Chapter One
She took her time as she dipped her quill into her purple inkwell. Purple was her signature colour. She, also, didn't rush as she formed every letter near-perfect on the piece of yellow parchment. About twenty minutes later, a signature was formed and she took it up to her green eyes to read it, as her glasses were somewhere else. She couldn't quite remember.
The letter was addressed to a Mister Remus Lupin, the only one the woman suspected she could entrust to relieve her of her tenseness this evening, as she sat shivering in an inn of Bulgaria's coldest climates. She had missed the Order's meeting for an evening of stressful mistranslations.
"Swamp!" She heard the call of her last name, in a rather angry tone at that. She cringed and looked to her letter, stuffing it into the depths of her massive black robes. She rubbed her pale and sickly eyes.
"Yeess?" She moaned, arising from her desk and tiredly staggering over to the wooden door.
The door swung open before she had even the slightest chance to reach for the knob. Luckily, it swung away from her. An angry figure, dressed in a dark, threatening green robes, his black hair falling over his tanned skin and bulging, fierce brown eyes.
"You're such a bitch!" He raged. "You're the best the Ministry has to offer in Bulgarian translations!? You practically got us kicked out of the country. You said that the Bulgarian Head of Muggle Relations was an embarrassment to their country!"
"Aw, fuck, don't get on my case, Sherman. I really don't want to deal with your crap. I'm fucking tired and don't want to deal with this now." She said drowsily, shutting the door in his face.
A loud crack erupted through the room knocking the magenta-haired woman off her guard. Sherman pushed her onto the bed.
"I am not going you take your crap, Cerasus Swamp, and don't ignore me, either. You have gotten us in trouble with the Bulgarian Ministry for the last time!" He shouted, towering over her.
"You know I'm not the Bulgarian counterpart. I don't want to be here. The Bulgarian counterpart of the Department of International Relations just happened to be bitten by an illegal pet she had obtained, small dragon I think, and I was the only one in the Ministry who knew decent Bulgarian. I know fluent Welsh, thus dealing with all of our Welsh-speaking wizards and forwarding their problems all over the Ministry and appearing as a translator anytime they need me. I'm the Ministry's Welsh-speaking bitch. Not yours, Sherman."
Sherman gave her an irritable look before turning his heels and heading out the door, not bothering to slam it.
"Bastard." Murmured the witch irritably under her breath, running her hand down her face. "Heard you!" Came a bounding cry from down the hall.
"Fuck off." She replied, retrieving the letter from inside of her robes. She held it close to her face and read:
RL, Stuck in Bulgaria. Cold. Snowy. Annoyed for two reasons. Edgar Sherman won't leave me alone about mistranslation and missed meeting. Leaving tomorrow. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow at one o'clock and fill me in. Shit. Too tired. Wish I was there. Much love, CS
"Good enough." She sighed, getting up and looking about for Al, her owl.
"Aw, fuck, Al, just take this to Remus." She muttered, rolling the parchment up and tying it to the common barn owl's leg. She fumbled a few times, but once it was finally secured, she blew her owl a kiss and sent her off into the night.
And that followed by collapsing upon her bed into immediate sleep.
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Remus Lupin awoke suddenly to the sound of tapping on the guest room window of Number Twelve Grimuald Place. He rolled out of bed, half-surprised when he saw an owl there, pecking away at the glass.
"Honestly," He grumbled, running his hands through his hair, which stuck up rather oddly and almost untameably. He unlatched the lock and slid it open, the owl trotted in happily.
Lupin untied the satin ribbon and smiled, knowing Al, and knowing that Cerasus Swamp had sent him a letter to explain her absence in the previous day's meeting. He unscrolled it and read it, taking it with him on his way downstairs to eat breakfast with the Weasley children and Sirius.
"What's that?" asked Ginny, quite chipper, as she took a small sip of tea.
"Letter." Remus said simply, taking a seat beside Hermione.
