The Not-So-Secret Valentine
To: Mr. and Mrs. Granger
From: Draco Malfoy
Late Evening, Christmas Day, 1992
Dear Grangers,
I hear that a letter was sent to you from the Hogwarts infirmary. Don't believe a word it says: your daughter is better than ever.
[Granger says: "Malfoy! That's not true! You're the only one who thinks that! And you shouldn't be telling people!"]
To summarize: Granger mysteriously came across a dose of the Polyjuice Potion in a way that (I assume) didn't break any school rules at all. What is Polyjuice Potion? It transforms one person into another. Just add a bit of the target person to the mixture. Nothing disgusting: a single hair will do. The potion soon wears off.
The possibilities are endless. Try not to think about them.
[Granger says: "Don't write that down! It wasn't like that at all!"]
Correct. It wasn't, So why did Granger want to transform into an entirely different girl? Brilliant question! And the answer a credit to her intellect and goodness—and hardly incriminating at all. Someone ought to tell you about it some day.
Through her own carelessness, the hair Granger added to the potion was not from the person she wanted to become for a single glorious hour, but …
[Granger just threw a pillow at me! Is that any way to behave? Who raised this child?]
… but from a cat. The potion's effect with non-human targets is unpredictable. Granger is temporarily a lovely cat girl, the same size as before, with big triangular ears, a lovely tail, whiskers, and sleek black fur. It's a definite improvement.
[Granger says: "Malfoy, you're laying it on too thick! You can't say that! You're being mean and it's not true!"]
It is true. Every word. Sadly, the poor child finds it humiliating. She dreads the chaffing she'd receive if she went out holding her head and tail high, so she'll stay in the hospital wing until she's back to normal (for her). We're making her comfortable.
[Granger says, "Comfortable? You won't stop teasing and petting me. Don't write down 'petting'! It has a slang meaning!"]
Pardon her delirium. Where was I? The Granger Danger Meter is hovering around zero because her condition isn't dangerous. She still has what few marbles she ever had. She'll slowly return to her delightful, adorable, brilliant, pity-about-the-hair human form over the next few weeks.
The … incident … happened this afternoon. The people who know about Granger's condition are myself, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley—plus several staff members, of course. Oh, and one ghost.
Weaselette knows about us, while Potter and Weasley #6 still think Granger and I aren't on speaking terms. We're all devoted to Granger.
[Granger says "I'm surprised you'll admit that about Ron and Harry," but I'm not an idiot. She says, "You're not a complete idiot."]
Granger reminds me that I haven't said why I'm playing scribe. Her eyes are a bit too catlike for comfortable reading and her difficulty writing gives her pause—or, more accurately, the paws give her difficulty writing.
[Granger says, "Malfoy! That pun is rubbish! I hate you!"]
It's been a memorable Christmas. Happy? Not entirely. But any Christmas with Granger is better than one without. It's certainly the strangest Christmas we've ever had.
Your most faithful correspondent,
Draco Malfoy
P.S. I promise that Hermione will be all right. She really will. The experts are certain of this.
P.P.S. This letter makes her laugh. It's not all throwing pillows at me and burying her face in her hands.
P.P.P.S. Granger loves you and misses you and says, "Please please please don't visit."
The next morning, Draco arrived at Snape's office on the stroke of ten.
Snape said, "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Close the door."
"Good morning, sir," said Draco, doing so.
Snape looked him over and said, "It's time I gave you private lessons. We'll start today."
Draco pulled out a quill and a slip of parchment and drew a line. "That's item two taken care of."
Snape smiled thinly. "What was item one?"
"A hall pass that lets me visit Miss Granger after hours in the hospital wing."
"I trust you've already drafted it?"
Draco pulled out a second slip of parchment and handed it to Snape.
I, Professor Severus Snape, authorize Draco Malfoy to travel the Hogwarts corridors outside of normal hours. Any questions should be referred to me and not to Mr. Malfoy.
Snape read it without expression, signed it, handed it back, and said, "It doesn't specify a destination."
Draco drew a line through the first item on his list and said, "There's only one patient in the hospital wing—only one who isn't petrified, that is. The destination would give the whole game away."
