White Roses

"Happy birthday."

Albus, wet from head to toe for walking thirty seconds outside, is holding a bouquet of flowers. Seven roses, white and delicate, and he gives them to Poppy who smiles and caresses the petals carefully. Today is her birthday and they are going out to dinner to that restaurant she loves and he tolerates.

She hugs him tightly and Al smells the scent of her shampoo and chocolate.

"I was little afraid you'd bring poppies", she confesses after she lets go of him. "Some people think they are awfully clever when they do that."

Her wrinkled nose tells exactly what she thinks about those people, and Al doesn't mention that during that one hour he spent in the frightfully large flower shop, for a tiniest moment he thought he would give her poppies. He rejected the idea when he remembered the funny snort Lily lets out every time someone hands her lilies.

Poppy gives a peck to his cheek and tells she's not quite ready yet. Then she goes to the bathroom and Al is left to wonder how long women exactly need time to get ready. In his opinion Poppy looked good already.

Fortunately it doesn't take long for Poppy to finish what ever she is doing in the bathroom. She finds Al in the full-packed living room, sitting on the tiny sofa.

"Do we go now?"

Albus rises up, walks to her and wraps an arm around her. She buries her face to his robes like she likes to do.

He remembers the roses again, seven white roses. He doesn't know very much about the meanings of the flowers, but the smiling (no wonder with those prices) florist told him the meaning of white rose is secrecy. That is what made him to take them – their relationship started as a secret and even now when their friends and siblings know, they still have secrets. From others, not from each other.

They let go. As they walk past the kitchen, he notices the vase full of poppies, bright red and pretty, on top of her dining table. Twenty-three, Albus counts quickly and turns to look at Poppy. She smiles again, gently and for a moment she looks younger, softer than she really is.

"From Daddy. One poppy for every year I have lived, it's our tradition. He's the only one who is allowed to give me those flowers."

Now he is even more glad he left the poppies to the shop and helps Poppy to put her coat on.

"A real gentleman", Poppy laughs and admires her new shoes (Albus knows without asking they are a gift from her sister, Venus. The sisters share a bond more strong than any magic – fashion). "Oh, do you know that white roses mean secrecy?"

Al draws her closer to him. "Yes, I do happen to know that."

"And innocence?"

He chuckles a bit. "Then they might not be the right ones for you."

Poppy is persistent. "Heavenly?"

"No, I didn't know that. But it fits you."

She lifts her chin and looks up to his eyes. "Do you think I'm heavenly?"

Of course she is. He wouldn't be ready to face the rain and irritating restaurants and waitresses if she wasn't.