Valentine's Day
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; I am not British, though I wish I could say I was both.
Quirrel was better than this.
Sure, Quirrel had been a trembling, stuttering coward. Sure, he alway wore a huge, rank-smelling turban, which was later revealed to cover the face of a half-living Dark Lord that was branded to the back of his skull.
But at least he didn't do this.
These were Ron Weasley's disgusted thoughts as he, Harry, and Hermione gazed around the Great Hall on Valentine's Day morning. Large, ugly, pink flowers smothered the Great Hall, dwarves dressed up as Cupids scurried around delivering students valentines, and heart-shaped confetti rained down from the bright azure ceiling that reflected the sky.
From the looks on their faces, Ron could tell that Harry and Hermione felt the same way about the decor.
'Stupid bloody Lockhart.' Ron thought grumpily as he picked little paper hearts out of his porridge. The aformentioned professor sat at the staff table, flashing his blindingly white teeth and remaining blissfully unaware of the exasperated eyerolls and misery-laden faces of the teachers or either side of him.
"Well..." Hermione began hesitantly. "It's a littlemuch, but it's the thought that counts!"
Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at each other over Hermione's bushy hair. Lockhart could preform cartwheels all the way down the halls stark-naked and the girl would still find a way to defend her favorite professor.
The two boys of the trio were very grateful when breakfast finally ended. As they settled themselves into Transfiguration class, Ron remembered that he had run out of parchment the previous day. He would have written home for some, but... with the cost of Ginny's first-year-of-Hogwarts-supplies, and his dad's inquiry at work... they were a bit sparse on money at the moment.
He really hated asking other students for supplies, but asking McGonnagall would meant losing house points for "being unprepared", so borrowing looked like his only choice.
"Erm... Harry?" he whispered, not wanting to alert the teacher. Harry's messy, black-haired head popped up from its hunched, note-taking position.
"Hmm?"
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Can I borrow some parchment?"
Harry blinked at him. "Oh, sure, hang on," he replied, and reached behind his chair and fished around in his bag until his fingers groped the thing he was looking for. He pulled out about five sheets of parchment and handed them to Ron.
"Thanks, Harry!" he whispered, before finally beginning the notes everyone else had started several minutes ago.
"Alright class, by now all of you should have finished your note-taking, so find a partner. Once I'm done giving instructions, I'll give each pair of you a beetle, and you will try to transfigure it into a coat button by the end of the period. Get to work!"
Ron instinctively moved towards Harry, and when McGonnagall placed their beetle on the desk, they got to work.
"I don't get why everyone thinks Valentine's Day is such a big deal." Harry commented. "Those Cupid-dwarves just barging into class and passing out valentines is getting really annoying."
"I know!" Ron groaned in agreement. "The Christmas and Halloween celebrations here are amazing, but Valentine's Day... we were much better off without it. Thanks again for the parchment by the way."
Harry's lips quirked upward slightly in an awkward sort of smirk. "Merlin, Ron, you act like giving you a few sheets of parchment is saving your life or something. It's really not a big deal."
Ron shifted his weight onto one leg, his eyes fixed on the broken wand in his hand. "I know..." he began. "It's just... well, you know how my family doesn't have a lot of money, but, with Ginny going to Hogwarts and everyone else's school supplies, and now Dad's inquiry at work, we couldn't really... we can't really af-afford extra supplies. And I just feel kinda bad about just asking other people for their things, I know it's not the same as asking for money, but... it just has that same feel to it, y'know? At least, I think so..."
Harry, who had been listening to Ron seriously through his whole explanation, gave him an understanding sort of smile. "Ron, I'd never judge you on your financial situation. Even if you had to live in a cardboard box, you'd still be my best friend. It's your personality that matters to me, not how many galleons you have in your Gringotts account. And if you ever need anything, just ask, I won't mind helping you out."
Ron blushed a deep crimson at Harry's words, and he was unable to keep a big, goofy smile from spreading across his face. Knowing it would be a bit awkward if he just jumped up and hugged the raven-haired boy, he just settled with a "Thanks, mate," and turned back to the beetle they were supposed to be transfiguring.
Harry, who had most likely forgotten about the moment they had just shared and had turned his full attention back to their insect, was unaware of the warm feeling now buzzing happily in Ron's stomach.
Truth be told, meeting Harry Potter on the train the previous year had been a lot more meaningful to Ron than he let on. He had found the bespectacled boy's small stature and shyness sort of endearing, as well as his kindness, which showed itself when he had shared his candy with the redhead, and told him that not having a lot of money was okay.
