This was written for deepfriedorc over at Livejournal for the dmhgficexchange. Make sure to stop over and read all of the other amazing stories! It took me a day to come up with this plot and I spent a few days writing it and reading it over. It's not ridiculously deep or eloquent but I think it's a fun read - definitely in the top five of my stories. To further your enjoyment of this story, I would recommend having the song 'Photograph' by Def Leppard available to listen to. You'll know when to play it. Happy Belated V-Day!
Summary: When odd notes start arriving at Hermione's flat, her Valentine's Day starts looking brighter as the day goes on.

Camouflage

Find the story of your own,
I'll take in anyone who's taking off their camouflage
- Third Eye Blind "Camouflage"

9 AM. February 14. Valentine's Day.

Tiny pink and red hearts danced around the date on Hermione's calendar. "Wonderful." She murmured, anticipating another boring Valentine's Day. It was the same thing year after year. Go to whoever was hosting a Valentine's Day party, eat homemade, typical, heart-shaped cookies that said words like 'Be mine' or 'Kiss me' (a few years ago she'd charmed them to say things like 'Sod off' and 'Stupid Half-Wit') Imagining other short, loveless phrases to put on the cookies this year, she pushed her feet into her frog-face slippers and went to her kitchen to brew some tea.

Her eyes were half shut as she made the tea, finally used to the kitchen and more than used to this morning ritual. Once her tea was made, she fell into a seat at her small table, ready to read the Daily Prophet. However, upon opening up her newspaper, a small envelope fell out.

Ready for a singing card inviting her to a party that evening, she braced herself. Her eyes shut and nose wrinkled, she was met with nothing. She opened one eye slowly to make sure that it wasn't a delayed singing card but saw only a small white piece of parchment in her hand.

Sometimes, I get out of the shower, put on my boxers, and dance around my flat listening to Def Leppard.

"What?" She looked around, waiting for something weird to happen. This note was out of the ordinary so something had to be going on. She waited. She looked. She read it. Ten times. "Who sends notes like this? Does anyone honestly feel so guilty that they should need to send such a statement to a perfect stranger?" She tossed the note onto the table, finished off her tea, and went to take a shower.

'That's so weird! It's probably a practical joke or maybe someone's owl delivered it to the wrong person? I don't know why anyone would ever mean to send a message like that intentionally, though. I mean Def Leppard...well, not that I don't mind some Def Leppard on occasion.' She thought and thought and scrubbed and cleaned, completely thrown off by the weird note delivered to her on this (odd and so far interesting) Valentine's Day.

Upon stepping out of the shower, Hermione stopped. After a moment's consideration, she grabbed her wand and flicked it towards her stereo. A few spells later and she had the song pounding from her speakers. Easing into the song, her head started bobbing, wet hair sticking to her face. She combed her hair out, quietly singing the words to herself. She could understand the note now.

She hooked her bra and pulled on her panties. "What the hell?" she laughed reached for her brush and began singing.

"Oh! Look what you've done to this rock 'n' roll clown! Oooh! Look what you've dooooone! Photograph...I don't want your..."

She flung open the bathroom door and strutted through her halls, enjoying this moment to its fullest. Stopping at her doorway, she put both hands on either side of the door frame. Swaying her hips and pouting her lips, she considered, singing to an imaginary someone. She twirled to her bed and sat down, snatching a pair of socks along the way. Though socks are not at all sexy, she pulled them on in the most sensual way possible. Once they were on, she exited her bedroom and stopped. Staring straight forward, her smile broadened and she took a deep breath. At just the right moment in the song (2:26), she broke into a quick run and then slid on her socks (Risky Business style) into her living room.

Her dance continued until the song ended and she realized that so far, this was the best Valentine's Day she had ever had. She didn't care that she was alone. She didn't care that the party tonight might be horrible. She didn't care that while people around her would be smiling, she would be filled with self-pity. She did however care that she had left her blinds open and that Mr. Fredericks, the 54 year old man who lived directly across from her probably saw her entire performance. She plucked her bathrobe from her closet and shut the blinds.

"The newspaper!" She proclaimed to no one in particular (perhaps Crookshanks) before returning to the table to get the paper, only to find another envelope just like the one she had opened earlier.

Sometimes, I suddenly have the urge to rearrange one of the rooms in my flat (sans-magic) because who says Feng Shui isn't real?

Knowing full well what she was about to do, Hermione peered out into her living room. The couch was...positioned all right. The telly...eh. But that chair! What was that even doing over there? She glanced once more at the small note resting on her table; she hoped she wasn't going crazy. One had already tempted and made her dance around almost entirely naked to 'Photograph' by Def Leppard and now she wanted to rearrange her living room?

