Disclaimer: The characters and universe of this story belong to JK Rowling and are borrowed here without permission. The situations are of my own invention, and are not officially endorsed.

Author's Note: This is a one off 'fic, and is an exercise for my own benefit in trying to characterise Minerva McGonagall. My writing of Dumbledore I realise needs more work, I realise. I would greatly appreciate any thoughts anybody can offer on characterisation therefore.

This 'fic is just some fun with my favourite characters. I think I've hit most of the big Valentine clichés, but I've tried to give them a distinctly AD/MM style. My sincerest thanks to mugglemin, who helped out with this fic while it was still a very confused and schizophrenic piece. And now, on to our main feature.

Summary: Set on Valentine's Day during 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets'. McGonagall copes with Lockhart's flamboyant celebrations. AD, MM (friendship with subtext.)

No chance. No way!

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

Minerva McGonagall stopped at the threshold of the Great Hall and looked around in disbelief. It looked, she thought, as though the room had been redecorated by a demented fairy godmother with a penchant for crepe paper. The oak-panelled walls were now obscured by hideous pink flowers, and every available surface had been covered with red satin.

She took a wary step forward into the room. Something fell from the ceiling and caught in her glasses. Taking them off and shaking them dislodged a small pink paper heart. She looked up and saw that hundreds of them were falling from the enchanted ceiling. With a groan of disgust, McGonagall made her way to the staff table and took her usual seat.

The deputy headmistress was among the early risers at Hogwarts, and there were only a handful of students and two other teachers already in the Great Hall. At the far end of the staff table, Severus Snape sat hunched over his coffee with a face like thunder. He barely raised his head to acknowledge Minerva, then went back to glowering at the black liquid in his cup, as though tying to blinker out the pink which surrounded him on all sides. There was one thing to be said about Snape's bad moods - they tended to make one feel instantly more chipper just by comparison.

Mustering her composure, McGonagall turned to her other breakfast companion.

"Good morning, Gilderoy," she acknowledged politely as she reached for the milk. "I notice you've done some redecorating."

"Ha ha, I see I've been rumbled." laughed Lockhart with a carefully judged flick of his hair. "How did you know it was me?"

Minerva stared at him, nonplussed. She pointedly turned her gaze to the only other possible candidate -who was now scowling blackly at his toast- and then back to Lockhart.

"Your robes." she offered at last.

"You noticed!" the blond professor beamed.

In Minerva's mind not noticing the garish cerise ensemble would have been the real trick. Lockhart continued on in silky, patronizing tones

"I got the material from a chap I met in India, you know. Helped him out with a Manticore problem he was having. And since you took an interest Minerva, I'll let you in on a secret. I designed the robes myself, I'm something of an amateur designer."

"They're very pretty" she replied coldly. Away to her left, Snape snorted.

Gradually the hall began to fill up with the students and the rest of the staff. McGonagall amused herself by watching the various reactions to the new decor, and trying to guess in advance which of her students would be impressed, and which horrified. She was pleased to see that the majority fell into the latter category.

There was one person's reaction she was particularly eager to see. As the last of the stragglers stumbled in from their dormitories, she heard a familiar tread, and turned around just in time to see Albus Dumbledore's first response to the new colour scheme. To his credit, the man barely flinched, and as he made his way along the table he was able to offer Lockhart a polite, if rather short compliment.

"Did you agree to this?" McGonagall hissed, as he took his place beside her at the centre of the table. Dumbledore looked around mournfully and sighed.

"Sometimes one must make compromises, Minerva" he replied in a low voice.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, my dear, that it was the only way to, ah, channel his enthusiasm."

Before she could pursue the issue, Lockhart stood to address the students. Minerva listened to him, noticing and disproving of every dramatic pause and unnecessary flourish. She gritted her teeth and tried to drown out his voice by running through her timetable in her head.

Suddenly, the main doors swung open. Instinctively, McGonagall tensed and reached for her wand. However, nothing she had seen in thirty-six years of teaching magic could prepare her for what came through the door. She was vaguely aware of Gilderoy Lockhart's voice still speaking close by

"My friendly card-carrying cupids… Entrancing Enchantments… Professor Snape…"

He couldn't be serious. Surely no man in his right mind – she stopped herself there. Next to her, she felt rather than saw Albus Dumbledore suppress a chuckle.

The students were regarding the surly, bewinged dwarves with uncertainty. Some of the girls had begun rummaging in their bags for parchment.

"Oh this is ridiculous!" McGonagall huffed, louder than she meant to.

"So cynical, Minerva?" Lockhart asked with a sad little smile as he sat back down. "Don't you believe in romance? I remember there was a village I visited in Bangladesh - "

Minerva felt the thin thread which held her temper in check begin to fray.

"I certainly don't believe that the mating habits of birds are just cause for sacrificing all sense and reason in favour of coloured ribbon and singing dwarves!" she snapped.

