November 5th, 1891 — Scamander Residence
Knightsway, North Bartonburg, Hogsmeade

Malachai and Alberta Crouch had married for love.

Reuben and Melody Crouch had married for foolishness.

Aldous Crouch, though, would marry simply because it was necessary.

The latest Season, however, had not gone quite as far in this direction as the wizard might have hoped. Redoubling his efforts to find a wife had, indeed, happened, but they had not been particularly strong to begin with. He had met a number of young (and less-young) ladies at a number of social events, but something had always been too wrong with them (or in some cases, with him) for Aldous to have felt confident pursuing them more intently. Miss Fawley had been a delightful mind, but young and seemingly reluctant to marry into Society; Miss Whitehall had in turn dogged him like his murderer, but was so utterly insipid that the prospect of a lifetime with her made Aldous want to cut his decidedly short. Add that with his own low estimation of his worth, and the season of Spouse Shopping had come and gone without a permanent investment. 

And so, as the colours upon the trees had begun to turn, so too had Aldous's approach. After evaluating the potential candidates, he had at last landed upon Miss Helga Scamander, whom he did not think would be elated at the prospect but whom, he hoped, would recognize what a good match they would make:

• Miss Scamander's company was not unenjoyable, and they had talked enough with one another since the dinner at the Devine house that they could not be considered strangers
  
• A bubbly and vivasious personality would lend itself well to the hostessing required of his future wife
  
• She would get along well with November's circle of friends
  
• Miss Marlena Scamander worked as an Unspeakable, so a keen intellect was not unknown to the women of the family
  
• The former Misses Scamander had married comfortably and had done nothing that would not recommend them
  
• While Aldous was not overly familiar with matters surrounding Miss Scamander's brother and nephew, there were far fewer whispers about Eugene Scamander than there had ever been about Reuben, SO
  
• At two-and-twenty, she might be feeling her age enough to consider the idea, even with his lameness
  
• While his position in the world was firmly middle class, his position in the Ministry saw him in the upper echelons of that sphere
  

And so, earlier that week, Aldous had sat down with Alexander Scamander at the club, had received the man's blessing, and had then begun the painstaking effort of working up the nerve to actually ask Miss Scamander herself.

Just after lunch on Friday, having informed his secretary he would be taking an extended week-end (to celebrate, if it was warranted, or to lick his wounds in peace), Aldous arrived at the Bartunburg home to call upon Miss Scamander, where he was shown into the parlour and promptly (he suspected that husband and wife did, indeed, speak to one another) been abandoned with the young lady, though the door to the room was left very wide open indeed as Mrs. Scamander 'went to order tea'.

"Your mother," he remarked, not knowing quite how to transition into his reason for being there, gesturing at the vase before them as he sat across from her, "has fine taste in floral arrangement."

— Holly Scrimgeour/@"Helga Scamander" —

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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The Scamander household was not so traditional that it forced its daughters down the same narrow path that led to marriage, but it was clear from a young age that Helga had chosen to walk—or, rather, fling herself—down that path. From a young age she dreamed of marriage, of a husband who treated her well and could support the lifestyle she dreamed of, of a household of children who she'd place on her knee and read bedtime stories to, of the evening spent as a Mrs. hosting events for her husband. It was the life she had always dreamed of.

And yet, despite her advantageous friendships, her invitations to exclusive society events, and her (in her own opinion) delightful personality, Helga reached the age of twenty-and-two without a single proposal.

Five seasons had treated her well, all things considered. She'd once been named the jewel of the season, had articles in magazines list her among the women who would most definitely secure a husband that season, and had received plenty of male attention despite none of them choosing to pursue her beyond the harmless flirting. Perhaps her standards were too high—or perhaps she had been outshone by her younger, richer, better-connected friends.

Whatever the reason, whatever lied in the past, Helga remained committed to her goal: she would be married.

Callers were less common now than they had been in recent years, which gave her all the more reason to delight in them. Mr. Aldous Crouch was a good man—and definitely a successful one. The head of a Ministry department, he possessed power and connections that checked off a number of the little boxes on the list of requirements for a husband, and yet his appearance—while not displeasing—did not emanate that power.

That was not, she decided, necessarily a bad thing. If anything it made him easier to talk to.

"Oh yes," she said, casting a glance in the direction of the arrangement on the table, "She's always had an eye for that sort of thing." Years of small talk meant the words left her mouth with ease, but her mind was elsewhere. Surely Mr. Crouch did not care about flowers, he surely was too clever to fall into dull chatter about them. "You would think she prefers purple, but it's really my Papa who loves the color. She always makes sure to take his tastes into account."

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"I am sure that Mr. Scamander appreciates the effort," Aldous returned with a small, but genuine, smile. Would Miss Scamander be a similar sort of wife, or would she enslave herself to the fashions of the day instead? "I expect he knows how fortunate he is indeed, to have so considerate a wife."

Was this a natural moment in the conversation to transition to his Question (capital Q indeed necessary, given its gravity)? Did such a moment exist outside the bonds of romance?

