Written for Hogwarts - Herbology Assignment 3: Write about someone giving flowers to another person.

Hey everyone. I haven't written a Fred/Hermione story in ages, and I know I have to update "Prankster in Training" very soon, but for now, here's a fluffy little one-shot in preparation for Valentine's Day!

Fun fact: I had no idea what the symbol of the violet was until after I'd written this piece. It turns out that violets represent love, purity, and happiness. How convenient :)

Word count: 2, 341

"Did you know," said a bossy voice above them, "that poor Adeline Pemberson is allergic to pollen?"

Fred Weasley, who was kneeling on the red carpet of the Gryffindor common room, stood and looked at the frazzled fifth-year who stood in front of him, her hands on her hips.

"No, Hermione, we didn't. But you can send her our deepest apologies." He flashed her a charming smile, but Hermione didn't swoon. She didn't even bat an eye. Instead, she flushed a deep red and jabbed a finger at the ground.

"Take those away! Now!"

She was pointing at a large cluster of violas, freshly collected from the grass lining the Forbidden Forest. It had taken him, George, and Lee two hours to find the perfect flowers, and Fred dutifully informed her of this.

"So you see," he said, "we are quite sorry Adeline Pemberson is allergic, but it would be such a waste to throw them out, since we've put so much effort into collecting them."

"It would be like throwing out one of your essays," called George earnestly from where he was examining the purple petals on a flower. "Tragic and disheartening."

"Yeah, do you have something against violas, Hermione? Just because they're small little things-"

"I happen to love violas," Hermione said passionately.

"Well that's excellent," said Fred cheerily. He could see his twin and Lee smirking because, of course, the three had already known that. "Really excellent."

Lee nodded and said innocently, "I just wonder how you can love them but want us to throw them out."

She crossed her arms very tightly and said through gritted teeth, "I don't care if you throw them out or not; just get them away from here. Take them to your room, or something. Just don't be so insensitive, or I'll be forced to take points from you!"

"Fine, fine," said Fred, smirking lazily. "We'll take them up. On one condition."

She tapped her foot impatiently. "What?"

"What's your favorite color? Is it red? Gold? Heavens forbid, green?"

"Or blue?" offered Lee. "Because you know, you blue me away."

"It's actually turquoise, for your information, though I hardly know why you're asking. At any rate, you better take those flowers away in two minutes, or I'll actually take points away."

She stalked off to her corner of the common room, which contained more books than the twins and Lee owned combined.

Fred watched her scribble furiously on her parchment until George lobbed a clump of dirt towards Fred's ear.

"Oi, focus! You'll have plenty of time for that later."

He tore his eyes away from her mane of bushy brown hair. "Just thinking how brilliant we are," he said proudly. "I knew Adeline Pemberson would be a great actress."

"Turquoise," said Lee triumphantly. "Phase 1 is officially complete."

"Onto Phase 2," said George, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The three sauntered up the stairs behind the bouquet of flowers, discussing their brilliant, flawless plan.

In the common room, Hermione Granger scribbled on, completely unaware of what was about to befall her.

It was the very morning of February 7th, and Hermione found the flower on her bedside table when she woke up at the crack of dawn.

It was a red, red rose with beautiful satin petals and a lovely scent to it, and it sat on her table like it was meant to be there.

Hermione was just reaching out to touch the magical thing when Lavender rolled over on her bed, saw the flower, and promptly screamed. "Oh my gosh, Hermione!"

She leapt out of her bed with surprising drive for someone waking up early Sunday morning. Lavender excitedly kneeled beside Hermione and examined the rose with wide eyes.

"Who gave it to you? Hermione, this is great, it really is, who gave it to you?!"

"If I knew," said Hermione, who was still staring at the flower as if not quite believing it was there, "I would tell you."

"Lav," moaned Parvati from her bed. "What are you screaming about?"

"Hermione's got a rose!"

"What?" Parvati sat up extremely quickly and stared at the rose. "Oh my god, Hermione, who gave it to you?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, too baffled to be annoyed at the fact that the two were crowded around her bedside table. "Do you think it's poisonous?"