Stirring his tea, Albus Dumbledore hummed quietly to himself, but shot his deputy a quick glance. She regretted her outburst at once. Luckily, Lockhart was not easily offended. Instead he spoke with overbearing sympathy.

"My dear, dear professor. I can tell you've never had a truly special Valentine's day, have you? I know! Why don't you have lunch with me? Let's see if good food and wine and the company of a charming man can exorcise some of that cynicism."

All around the staff table conversation stopped. All eyes were fixed on Lockhart and McGonagall in a uniform expression of fascinated horror.

"It's like watching a man tell Billy Goat Gruff jokes in a troll bar!" whispered Flitwick to Professor Sprout.

The staff table became an oasis of silence, broken only by the strange dry sound of Severus Snape's laughter. The silence dragged on for a moment or two as McGonagall struggled to find her voice. When she did speak, her words sounded strangely flat and measured, even to her own ears.

"Thank you, Gilderoy, but I'm afraid I already have plans."

The spell was broken, and a babble of voices broke out once more. She slumped back in her chair. Dumbledore leaned in towards her and whispered next to her ear

"How fortunate it is, that the ever truthful Head of Gryffindor had a previous engagement. Tell me, what exactly are these plans, professor?"

"I'm going into hiding until the world regains its sanity." she said.

"Well, perhaps Sybil will let you share her tower for a few hours." he teased.

"Ugh! Now wouldn't that be changing the thumbscrew for the pliers?"

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, then McGonagall spoke again. "Do you know, I've changed my mind."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in amusement."You'll be lunching with Gilderoy after all?"

"Of course not. I'm having lunch with you instead. At least I'm used to your insanity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach."

Albus smiled and watched her go before returning his attention to his breakfast.

.

The day continued in much the same vein as it had begun. After the third interruption by a singing dwarf, she had lost her temper. Rumour seemed to have spread, for the 'friendly cupids' were now waiting outside for her classes to end before delivering their messages.

She was just starting work on a tricky Switching Spell with the Gryffindor fourth years when one intrepid card-carrier rapped at the door, and entered without waiting for a response.

"Please wait outside." McGonagall barked "You can deliver it after class". The dwarf didn't move. Minerva's lips thinned as she regarded him. "Oh all right. Make it quick."

To her surprise the dwarf didn't approach anyone in the class, but instead made its way to her desk.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall?" he asked. She nodded curtly, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The dwarf cleared his throat ceremonially and began:

"Here's a special Valentine's feature
For our Transfiguration teacher.

You'll hear no bad word from our mouths
About our lovely Head of House.

She's always just and always fair
Even to "that Weasley pair" .

The dulcet tones of our dear professor
Stir the heart of each transgressor.

The girls may fall for that Lockhart prat
But we're still mad about the cat;

'Cause even when she's cross and crabby,
Minerva's still our favourite tabby."

The dwarf's final cadence faded and was followed by an expectant silence.

"Thank you, you may go." was McGonagall's only immediate response. The dwarf scurried out, and Minerva rose to deal with her giggling class.

"Would I be right in thinking that that touching ballad fell from the quills of the young masters Weasley?"

The red haired twins in the back row grinned at her unashamedly.

"Right. Well that's ten points from Gryffindor for wasting class time and slandering a teacher –" A chorus of moans and grumbling broke out around her
"-and-" she continued. "five points to Gryffindor for your inventive rhyming scheme. It was really very good, you shall have to give me a copy."

The class relaxed and began to laugh.

"All right, settle down now. Open your textbooks please."

Her good mood lasted until her last class before lunch – first year Hufflepuffs. Since they had all managed by now to transfigure small inanimate objects to her satisfaction, she had decided to move them on to simple colour-changing work on animals. All went well until she dismissed them for lunch. In his enthusiasm to get out of the classroom, one young student barrelled into the mouse cage, breaking it open and terrifying the mice, who scampered in all directions.

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" In a panic the boy grabbed for the nearest escaped rodent, catching it by its tail. It squeaked shrilly and tossed about in protest.

"Let go, Mr Donovan. You're hurting it! Be more careful in future! Now go to lunch and close the door after you."

Sighing with frustration, McGonagall looked around and tried to decide how best to round up ten terrified mice. She could freeze them, of course, but that tended to leave them groggy and miserable for several days. They were quite tame when not excited, but finding them all and then using a calming charm on each of them in turn would take most of lunchtime. No, there was only one way to do this without causing further inconvenience.

She picked up the cage and placed it on the floor, the hatch open. Then she changed into her animagus form.

The colours in the room dimmed and faded, but that was of no importance. She could smell the mice clearly. On silent paws she stealthily made her way towards a cabinet behind which three of them were hiding. Judging the angle carefully, McGonagall came up behind them and then charged. Squeaking in terror, the mice fled from her into the centre of the room and made for the familiar safety of their cage.

A few minutes and a lot of running later, the last mouse made its frantic dash back into the cage. McGonagall changed back and, breathing rather heavily, she snapped the cage shut, and returned it to its place.

