CHAPTER ONE: 1992
Hermione slammed her books down into her bag one more time with her loudest harumph yet, but her roommates still weren't getting the message. Parvati whispered something into Lavender's ear and the two girls collapsed into their most intense giggle fit of the morning, still sitting on Parvati's bed in their pyjamas. One would think that the first year Gryffindors didn't have a packed schedule of classes today with a mountain of homework due, and had nothing better to worry about than which upper-classmen were giving each other Valentine's cards.
"No, I'm serious!" Parvati "whispered" loud enough to entirely defeat the purpose, "Padma told me that Terry told her that Grace told him that she heard Roger Davies planning to give Cho Chang a valentine!
"See, this is where the real drama in Quidditch is, not the matches," giggled Lavender.
"Who do you think in Gryffindor is going to get one?" asked Parvati excitedly.
But then, Lavender finally spotted Hermione rolling her eyes and huffed right back at her.
"I wouldn't be so high and mighty, Little Miss Perfect," said Lavender coldly, "If anyone here has reason to be interested in valentines, it's you."
Parvati gasped. "Oh Lav, you're right!"
"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione incredulously, "Why on Earth would I ever care about people giving each other silly little cards?"
"Well, you're the one who's best friends with two boys," said Parvati, grinning mischievously, "If anyone's likely to get one, it's you."
"Or they'll find some other girls, and all that help you gave them with their homework would be for nothing," said Lavender.
"What?" squeaked Hermione, her face growing warm, "It's not like that! I couldn't care less if they send a valentine to anyone!"
Lavender laughed. "Oh, come on, you've got to like at least one of them, that's just how it works. Which one is it?"
"Oh please, like that's even a question?" said Parvati, "Who would choose Ron when Harry is right there?"
"And what's wrong with Ron!?" said Hermione fiercely. The other two girls looked surprised by how intensely she responded.
"Didn't he send you crying to the bathroom on Halloween?" asked Parvati, "I honestly assumed you just put up with him because you were both friends with Harry."
"That was a long time ago," said Hermione curtly, "he saved me from that troll along with Harry, and while he does sometimes tease me, he always sticks up for me to other people who aren't just joking."
"Oh, so he comes to your rescue?" teased Lavender.
"Oh, that's soooooooo romantic," Parvati swooned dramatically, flopping down onto her bed, and both girls collapsed again into laughter.
Hermione's mouth grew so thin it practically disappeared. She flung her book bag over her shoulder.
"Well, if you two don't mind, I'm going down to breakfast so I can concentrate on our classes, which we have. Both of you probably want to get ready at some point today." She turned up her nose and marched down the stairs to the common room.
"Hey, don't eat all the scones," said Ron with his mouth full.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, you've had plenty already, you're not starving."
"It's not for me," said Ron casually, not looking up from his large pile of eggs, "for Hermione. They're blueberry scones, her favorite."
Harry froze with a fork halfway to his mouth and stared at his friend in amazement. "Are you feeling okay?"
Ron looked confused. "What? I'm fine, why?"
"You're saving food for someone other than yourself."
"Oh. Well," said Ron, resuming shoveling eggs and sausage in his mouth, "It's the 14th, innit? Valentine's Day. You're supposed to be nice to girls on Valentine's Day."
Harry frowned uncomfortably. "I thought that was just for girls that...you know….you liked."
"Well yeah, of course I know that Hermione isn't, like….a girl girl," said Ron, like it was obvious, "but she's still technically a girl. My Mum always said that you need to be nice to all girls on Valentine's Day. Though, she might have just been saying that to get me to be nice to Ginny. As if I'm the one who's always mean to her," he added bitterly.
"I'm...not sure Hermione would appreciate it if that's why you're saving her some scones," said Harry.
"Yes Harry, I know that," said Ron. "Obviously don't mention Valentine's Day to her, she'll get angry if she thinks that we think she's an actual girl, you've heard her complaining about Parvati and Lavender. We're likely to get a lecture about how Valentine's Day brainwashes women or something."
"You've really put some thought—" Harry began, but stopped himself when Hermione walked down the table and sat down next to Ron, looking very grumpy.
"What's the matter?" asked Harry.
"Oh, it's just Lavender and Parvati, they're acting more interested in Valentine's Day activities than our schoolwork."
Ron looked very pointedly at Harry as if to say, What did I tell you?
Just as Hermione was pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice, the bell rang and students started moving to get to their first class of the day.
"Oh no!" Hermione groaned, "I knew I'd miss breakfast, now my magic will be weak in Charms!"
"Here, just grab some scones to go," said Ron, offering her the plate, "we saved you some."
Hermione looked in wide-eyed shock between Ron and the plate. "Ron, are you feeling alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?" he asked defensively, shoving all the bacon he could fit in his mouth as he stood up from the table.
Hermione juggled the plate while she heaved her heavy bookbag and tried to drape it over her shoulder.
"Here, let me carry that," said Ron, "you just finish eating before we get to Charms."
Hermione's mouth dropped open for a second before she hurriedly closed it again. "Oh. Well...thank you, Ron."
The two of them started walking out of the Great Hall, with Harry following behind them, trying his absolute best not to laugh.
Ginny didn't know how she was going to last until September without going mad. The last several months since Ron had gone to Hogwarts had been the most boring and lonely of her life (though she would never admit to Ron that she missed him so much). Apart from seeing Charlie at Christmas and the occasional hour with Luna, Ginny had no one but her parents for company, not a single person even close to her own age.
She was so desperate to get out of the house that she was currently bundled up in the February chill, walking down the main street of Ottery St. Catchpole with her father, who had taken a half-day off from work, and who was as giddy as he always got in the presence of muggle society.