"From who?" Ginny continued, with quite interest.
"Cerasus Swamp." Lupin said with the most simplicity.
"Ooh, Swamp, eh?" Came the singing voice of Sirius, walking into the Dining room with a platter of sausage and eggs. "You've been writing to her quite a bit. 'Veryone thinks you two have had an affair."
Lupin nearly dropped the pitcher of orange juice. "Sirius, please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope." Chuckled Sirius. "It's quite apparent you fancy her. Don't you deny it."
"Sirius. Even if I did fancy her, she's too young. I mean, she's what? Twenty-five? She's ten years my minor. Can't two just be friends?" Lupin said, quite irritably.
"Look at Mum and Da--" Came the happy voice of George, but before he got too far, Mrs. Weasley had hit him upon the head. George had snatched the letter out of Remus' lazy grasp and scanned it over wwith his eyes.
"Wow, that Swamp woman swears more than Sirius. So, you going to meet her? Is it a date?" Teased George; Sirius frowned.
"That's not one of her greatest assets.." Murmured Lupin. "And, yes, yes. I'm meeting Cerasus at one.."
"It's quarter of twelve. What have you planned to do before you meet her?"
"Quarter of twelve? Shit! I have an interview at noon!" Lupin dissapperated with a swift crack.
"I believe he's picked up the habit." Blinked George, still holding the parchment.
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"Honestly, why do I even bother with this crap?" Cerasus said irritably, thrusting the eyeliner pencil onto the sink, watching it crack in half for about the fifth tine in the past couple days. The ringing voice of her ignorant colleague rang through.
"'Cause you'd look like shit if you didn't bother!"
"Fuck off!" Shouted Cerasus, hurdling a compact in his direction. It came no where near to hitting him, noting her wonderful hand-eye coordination.
"Where are you going anyway?" Asked Sherman, popping his head into the bathroom. "You're going somewhere. You never wear make up to translate papers."
"I'm leaving this afternoon and never returning, Sherman. I've put up with your crap long enough, and was owled by the Ministry in the middle of the night to be informed that that Prudence Mitchell was emitted from Mungo's and will take my place tomorrow." Said the witch happily, repairing the compact powder and eyeliner pencil with the wave of her wand. "I'm having lunch with a friend at one. My bags are packed."
"Who's the friend? That bloody werewolf?" Scoffed Sherman, tossing his head back in triumph.
"Yes. I'm meeting Remus in Hogsmeade at one. I'm leaving now."
"You'd better! It's nearly one now, and you wouldn't want to keep your werewolf waiting. Behave!"
Before Ceracus could think up some witty comment to run by the horrible man, she apparated with her bags out of the cold, damp, Bulgarian tavern.
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The Three Broomsticks is a place where one would expect to see the queerest of folk chatting away with one another. Today was no exception, every seat in the quaint, three-roomed bar filled to the brim save for one beside an oddly-clad witch nearing the end of the bar.
A loud crack of apparation erupted just beside the witch. However, none of the cheer was sacrificed to heed the shabbily-dressed man with greying blonde hair that appeared.
"You're late." Spat Cerasus, her broadly-brimmed witch hat flopping over most of her face. "What part of meet-me-at-the-Three-Broomsticks-at-one- o'clock did you not understand?"
"Sorry, Cera. Interview. Why were you in Bulgaria?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat down beside her.
"Stupid Ministry assignment. I had to translate papers having to do with Muggle Relations in Bulgaria. No idea why they needed 'em, but nonetheless, I had to do live translations for Sherman. Kept accidentally confusing words and then blaming them on Sherman."
Lupin blinked. "You devil. I can't believe you'd do that." He gave a sly smile before flagging over a barmaid and ordering a goblet of pumpkin juice. Cerasus sipped idly at her firewhiskey.
"What happened at Twelve?" She asked, referring to Number Twelve Grimmuald Place.
