Harry couldn't worry too much about his godfather and the baby, because once February rolled around he had a problem of his own—and its name was Valentine's Day. Harry figured he should ask Hermione to be his valentine, but he didn't know how. Valentine's Day was this Friday, though, in less than a week, and he needed to think of something.
Back in his Muggle primary school, they had Valentine's Day every year. Harry was very well aware that the only reason he got cards was because everyone in his class was required to give cards to everyone else. They each got an old shoe box and decorated it, then dumped valentines in each other's boxes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always bought a stack of store-bought valentines for Dudley to use, but Harry always had to make his own, saying things he didn't mean, because he had never really had feelings like that for anyone, and even if he had, he certainly wouldn't have said it in front of a whole class of kids who liked to bully him.
But apparently at Hogwarts they didn't do valentine boxes. If you wanted to ask a girl to be your valentine, you were on your own. Sometimes in class Harry would write love notes when pretending to take actual notes, but he knew he could never send any of them. He meant every word, but just thinking of Hermione reading one of his love notes was far too embarrassing.
On Friday morning, Valentine's morning, Harry tried to pretend like it was any other day. Ron didn't seem to notice anything different. But Harry noticed how a lot of the older students seemed to know what day it was.
"Know what day it is?" Harry asked Ron at breakfast, watching the cuddling couples.
"Friday?"
"No," Harry told him. "Valentine's Day."
"Gross," said Ron, and continued eating his bacon.
Harry had Potions that day, and it was incredibly boring. They had a test coming up, so Snape was having them all take notes as he reviewed the material. Hermione was busily scribbling down everything Snape said, but Ron was drooling and staring out the window, and Harry himself found his mind starting to wander. He started writing another note to Hermione, asking her to be his valentine, his best one yet—although he still felt he could never actually give the note to her. It was really getting good when suddenly he felt the paper snatched out of his hands.
"What's this?" Snape sneered. "Writing notes in class, are we?"
Oh no, oh no, Harry thought. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. Harry watched with horror as Snape read what was on the paper. Maybe, Harry thought desperately, Snape would remember what it was like to be in love, and he wouldn't read the note in front of the class…but the awful smirk on Snape's face was telling Harry otherwise.
"What does it say, Professor?" Malfoy called out.
"Let's see," said Snape, clearing his throat, and Harry knew the worst was coming. "It says, 'Dear Hermione Granger. I love you, and I have loved you since the beginning of the school year. Your eyes are the lovely color of delicious Honeydukes chocolate, and you have the best smile I have ever seen on anyone. You are a beautiful girl, absolutely brilliant and an absolutely wonderful friend…'"
It got worse, but Snape kept reading. He paused after every sentence, too, just so the Slytherins could get in a good laugh. Malfoy was in tears, banging his fist on his desk, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Pansy Parkinson and Holly's cousin Daphne were giggling meanly.
Harry could feel Hermione (not to mention Ron) staring at him, but he wouldn't look at them. All he wanted was to evaporate as Snape kept reading his note. When he reached the end, the Gryffindors were all silent, and every Slytherin was laughing. Over and over again, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were chanting: "Potter and Granger, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!" Snape didn't try to stop them.
"Potter," said Snape nastily, "Potions class is neither the time nor the place for teenage romance."
Another loud gale of laughter from the Slytherins.
"Therefore I must take ten points from Gryffindor, and be grateful it isn't more." Snape rolled up Harry's love letter and tossed it in his fireplace. The Slytherins laughed again.
"I guess you won't be getting your letter, Granger!" Pansy Parkinson squawked. "Oh, wait—I guess you've heard it anyway!"
She nudged Daphne, who giggled again, and then all the Slytherins laughed harder than ever.
It was the worst Potions class Harry had ever had at Hogwarts, and that was saying something. Even though Snape eventually told everyone to "settle down", Pansy and Daphne were still whispering the sitting-in-a-tree rhyme over and over again so Harry could hear. His face felt hot and his stomach felt sick. There was definitely no chance of Hermione being his valentine now.