"So it would." Snape scowled at Draco. "And what pretext should I give for granting this extraordinary freedom?"
"An icy stare would satisfy almost everyone."
Snape gave a bark of laughter. "And what about the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress?"
"The Headmaster will know without asking. As for Professor McGonagall … either she's in the know or she'll ask you to explain. The truth seems adequate."
Snape nodded. "If there are more attacks, this note makes you a suspect, and also myself."
"Another reason to stop the attacks."
"Doesn't that conflict with your instructions?"
"Not a bit. I'm required to be loudly obnoxious about Muggle-borns while avoiding the actual dirty work. That's easy, since I don't know anything about it. But Father didn't forbid me from loyally defending Hogwarts. You can count me in."
Snape gave Draco a long, long stare; the kind that reduced most students to quivering wrecks. Draco waited patiently. Snape asked abruptly, "Anything else before we begin our lesson?"
Draco looked at his slip of parchment. "Two points. First, I'm allowed to reveal my instructions to you, so I'm not being indiscreet. Second, Hermione Granger is under my protection. An attack on her is an attack on me. I won't forget any unnecessary trouble that comes her way."
Snape observed darkly, "That is exceedingly bold talk from a twelve-year-old boy, Draco."
"Why, thank you, Uncle Severus!"
Snape smiled briefly and said, "Where would you like to start?"
"How about the skills a Dueling Club could have given me? I need to stay in one piece if I'm going to learn everything you'd like to teach me."
"Very well," said Snape. He looked around his office, which was full of breakables. "Let's find a better practice area."
Hermione Granger was a serious-minded girl. A very serious-minded girl. She wasn't humorless like Percy Weasley, but she'd never gotten the hang of frivolity. She had the wrong personality for a cat girl! Especially a cat girl who purred uncontrollably when petted.
Admittedly, the first week wasn't so bad. It was still the holidays and Hogwarts was almost deserted, so her terror of being seen and humiliated wasn't triggered.
Catlike, she slept a great deal, so she wasn't as bored as she might have been. She became a little more human every day.
Even Draco's excessive delight in her feline form had its good points, though she secretly feared that his interest in her would plummet when she was fully herself again.
One development she didn't like was that Draco no longer become confused when she worried that he was attracted to other girls. Those days were gone. He was growing up and knew perfectly well that he was attracted to girls. But he remained convinced that Hermione, in whatever form, was the most beautiful girl in the world; other girls couldn't compete. But would this last? After all, no one but Draco had ever called Hermione beautiful. Hardly anyone had even called her pretty. Was his devotion nothing but inexperience?
Plenty of girls fancied Draco, including Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson. Others were comfortable with him, like Ginny Weasley. Ginny shared his love for Quidditch lore; the more obscure, the better, so they always had something to quarrel over. His eyes always smiled during these arguments. It was worrisome!
It didn't help that Ginny looked so much better these days. She claimed to be sticking to her resolution to not do any work or write in her diary during the holidays. The circles under her eyes were gone and she no longer looked pale and tired. Her nervousness had also evaporated, and she was as comfortable around Draco as she was with Hermione.
Later that day, Draco and Ginny arrived together in the hospital wing. Hermione, sitting on her bed, ambushed Draco by asking him right away, "Malfoy, is Ginny pretty?"
He looked at Ginny, who stood to attention and tried to keep a straight face without much success. Draco walked around her slowly, making "hmm" noises, plus the occasional "tsk, tsk." When he was in front of her again, he demanded, "Open your mouth. I need to inspect your teeth," but she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Eventually, Draco reported, "Pity about her brain, but yes, she's pretty."
"Oh, like you're any judge!" said Ginny. "You think all the girls you like are pretty."
Draco looked to Hermione for support. "She's pretty, right?"
"Of course she is," said Hermione.
"Let's be scientific," said Ginny. "We can't decide that Snako has taste, or eyes, unless we do a cross-check."
"I'm cross. Check." said Draco.
The girls didn't dignify this with an answer. Ginny asked, "Is Millicent Bulstrode pretty?"
Reluctantly, Draco said, "No, she's not."
"Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione.