Lavender and Parvati both shot her irritated frowns. "Come on, Hermione," said Lavender. "Valentine's is in a week. It's obviously a boy who wants to please you."

Hermione gently picked up the rose and examined its thorn-less stem. The petals were silky, ruby red, and obviously fresh. It was a beautiful flower; and yet something was strangely off about it. The petals were perfect but for how they were arranged, as if the flower wasn't a rose at all, as if it was simply taking the appearance of a rose.

It must have just been her fatigued eyes, though, because Lavender and Parvati spent the rest of the morning exclaiming over its beauty and perfection.

The tulip dropped on Hermione's open newspaper the next morning at breakfast. Hermione had just barely enough time to process the sight of a school owl dropping the flower into her glass of water before Lavender and Parvati were sweeping over and exclaiming about the mysterious boy who kept sending her flowers.

They were talking very loudly, and it took only a minute - a minute Hermione could've spent hiding the flower - for Harry and Ron to turn and discover Hermione trying in vain to stash the beautiful pink tulip into her bag.

"What is that?" Ron asked, and he reached across the table to pluck the flower from Hermione's fingers.

"A flower, Ronald," said Hermione touchily. This was on the account that it was now obvious Ron Weasley had not a romantic bone in his body - and this conflicted greatly with Hermione's slight hope that he'd been the sender of this flower and the rose.

"It's the second one she's gotten," said Lavender happily.

"You've gotten another before?" Harry asked.

She crumpled up her newspaper and stood. "Yes, and that was personal, Lavender, thanks. I have to go talk to Professor Flitwick now, so give the flower back, Ronald."

Ron handed her the flower and she slung her bag over her shoulder, stalking out of the Great Hall. Behind her, she heard Ron ask, "What is her problem?"

Lavender said (not very quietly), "I think she thought you were giving her flowers."

"What? Why would I?" Hermione stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open. Hurt and anger boiled in her stomach, and she didn't even relish the jealousy in his voice as Ron added moodily, "I'd like to know who is getting them, though."

She stormed out of the Great Hall without another pause.

Nobody noticed the glance that the Weasley twins, who had been eavesdropping in on the whole conversation, shared when she left.

Over the course of the next week, Hermione discovered that the flower sender wasn't going to stop at two. He left flowers for her everywhere, once a day, and with each flower discovery, Hermione slowly began to feel as pleased and… special as the other Gryffindor girls said she ought to.

It was a new, strange feeling for her, but it wasn't entirely unwanted or unpleasant.

Tuesday morning after breakfast, she found a yellow daffodil sitting on her desk in Charms. Wednesday, a hibiscus was innocently placed on her usual seat at lunch. Thursday found a marigold at her corner of the library right after lunch.

"I wonder who's so desperate that they want you," sneered Pansy Parkinson when she spotted Hermione picking up an oriental lily from her seat at the beginning of Transfiguration on Friday afternoon.

Lavender and Parvati, who were big supporters of the show they liked to consider as "Hermione and the Flowers", replied, "I don't see anyone giving you flowers, Pansy. Must be something Hermione's doing right and you're doing wrong."

That shut Pansy up.

On Saturday, Hermione walked down to dinner to find an iris on her plate.

"What, is that the sixth one?" Ginny asked as Hermione examined the flower.

"Yes," Hermione said distractedly. "It's sort of a pattern, I think."

"What?"

She looked up and frowned, deep in thought. "I think as the days pass, the flowers come progressively later in the day." She bit her lip. "I just don't know what they're leading to, though."

"Isn't it obvious?" Ginny brightened up and clapped her hands together. "Hermione, for someone who figured that out, you can be so clueless sometimes. It's Valentine's Day tomorrow."

The conversation was uncomfortably steering towards the topics that Hermione lacked much experience in, and she quickly changed the subject. "Ginny, look at this flower. Does it look… I don't know, strangely proportioned to you?"

Ginny took the iris from Hermione and twirled it in her hand. "What do you mean?"

"Look at the petals. From all the flowers I've found-"

"Been given," Ginny interrupted.

"-their petals aren't quite… right. There's something off about them. The daffodil's petals were definitely rounder than normal, and the stems of some of them are far too thin to be authentic."

