Written for Valentine's Day
Era: Hogwarts
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
Words: 375
Pickled?
Harry shook his head as he laid his bag on his bed and slumped on top of the covers. His cheeks were still red with embarrassment from the god awful poem. A fresh pickled toad? Magicals were weird. He lay back heavily, head crumping a piece of parchment lying just below his pillow. He turned and picked up the note, the fresh yet thornless rose atop it rolling off as he held it above his face.
Be mine?
The handwriting was incredibly familiar, but the note was too short for the identity to leap out at Harry. He studied it for some time before he picked up the rose and rolled it between his fingers. It was beautiful, and the lack of thorns made it much nicer to hold than his aunt's nasty ones that caught at his clothes and skin. He sniffed the flower at the tip and noticed a very particular smell. His mind finally connecting all the dots together.
He pulled back and smiled widely at the gift. It was immensely better than any other people had tried to give him that day, and was the only one to be given in private. Something he much prefered over his usual infamy at the school. He tucked the note under a framed picture of his two closest friends on his side table and stood, rose in hand. He was at the door in a flash and pulled the door open to find a hand perched in midair. He tracked it back down the arm and up the neck to the brown startled eyes of a very familiar face.
Hermione stared back in shock as her eyes drifted to the red flower in his hands and then back to his face. He could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes and a building desire to turn and run for the hills.
He silenced her with one word. "Yes."
A broad smile broke across his face and a moment later, as the word filtered into his best friends mind, she too matched it. He took her hand in his own and gave it a soft squeeze, presenting her the flower and walking out of the empty dorm, heading downstairs with his new girlfriend.