Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.
A/N: I am hoping that this story will end up being a little bit sweeter and less dramatic than my other story Endless Moon. Hope all enjoy.
Chapter 1 – Spilled Ink and 'The Magic of your Love'
"Damn it," I exclaimed as I knocked over a box of glass inkpots while trying to squeeze through the crowded quill store. The inkpots had shattered splattering ink all over the bottom of my robes and my shoes as well as another patron of the store. I hadn't had the courage to look up to see what the person's reaction was yet. I silently cursed myself for needing new quills so close to the date of the new school year at Hogwarts. I bit my lip and looked up at the wizard whom I had stained with ink and was surprised to see that the man did not look as if he wanted to bash my head in.
"I am so sorry about that," I said hoping that the fact that he didn't look like he wanted to bash my head in was actually because he didn't want to.
"It's quite alright. I wouldn't worry about it. A cleaning charm should take care of it and if not it was about time I had a reason to get new robes and shoes," he said smiling at me. I noticed that he had soft lines at the corners of his eyes and his face seemed to be aged more than he actually was. "The line is moving," he said as I continued to unabashedly study his face. I looked behind me and saw that there were only about four other shoppers before the register, and when I turned to close the gap in the line I slipped on a piece of ink soaked glass from the debris I had caused on the floor. The falling sensation was nothing new to me. I am an extremely clumsy person and find myself always with bruises and paying for things that I accidentally break all the time. So when I began to fall I was expecting the familiar sensation of hitting the wooden floor and even preparing myself for the feeling of the broken glass that littered the floor entering my skin. It took me completely by surprise that none of these sensations came to me. Instead I felt something wrap around my waist and grab my wrist.
As I found myself standing upright again I looked at the arm that was tracing along my back and sliding away from me. My attention then went to the hand that still gripped my wrist. In my shocked state what had happened didn't register. My eyes followed the hand up the arm that attached it to the owner. The man still gripped my wrist as he looked at me with a bit of concern gracing his face. "Are you ok? You could have really hurt yourself."
I could not find words to express myself. It was like having writers block without writing. I simply nodded as I turned around more slowly this time and closed the gap between me and the person in front of me in the line. I silently made my purchases and tried to hurry out of the store tripping over the threshold to the Shoppe.
It was days before I left my room at The Leaky Cauldron. I had most of my meals in there and wanted nothing but to not be bothered. I was overcome with creativity and when one gets a flood of inspiration in such a way one takes advantage of it. I had no idea what caused this sudden wave of inspiration but I wasn't about to waste it, so when I walked down to the pub of the inn Tom looked at me with surprise. "Are you finished?" he asked.
"I am for now," I answered. The truth was that I loved writing and enjoyed the fact that I could do something I loved with my life, but for the first time I became restless while writing. I had to leave my room. I couldn't stand to be cooped up any longer. I had put on a purple cloak that clashed with my light orange robes and I made my way to the entrance to Diagon Alley. "I will be out for a while Tom," I said before I walked out into Diagon Alley and was hit with the pleasant feeling of warm sunlight on my face. I walked around for a little while and decided to go into the Robe store just to look around.
I was going through the racks of robes and picking out ones I wanted to try on. I found at least 12 that would look absolutely wonderful on me but I could never afford on a writers salary, or lack there of. I found a few more modest looking ones and went to try them on. I realized when I took off my light orange robes that the bottom of them was stained with black ink splatter. I rolled my eyes at my inability to remember that these were the same robes I wore a few a days ago at the quill Shoppe and ruined. I picked four very nice but plain robes that were well priced and that I was happy to buy. I remember thinking 'at least they are colourful." One of those colours I made sure was orange to replace my ruined orange robes.
I placed my discarded robes back on their racks and turned to make my way up to counter to pay, when I was hit in the face by soft fabric. I bounced off the body of the person I had just run into and began to fall backwards. I had no chance to prepare myself for this fall though because the threat of it was over before it began. I felt strong hands on my shoulders steadying me as I looked up to find the man from the quill store staring back at me.
He had a new robe draped over his arm which I immediately blushed at. I never blushed. I am the most un-modest person I know. I have no shame and just looking at the robe that my clumsiness had caused this man to have to go out and buy made me blush. "I thought that was you," his voice was somewhat sweet as his hands still rested on my shoulders. "Are you ok? I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."
"I'm fine," I said without conviction. I was surprised at my own reaction to this man. His face was kind yet prematurely aged. He wasn't gorgeous, but he also wasn't hideous. He had kind amber eyes that gazed into my own hazel-green ones. They showed kindness but I could have sworn that hidden behind that kindness was sadness. "I-I-I'm sorry," I stammered snapping out of my dazed gazing into his eyes.
"What are you sorry about?" he asked smiling slightly. When he smiled that way it seemed as if the years melted off of his face and it returned to the way it should look at the age he seemed to be.
"I-I bumped into you," I started wondering why was I tripping over my words. I am a writer. Writers don't stumble over their words, I don't stumble over my words, I stumble over everything else, and that is why I am a good writer.
"It was my fault I was the one who was coming over to you. If I hadn't decided to come and try to say hello then you never would have bumped into me," his hands still rested on my shoulders as if I was just going to fall back at any moment. My shoulders began to tingle slightly as I suddenly became very aware of his touch.
"That's ok. I ruined your robes...and your shoes. I'll see you around," I became very flustered very quickly. The way he made me feel was unnerving and I felt like I had to get away from him. I started to make my way up to the counter and was stopped by the hand that grabbed my wrist. My head shot to the side and I caught his intent gaze.
"I was wondering if it would be too much trouble to ask you your name?" he asked as he misinterpreted my surprise as anger and quickly released my wrist.