But to Ron, the most memorable part of the train ride was when he stood up to Malfoy- a rich, well-respected kid who's family had a lot of power and influence in the wizarding world- for him, who the boy had only known for about an hour and had virtually nothing to offer besides a laugh and a chocolate frog or two. It was this gesture that convinced Ron that Harry would be a big part of his life.
He had surprised himself with how terrified he was when Harry's broom was cursed during his first quidditch match, and felt that he could have kissed Hermione when she lit Snape's robes on fire and gave Harry a chance to clamber back onto his Nimbus.
Sacrificing himself on the giant chessboard so Harry and Hermione could go on and save the Phiosopher's Stone was one of the hardest decisions of his life, but one he would never regret. That was the event that finalized Ron and Harry's friendship- it would be sticking around a while.
Maybe getting knocked about by that giant chess piece had knocked some (temporary) perceptiveness into his head, because during his brief stay at the Hospital Wing, Ron realized that what he felt around Harry was different than what he felt around Hermione. His bushy-haired female friend drove him up the wall and got on his nerves on a daily basis, but he was very fond and protective of her nonetheless. But Harry... Harry was different. Ron couldn't remember a time when Harry had annoyed him, which was very peculiar considering just about every single person in his life had their own special way of irritating him.
Ron seemed to be the only one who considered that if you took away the oversized glasses and huge, ragged hand-me-downs, Harry might actually be a good-looking bloke. Whenever the messy-haired boy set his harlequin-green eyes on him, his stomach did a sumersault. Harry's gentle smiles made his face burn and the tips of his ears turn a deep cherry red. At some point during the summer, he had realized that these feelings were usually equated with fancying someone, and this revelation had made him excited and nervous at the same time. After all, Harry was very much a male individual, and when Ron was small, his mum sat him down on her lap and told him by the fire that one day he would meet a nice woman and settle down and get a life with her...
Ron's train of thought was abruptly derailed when the bell rang, indicating the end of class. He quickly picked up what Harry had obviously been able to turn into a button (no thanks to him, Ron thought sheepishly), placed it on McGonnagall's, and joined the stream of children exiting the classroom.
The next few classes went by uneventfully, if you didn't count those stumpy, winged annoyances barging in and delivering valentines at random times during lessons, and finally, free period came. Ron was seated at a small, circular table in the Gryffindor common room. Over the past couple hours, he had realized that if you took away the tacky, excessive decorations in the Great Hall and the dwarves who would really be rather anywhere else but delivering frilly paper love confessions to a bunch of teenagers, the idea of giving valentines really wasn't so bad.
And this was why Ron was sitting hunched over a spare piece of parchment that he had charmed blue, red and black ink pots sitting a foot away from him on the table. He had drawn a simple red heart at the top of the folded parchment, and was currently holding a quill between his fingers, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts and feelings on paper. This is why I never get good marks on essays, Ron thought bitterly.
Finally, after what must have been a whole ten minutes of staring blankly at the paper, he began to write.
Dear H
"What are you doing?"
Ron yelped and fell out of his chair, extremely started. He pulled himself back onto the chair, rubbing his now-sore butt and mentally cursing his bushy-haired friend. "Uh... n-nothing!" He stuttered quickly, hoping Hermione would take the hint that he didn't want to talk about it and leave him alone.
His hopes weren't fulfilled.
"That doesn't look like nothing," Hermione stated bluntly, her head cocked slightly as she inspected the blue parchment on the table. "That looks like a valentine."
"Well..." Ron began, before defeatedly deciding that there was no way he could fool the girl. "Yeah, yeah, it is."
Hermione looked slightly smug for a moment, before returning to the topic at hand. "Well, who's it for, then?" she asked inquisitively, plopping herself down into a chair next to the redhead.
"Erm..." Ron said nervously, he really didn't want Hermione to know who it was for... really, the only saving grace of the situation was that she hadn't phrased the question like, "So, who is she?" or, "And the lucky lady is?"
Fortunately, Hermione spoke before Ron had time to think of someone. "I see their name starts with an H..." Her brown eyes drifted from the valentine and locked themselves on Ron's freckled face. "Is it for me?"
Ron mentally shuddered at the idea of doing anything romantic with Hermione; He might as well ask Ginny out on a date, it was practically the same thing!
But... he supposed, if he was offered an out, he might as well take it. Hermione may be his last choice of person to give a valentine, but at least she was a member of the opposite sex. "Y-yeah, it's for you, I didn't expect you to come down here." Well, that last part was true.
"I see." Hermione said unperturbedly. Ron couldn't comprehend how she could be so casual about the situation, even if it was a lie. They sat in silence for a few heartbeats, before-
"Well, aren't you going to finish it?"
