A Harry Potter Valentine One Shot.

Roses for Rose.

RPOV:

It was my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was not an ordinary day at Hogwarts, but then again in a school full of young wizards and witches exploding with recently, or not so recently, found magic powers, when was there ever a normal day?

When I woke up on the fourteenth of February and walked into the hall, I was distracted from my normal routine of looking at the enchanted ceiling by the explosion of pink. Our parents would have seen this as a reminder of when Professor Lockhart had been here, but no one other than a few of the teachers and the ghosts remembered that.

The reason for the pink fluffiness was the newest of the female teachers who had taken over Care of Magical Creatures because Hagrid was getting tired and wanted to return to his job as Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.

Miss Patil had been an avid supporter of Lockhart's Valentine's Day when he was here. I had read in a biography of Lockhart that Miss Patil and my mother had been among the girls at Hogwarts to send Lockhart a card. When I had reminded my father he had mocked my mother for days on end.

Of course, being a bookworm, I had heard of Valentine's Day, but I had never dreamed that a Magic school would celebrate such a thing.

I knew uncle Harry always bought things for aunty Ginny, but that was because he had been brought up by muggles and he was, underneath his tough-guy-I'm-an-auror-so-I-scare-the-****-out-of-you appearance he was actually a real softy and a romantic.

Of course, in our house, mum complained because every year dad forgot to get mum something and mum, being brought up by gran and grampa, knew all of the muggle traditions. Of course, it was also the perfect opportunity to fight with dad too. They loved to fight and Hugo and I found it very funny.

Pulling out of my humorous memories of Valentine's Days gone by, I swept down the isle between the Hufflepuff and Griffindor tables and sat between cousin Albus and my room mate Silvia.

Silvia was a very pretty girl, who had long silvery-blonde hair, which told of her distant veela relatives, but her brown eyes, though pretty, showed her to be at least diluted veela. My friend had already cast her Daily Profit aside and was nibbling daintily on her toast.

I scooped the Profit off the table with one hand, while spreading jam onto some toast with the other. After a bare few minutes I cast the newspaper aside to concentrate on food and conversation as nothing particularly interesting had happened.

Breakfast was nearly done, with only those late to wake were still munching when Miss Patil called the hall to attention. Professor McGonagall sat in her headmistress' chair with a scowl and her lips in a thin line.

"Now that almost all of us are here, I'd like to announce that little cupids shall be delivering any Valentine's Day cards or tokens you may wish to give. I perhaps ought to explain for those who are not familiar with this custom that Valentine's Day is a day on which love is shared and romance flourishes." She beamed down at us all.

Cousin James, ever the practical joker, then stood and called to the wiry, grey haired witch, our headmistress, "I love you McGonagall!" The hall burst into laughter and spattered applause.

"That's professor McGonagall to you, Potter, and a detention for sheer cheek!" She growled in her strictest tone, yet her cheeks were spread with the faint tinge of a blush and her eyes swam for some reason. I recalled a story by Grandma Weasley that would probably account for it:

In her youth, Molly Weasley had been head girl. She was in her seventh year, just beginning her head girl duties at the start of term when the young man in question entered Hogwarts. A bright, mischievous eleven year old with dark, ruffled hair, glasses and no fear had joined then. His mischievous ways had only grown as time went on. In her story Molly had explained that in his first year, on Valentine's Day, the older James Potter had made the same declaration of love to the same teacher, though she had not been headmistress then.

It amused me, and the rest of the table, when I remembered this story. We had heard countless stories of our more troublesome relatives. Of course George was still around and still pulling jokes and running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, unlike Uncle Fred and Grandpa James. I may not have been a practical joker, but I knew a good joke when I saw one, which was apparently one of the characteristics which told me apart from mum.

After the outburst from James' proclamation had died down we were all hurried off to lessons before any more trouble could start.

The day passed normally. I took notes, answered teachers' questions and read textbooks. It was not until defence against the dark arts that any of the Cupids turned up. Of course, not one of them asked for Rose Weasley.

It was in Potions that it happened. One, particularly ugly Cupid came in, wearing sash and wings to deliver cards and trinkets. He carried two roses, one red and one white, that were tangled together elegantly. I thought the girl to receive that would be very lucky.

The Cupid called out two or three names and then he called mine. I stared up, dumbfounded. Silvia, who stood working next to me, prodded me in the back and I slowly raised my hand to indicate who I was.

The roses, which I had admired, were handed to me. I remembered to close my mouth. I glanced around at my fellow Griffindors, wondering who could have sent me this. All of them shook their heads. Perhaps it was James and the roses would explode in my face any minute. They didn't.

I glanced around the classroom, focusing on each individual in turn, puzzling who could have sent Rose Weasley roses. I caught the steely grey eyes of Scorpius Malfoy glaring at me. Yet, they weren't glaring, like I would have expected from a Slytherin, rather they were studying or gazing as if to gage my reaction.

Our eyes were locked in place for a few moments and then I turned, letting my think, unrurly hair cover my face. Could it have been Scorpius? No. Who then?

My father had warned me to stay away from Malfoy. He had told me to beat him in every test, which I had done, but as the day went on I found myself more and more often the object of those steely grey eyes. I no longer had a choice. I'd go insane.

After charms, our last lesson of the day, I trotted over to the blond haired boy who was slowly piling his books into his bag. His friends gave me a contemptuous glance and stalked off.

"Err, excuse me." I mumbled. The grey eyes moved upwards and searched my face.

"Can I help?" He asked. His voice was low and smooth, like honey.

"I was just wondering, no it's silly, never mind." I began to turn away, the heat rushing to my face. A Slytherin, really Rose?

"You were wondering if I was the one who sent the roses?" He asked and I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around to face him, my breathing unsteady for some unknown reason. I fund myself incapable of speech, so I simply nodded.

"Well, who else would send roses for Rose?" He asked and his lips pulled up into a shy smile.

I smiled back, heart pumping, breathing ragged, but pleased at my first ever Valentine.

Aww. Some lovely mush. Will be writing other Harry Potter fan fics (multi-chaps) soon, I hope, so I will update this one to say what the name of it is! :D Please review! I reply to every one I get! xxx