ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Sixteen. Invitations.

 As he had expected, Marlowe's mother wrote back almost immediately. He received his letter the morning after he had made it up to the owlery to send it, but, knowing what it might contain, he did not open it at the table. He waited until he was getting into bed that evening to open the envelope and find out whether his mother's advice was as helpful as he had hoped.

Mrs. Finnegan loved Christmas more than any other holiday so he was not surprised to find that she had already broken out the festive stationery, gold foil edges and a faded green chevron background on top of which she had written her letter in her signature blend of cursive and print.

Marlowe,

Don't pretend this is a new crush. Mother's know better. You've fancied her for years, and if you really think she doesn't like you too, then I think they've put you in the wrong house. Aren't you supposed to be the intelligent ones? She's going to say yes, so don't worry about that, but I do think you should make it special. That way when you get married, she'll have a good story for the kids.

I've been on the internet doing a bit of hunting around for ideas and I found out that in the states, the kids are doing these things called "Promposals." They're real elaborate and all, writing "Prom?" on the sides of buildings or flying a blimp over the school and things. So I'm not suggesting you do anything like that. But something more personal. Like I saw one about a kid who wanted to go with a friend of his and they had an inside joke about asparagus so he gave her an asparagus bouquet, and, because he was a lot taller than her, made a measuring stick at his height that said, "You have to be this tall to say no to prom with me."

You've got to be able to come up with something. Make her laugh or smile. You're a funny kid, you can do that. And she's one of your closest friends, so I know you can come up with something. Just think about her interests. Think about what you've done together. And make sure you tell me what you come up with.

Now, there's one other thing. I don't know if this a tradition in your world, but it is in mine. You should order her a corsage to wear on her wrist. You have to find out what color her dress is - or I guess you all wear dress robes, don't you? That's why I had to send the ones you forgot this year, isn't it? - so that the flowers will coordinate. I can take care of ordering it and just send it to you if you'd like. No one else will probably have one, so she'll think it's special. A little something extra, so she knows you care about it and about her.

Oh, Marlowe, I'm just so excited that you're finally going to get a move on! From everything I've heard, she seems like just the sort of girl for you. And her brother is such a good kid, I know she'll be just as lovely. I hope you'll let us meet her. Why hasn't she ever come to stay when Sean has?

Nothing new going on here. Keep an eye on Elliot for me, and let me know how it goes with Caiti!

Love,

Mum

P.S. Great news about the Quidditch thing! I don't really understand it all, but I'm so excited for you! I'll make your dad explain better.

P.P.S. Don't worry, I won't tell him about the girl :)

Marlowe frowned at the letter for several minutes. He had thought, at first, that it was pretty useful, but the more he reread it, the more it became perfectly clear that she had given him nothing at all to work with. He could not give Caiti a bouquet of asparagus.

Sean stopped in the middle of his pre-bedtime organization ritual to appraise Marlowe. "You look constipated," he said.

Marlowe folded up the letter and said, "You look... dumb."