Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Harry Potter.

An: I love you reviewers! You are the best! I've never had such a good reaction to a story I made on a whim!

As Natasha Bedingfield says:

These words are my own

From my heart from

I love you

I love you

I love you!

True, those are not my words. But I still love you! I love you! I love you! These words are my own! From my heart! I love you; I love yoo-u! I love you is that okay?

That's a great song!

Well, on with the story.

Wait, I lied. I have to explain my grading scale. O equals an A; E equals an A-; A equals a B; P equals a C; D equals a D; and T equals an E/F.

Now to the story…

Albus really did love mysteries. There is something so- mysterious about them! And sometimes you get hooked on a mystery, picking and tearing at depths of it, until you get to the core of it.

Minerva did not like mysteries. She wanted everything laid out before her, where she could see it. It would at least be helpful if the clues to the mystery were right in front of her, where she could see them.

These notes were a mystery that Minerva wanted solved.

After lunch, when she was back in her classroom, another one had been lying on a desk, looking like a note a student had passed.

Dearest Minerva,

I know you do not like mysteries. I know they bother you and that you want everything in plain sight.

But I- these notes- are a mystery that you must solve, before the end of the day. Of course, you may find me after today, but wouldn't it be much more satisfying doing it today?

I will try to leave you a clue as to my name, or at least, to my hobbies.

Auburn. I remember your hair once being that color, when you tried to dye it. You were not satisfied with your looks; though your eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen.

So I must leave you Minerva, with a mystery.

Mysteriously,

Secret Admirer

Where was the clue? Minerva wondered about his while the students were still at lunch. She had a free lesson before her seventh years.

All he had talked about were mysteries and auburn hair. Minerva still blushed when she thought of what she had done to herself. Minerva had always thought of herself as being rather plump, so she dieted. Then she started wearing revealing clothes in order to show off her body. After that, she dyed her hair auburn instead of the usual brown. It didn't turn out well.

Eventually she had to be taken to the hospital wing for starving herself. She was in there for several weeks, with Madame Pare trying to get nutrients in her body. All the time she was in the hospital wing she had kept up with her studies.

Minerva shook the images of her stick thing body out of her head. Auburn… who had auburn hair? None of the men did.

But Albus… he used to have auburn hair…

No. Minerva threw the thought out of her head. It couldn't be Albus. He had too much to do without sending anonymous love notes.

If it wasn't him, who could it be?

Minerva kept that private hope in the back of her mind; stuffed it in a secret compartment in a little box. Nobody would find it there.

The seventh years had a difficult quiz to take. Since they could not ask questions, Minerva let it be an open-note quiz. It was the first one of the year. The students were excited, but Minerva was doubtful that anyone had taken enough notes to get all the questions right. She had made this test especially hard.

The students had looks of worry on their faces. Minerva could still remember when they were just first years, with round, hopeful faces. She could remember the first time that an exemplary student changed her match into a needle. No, she was confusing them with her sixth years. She was remembering Hermione Granger. None of these students were particularly spectacular. They had made it up to N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, which was an accomplishment.

But they wouldn't compare to the famous Miss Granger.

"Excuse me," a girl, Teresa Torrance, said to her teacher. "I'm finished."

Minerva took the paper and nodded. Teresa was smart. Frankly, she had thought of her as a good girl. As in kissing up to the teachers.

She quickly graded the paper. It was a sixteen out of twenty. Not Teresa's usual work. That earned her an A. She usually got at least an E.

The next paper came in. It was a boy's this time, Fergus O'Spencer's. He looked extremely nervous. Minerva took it without even looking at him. This paper was a fifteen out of twenty, a P.

The rest of the lesson passed smoothly, with no interruptions. Minerva noticed that several hearts were red. Some of them were a very deep red, scarlet. She couldn't figure out what that was for.

When the last student had filed out, a little paper swan came flying in. Minerva felt her heart jump and her stomach flip.

Another note!

Minerva-

What a beginning!

I can still remember your auburn hair. It will live in my memory forever.

How can I express how I feel… I have many ways to do so, but I cannot seem to think of one to suit you.

Why don't I just write it out? I do not know. Sometimes writing it out seems… But it is the best way for now.

Minerva, I love you. I have loved you and will until I die. I hope that my death shall not be soon, for it will mean parting with you. But death is not the worst thing that can happen, as some think. Living a life without love is worse. But I have lived with love and can hope that you have too.

Lovingly,

Secret Admirer.

P.S. Do you need another clue? Silver.

Silver. Silver. What could be silver? Well, for one, Albus's devices. And his hair. Maybe it really was him!

How was she supposed to act around him now? It would be awkward, especially if she didn't tell him that she knew that he was sending the notes.

Maybe she would just have to send some of her own…

Minerva took out a crumpled piece of parchment and some deep purple ink.

Dear Albus,

I don't know how to tell you this.

But I hate mysteries.

And you love them.

What do mysteries have to do with anything?

Well, unless you figure out who I am, I am a mystery. And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a mystery that I know you have devoted your life to.

My mysteries… figuring out how to act around you. Finding out who I am. The students.

I just want you to know, Albus, that I care so much for you. Sometimes I feel as if my heart will burst if I don't tell you. But I have told you now.

And a clue to who I am…. Auburn.

Forever,

Secret Admirer

P.S. Thank you for the note.

Minerva looked it over. Her handwriting was sloppy in this note but her curves of the "h"s were still the same. Perhaps it was for the better. Anyway, it would be revealing a lot to say that she received his note.

Maybe after he got the note, Albus would meet up with Minerva. Perhaps they would talk things over and drink warm hot chocolate or butterbeer.

A fantasy began to form inside Minerva's head and she didn't try to stop it.