walburga paused as if expecting an answer to her rhetorical question. Ophelia's eyes remained glued to the floor as she shook her head.

"It's not the problem that we need to find a good man for our precious daughter, it's the fact that no one wants your filthy blood traitor, Gryffindor arrogance. No one wants to marry you. Do you understand why?"

"Yes mother," she whispered.

"I don't think you do," hissed Orion. "Let's start, shall we? Why don't we start with your house? Other than that boy you used to call your brother, you are the only Gryffindor after centuries in the noble and most ancient house of Black. When we received the letter that told us of the news, you can't begin to fathom our sheer disappointment. We were disgusted, absolutely horrified. We had taught you to be a Slytherin, taught you the ways of the purebloods. We had so much faith in you, but the moment we read that letter, that all went down the drain. We were the laughing stock of the sacred twenty eight for months, all because of you and your courage, oh how brave you must be. Repulsive."

"Then," continued Walburga. "We have your views, your opinions in general. Disgraceful. Does toujours pur mean nothing to you? We have a blood traitor in the family! Thankfully we've managed to keep this under wraps enough that it's just a rumor amongst the other pureblood families, but if you keep this up, they will soon find out, and oh what a nightmare that would be. Your opinions of mudbloods and crossbreeds are sickening. It truly makes me sick to think that those people you call friends are mudbloods, crossbreeds, other blood traitors. Don't even get me started on the dark lord. You talk foully of the dark lord himself, to which torture isn't near well enough punishment. Of course, we can't kill you yet, so we make do with the cruciatus curse. You disrespect the dark lord in front of his most faithful servants, do you understand how much shame that puts on this family? You are an absolute disgrace, Ophelia Callidora."

"I know, mother." Ophelia's eyes, still glued to the floor, glassed over. She wouldn't cry, not then, not there. She wouldn't give her parents the satisfaction of seeing tears.

"How about her looks, Walburga?" pressed Orion.

"Oh yes, your looks," her mother spat. "Your body is truly abominable. You need to lose weight, Ophelia. Eat less, you look bloated and bulky."

It's not true. I know it's not. I'm skinnier than all of my friends, they've asked if I was sick.

But everything else she said was true, about being a Gryffindor, and my friends not being purebloods. Why would she start lying now?

"And your face! With all those scars over it, you've become even uglier than you were to begin with." This made Ophelia mad, truly mad. Mad enough to do something she might regret.

"Yeah? And who gave me those scars? I don't know, maybe- you! It's your fault that I have them!"

"That is a lie, Ophelia Callidora! You deserve each and every one of those scars. They are warnings, punishments for your crude misbehavior."

"Half of the time you punish me for no reason at all, other than the fact that you're in a foul mood and need to take it out on someone-"

"Enough! Enough back talk, girl! You do not talk to me or your mother that way, ever."

"Let me continue," said Walburga, her tone completely calm once again. "Without that concealing charm, that scar across your eye is hideous, no one would want to marry you with a face like that, and quite frankly, I wouldn't either. Your new haircut is trashy, you used to have long beautiful hair, but you've gone and cut it all off. If you cut it any shorter you'll start to look like a man, and can you imagine the talk of the sacred twenty eight? Our daughter, looking like a boy. Inexcusable. Your posture is awful, you're constantly slouching. It's unsophisticated and improper, you know how to look like a lady, and what you do is seldom ladylike. The clothes that you wear are sleazy and junky, those black boots make you look like a delinquent. Wearing the shirts with the muggle bands on them, absolute garbage. You constantly look worthless. Actually, disregard that. You are worthless, and the number of people who have rejected you verifies that."

"Are you done?" Ophelia asked halfheartedly. She knew what her mother was saying was false, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she knew that she was lying. But she was so tired at that moment that she absorbed it as true like she always does when she's around her parents, and finally got the courage to look up at her mother dejectedly.

"Almost. Wouldn't you like to know who your main option for your betrothal is?"

"Well, you're going to say it no matter my answer."

"Now, this isn't official, there is no official betrothal set in stone at the moment, but right now, Evan Rosier is looking very pleasing."

At this point, Ophelia wasn't even surprised. She was just tired, tired of her parents' bullshit, tired of going through excruciating pain every few days at least, tired of constantly having to protect Regulus from the horrors that were their parents. Her face was completely expressionless, eyes empty as she stood up and walked out of the parlor up to her bedroom.

Out of the company of her parents, Regulus in his bedroom, Ophelia closed her door, walked over, and slumped down in her chair. She was away from everyone, now she could let her emotions out. She cried, tears streamed down her face as she realized what she had become.

She knew that her life had been planned out for her before she was even born. She knew what was expected of her, but now that things are really starting, she realized just how much her life was being taken away from her.