Draco's eyebrows went up, then he answered, "Yes, she's pretty. Quite pretty, really. Though if anyone passed the hat to buy her a one-way rocket trip to the moon, I'd pay my share. And Hermione Granger is beautiful."
"He actually has taste," reported Ginny.
"That's a bit of a shock," said Hermione, "but he's exaggerating when he calls me beautiful."
Ginny looked critically at cat-girl Hermione but was overcome by giggles.
Draco got down on one knee and took Hermione's … hand, not paw, she reminded herself firmly. Never mind the retractable claws—which she suspected she'd want to use in a moment.
Draco looked into her eyes soulfully and said, "There's no one like you, Granger. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your whiskers, the swish of your tail, the yellow of your eyes, the rasp of your tongue—"
"Malfoy!" Someone with a dirty mind could take that last part the wrong way! Though Draco wouldn't know that.
Ginny was convulsed with laughter, or pretended to be. She fell face-first onto the adjacent bed, pounding the mattress with hands and feet and laughing into the pillow.
Draco took Hermione's pillow and started thwacking Ginny on the back of the head. She leaped to her feet, grabbed her own pillow, and thus the pillow fight began. Draco chivalrously tossed Hermione's pillow back to her and endured a savage pummeling from Ginny as he groped for a pillow from another bed.
Hermione waded in. It was a three-way battle, with no alliances, truces, or quarter. It was conducted with energy, courage, and shrieks of laughter.
Madam Pomfrey appeared after they'd more or less had enough anyway, and they subsided, panting. Madam Pomfrey left without a word, her lips twitching.
Hermione became less catlike by the day, but slowly. Draco read books to her and took notes for her, but mostly they talked and talked. She told him everything about her Polyjuice Potion adventure, including the Filibuster Firework that Harry had thrown into Goyle's cauldron during Potions. She told him every detail of their defeat of Quirrell and Lord Voldemort the previous June. She kept just a few things to herself, most notably the existence of Harry's invisibility cloak and the activities of Dobby the House-Elf. She felt that these weren't her secrets to tell.
The introduction of Lord Voldemort into the narrative stunned Draco, who hadn't realized that the stakes had been so high. It also magnified his envy of Harry. He was plunged into gloom, but recovered on New Year's Eve. Hermione and Draco kissed at midnight, ushering in the new year. Her face and mouth had become more normal and kissing was enjoyable again.
"This is going to be the best year ever," said Draco smugly.
"That's what you said last year!"
"I was right, wasn't I?"
Hermione looked back over 1992. So many dreadful things had happened! And yet … "You're right," she said. "But not so perfect that we can't do even better this year."
The Hogwarts Express had returned and filled the school with students. The normal pace of life resumed for everyone. Well, everyone but Hermione and the three cold, still, petrified bodies of Mrs. Norris, Colin Creevey, and Justin Finch-Fletchley.
News of Hermione's hospitalization got around and students dropped into the hospital wing on one pretext or another to get a glimpse of her, but Madam Pomfrey had curtained off two small sections of the infirmary: one for the petrified victims and another for Hermione.
Lockhart returned with the students and Hermione received a get-well card from him, complete with a photo and an ornate signature. She was delighted. She showed it to Draco right away, since that was their agreement. He made no comment, but insisted on reading it in a dramatic voice: "To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
January passed quickly and Hermione became less catlike. Draco visited every day, usually after hours, and they worked on their schoolwork side by side as usual. Harry and Ron also visited every day.
She was discharged on the first of February, looking like her normal self, and Harry immediately ambushed her with a clue about the Heir of Slytherin and the attacks by telling her about the fifty-year-old diary of T. M. Riddle.
The diary was blank, but Hermione assumed it contained secret writing. She tried different ways of revealing it but found nothing.
Ron mentioned that he'd seen T. M. Riddle's name on a special award in the trophy room, and they went to take a look. Hermione didn't tell them that she'd heard the name before: Tom Riddle had held the record for first-year exam scores until Draco had tied it and she had shattered it.
The mandrakes were coming along nicely, though they were still months from maturity, and most students had convinced themselves that the attacks were over. Lockhart seemed to believe that he had personally frightened the attacker away somehow. Hermione and Draco declared their library research completed in early February: they'd reached the bottom of their list of potentially useful books and found nothing.