Her hair had come loose from its bun. She tugged the hairpins out in annoyance and let the rest of her hair fall loose, as she went to retrieve her wand from the desk. A gentle knock sounded at the closed door.

"Come in, Albus." she called.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" he asked, glancing around for any students.

"No." she replied turning to look at him. "I've just been chasing mice."

"Well that's very–"

He paused, momentarily distracted. Minerva's hair hung in loose dark curls about her face. Her colour was heightened from exertion, and she had opened the collar of her robes to help her cool down. As she stood poised by her desk, framed by the sunlit window, he suppressed a smile. It would surely horrify many of their students to know that Professor McGonagall could ever look so very feminine.

"Very what?" she prompted, deftly catching her hair back once more into her customary style.

Dumbledore waved away his musings and smiled gallantly. "Very likely to have given you a good appetite. Come, we can have lunch in my office."

.

"Dearest Albus," Minerva's voice took on an unusually sultry quality as she spoke. "I know that our forbidden love can never be. A thousand impediments lie between us, my darling. But know that I think of you as the only man - Hush! Quiet you, this is getting good!"
She shot her companion a look and read on, curling her lip in a wicked smile. "- the only man who could ever hold my heart. Think of me, my darling, of my arms reaching for you, my lips yearning for yours, my - Good heavens!"

She put the Valentine card back down quicky and stared at Dumbledore in mingled shock and amusement.

"You've kept that one quiet."

"I do seem to attract the stranger ones." he acknowledged.

McGonagall chuckled. "Albus Dumbledore, Adonis of the mentally unhinged" she said.

They were in the parlour which adjoined Dumbledore's office. It was less liable to attack by winged dwarf than the staff-room, but still meant that the administrators of Hogwarts were on hand in the event of any trouble. McGonagall took a seat by the table where the headmaster had summoned a tea service, and reached out to stroke the feathers of the phoenix who had flown in to join them and now sat on his nearby perch. The bird however, shuffled away from her and flew to the top of a tall bookcase.

"Don't you like me today, Fawkes?" Minerva asked. "He can always tell when I've been catting."

"I went to speak to Myrtle today." Dumbledore said quietly and without preamble. His deputy instantly became more serious. The nagging anxiety which she had pushed to the back of her mind resurfaced, and she could see the same worry in the headmaster's eyes.

"Anything new?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She was upset over something and wouldn't come out of her toilet." he explained.

"Oh. …I know it's terrible, but I always feel a little, well, uncomfortable around her. She was only a year behind me in school when…"

"I should have stopped him then."

"Albus, you couldn't have known"

"I suspected. But I waited, I wasn't sure, do you see? I thought that getting rid of Grindlewald would end it, that it would be enough. But one cannot kill an idea"

"No. I suppose not"

"So much poison has come for those few short years, Minerva. Black years."

"It wasn't all so bad." she asserted. She too had been thinking a lot about those years of late, the last time the chamber was opened. "Do you remember the Quidditch final the summer of '41?" she asked. "Gryffindor was so far ahead that the team decided not even to play. They just sent the Seeker out and bunked off to play cards, until Professor Cowan went and found them."

"I'm afraid I don't remember. I must have been a very shoddy head of house at that time."

"You had other things on your mind." McGonagall said simply. She again seemed to become lost in her memories. "We had a fantastic Quidditch team then. Never seen one so good. But I think we will again - young Potter is a brilliant seeker. He'll have a bright future, I think."

A sudden flurry of wings interrupted her train of thought. Cooing gently, Fawkes landed on her chair and settled himself on the curve of the hand-rest, next to McGonagall's shoulder.

"You're talking to me again then?" She asked and gently stroked his head. The phoenix trilled a few happy notes.

Dumbledore chuckled and the momentary gravity was gone as suddenly as if it had disapparated. He turned the conversation to lighter topics, and they chatted and joked over their lunch more easily than they had in weeks.

"You know, Professor," said Dumbledore, toying with the Valentine card that McGonagall had discarded. "I have half an idea that I should introduce this ardent admirer of mine to my brother."

"To Aberforth? What on earth for?"

"Birds of a feather, and all that. And it would appear that she's at least passingly literate, and almost certainly sentient, which would be a great step up from some of his past dalliances."

"You're a strange man, Albus Dumbledore," said McGonagall with a shake of her head. "But I wouldn't want to hide from the obscene terrors of Lockhart's Valentine's celebration with anybody else."

She glanced at the clock on the mantle.

"Heavens, is that the time? I'd better get back to work. Though with the state some of the students have gotten themselves worked up into today, I might as well be idle."

She rose and stretched, then gathered up her wand and her case and stepped out into Dumbledore's office. The headmaster walked ahead and gallantly held the office door for her. She was about to step onto the moving staircase when he stopped her.

"Minerva"

"Yes Albus?"

"Happy Valentine's Day" he said simply.

She let a derisive snort of laughter, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and with that she was gone.

Fine