The Power of a Bouquet

The Power of a Bouquet

"They're so beautiful," she said to herself as she held her bouquet of flowers. They were pink tulips, purple heathers, and red hyacinths. With baby's breath in the mix as well. It was an odd, yet beautiful mix. Her heart filled with love toward the man who gave them to her. As the women sat there adoring her flowers, she thought back to how she got them.

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dinner had ended not more then an hour ago, her students were out and about giving gifts of love. But she sat alone in her office, in the Transfiguration hallway, grading papers. A knock on the door interrupted her work.

"Come in."

"Ah, my dear Minerva, why are you sitting here when everyone else is out enjoying themselves?" It was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster and a friend of hers for many years.

"Papers need to be graded, Albus. Besides, Valentine's Day is for the young." She said setting her quill aside and looking up at the old man taking a seat before her.

"Why, Minerva, I do think you are quite wrong. Valentine's Day is not just for the young in love. But for the young at heart." Dumbledore said looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. His gaze may not have been directly on her, but he kept the Head of Gryffindor house in his field of vision non-the less.

"Well I'm afraid I don't fit either of those Albus."

"You are as young as you feel."

"I certainly don't feel young. I'm 70 and feel far older then that. I've been teaching here for forty years, but it feels like so much more." She trailed off. Normally Minerva didn't trail off in a sentence. To her pupils, she was always in control. Except for last year. That foul Umbridge women just got under her skin SO much. Besides that incident, she never, in her forty years teaching, lost her cool.

But around Albus, she could let down her shield some. He was an intelligent wizard and knew her too well. If she was hiding something, he knew, even without the help of Legilimency. No that he would ever use that skill on her; Dumbledore was too noble. Albus had been there with her through many troubling times in her life. She shared everything with him, everything thought, concern and emotion, except for one. One that Minerva never shared with anyone.

"You only feel so old because you allow yourself to. Yes, you are 70, but by magical standards that is hardly very old. You have many, many years ahead of you." Dumbledore said reassuringly, his eyes twinkling merrily as they locked with hers.

As Minerva looked into his gleaming, blue eyes, she began to get lost in them. This happened very often. His eyes were so enchanting; they carried so much emotion and kindness in them that it was hard to look away once you started. You found yourself wanting to be there, in his eyes, in the warmth of his soul.

McGonagall mentally shook and cursed herself as she managed to escape the trance she was in. "And you Albus? How old do you feel?"

"Me? Why I feel as young as ever. 'Mind over matter,' as the Muggles say. The point is not to dwell on old age and worries, but to live. Harry has learned to do that, it's time you do."

He was of course talking about Harry Potter. The boy prophecied to defeat or be defeated by Lord Voldemort. At first he was confused, as expected but soon he realized that his life wasn't over until he gave up. He started training and trying to enjoy life. He was currently in the Gryffindor Common Room sharing Valentine's Day with his girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley.

"Yes, Harry has been trying his best to life his life despite his grim future. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a leaf out of his book." McGonagall admit with a sigh.

"No it wouldn't. For now, I'll leave you to your grading." Albus said getting up to leave. Once at the door he turned back, "Just remember to live your life. Love is out there for everyone."

The old man's footsteps soon died away as he walked down the hall, leaving a slightly shaken Minerva McGonagall behind. She soon turned from the door and grabbed her quill again. But before she could get to work, something else took her attention, a small bouquet of flowers sitting in the now empty chair.

By now, Minerva had silent tears of joy rolling down her face. Her voice wasn't working properly, but she managed to get out a short whisper.

"I love you too, Albus."