Single Magical Male

None of these characters exist in reality. None of the characters who exist in fiction are mine. No money, disrespect or copyright infringement is being made or intended. This is just my pathetic crr her help.


At next month’s “meeting”, the ladies had no sooner settled into their corner booth with their drinks than Minerva triumphantly threw a piece of parchment onto the table.

“What’s t” Pr” Professor Sprout asked. “We’re not going to review the Quidditch schedule!?”

“No, it’s nothing to do with Hogwarts. Well, not exactly,” Minerva assured her. “It’s about…” she paused and looked round the pub to be sure no one would overhear, “our dark and lonely colleague.”

“Snape?” exclaimed Poppy. Minerva quickly shushed her, looking around to see if anyone noticed the name. This, of course, increased the interest of her drinking companions significantly.

“What are you on about?” whispered Sprout. “What plan are you hatching? Are you playing matchmaker?”

“Not quite,” hedged McGonagall, “but we are going to get the boy some appropriate female company.”

The ladies picked up the parchment and read the following:

Single, magical professional male, 40, seeks single, magical female, 25 – 50 y/o.

The silence at the table was deafening. Until Sprout and Pomfrey broke out laughing, very, very loudly.

Minerva was completely taken aback. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

As Professor Sprout finished wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry, Minerva, I just never thought to see him in a personal advertisement. You must admit, it is a bitongrongruous.”

“I thought it was a rather brilliant idea,” Minerva sniffed.

“The idea is brilliant, it is! It’s just – well, trying to describe our favourite overgrown bat in 15 words or less…” and Sprout was off into another fit of giggles. Getting control of herself she said, “We need to have more in there than just the fact that he’s a breathing wizard looking for a witch or he’ll spend the rest of his life reading replies. Here, give me the quill.” she said as she picked the parchment back up.

“Are you serious?” Poppy was still panting from laughing so hard. Once she’d caught her breath, she continued, “He’d kill us, right before he kills anyone who responds to this.” The medi-witch spent the next few moments fanning herself in an attempt to cool her face. “Oh, Minerva, you have outdone yourself this time.”

Sprout was hooked though. “You know, Poppy, it’s not a bad idea. We could even set it up so that any replies to the ad come to us so that we can screen them. I mean, given his lack of social skills, he’d probably return all the letters with the grammar corrected and snide remarks written all over them. In red ink.”

Minerva winced, “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right, Pomona. We’ll have to read all the responses and weed out those that we know aren’t acceptable. I’ll rent a post office box so we can screen the women. Besides, that will ensure that no one will know that it’s a Hogwarts professor.”

Eventually, Pomfrey was caught up in the challenge of writing the advertisement and even made the inspired suggestion of requiring photos from respondents.

Several hours (and several drinks) later, the trio decided that their work was complete. Minerva would enquire into renting a postal box the next morning and would place the ad as soon as the box’s address was established.

For one last time, Minerva read the finished copy to her partners in crime:

Single magical professional man seeks intelligent and confident woman for dinner, conversation and perhaps more. Described as tall, dark, and possessed of an acerbic wit, I am financially secure and have no dependents. If your interests range from Moste Potente Potions to Muggle jazz, let’s meet and see what brews between us. Reply, with photo, to Box AE7, Hogsmeade Station.

As the ladies paid Tom and headed for home, they didn’t notice the solitary person in the back of the room who’d been listening with more than passing interest in their conversation. A slip of parchment was tucked into a heavy cloak, a coin left on the table, and the quiet figure passed out the door and into the night.

Just after breakfast the next morning, Poppy called McGonagall and Sprout into the teachers’ lounge. After looking to make sure no one was in the room, she turned to her friends and said, “I woke up in the middle of the night last night and realized we’ve forgotten the most important thing.” “What? What did we forget?” Minerva asked.

“How are we going to get Severus to agree to any of this?”

“That, my dear, you may leave to me,” Minerva said. “You know that we aren’t the only ones who’ve noticed his lack of any extracurricular interests. Albus has been quite keen to get Severus out of his self-imposed exile, thinking it would improve his humour, if not his social skills. While we’ve all complained about his temperament for years, he’s definitely taken a turn for the worse. Just yesterday he nearly hexed the Bloody Baron out of the castle. The Baron was in Albus’ office, in tears, prompting Albus to set up a meeting with our man. In fact, I believe the two of them are scheduled to meet in just a few minutes to discuss the fact that Snape needs to get out of the castle and meet people. You know that he’ll grump that he doesn’t know how and doesn’t want to; Albus will tell him that he has no choice.”

