m&mwp.
For the Yearly Events Thread [Character Collection] on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.
"I got a very interesting letter the other day."
Neville looked up from his table at the Leaky Cauldron, eyes wide. But he didn't have the chance to respond before Daphne Greengrass, of all people, had pulled up the chair opposite him and taken a seat.
"From your grandmother," she clarified. "I hear you're in the market for a lovely lady, preferably from the Sacred Twenty-Eight." Then, after a pause and small laugh, she said, "I didn't know you cared about that kind of carry on, Longbottom."
"I.." Neville blinked rapidly. "What?"
"Your grandmother," Daphne repeated, a sparkle in her eyes. "She sent me a proposal on your behalf."
"She did what?" Neville was aghast. "I'm sorry. I, uh, didn't know."
Daphne shrugged. "I didn't think you would. Still, you don't have to look quite so horrified at the prospect of marrying me. What if I'd hunted you down to accept?"
His eyes bulged.
"Calm down," she said, laughing. "I'm joking. I just thought you might want to know. Warned, if you will. I can't imagine Pansy Parkinson finding it as funny as I did."
"That's..." Neville trailed off, letting his head drop to his hands in frustration. "That's a terrible thought."
"Isn't it? And imagine Millicent Bulstrode..."
"I'll have a word with my grandmother," he said quickly, not wanting to dwell on that particular idea. "Thanks for letting me know."
"Any time." Daphne cocked her head to the side. "You should tell her that these days a lady is more likely to accept an invitation to a first date than one to her own wedding."
"I'll be sure to let her know."
"Though I suppose I can only speak for myself."
"What?"
"I would have been more likely to accept an invitation to a first date," said Daphne, slow and clear. "I also would have preferred it come from you, not your grandmother."
Neville's brain short-circuited. This could not be happening. Was Daphne Greengrass flirting with him? Or had he finally gone around the twist? Though, imagining pretty girls asking him out didn't exactly line up with his other post-war symptoms.
"Neville?" Daphne was looking expectantly at him. "What do you think?"
"I..." Neville could hardly believe this was reality. "I'm actually seeing Hannah Abbott. My nan doesn't know yet. She tends to...uh, frighten people off, so I haven't said anything."
"Hannah Abbott," Daphne echoed, not looking offended in the slightest. "I remember her from school. Nice girl. Pretty, too."
"Yeah."
Daphne beamed at him, getting to her feet. "Well, feel free to send a letter if you change your mind. Just remember, no proposing."
And then she was gone, with the wooden door of the Leaky Cauldron swaying in the breeze and her chair, not quite pushed back under the table, as Neville's only clues that she'd ever been there at all.
