Hi ya! Happy happy Valentine's day! I hope you like this! This is my FIRST Ron/Hermione story, and it's in Hermione's POV.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Love is a crazy thing.

What exactly is it? Well, I describe love as one thing. Indescribable.

It's different for every person.

It could be that mind boggling, heart pounding feeling you get when you look into a person's eyes.

It could be that sadness, pulling at your heart, overwhelmed with everything.

It could be that single tear running slowly down my face, zigzagging gracefully.

No one really knows. I wish I knew what it was. Then maybe, just maybe, I would know if I was feeling it.

Right now, I'm so confused. But, I'm aware of somethings.

I'm aware of each drop of water falling from my eyes, hitting the ground inaudibly.

I know of my footsteps behind me, of my feet crumpling the blades of grass.

I'm sure of my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat painfully.

And, I'm horribly aware of the rose in my hand, it's thorns tearing into my flesh, allowing warm droplets of blood to drip down my palm.

It's Valentine's Day. A day of paper cards, candy, and fake romances.

But is this fake? Were emotions just running high?

I wish he had never said those words.

"I love you." Those three words cause such chaos in my brain.

I don't know how to respond.

Couldn't he have just kept quiet? Why did he go and do this? Why now? Couldn't he have just left me alone, just like every Valentine's Day? I don't mind being alone...

But, part of me is glad for it.

There was such clear sincerity in his eyes. I know he meant it.

I've always longed for that kind of pure innocence. An untainted love.

I picture him. His read hair, washing him out horribly. His clothes, making him look even more poor than he really is.

Yet, his skin is so soft and warm. His eyes are so inviting. I don't know what to do.

Because, love is a crazy thing. But I think I love him. I really do.

The wind whips past me, and I feel the rose wretch itself from my grip. I look up, as the wind carries it into the sky, before making its home on the surface of the lake, the ripples in the water tearing it from my eyesight.

So this is love. A single petal, being clutched tightly in my blood covered hand.