I'm not English; I translate my french fanfictions (or made translate by no-English-people) as I can. It's no perfect. Really not. So I always research a beta to correct the translation of all my stories. Please just send me a PM if you're interrested by the job!
He was sitting in an armchair, facing the huge fireplace that he stared with one dismal eye. His long thin fingers tapped impatiently the armrest and he had to restrain himself for not pull out the thick fabric.
A noise was heard in the hallway and he narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips as make it bloodless instead to turn to the young blonde woman who had just entered in the salon.
This one gave a long sigh and, with a little more force than necessary, put a crystal glass filled with a dark red liquid which reflected the orange glows of the fire.
As every year...
- Allow me to tell you that you're ridiculous, she whistled.
His elbow replaced his fingers on the armrest and he dropped his head in his hand throwing a slant look to his wife.
She had changed since they met. What was quite normal, he recalled. She was only 15 when she was presented to him by his old friend Horace Slughorn. She had just celebrated his 33 years, and those who met them for the first time thought they were the same age.
Of course himself hadn't changed and wouldn't change.
Actually he really didn't care about, but he didn't know if Luna would agree to stay with him when he would appear to be his son rather than her husband.
He watched the young woman while she was arranging her hair with impatient gestures, throwing to him several black look more and more irritated.
- This is your last word, she sighed, you don't come with me at Harry's party?
He grunted something that, he hoped, was unintelligible, but, as usual, she didn't be discouraged.
- That's funny, she insisted, I would have thought you would want to come. But, apparently, I was wrong. After all, it's not as if Harry was one of my best friends, nor as if he had defeated Voldemort before he became the youngest minister of magic in our history, nor even as if he had abolished all discriminated laws against minority creatures...
He mimed the end of her sentence in a grin, taking a sip of blood. Here! He had cooled and congealed, he raged, putting back down dryly the glass.
As every year...
The mournful bell of the front door rang and he winced. Why had he allowed his wife to change the music? This one was so ridiculous.
Feeling the look of his wife pointed at him, he rose reluctantly.
- I'm going, he muttered
- The bowl!
He sighed and turned around to take a large bowl filled with sweets that Luna had placed on the buffet.
He advanced to the front door and opened it suddenly, causing screams followed by chuckles.
- Let's see, he says of his voice the most sinister, what have we here? Would not it be a spectrum that I see before me?
- No, said a little voice from under the sheet, I am a ghost, me!
He sighed again before throwing a look of despair on the inside of the house. Luna, hidden from the eyes of children, made him an imperious gesture and threatening and he resisted the urge to slam the door in the face of all these little monsters.
- You are a ghost very successful, he assured with a deceptively friendly voice, taking a handful candy in the bowl before putting it into the cauldron of the child. As for your friend, do this would be a very dangerous werewolf?
- No mister Sanguini. It's me, Sylvianus; I'm living on the other side of the street.
Somewhere behind him, Luna had some difficulties to control the laughter that shook her seeing the head of her husband.
Without further comment, he threw a handful of candy in the second pot before slamming the door on the children. Luna seemed outraged, but before she opened her mouth to tell him what she thought about him, there was a knock at the door again.
Exasperated, he bit his lower lip rapidly, marking his canine with his own blood, which dripped on his jaw, and opened the door on the fly, screaming:
- I am huuuuungryyyy!
Yells were heard and the sound of the leak of little beggars sounded in the driveway.
He closed the door, satisfied. His smile disappeared almost immediately in front of the fairly irritated expression of Luna who had crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the floor.
- Niberus Lance Sanguini! You are behaving like a complete idiot! These poor children! You should be ashamed! When Hermione will know that!
Niberus winced. Hermione Granger led the ministerial office against discrimination on minority magical creatures. And that she didn't like a controversy creature enjoys terrify the population was an understatement.
He would have for months to hear her harping that he gave to the reactionaries the weapons to make pressure on Harry to force him to reactivate some of the laws she had worked so hard to convince him to abolish...
- You should get ready, he ventured, you'll be late...
- Don't try to change the subject, the young woman began to look forward to the clock ... well yes, that's right, but we'll talk...
He nodded his head conscientiously trying not to giggle. After an entire evening to drink champagne and cocktail, Luna would be lucky if she remembered her name and her address...
She ran up on the floor and he heard her to busy. With one last satisfied look to the front door - he was convinced that none of these small parasites would dare knock on his door of the evening - he returned to slump in his armchair at the fireplace...
A few more minutes and his wife will leave the house. And he could finally languish in peace.
As every year...
Less than half an hour later, Luna was back downstairs, dressed and made up. He looked at her furtively. No way to let him believe that he was interested in one way or another by her costume.
He held a whistle exasperated by seeing her squinting in the mirror, trying to pick up the false wart that had clearly separated from her nose.
She wore a long patched-up black dress, covered with cobwebs; she had dyed her hair in gray and had a high pointed black hat after which she had hung a radish.
He raised his eyebrows at seeing this ornament but refrained from asking any questions. You could trust Luna for have an explanation of the most bizarre about it.
He had already silenced his scurrilous remarks the day before when she had shown her costume.
A witch disguised as a witch ... amazing...
- Don't forget your pumpkin, he grunted as she pulled on a warm cloak.
- It's a handbag!
- It's a pumpkin! Putting your keys in will not make it a purse.
Luna rolled her eyes considering his bad mood and asked him.
-Are you sure you want to stay here?
- Yes!
- Why?
- I am a vampire, Luna darling.
The young woman shook her head.
- Yes I noticed, that doesn't tell me why you refuse, year after year, come with me at the party of Harry and Ginny.
- Because I have said and repeat and re-repeat: vampires are not beasts of fair!
They don't distribute candies; they don't show their bloodstained canines to people in search of thrills. They are sinister, solitary, very good for introspection and above all, they don't have fun on HALLOWEEN!
Only the sound of heels on the floor and of the door slamming with anger replied to him.
As every year...