Love Note

It began with a note. The simplest of notes, arriving during breakfast on Valentine's Day, borne by a school owl. It was anonymous.

Hermione slipped it inside her bag to look at later. First class was Arithmancy and she couldn't be late. She hoped neither Ron nor Harry had noticed the note. She never received Valentine notes. Ron would find it exciting and infuriating and she knew that he would be jealous. That was Ron. It would probably result in another argument. Ron would cause a lot more fuss than she wanted to have made, Hermione knew, and anyway, who cared? It was only a note. Not a marriage proposal. She didn't even know whom it was from.

Still, when she was getting ready for bed in the evening, she saw it poking out of her schoolbag and she unconsciously picked it up and tucked it under her pillow. As she slid between the sheets and heard Lavender Brown turn off the light, she reached one hand up to the note.

Her wand lay on her nightstand. She pulled it under the sheets and whispered, "Lumos." She felt a sort of a thrill as light flared from her wand and she unfolded the scrap of paper. She didn't know why she was so excited over a little Valentine. She was feeling rather crazy this evening. Well, she could read a Valentine's note if she wanted to, right? It was her choice. Hermione was usually so uptight. She knew she was uptight. Tonight, though, she wanted a little tasted of freedom. She read the note.

Dear Hermione,

You don't know who I am, and I'm not about to tell you (embarrassment for all involved), but I wanted to tell you that I love you. And to have a Happy Valentine's Day.

Sincerely,

An admirer

"Oh…" Hermione whispered weakly and re-read the note. Love. That was quite strong, wasn't it, for someone who was probably seventeen or maybe younger? Almost against her will, she fervently hoped whoever it was would have the courage to tell her who they were. Love. Hermione didn't think she had ever been in love. She loved her parents, of course, and Harry and Ron, but she'd never been in love. Hermione didn't think she'd ever really experienced romance. Having Viktor adore her the way he obviously did was lovely, but she didn't really feel anything for him except friendship. And that was a problem; sometime soon, she should write him and tell him the truth…

Cold air draped itself over her neck and shoulders. Hermione, horrified, turned to find Parvati Patil holding the blankets she had just yanked off her head.

"What're you reading, Hermione?" she asked, giggling maliciously, looking at the note Hermione still clutched in her left hand. Parvati reached out and pulled it from her unwilling fingers.

"No! Hey, that's mine!" Hermione stuttered, but Parvati was already hungrily reading the slip of parchment.

"Hmm…well, that's exciting, isn't it? Oooh, Hermione's got a boyfriend…"

"Shhhh!" Hermione hissed angrily. "I do not have a boyfriend! It's just a note. I'm sure you've got loads anyway, give me that…"

"Not so fast. Now I'm curious. And I'm going to find out who gave you this, and you're going to help."

"Parvati!"

"What? Don't you want to know who wrote this?" She held up the note.

"I'm going to kill you for this…" Hermione muttered.

"Oh well. That's too bad, isn't it? Now meet me tomorrow after class behind Greenhouse Two. I am going to keep this, too. G'night, Hermione." Parvati walked back to her bed, staged a yawn, and turned her back to Hermione.

Hermione didn't lie down. She was still in shock. What am I going to doShe thought, panicked. If she refused to go along with Parvati's plan, the other girl would doubtless tell all of her friends, probably all of Gryffindor for that matter, about the note. But she didn't want Parvati finding out whoever wrote the note, either…Hermione stood up and pulled on a sweater. She tiptoed down the stairs to the common room, where a fire still burned in the corner.

Sinking into an armchair, she reviewed her options again. Helping Parvati—that would mean she would find out who had written the note. And only minutes ago, wasn't she longing to find out her secret admirer? She was seventeen. She could make her own decisions. What did she care if Parvati knew who had fallen in love with her?

The only problem was that she did care.

She spent the rest of the night mulling over the tangled knot of affairs.

In the morning, Hermione had reached a decision.