"Why can't we be more like them?" asked Ginny grumpily, pointing towards a group of muggle children heading home from primary school, "they actually get to go to school since they're little, they're not stuck at home until they're eleven."
Her father shrugged, "Well, maybe that's something we can learn from muggles. Never assume that we always know better. Observe them, even if they're just going about their routines, you might learn something."
But from what Ginny could see, the only thing muggles could teach her was how to hold hands and giggle. Everywhere she looked she saw people of all ages, from secondary schoolers to pensioners, walking in pairs and practically wrapped around each other. With an internal groan, she remembered what today was: Valentine's Day.
Ginny obviously knew nothing about romance beyond what she read in epic stories, but in those stories, romance usually meant a boy doing something to "win" a girl's affection, usually by giving her something or protecting her from something (that she couldn't protect herself from, obviously), while the girl just sat back did nothing but accept it. Why couldn't there be any tales of the maiden saving the knight from the dragon? It was the same attitude that had Ginny sneaking out every night to fly, since her brothers and mother would never let her do something so dangerous (even though the boys did it all the time). So it was no surprise she was skeptical of cliché traditions like Valentine's Day.
"Ah, here we are!" said Arthur cheerfully, and directed her towards a shop selling...flowers.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," said Ginny, "I thought you were going to buy plugs."
"Yes, that's what I told your mother," said Arthur with a wink, "I wanted this to be a surprise."
Ginny groaned as she followed Arthur through the door out of the cold. The shop was very crowded, with boys and men of all ages looking very much in a hurry as they looked around at all the different varieties, scratching their heads and looking overwhelmed.
"You know, you could just conjure some flowers for Mum," Ginny pointed out. "Actually no, scratch that, if Mum wanted some flowers she could conjure them for herself."
"I know she could, Ginny," said Arthur patiently, "Doing something nice for someone doesn't mean you're questioning their ability. The flowers are secondary to the act of getting them. It shows that I thought of making your mother happy and put in effort for it, which is why venturing out into the muggle world for them means more than just waving my wand. You understand?"
"Sure," grunted Ginny, even though she stopped paying attention halfway through his heartfelt wisdom.
After they picked out a large bouquet of roses, they tried to pay with some of Arthur's collection of muggle currency (some of which was apparently only good in other countries). Arthur was grinning the whole time, completely oblivious to the increasingly impatient cashier.
After taking long enough for an angry queue to form behind them, they were finally on their way back home. When they walked through the door into the kitchen, Molly was charming the knives to chop vegetables for stew.
"Find what you were looking for, dear?" Molly called over her shoulder.
Arthur walked up behind her with the bouquet in his hand, smiling gleefully. "You could say that."
"What's that?" Molly turned around and her face lit up at the sight of the roses.
"Oh Arthur dear, they're beautiful!" Molly exclaimed. She took the flowers and brought the blossoms up to her nose and took a deep breath. "Oh, they smell lovely."
She found a vase to put the roses in and set them proudly on the kitchen table, before turning to kiss her husband sweetly. For entirely too long than parents should, in Ginny's opinion. They separated at the sound of Ginny's dramatic retching noises.
"Oh just you wait, young lady," said Molly, smiling, "You won't find all of this business so silly when it's a boy trying to win your heart."
"Yes, in about thirty or forty years," said Arthur sternly. Molly laughed and slapped his arm.
"I will not!" said Ginny indignantly, "I'm not going to suddenly like being doted on just because a boy—"
But an image swam up from her memories as she was speaking: a face with green eyes and black hair, framed in a train window, watching her as she ran after the Hogwarts Express.
Ginny hadn't realized she had trailed off mid-sentence. She jumped when her mother cleared her throat loudly, and looked away and blushed when she saw Molly giving her a very knowing look, like she could read her thoughts.
Ginny of course knew who Harry Potter was, and naturally was excited about seeing him on the platform, just like any kid would be. But since that day, Ginny had perhaps spent more time thinking about him than normal.
There was just something about him that she found….intriguing, because it completely contradicted the image she had of him from the stories:
He was alone.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy who was so Strong, Pure, and Good that You-Know-Who's evil couldn't harm him, had gone to Platform 9 ¾ all by himself, and didn't even know how to get onto the platform. As he watched her run after the train, she saw on his face a strange mixture of anticipation and sadness, like he wished he had someone to see him off like she was doing for her brothers.
During her boredom of the last few months, her idle mind had come up with an embarrassing amount of daydreams and theories about the life of Harry Potter, especially since Ron had become his best friend and written home about him, about how he had bravely stood up to a Slytherin bully and won a spot on the Quidditch team, and how he didn't expect to get any Christmas presents from his family, so Mum should make him his own sweater.
In most of these scenarios, Harry Potter was tragically stuck with muggles who didn't understand how great he was or what he did for the wizarding world. He was in need of comfort and affection. Perhaps from a girl who loved Quidditch as much as he did. She hadn't even truly met him yet, but Harry Potter's face had started filling the role in her mind of the abstract concept of "Boys."
But she was being silly. As Molly resumed her cooking and Arthur started telling her about his day at the office, Ginny fidgeted nervously and tried to ignore the warm feeling in her stomach. She thought back to all those silly Valentine's Day things she saw the couples doing in the village. By Valentine's Day next year, she would be at Hogwarts….
She eyed the vase of roses on the table, and after making sure her parents weren't looking, she snatched one out and ran up to her bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and brought the rose to her nose. As the scent filled her senses, she pictured the rose being given to her by a boy with green eyes, and a small smile spread on her face.
Maybe some clichés weren't all bad.