"Might as well." Smiling again, she moved towards her couch. Taking in the layout of the room at the current time, she considered how to move everything. Finally settling on an arrangement, she began tugging the couch with all of her might.

After a measly six inches of movement, Hermione sighed. "Since this person is obviously a guy, he must be much stronger than I...so, maybe I'll use a little magic." She used her wand to make the heavy pieces of furniture easier to move around. The couch moved from the center of the room to right against the window. The telly from the wall of her front door to the wall of her kitchen. The chair from the corner of the room to the other side near the couch. And her coffee table from the front of the room right next to the couch. That left the entire front part
of her living room free. Now she could put something new in there!

She wiped her hands against one another and took in her work. It was a definite improvement; more spacious, cozier, and very...Feng Shui'd. "The Prophet!" Turning back towards the kitchen, she spotted yet another note. Without a moment's hesitation, she rushed to the table and tore open the envelope.

Sometimes, I sit down and make lists.

Lists. Lists had her name written all over it. She loved being organized and keeping everything in a certain order.

"Oh, the lists I could make! Books I've read!" The grin fell quickly. "Not enough parchment or ink. Books I want to read!" It fell again. "Not enough time. Every boy I've ever liked." Again. "Too embarrassing. What if Ginny found it? I'd never hear the end of it." The topics in her mind rolled around and were given up on. She thought hard about what to list. She didn't want to pick anything too easy, like groceries. But she didn't want to think of anything too difficult, like the meaning of life. "People I'd like to give a second chance to. Perfect."

Selecting a piece of parchment from her large stack next to her desk, her favorite quill, and a bottle of ink, she wrote the title at the top and began her list.

1. Cho Chang - Harry liked her and she seemed smart. I felt really awful for her when Cedric died.
2. Millicent Bulstrode - A Slytherin, yes, but she really could have used a friend. Harry made that awful comment about her looking like a hag and I could have punched him. Honestly.
3. Blaise Zabini - Well, he is a total jerk much like Malfoy but...he's gorgeous.
4. Draco Malfoy - Intelligent. Attractive. Ass. Two out of three isn't that bad. Maybe he's changed.

She picked the list up with two fingers on each side and held it out. Tilting her head slightly, she decided she'd have to work on this more when she got a chance. Picking the quill up once again, she penned 'H.G' at the bottom right hand corner of her paper and set it aside.

Rising from her chair, a movement caught her eye and she turned quickly. Right there, trying to creep into her house unseen was a beautiful black owl, a very familiar envelope in its beak.

"Well, well...you must be the mysterious bird that's been bringing me the notes. You sure are a pretty bird, aren't you?" She moved towards the bird, speaking in her most soothing voice so as not to frighten in. It dropped the note in her hands as she approached. Smiling at the bird she asked it to wait for just a moment while she got it a treat. But as soon as she turned back around from getting the treat from the midnight colored owl, it was long gone, probably given orders not to be seen no matter what.

Hermione rushed to the window, hoping to at least see which direction the bird had flown off to. Alas, it was gone and could no longer be seen even in broad daylight. She glanced at the clock, seeing that it was now just a few minutes past noon. Carrying the envelope back to her bedroom, she flopped onto her bed and opened the letter.

Sometimes, I think about my first kiss and replace that girl (boy in your case) with other people to try and figure out how it might have been different.

Her eyes flew back to the part that read 'boy in your case' and blanched. This person knew exactly who they were writing to. It wasn't some random person sending notes to some random someone else. It was some person she couldn't identify sending notes to her. Why her? On Valentine's Day of all days. But the note was interesting. She'd never considered her first kiss being someone else or what it would be like to kiss anyone else for that matter.

Here it was though, the idea had presented itself and it was intriguing.

The first boy. Ron, of course. She closed her eyes, crossed her legs Indian style, and breathed deep.

Red hair. Molly's sweaters. Nutmeg and male sweat. Pink lips. Lips. Lips. Kissing. She could feel his lips on hers. Tentative, unsure. Closed tight. Want. Not a sexual want; she wasn't aroused. It was the want for Ron to elicit some kind of feeling from deep within her. It wasn't there though.

Brown hair. The cold feeling of glasses skimming her skin. Mint and some kind of calogne she couldn't put her finger on. Soft lips, the light feeling of his tongue. She could feel his hands moving to touch her but it wasn't right. It felt okay - nice. But it wasn't right.