On Valentine's Day, Hermione went down to breakfast with Ron and Ginny. They came to a halt at the entrance to the Great Hall.
Ron said, "This is a nightmare."
Pink confetti was falling from the ceiling. The walls were decorated with pink flowers. Gilderoy Lockhart was wearing robes in the same shade of pink. The other staff members were stiff and wooden with disapproval.
"Could it be any more awful?" added Ron. They went to the Gryffindor table and sat down, still looking around in disbelief.
Ginny asked, "Is it always like this?" They assured her that today's spectacle was unique.
Harry joined them. He looked so appalled that Hermione started giggling.
Then they all heard Draco's loud, happy drawl. Pointing at Lockhart's pink robes, he said, "Look, everyone! Lockhart's wearing Gryffindor colors! A bit faded perhaps, but his heart's in the right place."
There were some mutters from the Gryffindor table. Draco continued, "Maybe it'll start a trend. The Gryffindor boys will look fabulous in pink."
The Gryffindor boys rose as one, but Draco's timing had been perfect. Gilderoy Lockhart stood and began an announcement. The Gryffindor boys sat down reluctantly.
Lockhart wished them all a happy Valentine's Day and bragged about having received forty-six valentines already.
"Please, Hermione," said Ron in tones of fascinated horror, "tell me you weren't one of the forty-six."
Hermione ignored him. She was worried. Yes, she had send Lockhart a valentine. But she hadn't sent one to Draco. Why did she keep doing this? She was the worst girlfriend ever!
The room went silent. Everyone was staring in disbelief at the dozen angry-looking dwarfs entering the Great Hall. They were dressed in nappies and fake wings and carrying harps; an appalling sight. Hermione glanced at Draco, wondering if he'd rise to the occasion, but he just shoved his plate away in revulsion. The dwarfs had taken away his appetite.
Lockhart announced delightedly, "My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They'll be roving around the school today delivering your valentines!"
Lockhart continued talking, but Hermione was distracted by Ginny, who clearly wanted to send Harry a valentine in the worst way, and the worst way was close at hand.
Fred and George looked like they'd been given their hearts' desire and practically ran from the Great Hall to prepare who knew what.
Back in the common room, Hermione composed a valentine to Draco. It read:
Malfoy,
You disgust me. I hate you. Is there anything more detestable than you? Of course not! That would be impossible!
Roses are red,
Violets are purple,
This poem is more
Than you deserple.
Happy valentine's day!
You'll Never Guess Who
P.S. Pink is not a Gryffindor color!
She left for class early, hoping to find a dwarf in an empty stretch of corridor. Rather to her surprise, her plan worked perfectly, and the dwarf took her valentine with no one the wiser.
Later in the day, Hermione was accosted by a dwarf. "I got a valentine for Harm Irony Granger. You Harm Irony Granger?"
Hermione reached out her hand and took the valentine without a word, and the dwarf departed.
Granger,
What a repulsive child you are! But I'll take pity on you. Here is the first and only valentine you'll ever receive from anyone. I hope you're grateful.
Rust is red,
Gunmetal's blue,
Iron's ironic,
I steel hate you.
May the rest of the day fill you heart with … um, blood? Too literal. Candy? Too hard on the arteries. Cupid's arrow? Ouch! Cardiology is hard!
With deepest revulsion,
The Unknown Critic
P.S. Your hair! Enough said.
Late in the afternoon, Hermione was walking to Charms with Ron and Harry, when a dwarf shouted, "Oi! you! Harry Potter!" The dwarf shoved through the crowd towards them.
Harry turned to run but it was too late; the dwarf was upon him. "I've got a musical message to deliver to Harry Potter in person," threatened the dwarf, producing chords of doom on his harp.
"Not here!" pleaded Harry. Hermione glanced around. A group of first-years, including Ginny, was standing right next to them, and Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were almost within arm's reach.
"Stay still!" demanded the dwarf, grabbing for Harry and managing to get hold of his bag.
"Let me go!" cried Harry, struggling to escape. His bag split its seams and spilled all its contents. Somehow his ink bottle managed to break and spatter over his books and parchment.
As Harry frantically gathered up his things, Draco asked happily, "What's going on here?"