Ginny didn't seem to find Hermione's theory very credible. "I guess the iris looks more blue than purple, but does it really matter if they aren't real? They're still flowers."

"I know," Hermione said. "It's just that there's something different about these flowers."

The fourth-year Weasley shrugged. "As long as they're not poisoned, I think they're fine."

On Sunday, Valentine's Day, Hermione spent more time contemplating the strange bouquet of flowers assembled on her bedside table than she did studying. Parvati had Transfigured a cup into a quaint glass vase, and Lavender had artfully arranged the colorful flowers.

The entire day, as she did homework, her eyes kept returning to the vase. There was really something off about the flowers, no matter what Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati said. She simply couldn't put her finger on it. There was certainly something about the shape that wasn't quite right, and the bouquet reminded her of something that she couldn't put her finger on.

She was still trying to figure it out at dinner, when a paper plane landed on her lap. Her head shot up and she glanced around to see where it had come from. No one seemed to be looking at her, and she frowned as she opened the plane. Written on it were the words:

Astronomy Tower, midnight?

Hermione stared at the note for a very long time. Was this from the flower sender? She assumed it was. She didn't know anyone else who would send such a note to her.

She tucked it in her pocket and shook her increasingly girlish thoughts out of her mind by turning and talking with the Weasley twins, who looked very pleased about something.

Against her better judgement, Hermione snuck out of the Gryffindor Tower and arrived at the Astronomy Tower at precisely midnight. It was empty and cold, and Hermione had begun to feel out of place and slightly disappointed when a voice suddenly said,

"I wasn't sure you'd come. Seeing as you're a prefect and all."

Oh Merlin. She knew that voice. It couldn't be - Oh Merlin.

She could only watch in - what was it? Horror? Suspense? It couldn't really be either because her heart was wildly beating in her chest and it felt nice. Very nice.

The person continued, "But I know you have some bit of prankster in you, and so that's why I knew you'd come. Also because you're curious."

Hermione bit her lip. "Fred," she said in a level voice. "Was this all a joke?"

Fred Weasley stepped from the shadows, and he was, for once, without George or Lee. His handsome face was hesitant and - she'd never seen this on him before - cautious.

"A joke? Merlin, Hermione. Would I put that much effort into a joke?" He frowned then grinned cheekily. "Wait. Don't answer that."

Hermione suppressed a smile, but she still felt very strange in Fred's presence. He was a seventh-year; a whole two years older than her! And other than the occasional tease, he'd never indicated she'd meant anything more to him than his little brother's friend.

"So," she said awkwardly, "all the flowers were from you?"

Fred gave a small inclination of his head. "Indeed they were. And in fact… close your eyes."

She obliged, surprised at how much she trusted him.

Something silky and soft tickled her chin and she opened her eyes to see a gorgeous viola in front of her. She gasped, because this was not just a viola, which was her favorite flower. This particular viola was streaked with turquoise that stemmed from the center and out, and it was by far the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen.

"It worked quite well," shrugged Fred. "We put some alteration spells on it."

"It's perfect," Hermione said, rubbing the petals between her fingers.

"Yes, well, it's even more perfect when you realize that all the other flowers are made from these."

She looked down at the turquoise viola in her hand and suddenly everything made sense. The roundness of the petals, the width of the stems - the rest of the flowers had been altered from that bouquet of violets she'd seen the twins and Lee sorting through the other day.

"Oh," she breathed. "That's beautiful."

Fred shifted his feet and cleared his throat. There wasn't a hint of jester in his voice when he said, "So are you."

For the first time, Hermione looked at him in the eyes. His eyes were blue like Ron's, but there was something different about them that Hermione couldn't believe she'd missed before. There was a life behind them that she hadn't once seen before.

"Thanks, Fred," she said quietly. "Really."

She stepped forward, and was convinced that it was the bravest thing she'd ever done when she instinctively hugged him, breathing in his clean scent. He relaxed after a moment and put his arms around her.

The violet dropped from her hand and landed on the ground. Its purple-turquoise petals cupped the moonlight as Fred's and Hermione's shadows stayed entwined beside it.