Harry didn't want to eat lunch in the Great Hall—not that he had an appetite anyway, of course. His lunch ended up being a Chocolate Frog, eaten in the boys' bathroom in a locked stall. Not exactly sanitary, but at least nobody was going to find him in there. Once lunchtime was over, though, he had to get to Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Daphne followed Harry and Ron all the way there (Harry wouldn't walk with Hermione).
"POTTER AND GRANGER, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE—"
"Daphne! What on Earth are you up to?"
They all turned. There was Holly, towering formidably above them.
"What do you want?" Daphne crossed her arms and scowled up at her older cousin.
"Hey, loser," said Holly. "Are you seriously teasing Harry and Hermione?"
"What's it to you?" Daphne demanded, although Harry noticed her cheeks had turned a bit pink.
"Well, I don't know where you get off," Holly answered haughtily, "since I seem to recall you and Astoria giggling and staring at Draco all day long when we visited Malfoy Manor over the Christmas holidays."
Malfoy looked shocked and stared at Daphne, who turned bright red and clapped her hands over her mouth. Holly rolled her eyes and walked away. Ron moaned in longing, and Harry was sure he heard Malfoy say to Crabbe and Goyle, "Well, I thought Astoria was the prettier one, anyway."
By the time they got to the pumpkin patch for Care of Magical Creatures, Daphne had stopped teasing Harry, but the rest were still going at it, and their rhyme had gotten even worse. They weren't even calling Harry and Hermione by their names anymore:
Now they were chanting: "POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES A FILTHY HALF-BLOOD IN A BABY CARRIAGE! POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES A FILTHY HALF-BLOOD IN A BABY CARRIAGE!"
And over and over again the rhyme went, until Harry couldn't take it anymore. He ran to Sirius, who was getting class set up.
"Sirius, will you write a permission slip getting me out of class for the next week or two?" he begged.
"Why?" said Sirius.
"Because…because I'm ill," said Harry, pretending to feel faint and putting his hand to his forehead. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."
Sirius stared at the Slytherins, who were still taunting Hermione. Harry was amazed at how well she handled it; her head was high in the air, her eyes were closed, and she seemed to simply be ignoring them. Harry wished he could do the same.
"You can't skive off class because the Slytherins are acting like the douchenozzles they are," said Sirius. "If you do, then they win."
"I just can't stand it," Harry insisted. "I'm going to die of embarrassment."
"What are they teasing you about?"
"They…they found out about Hermione," Harry mumbled, not wanting to go into it. Sirius frowned.
"Let me handle this," he said, and walked off towards the gang of taunting Slytherins, Harry following close behind.
"POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE—"
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Sirius demanded, cutting them off short.
"Oh hello, Professor Black," Malfoy said, saying the "Professor" part sarcastically. "Do you like our little rhyme?"
"No, I don't," said Sirius. "Clean out your mouth!"
Sirius snapped his fingers. Harry gasped as each Slytherin who had been chanting "Potty and the Mudblood" now had a foaming bar of soap in his or her mouth. Sirius glared at them, hands on his hips.
"One detention each, for all of you!" he snarled. "And fifty points from Slytherin!"
Malfoy spit the soap right out of his mouth.
"You can't!" he yelled in outrage.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Malfoy!" Sirius snapped. "Do you want it to be one hundred and fifty?"
"When my father hears about this—"
"Tell him I'd be willing to duel, anytime," Sirius said coldly. "Now you lot stop singing that infernal rhyme, unless you want detention for the next month."
The Slytherins were quiet, then. It seemed they didn't want any more detention, and they definitely didn't want any more points taken away from Slytherin. Sirius winked at Harry, then beckoned everyone to come to the pumpkin patch for class.
Harry was glad not to have the Slytherins tease him for the rest of class, but there was still the fact that everyone knew his secret now. Hermione was watching him, he knew, but he wouldn't look at her. As soon as Care of Magical Creatures class was over, Harry didn't hang back to talk to Sirius, like he usually would have. Instead, he ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and shut himself in his dorm. Luckily, the dorm was deserted.
"Potty and the Mudblood" was still swarming around and around in Harry's brain. He sat there on his bed, his head buried in his knees, trying to get it out. When he heard a knock on the door, he was sure it was either Ron or Sirius, so he said loudly, "Go away!"
But he was surprised when his visitor entered the room. It was Hermione.