Ron gave her an exasperated look, most girls in this situation would forget about the silly piece of parchment and snog the subject of their romantic feeling right then and there-
On the other hand, he was glad Hermione wasn't like most girls.
"Er- yeah, I was just about to." Ron dipped his quill in the black pot of ink and continued where he left off.
Dear Har
"That's not how you spell my name."
Ron squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance; How was he supposed to get this done with Hermione breathing down his neck, thinking Ron had those kinds of feelings for her? 'I just wanted to make my best friend a bloody valentine, is that really too much to ask-'
"It's for Harry, isn't it?"
Ron froze. How had she caught on? Was he really that obvious? Then again, Hermione did have a tendency to realize things ages before everyone else... but what if she rejected him? What if she told everyone else, and they all rejected him?
What if Harry rejected him?!
His silence confirmed Hermione's theories, and she smiled triumphantly. "I knew it." she stated proudly.
Ron bowed his head and stared at his hands, which were now fidgeting in his lap. "Well, go on then," he said gruffly, unable to keep a slight quaver out of his voice.
Hermione gave him a confused and slightly concerned look. "Whatever do you mean, Ron?"
Ron shifted in his seat and sniffled a little as sadness and dread settled in his heart. "W-well, you obviously don't want to be my friend anymore, do you, since I like another boy... s'okay, Hermione, I understand... I-I wouldn't wanna be friends with me either-"
"Ronald Weasley, you stop talking like that right now!" Hermione ordered stubbornly, before her face softened. "Of course I still want to be your friend. You don't really think I'd ditch you just because you like another guy, do you?"
Ron lifted his head and hesitantly met Hermione's gaze. "So-so you don't mind that I fancy Harry?" he asked hopefully.
Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at the ginger, rubbing two large circles on his back with her hand before putting her arm around his shoulders. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I love it. You two are absolutely perfect for each other... not to mention, Fred and George owe me five galleons now!"
The bookwormish girl gave Ron one last smile, before standing up and moving towards the door. Ron, however, needed one more worry on his mind eased. "Uh- wait, Hermione?"
Hermione turned back around and looked at him curiously. "Hmm?"
"You don't mind that this valentine wasn't really for you, do you? The only reason I lied was because I didn't want you to know about my feelings for Harry, but I don't want you to think I was leading you on or anything..."
Hermione grinned at him reasurringly. "No, I dont mind. You're like a brother to me, Ron. Besides..." She trailed off for a moment, her cheeks adopting a slight pink tinge to them. "...I'm kind of glad it wasn't for me. I actually have my eye on someone else. Good luck, Ron!" And with that, she scampered out of the common room, towards the Girls' dorms.
Ron blinked in mild surprise, he had always thought Hermione would be too caught up in her studying to even care about boys until her last few years of school... but never mind that, he had a valentine to finish.
Knowing his remaining time in free period was limited, he settled with:
Dear Harry,
I know that those 'secret admirer' valentines are incredibly cheesy and overdone, but I'm too much of a coward to tell you who I really am, so please bear with me here.
I really like you. Like- THAT kind of like you. Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be writing you a valentine, that'd just be weird and kind of creepy...
THE POINT IS, I fancy you. I've fancied you for... Gods, ever since I met you, I think, but I only started realizing it at the end of last year. And it's not because you're famous, either. You're always really nice to everyone (well, except for gits like Malfoy, but that's completely understandable), and you make me really happy. I love Harry, not the bloody Boy-Who-Lived.
If you ever find out who I am, I really hope you like me back. But if you don't, I completely understand.
Love,
Your secret admirer (MERLIN, that sounds so cheesy!)
Ron reread the message for the fifth time and sighed. 'Well, that's as good as it's gonna get.' He closed the simple Valentine's Day card and wandered up the stairs to the Boys' dorms. He traveled over to Harry's bed, where the boy had placed his bag before he had rushed off to the spontaneous quidditch practice that Wood had scheduled, and removed the Charms and Transfiguration textbooks from within it. He carefully placed the folded piece of parchment on top of his History of Magic book, then replaced the books that he had removed. He wanted Harry to be able to find the valentine, but not right away.
After the task was completed, Ron walked over to his own trunk, pulled out his battered chess set, and sat down on his bed, planning to spend his remaining free time by himself.
Ron wove his way through the bustling 3rd-floor hallway to History of Magic, Harry at his side, rummaging through his bag for his homework. Just as they had been about to leave the common room and take off to their next class, Hermione had sped past, winking at him discreetly before rushing off ahead of them.
"Ugh, where did I put that stupid essay, I swore I put it in here-"
Ron continued walking, silently listening to the sound of crinkling paper and frantic rustling before-
"Aha! I found it!"