More red hair. More of Molly's sweaters. Spicy was the only word to describe this one. More red hair? Lips touching her neck and lips touching her mouth. Experienced. Weird. Not that she didn't love the twins she just didn't love them at the same time; which was not to say that one at a time would not be good. It felt like fun.

Blonde hair. Much taller. Well dressed and arrogant. Definitely experienced and eager. Adventure and trouble was radiating off of him. But something was off. Imaginary-First-Kiss-Hermione opened her eyes and gaped. Gilderoy Lockhart?!? Her eyes snapped shut.

Blonde hair. Still taller. Well dressed, arrogant, different. Experienced and gentle. He smelled like clean clothes and vanilla. The softest lips she'd ever felt and his tongue rubbed against hers. His fingers moving from her face, down to her shoulders - not leaving her body once. His fingers stopped at a button on her blouse as if to say "Is this okay?" He pulled away from her, waiting for her response. She struggled to breathe and open her eyes. Finally a "yes" escaped from between her lips and her brown eyes met with grey.

"Draco Malfoy?!?" Her eyes - her real eyes - flew open and her hand clamped over her mouth. "No way in hell." Her voice shook for a moment, surprised at her reaction to just thinking about Draco Malfoy kissing her, touching her.

She jumped from her bed, anxious to move and try to get her mind off of Malfoy. The clock in her room read 3:30. That had been an awful long fantasy.

"Fantasy?" She whispered aloud to herself. Was that what it had been? A fantasy? She wasn't sure but she knew she had to do something. Perhaps another note had arrived while she was preoccupied with the thought of multiple males kissing her. To her delight, she spotted a new envelope on her coffee table.

Sometimes, I make this sandwich: grilled chicken, bacon bits (which I cut up myself), lettuce, (slightly melted) American cheese, and honey mustard on Italian bread.

He'd gone from dancing in his underwear, to moving furniture, to writing lists, to fantasizing about his first kiss to...making sandwiches? She shook her head, disgruntled and let down. This whole 'mystery admitter' was starting to get on her nerves. All day long she'd been looking forward to a new note as they became increasingly more interesting. But this! A recipe? He had to be kidding.

Sighing, she flung her refrigerator door open and pulled out raw chicken, raw bacon, lettuce, American cheese, bread, and honey mustard. She laid everything out on her countertop and began preparing. Five minutes later she was set to begin. "Grill. Check. Stove. Check. Lettuce. Check." Now, all she had to do was grill the chicken. Fry and cut up the bacon. And slightly melt the cheese.

Twenty five minutes later, the sandwich sat in front of her, ready to be eaten. "This had better be the greatest sandwich I've ever had." Picking up the sandwich, she took a big bite. Chewing thoughtfully, her taste buds took in every flavor of her creation; his recipe. "Oh." She swallowed. "Oh, this is delicious." She smiled and took another huge bite. She continued eating, like if she stopped she'd die on the spot. No more than seven minutes later, her eyes were shut and she was licking her lips. "I have to put this recipe somewhere I'll never lose it."

Though she wanted to keep the taste of the sandwich in her mouth forever, she knew that the little bits of lettuce and chicken stuck between her teeth would drive her mad if she didn't brush her teeth. So, she trudged to her bathroom, ready to freshen her breath and clean up her teeth. After 'pasting' the brush, she flicked her wand and smiled as Def Leppard filled the flat with lovely sounds yet again.

"You gah so' kina hol' on me, you're awl' wrapp' up in a myshery." She butchered the words while she brushed her teeth, enjoying the music and the bits of food that would not be bothering her all day long.

With a final spit and a quick gurgle, she was ready to move on to the next activity. Unfortunately, when she looked at her kitchen table for the next envelope, not one was to be found. She stomped her foot, throwing a tantrum at someone who could've been over in the States for all she knew. She opened her window and peered outside. No black bird, no handsome man on a broom, just cool air and blue sky all around. Cursing quietly, she shut the window and sat down on the couch.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up on the couch. After rubbing her eyes for at least 30 seconds, she managed to focus on the clock.

"Seven! I slept for three hours!" She bolted up from her sofa and looked around. Her eyes fell onto another envelope right next to her on the coffee table.

"He wrote again." Heart racing, she came to a horrible realization. This mystery writer had captured her. How seriously? She didn't know. But she knew that all day long she'd become increasingly more excited as she opened the envelopes. And she knew that she wanted to meet him. He'd capture some part of her.

Opening the envelope, now nervous about what it might say, she pulled the note out.

Sometimes, I go to the The Three Broomsticks around 8 'o' clock wearing a red robe, hoping to meet someone again for the first time.

