Waterbed

Rating: T

Pairing: Hermione/Professor Flitwick

Summery: Hermione finds a bouquet of roses and a letter on her bed. At first she is delighted, until she finds out whom they are from. Funny but creepy.

Posted: 2005

Disclaimer: This was written in seventh grade as a joke, and then remembered in eighth grade when a substitute teacher, Mr. Halguson, winked at me, rubbed my shoulders, and took to standing far too close when he talked to me. Ew. I couldn't find the original, so I ended up rewriting it again. In the original the only thing written was a conversation between Hermione and Flitwick, or the second half of this version more or less. I decided to remake it as a letter, and then I afterward added in the conversation again. It's much longer then the original, but I think it is far more enjoyable this way.

14 December 2007 So. I copy-and-pasted this story onto a word document so I could print it out to show it off to a few friends at school. They found an unusual amount of grammatical and spelling errors. I was confused and upset. I read over it myself and realized the version that has been posted for gosh knows how long was one of the first, and messiest. Grr. What is up now should be more or less grammar grosses free.

13 March 2010 I edited the story ever so slightly--not enough that readers will notice changes, but definitely enough for me to feel happier about it. Enjoy the changes which, if I did them properly, you won't even see.

-

Hermione gasped with surprise and delicately lifted the bouquet of roses off her bed. "Ron?" she breathed, a blush spreading across her face. She had adored her friend for years now, even when she had been with Victor. Were these gifts meant to convey his reciprocated love for her…?

A letter! She carefully placed the crimson flowers back on the sheets then picked up and opened the note. "Pr-Professor Flitwick?!" No way, Hermione thought, horror filling her. Professor Flitwick, the Charms instructor? This can't be right.

"Maybe it's a mistake," she murmured. "Wait… No… Oh my…!"

This is what she read:

Dear Hermione,

Hermione. Sweet Hermione. Ever since my first lesson with you I realized you were special. You are by far the most intelligent, adept, and beautiful young witch I have ever taught.

Hermione, I think I love you. I know I love you. I know what you think, that I am too old for you, that I am still your teacher, but I don't care about any of that! I love you, Hermione, with my body, heart, and soul.

I know this may be shocking to you, but please at least think about this. My feelings are real. I love you, Hermione.

Yours forever,

Filius Flitwick

Oh my God… Bile rose in Hermione's throat. The note fell from her limp hands and drifted to the floor. Is this real? Could it be some sick prank?

But no, it had been his handwriting; she recognized it from graded papers.

Hermione paced back and forth, trembling. Oh my God, oh my God… What am I supposed to do? Oh my God, oh my God...!

Coming to a sudden halt, Hermione whirled to Professor Flitwick's unwanted gifts, whipped out her wand, and hoarsely cried, "Incendio!" The roses and letter burst into flames and burnt to fine white ash. This never happened, Hermione thought to herself as she took in long, deep breathes to calm herself. This never happened, so no one will find out about it. No one will ever know. This never happened.

-

Professor Filius Flitwick imagined the look on his precious Hermione's face as she read his heartfelt letter. First her mouth would drop open in surprise at getting a letter from her favorite teacher, and then as she read it she would smile fondly at his eloquent compliments, then gasp and blush at his passionate proclamation of love. She'd drop the letter and collapse into a chair. She would be shocked, and a little afraid, but then she would realize how much she cared about her professor and decide to talk to him.

Yes. Dear, sweet, Hermione. She was his darling Hermione, though she would soon be his darling lover. After all, who could resist a man like Filius?

-

In Charms the next day, Hermione looked carefully at everything but the Professor who had last night through his most unwanted presents professed his love for her. She carefully perused her parchment, carefully gazed at the ceiling, carefully stared at the floor. For the first time in her entire career as a student, she carefully resisted raising her hand for the entirety of the period. Though it was possibly the most terrifying hour of her life, Hermione carefully avoided any mistake until the bell rang and she was able to carefully make her way to the door...

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione carefully forced a seemingly casual smile on her face. "Yes, Professor Flitwick?"

"Would you mind staying after?" the tiny man asked, his face a hint ruddier than usual.

Dread filled her. Yes, I would actually! "Of course not!" she said through clenched teeth, her entire body exhausted from the emotional and physical care that had gone into the previous hour.

"What did you do?" Harry hissed at her.

Hermione felt sick. I caught the eye of a creepy old man, that's what I did. "Nothing," she snapped back, carefully trying to keep her composure. "I don't know what he wants."

Harry frowned but left. Ron lingered, a worried look on his face.

"Are you sure you're not in trouble? You look awful," Ron whispered.

He's worried about me! Hermione thought dreamily, happy to be close to her real love despite her agony at being in the proximity of her unwanted admirer. He cares! "Don't worry, nothing is wrong," she fibbed, giving him a genuine smile. Though she knew something was definitely wrong with the creepy old professor, her precious Ron always got a smile from her.

After everyone had left, Professor Flitwick pulled up a stool across from Hermione. He hopped up on it and smiled at her.

Stop staring at me, you creepy old man! Hermione screamed in her head, for though she was being careful not to say a word aloud, she could not hold her internal tongue. If you weren't a professor I would curse you till you resembled a bubotuber!

"Did you find it?" Professor Flitwick questioned, his face glowing.

Oh no, no, no... "Find what?" Hermione asked, carefully feigning innocence and mild confusion.

The tiny man blushed further. "You know, the letter."

Ew, ew, EW! "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said with a carefully casual shrug.

He looked utterly crestfallen, but Hermione had no pity for him. "Oh. Well, never mind then."

"May I leave, Professor?" Hermione asked, her care just barely able to keep eagerness out of her voice. "It's lunch time."

"Yes. Yes, go ahead."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said with careful calm, picking up her book-bag. She carefully rose and walked through the door. I made it! she thought blissfully, barely resisting skipping a bit. I'm free! Free from the creepy old man!

"Wait! Hermione, come back for just a moment. I shan't take a minute of your time."

Pumpkin juice.

Hermione forced a polite smile on her face and reentered the classroom. "Yes, Professor?"

He took a deep breath, and slowly said, "The letter I sent you, which you apparently didn't receive, had something quite important written on it."

Pumpkin juice dragon fart slug barf.

"Oh really?" Please, don't persist. Let me go to lunch. Don't torture me anymore. "That's too bad." In a last desperate attempt, she carefully added, "Professor, I'm hungry."

"I am too."

Relief filled her. "Then lets us go to lunch!" she said with careful cheerfulness, backing away from him slightly.

"I'm not hungry for food," Professor Flitwick, his voice soft. He stared at her horrific obsession.

"Well, um, I am, so can I please go...?"

"I love you!"

"Pr-Professor!" Hermione screamed, unable to carefully keep her composure any longer. Backing away hastily, she frantically exclaimed, "That is nothing to joke about!"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life," he declared, his face flushing and his eyes wide.

"But you're a teacher!"

"I don't care!" he cried. "I don't care about any of that! All I care about is you. I love you, Hermione!"

"But you're a teacher!" Hermione persisted, painfully aware of how lame she sounded.

"Do you really care about that?" he asked sadly.

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice.

He sighed woefully. "Yes, perhaps you're right." He was silent for a moment. "But you won't be my student in a few years. Maybe then…"

"I need to get to lunch!" Hermione turned and rushed toward the door. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Hermione, just one last thing!"

She stopped--however much she hated it, he was still her teacher!--but refused to turn around. "Y-yes?"

"I just want you to remember… I have a waterbed."

Fin Fin