A/N: I am so sorry to all of you that have supported me with this for so
long; I've not updated in weeks, and its appalling. I just have TREMENDOUS
writer's block with this, and I have been trying to vent the crappy writing
trapped inside me out in school, specifically in long and boring essays
about "To Kill a Mockingbird". Great book, crappy English lessons. I think
it's nearly all gone, so I am going to continue on with this now. Once
again, I'm really sorry, the lack of updating has been well out of order.
If I can possibly help it then it won't happen again.
The Wrong Foot
Rene took her seat in one of the old mahogany chairs, and gazed around the room. It was not unlike the dungeons of Hogwarts; the walls were cold, damp, dark stone, and the furniture was the type of antique that would never make a room feel comfortable or like home. It was almost as cold and detached as the rest of the confine, though she hoped she would have better living quarters than the criminals beyond the door of what she assumed was her office.
She heard footsteps slowly approaching. Fudge stepped quickly through the door and slammed it shut, appearing a little nervous. He took a handkerchief out of his blazer pocket and dabbed his forehead, before sitting opposite her, though not behind the desk.
"Nasty things." He muttered, looking straight into the fire.
"Pardon?"
"Nasty things, the dementors. Not trustworthy, never will be. I've never been fond of allying our ministry to non-humans..." He realised his mistake, and shot a half glance at Rene, who let it slide with a vague gesture of her hand. "If we didn't need them, I would get rid of them in the blink of an eye, but it's convenient for both parties."
"They get fed and our prisoners get punished, yes?"
"Yes. Sometimes I think that for some of these people it's too much of a punishment, it's a god-awful place. But still, what we have to remember is that these people are dangers to society, and must be reprimanded. Which reminds me. The prisoner's files are all in those cabinets; I had them brought over from the ministry this morning. One or two may have been left behind at the ministry, but if they have been we'll find them soon enough. You won't actually need the files that much, unless, of course, there are any problems with a particular prisoner, when everything we possibly could find out about them is in those files."
"What sort of things might go wrong with the prisoners?" Rene asked, trying to fight Fudge's gaze away from the fire to her.
"Well, as goes without saying, this place is not a nice one, and sometimes...well, some of us are made of stronger stuff than others. No one finds it a pleasant experience, but some people just cannot stomach Azkaban, usually the ones who have committed the most severe crimes. The more gruesome and atrocious the crime, the more gruesome and atrocious the memories. They snap." He punctuated with a click of his fingers, looking like he was himself about to be sick.
"So, in that case, go to their files, and try to determine from profiles and the details of their past lives and crimes what's wrong, yes?" Rene ventured, suddenly eager to get rid of Fudge. They may have been sat in front of a blazing fire, but she was feeling distinctly cold with him there. She sensed that he did not trust her completely either, and was going to need some convincing that she was at all up to the job.
"Yes, that's right. I must say, not a lot else needs doing, just the day to day running of the establishment...food, supplies and all that. I understand you've had some experience of that, yes?" Fudge questioned, meeting her gaze and holding it more than a moment for the first time.
"I have been running 4 of my father's estates for the past two years, all bigger than Azkaban, so I expect I'll have no problems at all, Mr Fudge." Rene said, in a matter-of-fact tone. She couldn't fathom whether it was the fact she was a woman or an immortal that bothered him, or both, but whatever it was, she was becoming more and more convinced he didn't think her up to the job. She also had a strong feeling that Dumbledore had played a part in the decision to offer it to her.
"Well then, that's really about all there is." he said, standing to leave. "Best of British to you."
"Excuse me Mr Fudge, but what about the Dementors?" Rene asked, also standing up. "Surely I am not to ignore them completely?"
"Well, are you at all affected by them?" He asked, somewhat impatiently
"No, I'm not, but that..."
"Then I see no good reason why you shouldn't just ignore them. I really do not understand why you are bothered, Miss Bolovnik. I do not know how things are done in Romania, but I can assure you that in Britain we get on with a job without making a fuss and asking too many questions! Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Fudge as good as hammered the nails into his own coffin. Rene was fed up to the teeth of his general rudeness, and was not prepared to stand for it.
"MR FUDGE! If you had let me finish what I was saying, you would know that I wasn't making a fuss, I was asking a perfectly valid question. What I was going to say about the Dementors is that they do not affect me at all, however, I may affect them. They have been running this place since it was established yes? Well, I cannot really see them taking kindly to suddenly having their supremacy in Azkaban snatched away by the Ministry of Magic! I want to know that this has been thought of and dealt with, and that I will not be handling a rebellion! The way things are done in Romania may not be the same way things are done in Britain, *sir*, but I think that if all employees of your Ministry are expected to be nothing but puppets who sit and do their paperwork and never ask questions, then I am very glad I am Romanian. And it's *Lady*, not Miss."
Her face was white with anger, and she was using all the self-control she could muster not to go into a full-blown rage. She stared hard at him, willing him to make one more comment like he just had. He looked shocked, and it was plainly obvious he had been caught off his guard. It took him a minute to recover his composure.