Was that an invite? That had to be an invite. What else could that be? It didn't matter; she'd been doing everything the notes had been saying all day so why not this one?

"Because he might be a Death Eater." She murmured and mentally slapped herself. "He's not a Death Eater. He sent me a recipe for Merlin's sake!" 7:10. It was 7:10. "He might be someone I detest or don't want to be with on Valentine's Day. Like Marcus Flint." She shuddered before realizing she had only 50 minutes to get ready for some weird kind of blind date.

She chose something new to listen to and rushed to the bathroom. After ten minutes of fiddling, she decided to style her hair in a chignon. Twenty minutes, her eyelids had a light purple color brushed on top of them, her eyelashes black and long, her lips a peachy-pink color, and her cheeks were rosy. She put her last ten minutes towards dressing. Sliding clothes back and forth on the rack in her closet, her eyes fell on a violet dress she'd forgotten about. The dress reached just past her knees, had a modest V-neck, and a low back.

This moment was significant enough for her that she decided to use the Mirror Critic she'd used only once before (Yule Ball.) She whispered the incantation to show the woman in mirror that would tell her if her outfit was 'fit' for the occasion.

"Granger! It's been ages, doll. And look at you. It must've been much longer than I thought!" The woman took in Hermione's appearance. "I don't know where you're going but I know it's Valentine's Day and I know that if you leave there without a Valentine then every man there must be blind!" She laughed and disappeared from the mirror.

Spinning around nervously, Hermione looked at her clock for the last time. 8:03. Perfect. With a pop! she apparated to The Three Broomsticks to meet her unidentified writer.

She landed gracefully in front of the door to The Three Broomsticks. With a calming breath and a quick hand-held mirror check, she pushed open the door.

Hermione took in the scene in front of her. A sea of reds and pinks crashed around her. Valentine's Day! Of course there would be people in red robes! Either this bloke took note of this or he had failed to realize the color most often associated with Valentine's Day.

"Bugger." She muttered to herself, bowing her head and stalking towards the bar. Finally finding a seat, Hermione fell onto the stool and sighed. Typical. Of course something like this should happen to her; just when Valentine's Day was starting to look up for her. Unbelievable. She motioned with her hand to the bartender, hoping she could get even a dribble of alcohol flowing through her system. "Just one drink. A sip. A drop." Her hand fell on to the table, defeated and depressed. Her eyes searched, hoping that someone would see her and wave at her in an I'm-The-Guy sort of way. Such a wave never came but the bartender finally did. "A Firewhiskey, please."

Once the bartender had left to get her drink, a "finally" escaped her lips. She checked her watch 8:10. Not too early to be getting drunk.

"Sometimes, I get nervous around women and decide to come up with a plan so that in case I should actually lose my nerves, I can still bail out without coming off like a Hufflepuff." Her body stilled and her eyes widened as the soft and obviously nervous words fell onto her ears. He had shown, he had found her.

'What do I do? What do I do?' For a moment, her entire body was frozen and she felt like if she moved, every bone would break on the spot. Once she'd gathered her confidence she turned to meet her note-sender.

"Draco." Her voice hitched and she could feel herself growing warm all over. He licked his lips, trying to calm himself down, and Hermione took special note of that. All normal thought was overcome by the thought of kissing him like in her fantasy earlier. "Those notes..."

"Yes, those notes. They did in fact come from yours truly and are to remain between us." Us. Her mind was spinning and she was on fire. She needed that drink now. Her neck craned to seek out the bartender and demand her Firewhiskey. She couldn't wait any longer.

"Yes." 'Come on, Granger! Something witty right now would be nice.' She looked down to see that her drink had arrived while she was busy making a fool out of herself. The drink was pulsing through her veins faster than she could say 'Merlin's Beard.' "So, all of that stuff..."

"Was true." His eyes focused on her. He was the sun and she was ice cream in a cone, melting all over and making a mess.

"Why did you send the notes to me, though?" She couldn't help it. It was the one question she'd been willing herself not to ask but it came tumbling out before she could stop it. He laughed, a deep, throaty laugh and smiled at her.

"Why you? Because." He grabbed a stool and pulled it towards him before sitting on it. "Because, if there's ever been anyone not afraid to be herself, it's you. Even if I did call you a Mudblood - sorry - you just let me have it." His eyes raked over her body with the last part. "You never pretended not to be a bookworm and you never acted as though you liked someone when you didn't. I've always respected you for that, Hermione. Even if it wasn't obvious, I did. So, I figured if anyone could appreciate my...quirks, it would be you." He smirked and took a drink of whatever it was that she had ordered.

"But what does that have to do..."

