Someone that remembers…

A/N: This is just a short little outtake from a certain Mrs Granger Weasley's diary. Just for fun. A little late, but at least it's up.
Why do people always assume I absolutely hate Valentine's Day?

I mean sure, it's mostly a stupid tradition people came up with to sell cheap chocolate, love potions and of course hearts made out of plastic – in short to get money out of it. But then again that's what humans – and witches and wizards, I might add - are all about. Money.

And sure, I've never been later than four weeks early with sharing these facts about Valentine's Day. So maybe, just maybe, that's the reason people never thought I enjoyed this "holiday".

See, that's what I really hate. Just because I have the real facts people come to the assumption that I hate the day. Well, I always told them a lot of facts about Hogwarts and never did they think I hated the school, now did they?

Umm, well… Ok, so those facts weren't told in a negative spirit, but then again; Valentine's Day is something else (besides money making, that is). It's a perfect opportunity to tell those you love how much you appreciate having them around. Yes, that's exactly what it is!

At least that's what I thought after getting together with Ron even though I've always liked someone else.

Before, when I was alone, I always dreamt about a guy giving me chocolates and telling me how much he really loved me. It would occur someplace beautiful – maybe a forest, or even better; by the sea! But that never really happened.

I got together with Ron under the weirdest surroundings. We were standing there in the corridor, me and Ron with our arms full of basilisk fangs while the whole castle was literally falling apart. Harry was there – I couldn't believe I'd left him because now I could hardly tear my eyes off of him – and the way he talked I immediately understood he was going alone. And there I was, suddenly not hearing a thing of what anyone said. I felt a rush of emotions through my body, and suddenly, without hesitation I jumped – Ron. So, wait, wait, wait! Why? Why you may ask, why the hell did I start making out with Ron when I couldn't tear my eyes away from Harry just a minute ago? Well, I'll explain but it's both embarrassing and very complicated, so read carefully.

I'd known Ron liked me for quite some time. He was, well, quite obvious about it. He'd even borrowed a book about taking care of witches. He never told me but I saw him read it a few times when I went by. He was always so concentrated on what he was reading that he never noticed me and Ginny when we cleaned up after him for the wedding.

I guess I liked Ron a little bit. Not much, but well, he was interested in me, which was enough of a reason to consider him as possible boyfriend. But I wasn't sure. You see, lately something had changed for me and it was not Ron. Yes, exactly. It was Harry. I had started… developing certain… affection towards him. I had always, no matter what, put him up higher than Ron and it was never because he was the boy-who-lived. It was simply because he was my best friend – I cared for him more. I know that sounds horrible, but that's just the way it was. I guess it's still that way. Ron is my husband and father to my children, but Harry is my best friend. That's simply the way it is and at least I have come to accept that fact. If Ron heard it he'd never forgive me – even though his best friend is Harry as well. For so many other reasons, I guess. Probably because of the whole boy-who-lived scenario and for the fame. Probably because Harry never saw him as an idiot. I don't really know why.

But at the moment I was there, trying hard to fight the urge to kiss Harry, I was still having those strict thoughts of refusing to let Harry know about my feelings. Especially now, when he was going to fight the Tom and might even die. I was heart broken, but knew I had to accept this reality. Though, inside I was aching, repeating the words inside my head: "Why my Harry?"

I wanted to kiss him, tell him how much I loved him at that moment… but instead I gave into my impulse feelings, but turned towards Ron. It's silly now that I think of it. What was Harry thinking at that moment? "Oh, they would do fine without me"!? I feel sick.

But now, if we go back to Valentine's Day.

Like I said, I had high expectations of my first Valentine together with a guy I liked. I didn't get my prince charming, fine, but I did get Ron. I was Ok with that fact – I mean, he was only my first boyfriend! I would get to have so many others it didn't matter if he was my first. Damn, I was wrong.

Well, on our first Valentine's together he was… well, he forgot about it. I hadn't met up with him for a week, it was the day before the "big day" and I thought that he was probably planning a surprise for me. Nope. Not a thing – for two weeks! He had been waiting for me to write to him – even though I have no owl and was waiting for him to send Errol back with an answer to my last letter!

Though, that time there was someone else who remembered me. Sure, it was only a small card, but I was still thrilled. Harry had used the sweet new grey owl he'd gotten from me for his last Birthday, called Sam after Samantha. In front of the card was a white lily painted with water colours, even though I couldn't recall ever telling him that lilies are my favourite flowers. It even smelled strongly of lilies – probably bought in some kind of magic store. This is was it said inside:

A special Lily to a special friend.
I was out buying a card for Ginny, saw this and couldn't help myself.
Happy Valentine's Day, Mione.
Lots of Love
You best friend,

Harry

I remember reading it over and over again with something stuck in my throat.

I can also recall that mom came in (it was in the morning, about ten) and wondered if I was going to come down and eat my heart shaped waffles anytime soon. I hurriedly put the card in my pocket and followed her downstairs. During the time I ate I felt the little thing almost burning into my skin where it lay.

Then the fact that his mother's name was Lily and he thought of me when he saw the flower struck me, and my heart hurt. I felt moved although a little disappointed as well. I was his substitute mother. After a week of thinking about this, I had realized that it wasn't so bad after all. I remembered Ron, went to borrow an owl in the post office nearby and wrote to him.

I remind my husband every year about the day – he always forgets about it.

And Harry? Ever since that day he sent me the card, we've both sent our heart's wishes to each other on Valentine's day. It's really not that bad that your husband always forget if someone else actually remembers.

A/N: Please tell me what you think!