"Snape gave a lengthy, boring lecture that nearly had the place in a slumber, and Shacklebolt went on about Black moving into Russia. Weasley mentioned a ferw things that he saw on Duty, and.. That's about it."
"Sounds.. fun.." Coughed Cerasus, sipping more of her bright red drink. "Damn. This stuff is awful."
"That's why I got pumpkin juice." Muttered Remus.
"It doesn't taste as good when you're sober." She commented, swirling it around with her straw. "Anyway, what was your interview?" She blinked.
"It was at some Muggle department store." He said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes.
"Ooh. Which one? Bloomingdales?" She said, blinking with interest.
"It's called Barton's. It's some ten kilometers from London. I can apparate there every day at ten o'clock and leave by seven. Of course I have off on full moons. I can exchange the dollars and cents I get at Gringott's. It'll work out pretty well. Better than most with my condition." He said with fake-happiness. Something Cerasus could tell.
"Aw, fuck, Remus. You can't fucking fool me. You're fucking miserable." She said, narrowing her eyes.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, Cerasus."
"You sure?" She said, giving him a watery-eyed, innocent look.
"Of course."
"Well, then. No worries there." She said, sticking her tounge out at Remus.
"Oh, and one more thing." Remus added. "The whole bloody Order thinks we're having an affair." He said hastily with tension and anger in his voice.
"What the fuck, Remus?" Burst out Cerasus, looking to her neighbor with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Stop fucking with me."
"I'm not kidding." Remus said. "Sirius told me. They've suspected so ever since we started owling each other a year ago."
"Well, no offense or anything, but you're a little too old for me--"
"Exactly what I said."
"And we tried that before, and it didn't work." She said, her voice filled with concern.
"Why can't we just be friends?" They both sighed concurrently.
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Author's Note: This is my first REAL fanfiction that I want to finish. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it, but the next chapter's in the making. Look forward to two more main characters: Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Review. For me? I'll appreciate anything. 3 BH
She took her time as she dipped her quill into her purple inkwell. Purple was her signature colour. She, also, didn't rush as she formed every letter near-perfect on the piece of yellow parchment. About twenty minutes later, a signature was formed and she took it up to her green eyes to read it, as her glasses were somewhere else. She couldn't quite remember.
The letter was addressed to a Mister Remus Lupin, the only one the woman suspected she could entrust to relieve her of her tenseness this evening, as she sat shivering in an inn of Bulgaria's coldest climates. She had missed the Order's meeting for an evening of stressful mistranslations.
"Swamp!" She heard the call of her last name, in a rather angry tone at that. She cringed and looked to her letter, stuffing it into the depths of her massive black robes. She rubbed her pale and sickly eyes.
"Yeess?" She moaned, arising from her desk and tiredly staggering over to the wooden door.
The door swung open before she had even the slightest chance to reach for the knob. Luckily, it swung away from her. An angry figure, dressed in a dark, threatening green robes, his black hair falling over his tanned skin and bulging, fierce brown eyes.
"You're such a bitch!" He raged. "You're the best the Ministry has to offer in Bulgarian translations!? You practically got us kicked out of the country. You said that the Bulgarian Head of Muggle Relations was an embarrassment to their country!"
"Aw, fuck, don't get on my case, Sherman. I really don't want to deal with your crap. I'm fucking tired and don't want to deal with this now." She said drowsily, shutting the door in his face.
A loud crack erupted through the room knocking the magenta-haired woman off her guard. Sherman pushed her onto the bed.
"I am not going you take your crap, Cerasus Swamp, and don't ignore me, either. You have gotten us in trouble with the Bulgarian Ministry for the last time!" He shouted, towering over her.