He watched as Harry carefully rolled up the three-foot-long piece of parchment and set it on top of his textbooks. The green-eyed boy's next words, however, made Ron freeze.
"Hey, what's this blue piece of parchment doing in here?"
Ron felt the blood rush to his face, and he looked away quickly, hoping he didn't look suspicious. Luckily, Harry didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy scanning the folded paper thoughtfully. Ron watched out of the corner of his vision as Harry's emerald eyes glided back and forth across the page. After a few moments of this, the orphan boy's cheeks turned pink and a small smile graced his lips. As his eyes traveled to the bottom of the valentine, his smile widened slightly, this time in mild amusement.
Harry returned the valentine carefully to his bag. "Well, that was very nice of someone," he commented, his grin still alive and quite a bit wider, and Ron felt an odd spark of pride in his heart at the thought that he had put that smile on his face.
Finally, they reached the door to History of Magic and sat down at a table together, expecting Professor Binns to spend the class mumbling on about goblin rebellions in his wheezy, monotonous voice as usual.
The wrinkly ghost morphed through the blackboard as the last few students settled into class, and he cleared his throat as he pulled a thin stack of papers, presumably lesson plans. "Alright, class, settle down, today you are to read pages twenty four to thirty in your textbooks and take notes on the material. You may begin," once he had given instruction, he floated away from the class and back through the blackboard again.
Ron, who had been planning to utilize this class time by napping, groaned and reluctantly pulled out his hand-me-down History of Magic textbook and one of his last pieces of parchment and began reading.
About ten minutes had passed since class started, and Harry had filled up a little over half of his piece of parchment. He had finished reading and taking notes on page twenty six of his textbook, and, feeling a bit distracted and in need of a short break, lifted his eyes from his notes and allowed himself to gaze around the classroom.
His eyes wandered from the clock on the wall, to Binns' desk, to Millicent Bullstrode's harsh facial features, to Ron writing notes next to him... hey, wait a minute...
Harry tried to study Ron's notes discreetly without his friend seeing him, though it wasn't the content he was interested in. He slowly reached under the table and pulled the blue valentine out of his bag, placing it on the hard wooden surface and opening it. He reread the sweet words on the card, before casting his eyes over the boring, informational words on Ron's notes, and his suspicions were affirmed: both items held the same messy scrawl.
Harry now knew who his "secret admirer" was.
Ron sat with his head resting on his hand, his cerulean blue eyes drifting across the pages of his textbook. As he turned slightly to his left to copy down information onto his parchment, he heard a rustling coming from next to him. Harry was digging around in his bag frantically for something, his vivid green eyes wide.
Ron was slightly curious about what he was so desperate to find in his bag, but knew he had notes to finish by the end of the period, and that Hermione would have his head if he didn't, so he got back to work.
Not even two minutes later, the orange-haired boy felt a tentative tap on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see a hesitant-looking Harry, his cheeks pink and his eyes in his lap.
"Erm... Ron?" he asked nervously, fidgeting a little. "I reread that valentine I got earlier, and... correct me if I'm wrong, but... the handwriting on the valentine and on your notes were practically identical-"
"Alright, yes, the valentine was from me!" Ron blurted out miserably, before slumping in his seat. His eyes stung fiercly, and his vision was blurring over. "Go on, Harry, tell me that I'm disgusting and weird, and that you never want to talk to me again, that it's unnatural to like other boys, I-I'll understand, really, I can ask M-McGonnagall if I can move into another room-"
The second year's increasingly emotional ramblings were cut off by Harry's lips against his, pecking him shyly before pulling back and blushing brightly. "That's the only thing I'll tell you about your sexuality, Ron." The small boy said softly.
Ron could only sit there, straight as a rod, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Harry like he had grown a second head. Harry had just kissed him. On the lips!
Harry, seeming to take Ron's dumbstruck expression as a bad sign, scooted back in his chair a few inches. "Is-is that... okay?"
Ron continued to stare, slackjawed, at him for a few more seconds, before laughing, mostly because of the wonderful sense of relief washing over him. "Is it okay?!" He repeated incredulously, before leaning forward and kissing the messy-headed boy on the cheek. "Of course it's bloody okay, It's more than okay, it's perfect!" Ron knew he was rambling overexcitedly, but he didn't care. This was the best day ever!
Ron then wrapped his long arms around Harry and pulled him into a hug, resting his heavily-freckled cheek against the scrawny child's bony shoulder. He knew they'd eventually have to pull apart and complete their classwork, most likely sooner than later, unless they wanted the Slytherins to give them hell about their... situation, but right now he just wanted to revel in having Harry this close to him. He nuzzled his head against the brunette's neck.
"Yep..." the redhead murmured contentedly. "Just perfect."