Lovebirds Under The Mistletoe
Dumbledore's eyes gazed lightly at the snow-covered grounds through his office window as he gave a lighthearted sigh.
"Minerva," He began, "do you know why I love winter?" He looked quietly at her from behind his crescent moon specs.
"Um… No, sir, I'm afraid I don't," Professor McGonagall said slowly, glancing at Dumbledore and pausing. She had come up for a book she needed and the question had completely caught her off guard. But what else was to be expected from her headmaster?
"Minerva," he started again, "Have you ever fallen in love?" He chuckled as she dropped the book she had only just pulled off the shelf.
"W-well sir, if I have, I do not see the point of you knowing," she said defensively, picking it back up.
"Of course, of course, pardon my intrusion," he chuckled, more to himself than to her. He paused a moment, then asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "Was it during winter?"
Professor McGonagall stared blankly, dumbfounded. "How did you…?" She started.
"Oh, just a hunch, is all. It was to a young Mr. Albert M. Duningham, was it not?" He paused to confirm the look of shock on her face before continuing, "Yes… It was right there at the courtyard entrance that he told you, and there was mistletoe, of course. A touching scene, really," He smiled at the rush of rosy red that came to her cheeks; he wiped away a tear at the memories.
"Sir… I… No one was around… How… ?" She stammered, her cheeks burning a deep scarlet.
"This window has a lovely view, does it not?" he stated simply, glancing out to the grounds, watching a similar scene unfold beneath them. The girl was giggling as she and the boy embraced, and he kissed her under the mistletoe that had always just been there. Another tear rolled down Dumbledore's cheek; he left this one to find it's way to his long, grey beard.
After a moment of awe-inspired silence at her headmaster's insight, Professor McGonagall slowly gathered herself and asked timidly, "… and this is why you love winter, sir?"
"Oh, no. Mistletoe is quite a lovely and magical thing, but what I truly love most is the delicious hot chocolate our dear friends in the kitchen make so well. In fact, I wouldn't mind having some now," He smiled gently, pulling out his wand and with a small flick, a steaming mug appeared. "Would you like some, Minerva? Maybe to help chase away the crimson in your cheeks before you return to your students?"
"No thank you, sir," Professor McGonagall stated blankly, "Now, I must be going." She blinked off the odd feeling as she turned to leave. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at the thought of her half-insane headmaster, leaving him as he sipped from his mug and gazed at the lovebirds under the mistletoe.