"I mean that for the most part, you know me. I'm an arrogant jerk. I am as Slytherin as they get. I am a Malfoy. But I'm not a heartless, selfish, killing machine. Sometimes...we can't be ourselves, not our whole selves. That stuff...it's me, it's just not stuff I tell people normally or ever for that matter. Until tonight, that is." Hermione watched him run his finger around the rim of his glass. Such a simple gesture made her want to know what the rest of his body looked like, felt like. "So, tell me, what did you think of those notes?"

"They were...thoughtful." She swallowed hard, trying to control herself. She figured she was still in shock that Draco was the one who had been sending all of those truths. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Draco Malfoy danced around in his boxers...Draco in his boxers...Draco...boxers... "Oh, ah, I tried some of them out."

"Really?" He turned towards her, reaching hand out to brush her forehead. "Which ones?" His head tilted to the side, willing her to say something shocking.

"All of them?" Whether or not the answer was actually audible or not, she wasn't sure, but he understood her.

"And?" His fingers grazed her cheek and moved down to her collar bone slowly.

"And...that sandwich was delicious." No way was she going to admit that the simple notes had made her take most of her clothes off and dance around to Def Leppard. No way.

"And?" Apparently, Draco was feeling frisky that night as his skin touched hers, inching down to where the material of her dress met in a sharp V.

"And," she turned back towards the bar, drinking the new shot in front of her. "And my living room is finally centered."

"You danced around in your knickers to Def Leppard, didn't you?" His eyes were sparkling and his mouth spread across his face in pure amazement.

"I most certainly did not." She opened her purse and began rummaging through it to find the correct amount of money. Did she even remember to bring any money?

"You did too. I can tell. I can always tell when someone was taking advantage of an empty house and a wonderfully awful 80's band. And you...you've got the look." He beat her to the money and threw it on the counter. "So what color are your knickers, anyway?" His hand gently touched her stomach and she flushed.

"I'm not telling you what color my knickers are!" She looked down, paused, and looked back up at him. "Tell me what color yours are first." She lifted her chin proudly, unwavering and feeling bold. He leaned forward and placed his mouth by her ear.

"Black. Satin. And I've got plenty of pairs just like it so if you should feel the need to tear them off of me, you needn't worry about paying me back...well, at least not with currency." His tongue flicked out and grazed her earlobe, sending shivers all over her body.

"And who says I would ever want to tear your knickers off of your body, Draco Malfoy?" 'My heart is going to burst out of my chest. It's just going to explode out of my chest cavity and fall onto the ground.' She made her way to push past him and leave The Three Broomsticks. This Valentine's Day had proven much too intense as far as she was concerned.

"I don't think you can deny it. Especially not after you thought about me being your first kiss." She stopped in her tracks just outside the door of The Three Broomsticks. No way could he have known about that. "It's okay, I thought about you, too. And I'm wondering, was your fake first Draco kiss as good as my fake first Hermione kiss?"

'Do it. Do it. Just say it. It's Valentine's Day and ass or not, Draco Malfoy is looking deeeeelectable tonight. You've been celibate for months now and he's standing in front of you, obviously waiting for you to make the real move.' She wasn't sure how long she was silent, arguing with herself about whether or not tonight would be the night she snogged Draco Malfoy.

"Why don't we find out?" There it was. There it was! She'd said it! Now what? What happens now?

It didn't take long to find out when his lips were pressing against hers, better than she could have ever imagined. She inhaled. Clean clothes and vanilla, just as she'd imagined him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, surprisingly soft after all of those years of excessive gel use.

"Do you want to dance?" He spoke softly against her lips, breaking the kiss before she wanted him to.

"Right now?" Before he answered her, he'd apparated them to what she assumed was his (immense) flat. "Merlin, is this place yours?"

"No, I just took it upon my self to apparate into someone else's house." His voice was covered in sarcasm and at her stern look he rolled his eyes and responded seriously. "Yes. This place is mine. Now, how about that dance?" In a matter of seconds, he'd removed all of their clothes leaving only their undergarments on. She smiled, hoping she'd caught on to his game correctly. Her smile broadened even more when she heard the music.

They both broke out in ridiculous dance moves instantaneously, laughing and yelling along to the music. He grabbed her hand and twirled her, adding some...ah, saucy dance moves in there before pulling her in close.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Draco."

"Oh and Hermione, there's something you should know about me," she braced herself. 'He's going to admit it. He is a Death Eater and this was all just a ploy to kill me.'

"...I'm an animagus." Her eyes widened in horror. He couldn't possibly mean... "A pretty bird, as a matter of fact.