My name is Serena Blackburn. I am a witch working in the Ministry of Magic, in the Magical Creatures department. Specifically in the sector that deals with dementors. And let me just say: it sucks. No pun intended.

I work alone, in a dingy little office that no one bothers to clean because the dementors are more at home in a filthy, cobwebby place (never mind me). There are no windows letting in the magical sunlight, dust everywhere, and I swear I saw a spider dragging a rat across the floor last night.

One would think that, after eight years in such a place, I would be used to it. Not so. I hate it. I wish I could quit, but I can't, because if I did, who would help the dementors? So about once a month, I march up to the Minister's office and demand an assistant. None can ever be found, so I demand a raise instead. I am the highest paid Ministry worker, and nobody has the balls to argue with the dementor witch.

So, as head of the dementor sector of the Magical Creatures department, I have a lot of things to do. I have to make sure the dementors are getting food whilst at Azkaban, run the prison guard initiation, and make their experience working for the Ministry as miserable as possible.

Dementors revel in grief and misery, even their own. Which is why they're not particularly interested in finding a… partner. And reproducing.

But the Ministry needs dementors.

I sighed as I stepped back, shaking my head a little. "Beautiful," I managed. My eyes even got a little moist.

The dementor before me gave a rattling breath in response, probably unaware that I had placed a giant pink bow on its head. I shrugged. I needed to… observe the dementors' courting actions, and I needed a way to tell them apart. It was hard enough already.

"Are you ready?" I asked the dementor.

I like to pretend the creatures can understand me. It's probably a long shot, but sometimes I find myself carrying on conversations with the dementors, and I tell myself they can solely to keep myself sane.

The dementor just breathed.

I pursed my lips and held out my hand. Slowly, the dementor reached out, curling its cold, rotting fingers around my gloved palm. I remembered the day I forgot my gloves: I had spent the next month cowering in my bed.

The dementor floated behind me, dragged through the air by its grip on my hand. I led it out of the room and over to the glass observation room. Gently, I pushed the ghoulish creature through the doorway and closed the door. Then I frolicked to my chair, grateful to sit down, and waved my wand. The door on the opposite end of the room behind the glass opened, and in floated Suitor #1, a handsome dementor in a tuxedo bowtie. I flicked my wand again, and the quill on the parchment beside me stood poised, ready.

"Please make my job easy and like each other," I prayed.

Lady Pink Bow sniffed at her potential mate (I think. I once tested their sense of smell, and confirmed that they do have one, just not a very useful one.), then turned her head away in disgust.

I sighed, looking at my quill in exasperation. It looked back at me, feather drooping. "Next," I decided.

*AN: So, here we have a setting! Ish. These one shots will have a lot of Serena first person, a lot of dementors POV, and a side of the new Minister Fudge. This takes place before Harry Potter, or at least during his early years. So, technically, I'm not breaking my one rule. Well, okay, yes I am, but I couldn't resist. Dementors are too much fun.

Feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading!*