Kiss From A Rose.
Wearily, I opened the door to my room. It had a long and tiring day. The class with Potter in it had seemed especially unendurable so I had taken a brace of points off Gryffindor to make up for my irritation. Not for the first time, I cursed the destiny that had forced me to become a Potions teacher at Hogwarts. It was a tiring, unrewarding job, but at least I wasn't a Death-Eater.
I glanced over at the pillow of bed. There it was again. For the last month or so, I'd been finding roses on my pillow, every night when I went to my room. Each rose was different, and each was beautiful. They normally had a little quote attached as well, impaled on one of the thorns. By morning, they would become silk flowers, dainty in their purity.
They were exquisite and never failed to lift my spirits. There was only one tiny problem with them: I had no idea who was sending me them. The writing was an elegantly sculptured version of calligraphy, and had obviously been conjured, not written onto the delicate paper. I had tried using a FinderTracer spell that had recently been released in America for witches who wanted to know who sent them Valentine cards. It was supposed to show you a picture of the person that had their life force was most strongly entwined around the card. It hadn't worked for me. All I got was a silver outline of a slender figure. It could be anybody at all, Lord Voldemort! Although for some strange reason I doubted that he would be sending me roses, I thought sarcastically to myself.
This rose was nothing short of gorgeous. It had petals that were a mellow shade of cream on the outside, but the inside of the petals were the deepest hue of scarlet. The tip of the petals just curled back and broke over the outside, trimming them with a glorious fringe of red against the pale ivory background. I brought it up to my nose and sniffed; it had a delicious fragrance, heady and intoxicating with just a subtle hint of laughter.
I carefully removed the paper that was stuck on the roses solitary thorn. Today, the paper was the exact tone of cream that the outside of the petals were, and the writing was in a bright crimson color that leapt out from the page. It took me a second to decipher the writing but the message was worth the trouble. As always, it was a thoughtful insightful comment that seemed to match my mood perfectly.
"You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person."
Knowing that somebody cared about me bolstered my mood greatly, especially since they seemed to care a lot for me. I stroked the soft petals of the rose carefully. It was satin smooth, and felt like a solid ocean breeze. I placed inside the crystal vase that I had bought just for the roses and poured the LiquidLife potion I had made inside. LiquidLife was drink that had all the necessary nutrients and minerals for healthy plants.
That night, the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was the rose, gleaming eerily in the darkness.
Authors Note: What do you think? That was a rather pathetic attempt at writing fluff from me but I'm thinking of writing another if people like it.