"Very Well, *lady* Bolovnik, but pulling rank on me will not do you much good. I assure you the Dementors will give you no trouble, and if there is ever anything you can't handle, then just send an owl to the Ministry. I have more important things to do."
And with that, he stormed out. Rene collapsed into the chair behind the desk, exasperated. If that wasn't starting off on the wrong foot, what was?
The Wrong Foot
Rene took her seat in one of the old mahogany chairs, and gazed around the room. It was not unlike the dungeons of Hogwarts; the walls were cold, damp, dark stone, and the furniture was the type of antique that would never make a room feel comfortable or like home. It was almost as cold and detached as the rest of the confine, though she hoped she would have better living quarters than the criminals beyond the door of what she assumed was her office.
She heard footsteps slowly approaching. Fudge stepped quickly through the door and slammed it shut, appearing a little nervous. He took a handkerchief out of his blazer pocket and dabbed his forehead, before sitting opposite her, though not behind the desk.
"Nasty things." He muttered, looking straight into the fire.
"Pardon?"
"Nasty things, the dementors. Not trustworthy, never will be. I've never been fond of allying our ministry to non-humans..." He realised his mistake, and shot a half glance at Rene, who let it slide with a vague gesture of her hand. "If we didn't need them, I would get rid of them in the blink of an eye, but it's convenient for both parties."
"They get fed and our prisoners get punished, yes?"
"Yes. Sometimes I think that for some of these people it's too much of a punishment, it's a god-awful place. But still, what we have to remember is that these people are dangers to society, and must be reprimanded. Which reminds me. The prisoner's files are all in those cabinets; I had them brought over from the ministry this morning. One or two may have been left behind at the ministry, but if they have been we'll find them soon enough. You won't actually need the files that much, unless, of course, there are any problems with a particular prisoner, when everything we possibly could find out about them is in those files."
"What sort of things might go wrong with the prisoners?" Rene asked, trying to fight Fudge's gaze away from the fire to her.
"Well, as goes without saying, this place is not a nice one, and sometimes...well, some of us are made of stronger stuff than others. No one finds it a pleasant experience, but some people just cannot stomach Azkaban, usually the ones who have committed the most severe crimes. The more gruesome and atrocious the crime, the more gruesome and atrocious the memories. They snap." He punctuated with a click of his fingers, looking like he was himself about to be sick.
"So, in that case, go to their files, and try to determine from profiles and the details of their past lives and crimes what's wrong, yes?" Rene ventured, suddenly eager to get rid of Fudge. They may have been sat in front of a blazing fire, but she was feeling distinctly cold with him there. She sensed that he did not trust her completely either, and was going to need some convincing that she was at all up to the job.
"Yes, that's right. I must say, not a lot else needs doing, just the day to day running of the establishment...food, supplies and all that. I understand you've had some experience of that, yes?" Fudge questioned, meeting her gaze and holding it more than a moment for the first time.
"I have been running 4 of my father's estates for the past two years, all bigger than Azkaban, so I expect I'll have no problems at all, Mr Fudge." Rene said, in a matter-of-fact tone. She couldn't fathom whether it was the fact she was a woman or an immortal that bothered him, or both, but whatever it was, she was becoming more and more convinced he didn't think her up to the job. She also had a strong feeling that Dumbledore had played a part in the decision to offer it to her.
"Well then, that's really about all there is." he said, standing to leave. "Best of British to you."
"Excuse me Mr Fudge, but what about the Dementors?" Rene asked, also standing up. "Surely I am not to ignore them completely?"
"Well, are you at all affected by them?" He asked, somewhat impatiently
"No, I'm not, but that..."
"Then I see no good reason why you shouldn't just ignore them. I really do not understand why you are bothered, Miss Bolovnik. I do not know how things are done in Romania, but I can assure you that in Britain we get on with a job without making a fuss and asking too many questions! Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Fudge as good as hammered the nails into his own coffin. Rene was fed up to the teeth of his general rudeness, and was not prepared to stand for it.
"MR FUDGE! If you had let me finish what I was saying, you would know that I wasn't making a fuss, I was asking a perfectly valid question. What I was going to say about the Dementors is that they do not affect me at all, however, I may affect them. They have been running this place since it was established yes? Well, I cannot really see them taking kindly to suddenly having their supremacy in Azkaban snatched away by the Ministry of Magic! I want to know that this has been thought of and dealt with, and that I will not be handling a rebellion! The way things are done in Romania may not be the same way things are done in Britain, *sir*, but I think that if all employees of your Ministry are expected to be nothing but puppets who sit and do their paperwork and never ask questions, then I am very glad I am Romanian. And it's *Lady*, not Miss."
Her face was white with anger, and she was using all the self-control she could muster not to go into a full-blown rage. She stared hard at him, willing him to make one more comment like he just had. He looked shocked, and it was plainly obvious he had been caught off his guard. It took him a minute to recover his composure.
"Very Well, *lady* Bolovnik, but pulling rank on me will not do you much good. I assure you the Dementors will give you no trouble, and if there is ever anything you can't handle, then just send an owl to the Ministry. I have more important things to do."
And with that, he stormed out. Rene collapsed into the chair behind the desk, exasperated. If that wasn't starting off on the wrong foot, what was?