"You know I'm not the Bulgarian counterpart. I don't want to be here. The Bulgarian counterpart of the Department of International Relations just happened to be bitten by an illegal pet she had obtained, small dragon I think, and I was the only one in the Ministry who knew decent Bulgarian. I know fluent Welsh, thus dealing with all of our Welsh-speaking wizards and forwarding their problems all over the Ministry and appearing as a translator anytime they need me. I'm the Ministry's Welsh-speaking bitch. Not yours, Sherman."
Sherman gave her an irritable look before turning his heels and heading out the door, not bothering to slam it.
"Bastard." Murmured the witch irritably under her breath, running her hand down her face. "Heard you!" Came a bounding cry from down the hall.
"Fuck off." She replied, retrieving the letter from inside of her robes. She held it close to her face and read:
RL, Stuck in Bulgaria. Cold. Snowy. Annoyed for two reasons. Edgar Sherman won't leave me alone about mistranslation and missed meeting. Leaving tomorrow. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow at one o'clock and fill me in. Shit. Too tired. Wish I was there. Much love, CS
"Good enough." She sighed, getting up and looking about for Al, her owl.
"Aw, fuck, Al, just take this to Remus." She muttered, rolling the parchment up and tying it to the common barn owl's leg. She fumbled a few times, but once it was finally secured, she blew her owl a kiss and sent her off into the night.
And that followed by collapsing upon her bed into immediate sleep.
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Remus Lupin awoke suddenly to the sound of tapping on the guest room window of Number Twelve Grimuald Place. He rolled out of bed, half-surprised when he saw an owl there, pecking away at the glass.
"Honestly," He grumbled, running his hands through his hair, which stuck up rather oddly and almost untameably. He unlatched the lock and slid it open, the owl trotted in happily.
Lupin untied the satin ribbon and smiled, knowing Al, and knowing that Cerasus Swamp had sent him a letter to explain her absence in the previous day's meeting. He unscrolled it and read it, taking it with him on his way downstairs to eat breakfast with the Weasley children and Sirius.
"What's that?" asked Ginny, quite chipper, as she took a small sip of tea.
"Letter." Remus said simply, taking a seat beside Hermione.
"From who?" Ginny continued, with quite interest.
"Cerasus Swamp." Lupin said with the most simplicity.
"Ooh, Swamp, eh?" Came the singing voice of Sirius, walking into the Dining room with a platter of sausage and eggs. "You've been writing to her quite a bit. 'Veryone thinks you two have had an affair."
Lupin nearly dropped the pitcher of orange juice. "Sirius, please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope." Chuckled Sirius. "It's quite apparent you fancy her. Don't you deny it."
"Sirius. Even if I did fancy her, she's too young. I mean, she's what? Twenty-five? She's ten years my minor. Can't two just be friends?" Lupin said, quite irritably.
"Look at Mum and Da--" Came the happy voice of George, but before he got too far, Mrs. Weasley had hit him upon the head. George had snatched the letter out of Remus' lazy grasp and scanned it over wwith his eyes.
"Wow, that Swamp woman swears more than Sirius. So, you going to meet her? Is it a date?" Teased George; Sirius frowned.
"That's not one of her greatest assets.." Murmured Lupin. "And, yes, yes. I'm meeting Cerasus at one.."
"It's quarter of twelve. What have you planned to do before you meet her?"
"Quarter of twelve? Shit! I have an interview at noon!" Lupin dissapperated with a swift crack.
"I believe he's picked up the habit." Blinked George, still holding the parchment.
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"Honestly, why do I even bother with this crap?" Cerasus said irritably, thrusting the eyeliner pencil onto the sink, watching it crack in half for about the fifth tine in the past couple days. The ringing voice of her ignorant colleague rang through.
"'Cause you'd look like shit if you didn't bother!"
"Fuck off!" Shouted Cerasus, hurdling a compact in his direction. It came no where near to hitting him, noting her wonderful hand-eye coordination.
"Where are you going anyway?" Asked Sherman, popping his head into the bathroom. "You're going somewhere. You never wear make up to translate papers."
