Written for round two of the Fanfiction Tournament (Valentine's)
Amelia Bones isn't entirely sure who had felt the need to decorate for Valentine's Day, but she feels the urge to find them and make them choke on a box of chocolates.
The Ministry, her home away from home, is an absolute nightmare in pink. Pink walls, lined with pink, purple, and red hearts. Pink lace covering every desk in sight. Even the water streaming from the Fountain of Magical Bretheren has been changed to a pastel pink (and rose-scented, if Amelia is not mistaken).
"I think I might be sick," she mutters to herself, shaking her head.
"Don't be a spoil sport, Milly," comes a voice directly behind her, and Amelia jumps.
"Don't sneak up on me, Dawlish!" she says sharply, turning to face him with narrowed eyes. "And don't call me Milly."
The Auror doesn't bother to look contrite. He simply grins, offering her a small shrug of his shoulders. "What have you got against Valentine's Day, anyway?" he asks.
"It isn't even a real holiday. And it's used to make single women feel miserable about being single," she says simply, moving down the corridor.
John follows her. "No one asked you to be their Valentine, then?" he asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
"My personal life is none of your business," she says, picking up her pace.
He keeps up with her easily. "I'll take that as a no, then. Good."
Amelia stops, turning on her heel to face him. "How is that good?"
"Because then I can ask you to be mine."
She turns again, heels clicking furiously against the tiles as she puts as much distance between herself and John Dawlish as possible.
She isn't sure what's worse- the explosion pink, frilly, fluffy obnoxiousness throughout the Ministry or Dawlish's pity.
..
After the day's first hearing, Amelia leaves the chambers for a quick break in her office. She's halfway down the corridor when Becca, the giggling intern catches her, a bouquet of flowers in her hands.
"These came for you, Madam Bones," Becca reports with a bright smile and wistful sigh. "Isn't Valentine's Day so romantic? I remember this one time-"
Amelia takes the flowers, and holds up her hand in a silencing gesture. "Thank you, Becca. Why don't you take a break? I believe Molly Weasley sent some holiday biscuits with Arthur."
The young witch nods before offering her one last smile and hurrying along.
Amelia continues to her office, plucking the envelope from the bouquet. Over the years, she's read enough reports to recognize John's untidy cursive scrawl right away. She sighs, opening her door and tossing them onto her desk without bothering to read the card.
..
"Milly! Sorry- Amelia!" John calls, breaking into a sprint to catch her by the Floo channels. "Did you like the flowers?"
She purses her lips, taking a steadying breath. "Where did you find the time to buy them? Is the Ministry paying you to roam around London, searching for florists?"
"I ordered them a week ago, actually," he answers.
"You- Why would you do that?"
John shakes his head, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You really have to ask? I wanted you to be my Valentine," he says. "You're beautiful, smart, a bit terrifying. What more could a man want?"
"Oh."
She had assumed he had taken pity on her, that this had all been something of a joke to him. Had she really been too blind, too bitter to see his true intentions.
"Now, Milly, will you do me the honor of joining me for a Valentine dinner?"
Amelia smiles. "On one condition."
"What's that?"
"Don't ever call me Milly again."