a/n: remember the hilarious chapter way back in book two when lockhart decided to celebrate valentine's day? this is a little ficlet on that.
dedication: to the little joys of life.
disclaimer: i'll keep on writing till my heart breaks. and possibly after that, as well.
summary: He was an arrogant, pompous git; but he still knew how to be romantic. – Draco/Hermione.
cursing cupid
it's simple, stupid; just tell her you love her
Hermione sighed as she contemplated the books in front of her. Yesterday's Transfiguration lesson had gone badly, and she hoped that studying the theory would help.
Unfortunately, she was having difficulty with this as well, though it was quite difficult to concentrate when the library echoed with the whispers of giggling girls as they watched the small, ugly cupids wreck havoc among the bookshelves as they ambushed their wary prey.
Giving it up as a bad job, she turned to leave, only to find a pink-striped…thing waiting for her at the doors. Preferring to hear out her Valentine – she turned red at the words – inside the library, she waited for it to speak. Or sing. Or at the very least, do some sort of impromptu dance.
That would've been the acceptable gift – seeing as the only person that would give her a card would be Neville. Or Ron, out of some misguided sense of friendship.
Instead, the ugly gnome-thing handed her a parcel, with a letter taped on top. Hurrying to a shelf as the thing fly away – not noticing the disappointed sighs of the girls as they heard no awful poem or song – she opened the letter and read, "To: Hermione. Because I know they're your favorite."
Frowning slightly at the ambiguity of the letter – who did she know that wrote in such a clean, clear-cut fashion? – she tore opened the packaging to reveal a box of peppermints.
A smile spreading across her face, she opened the box and ate one, savoring the fresh taste as it melted in her mouth. Whoever sent this package was right – they were her favorite.
Popping another in her mouth, she stared at the letter. No one – not even Harry and Ron knew of her love of the icy, burning sweet. Who could've figured it out?
Turning over the envelope, she saw a curious seal – one that looked very much like a coat of arms.
In another part of the school, down the corridor to the dungeons, and under the grounds, in a vast room whose ceiling showed the watery depths of the Great Lake, a dark-skinned boy strode in confidently, "Letter sent."
"What letter?" a blonde replied petulantly, sulking in his seat.
"The Valentine, Draco," Zabini looked at him as if he had gone insane, "You did want it sent, right? I had assumed when I saw the letter addressed to Granger, that she was the intended recipient…" He trailed off as he saw the other's look of horror.
"You…sent it?" Draco nearly screamed, his voice hoarse.
Blaise snorted, "Was that not what I just said? But, Merlin's beard, Draco, I never knew you fancied her."
Draco groaned and sunk lower in his seat. He had been debating for weeks to give it to her, as sort of an apology over the name-calling. Just yesterday he had decided not to send it, and had stuffed it under his bed.
Of all the things to happen…
At the very least he didn't write his name on the card.
"Oh," Blaise paused, as he remembered something, "You didn't bother to sign it, so I sealed the envelope with your personal seal. The Malfoy coat of arms."
Draco slid so far in his seat that he was nearly on the floor, "Fuck my life."
Back in the library, Hermione stared from the envelope to the book in horrified shock, watching as the seal matched up with a pureblood coat of arms – more specifically, Malfoy's. Malfoy had noticed her favorite type of candy. Malfoy had sent her a gift. Malfoy had given her a Valentine. Slamming the book shut and tearing the letter into small pieces, she resolved to ignore it and pretend like it never happened.
But she would keep the peppermints.
le fin
a/n: um. this is very random. shall we pretend like this never happened, either?
