You Can Take the Girl out of Idaho…
Though I have listened to all of Hermione's reasons to feel guilty about the excellent service at Malfoy Manor—I really have—I can't get excited enough about house elf rights to deny myself the canapés. Ginny had a small cocktail reception set up in the conservatory when we arrived. Of course we were among the last guests to make it, and I could only nod at Hermione and Severus from across the room. To my surprise, Severus nodded back with twice his usual vigor. Of course, that's not saying much. Still, I'm counting it a victory.
I circulated with Tonks and Remus for a while before spotting one of my favorite people. Neville Longbottom stood two conversational clusters away, picking at his cuffs and admiring the glossy leaves of a plant I could never name. I know he could. I could see Luna Longbottom corralling their adopted children, who must have been just old enough to get an invitation. Knowing Neville like I do, I knew I'd have to be within his line of sight before I could get his attention from the plant. I sidled up to him, only elbowing one person on the way.
"Mr. Longbottom," I intoned, badly impersonating Severus.
"I'm not fooled, Anna." Neville turned to me, grinning.
"How are you, Neville?"
"All right," he resumed picking his sleeve and paused a moment, "but I ought to ask how you are."
"Pardon?"
"Well. The marriage law. I thought—I thought you were muggleborn."
"I am; I am." He looked at me, perplexed. "I suppose I haven't been thinking about it." I winced, realizing how childish that sounded. "Guess that won't do any good."
"Ah. Well. I don't mean to bring up a painful subject." He shuffled a foot back and forth.
"No, Neville, No. Not at all." I put on my bravest smile. "You haven't. Really."
"All right." He grinned.
"How are the children?" That's all you need to say to Neville to start him really talking. He's so clearly the caring father his children lacked in the wake of the war. When he and Luna first adopted they brought the kids to Hogwarts for their initial health exams. I've known two of the kids since they weren't yet Hogwarts age, and I've treated the eldest, Eliana, for quidditch injuries already. Eliana, in fact, is just beginning to get a thirteen-year-old's embarrassment about being seen with her parents.
At dinner I was seated next to Luna and across from Harry. I began to think Hermione hadn't been kidding about Ginny wanting me to meet him, since she created the seating arrangements. Eliana sat on my other side, and gave me the perfect out for trying to strike up a conversation with Harry. Not that I had a problem with Harry. It's just so odd to know that someone wanted you to meet one of their friends—especially one of their male friends who happens to be the savior of the wizarding world. I suppose I don't even need to mention how easy he is on the eyes. No, no I don't. I'll just get even more nervous. Focus up, Arthur.
"Is Gryffindor still ahead in the House Cup competition this year, Eliana?" I knew they were. What else is there to look at when the kids aren't in the castle? Good job being nonchalant, Arthur.
"So far." She finished swallowing her soup before continuing. Polite kid. "We have a really smart first year this year. She keeps getting points."
"You've got to have a little more going for you than that, El."
"We do. But you should see this girl! It's like she doesn't do anything else. She even got points from Snape!"
"Professor Snape, El." I softened the scold with a tiny swat to the shoulder. She grinned. "What else is going on?"
"Um…You won't tell?" I shook my head. She edged toward me and lowered her voice. "Lindsay's been owling with a Slytherin!" I put on what I hope was a good surprised look.
"No…" I whispered in fake shock.
"Yes!" She hissed. "And I think she's going to go to Hogsmeade with him!"
"What do you think the other Gryffindors will do?" Honestly, this is the part I actually cared about. If there's going to be a crying girl-fest in one of the dorms it's nice to know early.
"I don't know." She looked pensive for a second, then annoyed. "One of the fifth-year boys has a crush on her, though. He might be nasty about it."
"At least that's just one person." I hope. Please let it just be one person. I hate crying girl-fests.
"Yeah." We both paused to chew. Eliana turned to me again. "So. Who are you going to marry?" Harry made a small choking noise across the table. Eavesdropping, eh? Why don't you buy me some time to think of a response while you're at it? Apparently the savior of the wizarding world can't hear my thoughts. He just sat there looking for all the world like he was paying attention to his napkin. Jerk.
"Good question, Eliana." Cop out, Arthur. Huge cop out.
"You mean you don't know?"
"No, I don't." Oh shut up, kid.
"But you don't have too much longer!"
"I suppose not." Shut up, shut up, shut up.
"What are you going to do?" It's time for diversionary tactics.
"At the end of the week I'm going to go to Idaho—that's a state in the northwestern US. I've got some land there I need to check on." Good. She looks confused. Maybe if I keep going. "Right now there're about four hundred head of cattle on the ranch; I think I'll sell some of them off. I'm not sure I want the work of keeping them up."
"You have cattle?" Yes. I win. She's taken the bait. "Are there cowboys, too?" Argh. I didn't mean for you to take that bait, El.
"A couple, yeah."
"Maybe you could marry a cowboy!" Oh for heaven's sake—what is it about non-westerners and cowboys?
"I don't think so, El. Besides, I'm really just going to see what shape the place is in. I'll be back before the start of term."
"Oh. Well. Maybe one would come back with you." I had a flash vision of Norm, an old hand on the ranch, staring ponderously at the giant squid.