At almost the same moment, Percy Weasley arrived on the scene and asked, "What's all this commotion?"
Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf tackled him and sat on top of him, declaring, "Right! here's your singing valentine:
His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad.
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine; he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
As the dwarf sang, Hermione looked around. Draco was grinning, his eyes gleaming. Ginny was bright red. Harry stoically endured his fate.
At the end of the song, everyone cheered and applauded. Some, including Draco, cried, "Encore! Encore!" Percy tried to get the crowd moving again.
Draco stooped and picked a slim book off the floor. Hermione realized with horror that it was Tom Riddle's diary. "Look at this," he said loudly, ostensibly to Crabbe and Goyle. But he hadn't opened the diary yet.
Harry said, "Give that back."
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Draco loudly, trying not to laugh.
Percy said, "Hand it over, Malfoy."
In a slow, offensive drawl, Malfoy said, "When I've had a look." But instead of looking, he waved the diary over his head at Harry.
Percy started, "As a school prefect—"
Harry commanded, "Expelliarmus!" The diary shot into the air. He'd drawn his wand when Hermione wasn't looking. Ron, grinning, caught it on its way down.
Draco scowled at Harry as if furious, but his eyes were dancing and he was struggling not to laugh.
The line of first-years was moving and Ginny had to walk right past Draco to enter her classroom. She looked more frightened than embarrassed. Draco suddenly called to her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!" Ginny covered her face with her hands and fled into the classroom.
Ron, furious, pulled out his wand to curse Draco, but Harry stopped him. Hermione rushed to join them, calm them down, and keep them moving. They were late for class and didn't need any more trouble.
By dinnertime everyone was talking about Fred and George's valentines. Of course, they denied everything, but nobody believed that poor, petrified Colin Creevey had really sent a love-struck valentine to Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw first-year.
On the other hand, both Cho Chang and Marcus Flint believed the forgeries they'd received, each expressing love for the other, leading to a monumentally awkward conversation at dinner.
And even Professor Lockhart's polished good nature became frayed as dwarfs delivered forged valentines to him during every class. The dwarfs always bellowed out every word on the envelope, and many envelopes bore addresses like, "To Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, with slavish and worshipful devotion from his first and greatest fan, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart."
After dinner, Hermione met Draco in the library. As they sat together in the window seat, she asked, "What was all that with the diary?"
"You tell me. I was just winding him up, but Potter took it big."
"Yes, I saw."
"So what's up with the diary?"
"I can't tell you, Malfoy."
"Do you want to tell me?"
She couldn't meet his gaze. "I don't know."
"Ouch."
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. It's … I don't … I'll tell you as soon as I can. I promise."
"Really, Granger! Just because you have every reason not to trust me doesn't mean you shouldn't trust me."
"It does too! But I do trust you! Mostly. Almost completely."
He forced a smile. "That's my girl."
Reluctantly, she said, "And you were horrid to Ginny."
"I can't break character in front of so many witnesses."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose."
Ginny soon arrived. She approached hesitantly.
Draco stood and said, "I have a valentine for you, Weasel Girl."
"Do you have a death wish or something?"
"Probably." Draco pulled an envelope out of his bag.
"Show it to Hermione first," said Ginny.
Draco handed it to Hermione, who opened the envelope and read the card inside.
Weasel Girl,
Happy Valentine's Day!
Your Very Best Frenemy
P.S. I dare you to forgive me.
Hermione passed it to Ginny without comment. Ginny read it and rolled her eyes. "Snako, you're the worst."
"That goes without saying."
"Do you really think I can forgive you after what you did?"
"You're the Amazing Weasel Girl! A superhero like you can do anything!"
"Well, that's true … Oh, all right. But you'd better watch yourself, Snako. Justice never sleeps."
The next day, Harry told Hermione that Tom Riddle's diary was magical, and he'd conversed with it and been shown a scene from fifty years ago. Hagrid had been caught with a huge spider and blamed for the petrifications and the death of a student.
Was Hagrid behind the attacks? Hagrid? It hardly seemed possible! But he was their only suspect.
[Next: The Chamber of Secrets]
[Thanks for reading! Please follow, favorite and review!]