"I expect, though, that she must have a flower she prefers herself—as must you, Miss Scamander," though technically a statement, the upturn at the end of his sentence indicated a question. After all, that seemed like a good sort of thing to know about a woman, should she become his wife.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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"I know he does," she replied with a smile, knowing full well that her father did appreciate the efforts. How often had he voiced his particular fondness of purple whenever he crossed the path of the purple petunias, or how he'd mentioned almost daily he loved the dining room's purple and gold floral wallpaper when Mama had redone it?

"I am rather fond of pink carnations," she replied. Did he intend to send her flowers? Men usually did not ask what she preferred; in past years the ones who sent flowers had sent arrangements with all sorts, and she'd never given twice a thought of their beauty, instead trying to decode their meanings. "And do you have a favorite, Mr. Crouch, or is that not the sort of thing a man considers?" she asked, her smile broadening ever so slightly.

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Pink carnations. Aldous committed this piece of trivia to memory, hoping it would not prove useless.

"Not any man I have met," he confirmed with a chuckle, "or perhaps it just did not come up in the course of conversation. For myself, I expect I have a preference, but have never articulated it, even to myself." He would, Aldous supposed, have to develop a preference if he did not already have one.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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"I suppose it is one of the differences between the sexes," she joked, "We women cannot help but consider everything. I suppose that is why the parties are left to us to plan." Oh, she could think of all the parties she would one day plan! For now, though, she remained under her mother's wing, learning what she could and helping when she was able.

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Aldous let out a chuckle at that.

"I am, I think, very fortunate to have my sister, for a man in my position must host but I am dreadful at the details of it all," he confessed. Here, at last, was his opportunity; hesitantly, the wizard added, "I do not feel right, however, relying upon her so often."

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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Helga nodded in understanding, a small smile upon her lips. "It is not a role meant for a sister to play forever, I suppose."

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Aldous cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Indeed," he answered, briefly, too briefly, meeting her eyes before focusing studiously upon her shoulder instead. "In fact, Miss Scamander, it is that precise fact that is the cause for my call today."

She knew—if she hadn't known when Aldous had arrived, she must now realize his intention, must feel the stirrings of some opinion one with or the other beginning within her. Though the wizard had never before wished for the gift of legilimency, in this moment, he could not help but wish he knew her mind. This was not love; there was no understanding between he and Miss Scamander. There was only uncertainty.

"It is a matter that I have given a great deal of consideration of late."

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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Hard as she’s tried to avoid making any assumptions. it was difficult to stop her mind from doing. It sounded—as silly as it seemed—that this was no ordinary call. This was a call with a purpose.

“And what conclusion have you reached?” she asked, unable to subdue the nervous flutters in her stomach as she spoke.

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A beat, and then, "I have concluded that I should be deeply honoured indeed if you were to agree to become my wife."

There it was, the words out in the world, unable to be reclaimed. The weight of purpose had left Aldous now, but a new weight had settled upon his shoulders like a cloak, for what little power he had possessed was now completely in Miss Scamander's hands.

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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A proposal. Helga had yearned to hear those words muttered. She'd fantasized about who would say it, how it would feel, and how charming and eloquent she'd be when she'd flashed her husband-to-be a smile and tell him how there was no one else she'd rather marry. Her fantasies and daydreams had slight variations between them over time, but the one thing always included in them was the pure elation.

Helga felt none of that right now. In place of elation there was a tightness in her chest, a slight confusion, and—somewhat alarmingly—fear. It was not the romantic proposal she'd always dreamed of, wasn't coming from one of the bachelors she'd set her eyes on in seasons before, but it was real in a way that none of her fantasies were.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. "I will," she answered, and suddenly a wave of warmth rushed through her as the reality set in: she'd just agreed to become a man's wife.

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She had said yes.

She had not hesitated, at least not nearly as much as Aldous might have expected, and Miss Scamander gave her answer without ado. The wizard hoped this was because Mi—his future wife saw the advantages of this union as clearly as he himself, for he doubted very much she harboured some sort of passionate but secret love for him.

(Then again, he had received that mystery letter of admiration...)

Aldous gave a tentative sort of smile, relief coursing through him and a small nod as though to say very good—for what else was there to say under these circumstances?

"In light of these new circumstances, Miss Scamander," he offered, "I should be grateful if you would begin to call me Aldous, for I think increased familiarity will make this next step all the more...comfortable for us both."

It was not a sweeping romance, or even a quiet romance, but they would do well for another. Of this, Aldous was mostly certain.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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Her heart was pounding so quickly, so uncontrollably, that it was a wonder that her hands weren't shaking (and she knew they weren't, because she'd glanced down at them to make sure of it).

It was a wonder she managed to get her words out as smooth as she did. "Of course... Aldous," she said, a warm smile slipping onto her face. She felt no affection for him in particular, but there was no denying she felt affection for the situation. An engagement! A marriage! It wasn't perfect, but she couldn't help wonder if the general unfamiliarity between them might be more a blessing than a curse. He had no ill opinions of her obviously, and she none for him; she could mold herself into the woman he desired, free from all preconceptions.

"And you may, of course, call me Helga. I would be most happy if you did."

Aldous and Helga Crouch. She could build a life around that. She was sure of it.

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"Well then," he said, "Helga. I daresay our families ought to hear the news—perhaps we might begin with your mother?"

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

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"A good idea," she agreed, rising to her feet, "Shall we?"

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