"I'm leaving this afternoon and never returning, Sherman. I've put up with your crap long enough, and was owled by the Ministry in the middle of the night to be informed that that Prudence Mitchell was emitted from Mungo's and will take my place tomorrow." Said the witch happily, repairing the compact powder and eyeliner pencil with the wave of her wand. "I'm having lunch with a friend at one. My bags are packed."
"Who's the friend? That bloody werewolf?" Scoffed Sherman, tossing his head back in triumph.
"Yes. I'm meeting Remus in Hogsmeade at one. I'm leaving now."
"You'd better! It's nearly one now, and you wouldn't want to keep your werewolf waiting. Behave!"
Before Ceracus could think up some witty comment to run by the horrible man, she apparated with her bags out of the cold, damp, Bulgarian tavern.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------
The Three Broomsticks is a place where one would expect to see the queerest of folk chatting away with one another. Today was no exception, every seat in the quaint, three-roomed bar filled to the brim save for one beside an oddly-clad witch nearing the end of the bar.
A loud crack of apparation erupted just beside the witch. However, none of the cheer was sacrificed to heed the shabbily-dressed man with greying blonde hair that appeared.
"You're late." Spat Cerasus, her broadly-brimmed witch hat flopping over most of her face. "What part of meet-me-at-the-Three-Broomsticks-at-one- o'clock did you not understand?"
"Sorry, Cera. Interview. Why were you in Bulgaria?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he sat down beside her.
"Stupid Ministry assignment. I had to translate papers having to do with Muggle Relations in Bulgaria. No idea why they needed 'em, but nonetheless, I had to do live translations for Sherman. Kept accidentally confusing words and then blaming them on Sherman."
Lupin blinked. "You devil. I can't believe you'd do that." He gave a sly smile before flagging over a barmaid and ordering a goblet of pumpkin juice. Cerasus sipped idly at her firewhiskey.
"What happened at Twelve?" She asked, referring to Number Twelve Grimmuald Place.
"Snape gave a lengthy, boring lecture that nearly had the place in a slumber, and Shacklebolt went on about Black moving into Russia. Weasley mentioned a ferw things that he saw on Duty, and.. That's about it."
"Sounds.. fun.." Coughed Cerasus, sipping more of her bright red drink. "Damn. This stuff is awful."
"That's why I got pumpkin juice." Muttered Remus.
"It doesn't taste as good when you're sober." She commented, swirling it around with her straw. "Anyway, what was your interview?" She blinked.
"It was at some Muggle department store." He said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes.
"Ooh. Which one? Bloomingdales?" She said, blinking with interest.
"It's called Barton's. It's some ten kilometers from London. I can apparate there every day at ten o'clock and leave by seven. Of course I have off on full moons. I can exchange the dollars and cents I get at Gringott's. It'll work out pretty well. Better than most with my condition." He said with fake-happiness. Something Cerasus could tell.
"Aw, fuck, Remus. You can't fucking fool me. You're fucking miserable." She said, narrowing her eyes.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, Cerasus."
"You sure?" She said, giving him a watery-eyed, innocent look.
"Of course."
"Well, then. No worries there." She said, sticking her tounge out at Remus.
"Oh, and one more thing." Remus added. "The whole bloody Order thinks we're having an affair." He said hastily with tension and anger in his voice.
"What the fuck, Remus?" Burst out Cerasus, looking to her neighbor with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Stop fucking with me."
"I'm not kidding." Remus said. "Sirius told me. They've suspected so ever since we started owling each other a year ago."
"Well, no offense or anything, but you're a little too old for me--"
"Exactly what I said."
"And we tried that before, and it didn't work." She said, her voice filled with concern.
"Why can't we just be friends?" They both sighed concurrently.
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Author's Note: This is my first REAL fanfiction that I want to finish. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it, but the next chapter's in the making. Look forward to two more main characters: Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Review. For me? I'll appreciate anything. 3 BH