"That'd be a disaster." I couldn't keep the entirety of my laugh down. Another vision fought through: Norm trying to catch a blast-ended skrewt, muttering about critters. "First of all they're muggles. And second, there's not enough moonshine in the UK to make that work for the guys on the ranch." Again: Norm spitting a stream of tobacco juice at a tree in the forbidden forest, asking what the hell kind of horse a hippogryff was trying to be. "It'd be hilarious for the first week, though."
"Moonshine?" Harry asked. Way to join the conversation after I did all the heavy lifting, hero. Oh well.
"Oh. Guess that's an American word." I thought of and rejected a few definitions. "Basically it's home-distilled alcohol."
"Is it like Ogden's?" That was Eliana, who'd better not know anything about Ogden's yet, thank you very much.
"Not really. It's stronger, and harsher. If it's not done right—and there's no guarantee when you get it that it's right—it can blind you." Eliana looked unnerved. Harry looked amused.
"You speak from experience?" Harry barely held in a smirk. Sure, make me look delinquent in front of the kid. Thanks a bunch. Oh well. Honesty's the best policy.
"Sure. The guys have a still on the ranch. When I was little my family spent more time there."
"That doesn't explain why you were drinking it, really." He persisted. What is this, the inquisition?
"Well, Norm—he's one of the cowboys—used to give moonshine to my brother and me when we got really cold." Eliana looked impressed. That's not good. I hardly need Gryffindor tower getting hammered next time they have a snowball fight. "Of course that never worked for more than a minute. After the burn wore off we were always just as cold." Okay then. I've abandoned honesty.
"Ogden's doesn't work either." Harry contributed. "Not permanently, at least."
"And how would you know?" Two can play at this game, Potter.
"Quidditch."
"Oh of course." Wait a minute. Am I flirting? I am. Oh my. "Perfectly above-board."
"Of course." He grinned. I felt an adolescent squirming sensation in my stomach. No, no, Arthur. You can't develop a crush on the savior of the wizarding world. Especially not now, when you ought to be—gulp—actively looking for a husband. Where the hell's the dessert course?
Yes, I have a tendency to run away. Had I gone to Hogwarts, I would've been a Hufflepuff. Well, maybe not. I'm not even-tempered enough. But you get it: I'd never be a Gryffindor.
I popped out of the floo to my quarters and almost immediately started packing up for a trip to Idaho. I'd just go after I got done with Harry. Harry. There's that squirming feeling again. No, Arthur. The savior of the wizarding world will not marry little old Anna Arthur. And that's all that matters, like it or not. You want to stay a witch, you've got to find a bachelor. Nothing else can get in the way. I stilled for a moment and looked out at the frost on the corners of my bedroom casements. Scotland. Hogwarts. I don't want to leave this place permanently. I felt my chest squeeze. All right, Arthur. It won't help to panic. I took a deep breath and stopped throwing things toward my trunk. Might as well change for the night.
I was half-way out of my robes when someone knocked on my door. I hollered for the mystery visitor to wait, and finished changing into old jeans and a tank top. Whoever knocks on my door in the evening can take what they get, I figure.
"Can I…Hello, Severus." The potions master was still dressed from dinner. I looked around him for some sign of Hermione, as though that would make his presence at my door make more sense.
"Good evening." He caught my confusion, of course. "Miss Granger is not currently with me."
"Ah, um, come in." Good work there, Arthur. Way to keep your shock under your collar.
"Thank you." I gestured for him to follow me into my study, which hadn't yet been ransacked in the process of my packing. I saw him glance into the open door of my bedroom. "Traveling, Miss Arthur?"
"Yes. I'll be at home for a week." What's going on, here?
"I see. Mr. Potter will be disappointed."
"I'm sorry?" He just inclined his head. What does that mean? Severus Snape is not in my room to talk about Harry Potter. He just isn't. I won't believe it. Besides, I'm not thinking about Harry Potter. Not at all.
"There is a purpose to my visit."
"I prefer to see patients in the infirmary, if you'd care to go?"
"No." He stood and placed his hands on the mantle, his back to me. For a moment I had a vision of the ends of his voluminous robe catching fire. "I have a proposition."
"I'm sorry?" My voice came out fairly level, considering the litany of blasphemous exclamations marching through my head. Where I'm from the word proposition never means anything you'd want to tell Mom about. Surely he doesn't mean that? What if he does? Lord, I need a drink. "Scotch, Severus?"
"Thank you." I fiddled with the bottle some trying to settle out of my initial shock. "Neat?"
"Yes." He turned and accepted the glass. We both stood awkwardly before he moved to sit back down. "You require a husband." What?
"Yes." I confirmed.
"I," he paused and looked into the space to the left of my head. He actually looked uncomfortable. I thought he wasn't capable of looking anything other than commanding. "I wish to propose to Miss Granger." Hot damn!
"I'm glad to hear it." I took a sip of my drink to keep the dopey grin off my face. He gave another enigmatic nod. "But I don't understand how the two are related."
"I am…unaccustomed to romance." I think hell just froze. Severus Snape just said the word romance. I nodded. "I am prepared to aid you in your search for a husband if you provide me with advice about my proposal."
"Aid me?"
"I have connections among the pureblood families, Miss Arthur. I can provide you with names of bachelors and the necessary introductions." The enormity of what he'd offered began to dawn. All for helping him ask Hermione to do something I was pretty sure she wanted to do anyway? Yes indeed.
"I agree to your proposal."
"Good." He stood. "I will contact you on your return." He then whirled and made his usual dramatic exit. I hoped I wouldn't regret it.