"I umm... oh, yes," his question hadn't registered right away and took me by surprise, "I'm sorry. My name is Iola Blodwyn," my voice came out soft and airy, and for a moment I didn't think it was me talking that way. I never flirted in any way and I was standing there speaking in this voice that screamed 'be attracted to me."
"Well, Iola Blodwyn, I am Remus Lupin," he said taking my hand and softly shaking it. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss the back of it, but that is something that only happens inside of my over-creative head. "I am quite pleased to meet you, and I hope to keep you from falling over sometime in the future."
"As do I," I said in that same airy voice before I turned back to head toward the counter. I fished up in the robe Shoppe and managed to get out without tripping again. When I left I was about to head back to The Leaky Cauldron when it dawned on me that I was out of parchment. In the days I had spent writing I ended up exhausting my supply of parchment. I had maybe one pack left at the my room at the inn so I went to the quill Shoppe and ended up getting in and out fairly easy seeing as the school term had begun and the shops in Diagon Alley were back down to their normal occupancy.
I was walking to The Leaky Cauldron once again with my bag containing the robes I had just bought, and now the bag filled with packs of parchment. I walked briskly and was caught off guard when I passed Flourish & Blotts. The window display made me stop in my tracks. My stop was so short that it caused three packets of parchment to fly out of my bag and slide a little ways down the cobblestone walk of Diagon Alley. I dropped both bags on the ground allowing the new robes I just bought to become dirty as the bag tipped over and they fell out.
I pressed my now freed hands against the glass. I suppose I looked like one of the young Hogwarts students that press their noses against the glass at Quality Quidditch Supplies. My eyes glazed over as I stared at the book that sat in the window. The golden script lettering of the title seemed to sparkle as the sunlight hit it at what seemed like a perfect angle. 'The Magic of Your Love: A novel by: Isadora Ianthe.' I smiled softly as I watched the light dance off of the title.
"You dropped this," the voice that snapped me back to reality was becoming all too familiar. I turned to see Remus Lupin holding the three packs of renegade parchment.
"Thank you," I said taking the parchment and picking up my bags letting out a sigh when I noticed that my robes had been lying in a puddle. I put the packs of parchment back in the bag with the others. "Is this what you were looking at?" he asked me as I was about to walk away. I looked back at him, and noticed it looked like he was about to laugh.
"Well, if you must know, yes, that is what I was looking at. Why does it matter?" I said in a huffy and aggravated voice. It made me angry that he was about to laugh at me for looking at a book.
"You don't read this kind of trash do you?" I felt my blood boil and my face turned red in anger. He still had a smirk on his face that made it obvious he was trying not to laugh.
"No, I don't read that kind of trash ... I write that kind of trash. I wrote that trash to be exact," the red in my face was no longer due to anger it was because of embarrassment. I never really cared that I wrote trashy romance novels before. It was just about the only romance I had, but I never really announced it. I thought when I became a writer that I would be a great novelist like Charles Dickens or Ernest Hemingway or any other number of Muggle writers I idolized. I only started writing romance novels because I got paid for them. In fact I had found a large following of the novels I wrote, and it still made me happy to see something I wrote on display and for sale. It was quite ironic though that as someone who had never really had a steady relationship I did very well creating them on the page.
"I thought you told me your name was Iola," his face twisted in confusion and slight embarrassment. We were both light shades of pink, me for having been discovered, and him for having insulted my writing.
"Well, it is. Isadora Ianthe is my pen name. It's ok. It's a mistake anyone could have made. I know I write trash, but trash pays the bills," I said as I turned back around to leave again.
"I'm sorry," he said grabbing my wrist to stop me. "I'm sure it isn't all trash. I am sure it is very respectable and you write it very well."
"No not really. It is you every day smutty, bad, romance novel. I know it's shameful; I don't even put my real name on it. The only reason I write it is because it sells," I said with a shrug as I let him hold my wrist. Most of the time so much contact with the same person would bother me, I would never hold the hands of the men I dated. If they would try and hold me when we kissed I would find some reason to get as far away from them as I could. I was never comfortable around anyone, but he didn't bother me for some reason.
"Well, let me buy you a drink or something to say I'm sorry," he said taking a step closer to me. My heart raced as he took the bag that contained my parchment from me. His hand brushed mine as he did so, and I heard myself sigh. He had to have heard it too. He was to close not to, but he didn't acknowledge the fact that I had done anything. "I won't feel redeemed till you let me," he said as I closed my eyes trying to slow the beating of my heart.
"Ok, I'm going to The Leaky Cauldron anyway. I stay at a room at the inn when I'm writing," my voice was uncharacteristically breathy, and I flushed at my own unintentional flirtations as I almost swooned over him.
We were at the pub part of The Leaky Cauldron and I excused myself to go and put my things in my room. While there I had the urge to change into some more flattering robes as I placed my cloak in the closet. I fought this urge telling myself that if I changed to look better he might find me vain.
I skipped down the stairs almost tripping on the last one and I grabbed the handrail to steady myself. I reached the table and he asked me if I was ok seeing as I almost fell on my face again. I surprised him when I ordered a firewhiskey. I had obtained a taste for the drink when my father would drink it with me after I grew up. I never was able to control myself on it, but I never let that stop me even though I should have on many occasions. I awoke in my room the next morning not remembering what happened the night before, but I did have a slight headache. I was quite surprised when I lifted myself out of bed and found Remus Lupin sleeping next to me in the bed.
A/N: Well there you go chapter 1. I hope every one likes it. It probably isn't what you think. Believe me I would never let a relationship start out with a drunken filng. It will progress better in the next few chapters. I could have fit more into this chapter but felt that this was a nice place to stop it. Review and tell me what you think.