Sprout giggled, “It’s good to have friends in high places, isn’t it?” Poppy sighed with relief and Minerva whispered, “It’s best when those ‘friends’ know to do as they’re told, if they want to avoid sleeping on the couch. In the staff lounge.” “Minerva McGonagall, you’re positively evil!” Poppy exclaimed, then added “And I’m so glad!”

The witches left the room and nearly ran into the Potions Master himself who looked even more ill-tempered than usual. They burst into laughter and scattered toward their respective offices. Severus shook his head in annoyance (after surreptitiously checking his robes and fly to be sure nothing about his appearance had sparked their laughter) and continued on to his meeting wiumblumbledore.

Coming to the gargoyle, Snape muttered the password (“Fried Mars Bars”) and walked up the stairs, even as they moved upward. As usual, Dumbledore called his greeting to Severus befois his hand even touched the doorknob. “Why do you even have a door? You obviously don’t need one.” he groused as he entered the Headmaster’s office.

Albus chuckled as he asked, “Would you care for a cup of tea, my boy?” “No thank you, I’d rather just get to the point of this and get back to my work, if you don’t mind.” Severus’ tone was bordered on impertinent.

“Have a seat, Severus.” “Oh,” the younger man groaned, “it’s one of those meetings is it? Who have I offended now?”

“Well, that list is actually getting quite long. It would be easier to name those you haven’t insulted, but that’s only part of why you’re here. I expect you to apologize to the Bloody Baron, though.”

Severus sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yes, I know I was a little – testy with him yesterday. But he WAS being particu-” Albus held his hand up to stop the explanation and said, “I’m sure you had your reasons, but the fact remains that your temper and behaviour are deteriorating and it’s affecting your ability to function.” Severus noted with dread that the Headmaster’s eyes were not twinkling and his tone was quite sober. This was never a good sign. The only thing worse would be for him to –

“So I am giving you an assignment.”

Crap. This was it: the only thing worse than a sober Albus was an Albus-engineered assignment. It was inevitably distasteful, embarrassing and usually involved one of Snape’s least favourite activities, like chaperoning a ball or the dreaded –

“You are going to go on a date.”

Bugger. It was even worse than the usual forced socialization. A date. That involved so many of the things he hated (good manners, idle chatter, dining in public), it was hard to imagine a more distasteful scenario.

“Actually, it will be three dates. You’ll have at least one date with three different women.”

Damn. ‘I must’ve really sent the Baron over the edge,’ thought Snape, ‘to be consigned to this kind of hell. At least it couldn’t get any --’

“And a personal ad has already been placed in The Daily Prophet rderrder to find you three acceptable consorts.”

Shit. Making a mental note to never ever again think that a situation couldn’t getse, se, Snape spent several moments struggling to maintain what little composure he had.

Rather than argue with the Headmaster (which would not only be futile but would likely lead to that dreaded “worse” scenario he refused to imagine), Snape gritted his teeth and asked, “Is that all, Headmaster?” Of course, as soon as those words left his tightly clenched mouth he regretted it.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked. Severus, your cleverness has always amused me, but in the interest of avoiding any unnecessary delay in completing my little assignment (‘He knows me far too well,’ thought Snape sourly), all three of these soirees must take place before the end of the coming Christmas break.”

Knowing that any further outbursts would result only in additional humiliation (and as difficult as it was to imagine anything more humiliating, he now knew better than to think it impossible), Snape quietly resigned himself to his fate. Noting that the twinkle was back in the Headmaster’s eyes, he gritted his teeth, stood and swept to the door. Without saying a word (frankly, his teeth were clenched so tightly as to render speech nearly impossible), the man who’d spent two decades terrorizing others left Dumbledore’s office, one whipped puppy.

A/N – Yes, it’s a thanks section. For those of you who hate these, then you have officially finished this chapter and you get to start recess a few minutes earlier than the rest of the class.

Barrie – As to what I was thinking, it may have been many things but it was NEVER that if you could do it, then so could I. As if!

Andrian, Kiri and Rilla – What an adrenaline rush, to get a review (much less a positive one) from some of my favorite authors ~ flattery and encouragement will get you everywhere with me. At least, it gets you a shout out in the Author’s Notes.

Peeves – Now, you know it’s not polite to brag and rub other people’s noses in your knowledge of things to come… You have learned your evil ways well, my child {{{raspbe}} a}} and hugs.

Buttercup – As our beloved professor might say, “Patience, you silly girl!” ;)