This is the first chapter of the remake of Valentine's Mysteries.

Warning: Will (eventually) end up with male/male relationship, although probably nothing M rated.

Enjoy, and please review!

'Breakfast as usual,' thought Harry with a sigh. 'Some things never change, even on Valentine's Day.' That may have been an understatement. Harry Potter was slumped in his chair, opposite his two best friends. The spectacular breakfast before them may have consisted of exactly the same food as always, but for the occasion Dumbledore had asked the house-elves to spell everything so that it was glowing bright pink. Another difference about this morning, that Harry was not yet awake enough to notice, was that his friends had rushed him down to the Great Hall whilst normal people were still grumbling in bed. Once in the Great Hall, they had looked around and hurriedly snatched places at the Gryffindor table. Harry hadn't really thought about why his best friends chose to sit where they did, but as the noise level gradually rose he realised it was so that they could see the reactions of everyone else to the food.

The post owls arrived, and the noise level peaked. Everyone was craning their necks to see who got cards and chocolates. The girls squealed amongst themselves as they read their valentines to their friends, the boys laughed at each other as in turn each of their faces turned the colour of their food in response to the gifts they received. Harry watched the valentine cards and chocolates pile in front of his two best friends at the other side of the table. The memory of Hermione at the Yule Ball the previous year was clearly still in the minds of many students, and she didn't seem to mind the attention. Ron was slowly being buried in his own pile of cards and chocolates, although not as many as Hermione. Red hair was apparently in fashion this year, as further down the table Fred and George seemed to be receiving the same treatment.

Harry blinked slowly. Amidst all the pink and red, he could see a small pile of letters slowly building in front of him. He looked surprised for a moment. He had lost favour with many people after last year, with the media convincing everyone that he had been leading Hermione on, whilst the rest of the world turned away at his conviction on the matter of the return of the Dark Lord. The pile continued to grow, and it was only when it was as tall as Ron's pile that he began to notice the smoke rising from the bottom of the pile. Howlers, just what he needed. As his pile reached the same height as Hermione's, the screeching began, voices joining with each other as the letters erupted. The noise from the rest of the hall was gradually drowned out by the screaming voices of hundreds of women whom he had never met, all berating him for things that had never happened. Harry waited for them to finish, and the moment they had stopped, the talking returned to the hall, although at a much lower volume.

As Harry finished his bacon, eggs and toast, he felt a pair of eyes watching him. He wasn't surprised after the spectacle his post had just caused him, but he was still tempted to turn and take a look. He resisted, deciding it must have been the lingering gaze of someone curious about the post he had received. Nevertheless, it made him uncomfortable, reminding him of his misfortune, especially in the romance department.

Ron had been eyeing girls left and right since the start of the year. It seemed that other males of his year had picked up on this craze as well, and the girls were taking more notice than ever. As if trying to provoke reactions in the boys, the girls huddled together and whispered any time one of them passed. Since the students had returned from Christmas break, Harry had found himself being dragged, with increasing frequency, to a quiet corner of the common room to discuss Ron's latest crush. It was all Harry could do to nod along in silent resignation as Ron pointed out whatever physical attributes this girl had that made him want her. Harry never understood what any of the guys saw in the girls, but he never commented. They were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice.

"See you in Transfiguration," Harry muttered to his friends as he got up and left the table. As Harry walked out of the room, a pair of storm-grey eyes followed his movements, looking away only when the famous boy was out of sight.

-o-o-o-o-o-

For the Slytherins, the morning had started out quite differently. Pureblood pride was all that stopped most of them from trudging up from the dungeons that morning, or grumbling as they saw the excitement of the other houses. Pansy Parkinson was the exception to this rule. It took all of her pureblood pride not to bounce along with the rest of the school. She had tied her hair up in a pink ribbon, and only half an hour of begging by her roommates had convinced her not to cover her uniform in pink silk hearts. This however did not deter her, as instead she began to spell parts of her uniform pink.

Pansy received many strange stares as she walked into the Great Hall, all aimed at the tie she was wearing, which was now pink and silver, with hearts enchanted to streak across it. The rest of the Slytherins ignored her, and sat down at the table. It was a few seconds before these students noticed the colour of the food in front of them, brought to their attention mainly by the squeal of delight that emanated from Pansy. Several of the Slytherin students groaned audibly, before regaining their composures and slowly filling their plates with food. The fifth years stared in shock for a few moments. Twin looks of disgust passed across the faces of Vincent Crab and Gregory Goyle, who were both revolted that anyone would do this to food. The last one to react was Draco Malfoy, and it seems that his reaction was what the whole school was waiting for. Finally, a small smile graced his lips, and, audible only to those close to him, he chuckled.

Just then, the post owls began to arrive. From that point on, the conversations turned to the events of the day. Draco continued to eat his breakfast, without giving much thought to the other people in the room. It was slightly disturbing to be eating things coloured such a bright shade of pink, and Draco found himself pondering how easy it would be to slip in something poisonous when everything ended up charmed this alarming shade.

Halfway through his second pink egg on pink toast, the muttering and squealing stopped, and Draco looked up. All heads were turned to the Gryffindor table, as one after another, multitudes of howlers ripped themselves open. The unlucky recipient of these was none other than Harry Potter. Draco stared, and began to feel pity for him. This emotion was soon crushed under the steel toe of a boot labelled 'Training'. Yes, with a capital T. Nevertheless, he continued to watch Harry for the rest of breakfast. He knew that there were thoughts running through his mind that his father would kill him for if he knew they existed. They were pleasant, and, oddly enough, beginning to remind him of the colour of his breakfast.

This wasn't a first for Draco Malfoy. These thoughts had started with basic sympathy at the beginning of the previous year, when he could see that the famous boy was distressed about the prospect of competing in a possibly deadly tournament, combined with the worry that no one believed that he didn't want to do it. To those who looked, it was pretty damn obvious, but since when did anyone really look? They were all too caught up with their other Champion.

The feelings had developed from there, and through each task Draco had felt a little more for the boy. When the feelings had escalated to worry and concern for his health in the final task, Draco had realised that it was more than just… but that was it, he had never been able to justify these feelings to himself, and when he began to worry about Harry Potter's health and wellbeing, he had begun to worry about his own sanity. Long nights thinking over the holidays had corrected that, and shown him exactly what he felt for the boy who lived, and now he had contrived a cunning plan to get his attention.

Harry Potter left the room, and Draco was startled out of his thoughts by his best friend. "What was that, Draco?" Blaise Zabini asked, noticing the focus of the blonde's attention.

It took all of Draco's concentration right then not to stutter "What was what?". The innocence of the question did not fit the situation. His best friend had caught him staring at the Boy Who Lived, and was giving him a 'you know what I mean' stare.

To save himself, Draco responded with whatever first came to mind. "You will have to wait and see, Blaise." Damn, he thought as he got up to leave. He'd dug himself into a hole. Now he had to think of some stupid Valentines prank to play on the boy. Today just wasn't working out well for him.