Hermione knew that she would be getting only one letter on Valentine's Day. That's the way it had been ever since first year. She had occasionally thought that it might have been nice to actually get a real Valentine from someone, but since it never happened, she contented herself with her yearly reminder that someone noticed her.

So when she found the small, white envelope with her initials written on it in green ink, attached to a black rose by a green and sliver ribbon, she immediately picked it up and opened it. The piece of paper inside held a poem.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

It's good that you loathe me,

Because I loathe you too.

Foxgloves are deadly,

Daisies are white

Whenever I see you,

I shudder at the sight

Pansies are purple

Blue lilies are blue

I hope you enjoyed

My valentine to you.

The bottom corner of the paper was signed "D.M."

Hermione studied the poem for a minute before fetching a clean sheet of paper and writing, You were always completely terrible at poetry. Take my word for it when I say that this is not a field you should pursue any further.

She initialed the bottom of the paper, then placed it in another neat, white envelope.

When Harry and Ron came to collect her for dinner, Hermione slipped the envelope into her pocket and walked with them to the dining hall, listening to them as they rambled about the outcomes of the latest Quidditch match.

The Great Hall was adorned with decorations, and as they made their way to the Gryffindor table, Hermione made sure to stumble into one of the boys at the Slytherin table, who snapped, "Watch it, Granger!" at her, while secretly accepting the note she slipped him. And with that, the brunette made her way to her own table.

Though she still talked and laughed with her friends, Hermione was watching the blond Slytherin out of the corner of her eye. He made a comment that sent the rest of his table into gales of laughter, then he casually glanced down at his lap. When the expression on his pale face turned from a smirk to a scowl, Hermione bit back a smile, knowing that her note had been read.

Harry and Ron took off early, Harry with Ginny and Ron with Lavender, no doubt to find a quiet corner and kiss half the night away. Hermione stayed until almost everyone was gone, enjoying the relative silence of the Great Hall. She finished her pumpkin juice slowly, savoring the taste and thinking about the day as she stared absently at the enchanted ceiling.

She didn't divert her gaze when she felt someone sit down by her, but her lips curved upwards in the slightest smile. She remained staring blissfully at the ceiling as she felt eyes scrutinizing her.

Eventually, the person sitting by her sighed and said in a silky voice, "Fine. I'm a terrible poet. Trust me when I say that I am well aware of this fact, but I think that you could stand to be a bit less scathing."

Hermione took another sip of her pumpkin juice, then arched her eyebrows and replied, "How could I not be scathing, with something like that?"

"Huh. At least I try."

Hermione arched her eyebrows even higher, and asked, "And what are you trying for, exactly?"

"Oh, come on. Everyone needs to know how much they're hated every once in a while."

"Well," Hermione said dryly, "I appreciate the effort."

Her comment was met with a laugh, and the composer of the poem said cheerfully, "Any time, Granger, any time."

Hermione still didn't look at boy beside her as he rose and said, "Well, I'll be missed, so I've leave you to your evening. Hope you have a terrible Valentine's, Granger."

"Likewise," she replied.

She didn't shift her gaze from the ceiling until she was certain that she wasn't being observed. Then she quickly looked towards the doors, watching as Draco Malfoy sauntered away, hands in his pockets as he whistled tunelessly.

A small smile graced Hermione's lips as she turned back to the ceiling.

There's hope yet, she thought to herself. There's hope yet.

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