AN: inspired by DHRfavorites Valentine prompt 'Valentine during the War' This takes place during DH, but obviously slightly AU... Also, yes I actually took the trouble of finding out what the weather was like on 14 Feb 1998, and it was unseasonably warm in Britain during that week. I'm that ridiculous.

Disclaimer: characters aren't mine.

Hermione gripped her wand tighter and rearranged the blanket behind her back. She felt stiff and sore, but at least it wasn't all that cold tonight. In fact, the weather had been exceptionally mild. It hadn't been that long since Christmas, had it? Was it spring already? She stared out into the darkness of the woods, eyes darting every which way, ready to react at the slightest hint of trouble.

Harry was asleep in the tent - or maybe he pretended to sleep and was looking at Ginny's dot on the Marauder's Map again. She didn't blame him, she stared at the Map too often for her own good herself. It hurt, every time, to see all those dots crawling through the different corridors and classrooms. She missed Hogwarts, and she missed him. Whenever she had the Map to herself, her fingers would trail his name, and she allowed herself to remember. Any other time, he was pushed firmly to the back of her mind.

They'd been on the run for months now. She hadn't had a decent meal in ages. Ron had left and wasn't likely to return. She had no idea where to find the next Horcrux or how to destroy the one they had. But she couldn't give into despair. Not when Harry depended on her. Not when the fate of the Wizarding world depended on them.

With a groan, Hermione stretched and got up. It was another two hours before Harry would take over, and she needed some exercise. She walked along the perimeter of the wards, checking every few steps that they were still in place and strong as ever. Something caught her eye as she passed behind the tent, a flicker of light that shouldn't have been there. She stopped, wand firmly in her hand and held her breath, every fibre in her body on edge.

The twinkle came closer, until it gently jumped through the wards. No alarms went off, though. Hermione stepped closer, cautiously. It was a Patronus she didn't recognise. A Kneazle-like creature with a squashed face that looked suspiciously like…

"Crooks?"

The half-Kneazle rubbed its head and body languidly against her legs, circling around. It looked up at her, blinked, and placed what looked like a stick in front of her. Then it evaporated in thin air.

She looked around carefully, casting some surreptitious spells that wouldn't betray her location, trying to detect if anyone else was present, but nothing happened.

She hesitated, but then reached down to take the stick, and at her touch it came alive. It hovered in front of her, and she could see it transform into a flower, a closed rosebud in a haze of silver white light.

She stepped closer still, the flower only a hairsbreadth away. The rose began to bloom, one deep red petal after another folding out unhurried and graceful. She was entranced by the sight of that beautiful red rose opening up right before her eyes. Then she gasped, as the veins and edges of the petals turned gold.

My Gryffindor rose.

She could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. He often called her his Gryffindor rose. He'd even joked, one night, after too much Firewhiskey, that they could name their first daughter Rose. They could start their own new naming tradition, naming the girls after flowers, just like his mother. She closed her eyes for just a moment and could feel his arms around her, the warmth of his body against her back. A tear escaped.

She took the stem of the rose, carefully holding it as she returned to the blanket. She sat down and fingered the soft red and gold petals with a sad smile.

Around the stem was a green ribbon, and on it, in silver letters, I love you. It was his handwriting.

Hermione sobbed quietly, cradling the rose against her chest, caressing the ribbon. She allowed herself to just feel, only for a moment.

She whipped out a hanky after a while, telling herself crying wouldn't solve a thing. Then her eyes traveled up, searching the starry sky between naked tree branches. She found the constellation she was looking for almost immediately, and she blew a kiss in the air.

I love you, too, Draco. Be safe.