Sugar Quill

"All right, no problem!" At first, Remus Lupin did not truly realize what he had heard. Then, once he did, he began to wonder if he had misunderstood the assignment. "Oh, sorry, Allen, I may have zoned out just now. I think I might have misheard what you said."

"Dolores Umbridge." Allen patted Lupin on the shoulder. "I plan to betroth Dolores Umbridge to you."

Remus Lupin looked as though he had first been hit by a Petrification Curse, then struck three times in a row by lightning cast by Grindelwald himself. Thinking of Umbridge's pink toadlike face, her affected manner, and her sickly sweet voice, the tea he had just drunk seemed to churn in his throat. He would rather face You-Know-Who in person than spend every day and night with someone like that—Lupin's lips began to tremble, cracking open in several places at once, as though he had suddenly come down with the "excess internal heat" those East Asian Muggle doctors in Chinatown, Soho, Westminster, London, were so fond of talking about.

"I know this is hard on you. Though you do have a bit more gray hair and wrinkles than your actual age ought to warrant, she really is quite a bit older than you. But Dolores Umbridge herself introduced the famous Anti-Werewolf Legislation in 1993, and she repeatedly expressed her hatred and disgust for werewolves in public and through the media. Now that she's willing to marry you, a werewolf, it's bound to have extraordinary symbolic significance in the wizarding world. Even the witch who hates werewolves most can change her attitude after 'deep' contact with you and choose to marry a werewolf—doesn't that prove ordinary wizards are prejudiced against you? I think this will make more people curious about you, and when the time comes