Author's Note: This was written for abeezbuzz for the DMHG fic exchange. She requested an embarrassing V-day card, humor, whimsy, and a red satin garter. May she find much laughter and joy in this fic!

Forever Kind of Valentine

He hated Valentine's Day.

Draco glared down at his plate, trying to decide which part of his breakfast to beat into submission first. He had narrowed the choice down to the toast or the eggs. His fork hovered over the toast, ready to strike the killing blow.

Blaise Zabini watched Draco with his chin propped on his fist. "Draco," he drawled slowly, "You are going to have to give your irrationality up eventually. It's been twelve years. Let it go."

Draco stabbed the bread viciously. If the toast had had a mouth, there would have been a death scream ringing out. Blaise would have winced if he hadn't been so carefully trained. He folded his arms and prepared himself for the verbal onslaught while he continued. "We were five years old. Not even the Dark Lord felt hatred like this when he was that age."

"The Dark Lord," Draco retorted, "was not a Malfoy. He would have survived if he had been."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Regardless, even he knew when to draw the line. Really, Draco, it's a holiday, not a plague."

"No, it's not a plague. It's a pestilence. A great, big, pink pestilence that suddenly sweeps over humanity on that damned date, forcing me to endure sickly sweet displays of emotion." He spat the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. He even made the choking noise for added effect.

Blaise had the nerve to chuckle at his dramatics. "In four days it'll be over with."

"Not soon enough." Draco watched an early Valentine zoom toward its recipient with the speed most Quidditch players envied. Good Gods, it was starting already! These holidays were coming earlier and earlier every year. Draco quickly lurched out of his seat. "See you in class," he tossed over his shoulder, exiting the Great Hall with all due haste. He needed to put as much space between him and the insanity as possible. A door, a fortifying spell, and a nap were in order. Necessary, even.

Blaise could joke all he liked, but that day when they were five had left a distinct impression on Draco. It had been perhaps the one time in his life that he'd had romantic feelings for a girl that didn't involve some ulterior mo tive.

Patricia Parkinson.

She'd been beautiful. The classic older woman. Draco had imagined her to be the most glorious seven-year-old in the entire Wizarding World. He'd poured his heart out to her, showered her with gifts. Anything she'd wanted, he'd gotten for her.

His first real Valentine's Day, she'd thrown him over for his best friend.

The experience had taught him two very valuable lessons. First, never leave a girl alone with Blaise Zabini. He didn't understand the concept of "hands-off". Second, girls only wanted Draco for what he could give them. That lesson had been reinforced little by little throughout the years, until Draco had developed an almost phobic dislike of the color pink and heart shaped cards.

He'd kept that vow made twelve years ago. Never once had he pursued a girl. If they'd wanted him, they did the pursuing. He'd never been without company on this damned holiday, especially once he hit fifteen and a growth spurt, but it had been on the condition that no one mention the most hated day of the year.

This Valentine's Day would be the first he would spend alone. Women in general were beginning to bore him. If he'd thought it was possible to occu py himself with boys instead, then Draco wouldn't have felt nearly so dis satisfied. But it wasn't, so he was. He wouldn't miss the people in parti cular, but really, what idiot wanted to forgo free ... affection?

Women were interchangeable to him, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. He wasn't supposed to want something steady, damnit. He was seventeen years old. These were the years when he was supposed to enjoy his freedom. Living it up. Sowing his wild oats. Tossing caution to the wind.

Except he'd done that already. Now hewas ready for something new, something different. Something … magical.

So, given his vow never to be taken in by a woman and his general distaste of romance, he was royally buggered, wasn't he?

He had resolved himself to sticking with those interchangeable bodies until he had to marry some "faceless" trophy wife and then indulging himself with one mistress after another for the rest of this life, but not this Valentine's Day. This one he would spend alone, completely removed from the pink dreck that surrounded him and generally being a cold bastard about it all.

Of course, he was going to be blaming Blaise, cursing the git's name as he so richly deserved.

In a fouler humor than when he had begun, Draco slammed the portrait shut behind him and leaned back on it. Finally. He'd made it. He quickly checked his hair. Not a hair out of place, but he felt completely out of sorts. He eyed the couch with interest.

Draco didn't see him until he'd almost flopped onto the sofa, didn't even feel him. That was odd. He'd learned at an earlier age than five to always watch his back. It was almost too late, but Draco had whipped his wand out and aimed it at whoever dared intrude into his private quarters in the blink of an eye. The boy leaning lazily against the wall smiled benignly not at all phased by the wand poking him right between the eyes.

"Who," Draco growled, "the hell are you?" His tone implied only an immediate answer would save this boy's life

The boy, who couldn't have been any older than Draco himself was, raised his arm slowly and snapped his fingers. A scroll appeared in mid-air in front of him, low enough so that Draco could still see his face as he read aloud.

"Congratulations, Draco Black Malfoy. You are the winner of our ultra-exclusive, super secretive, damn near unheard of Valentine's Day contest—"

xxxxx

If there was one thing that Draco Malfoy knew how to do, it was plot.

He lay in his bed, staring at the canopy in deep thought. He had a few minutes of uninterrupted silence left to him, and he intended to use it.

Slytherins generally fell in with the cliché nighttime backdrop for their dastardly planning. Draco, however, liked to shake things up a bit and did his plotting in the morning. It was part of his routine. He showered, shaved, plotted, brushed his teeth, tweaked this detail, dressed, tweaked that detail, and did his hair. He never felt ready until he had nailed down every single scenario in his head, including back up plans, by the time he walked out that door. His day was shot otherwise.

He had started a little earlier than normal today. The question in his mind required more care and precision than any other he had previously undertaken. The issue had actually been bothering him for the majority of his life, but every year that passed sharpened his dissatisfaction. It had finally come to the point where Draco could no longer ignore it, could no longer deny that something needed to be done. So he pondered the two-fold question:

How did one kill the god of love and (more importantly) how did one get away with it?

Yes, that was right. Draco was gunning for Eros. The Diapered One. The Bowman of Bottoms. The Winged Wombat of Love himself.

The bastard actually preferred the name Cu, short for Cupid, but Draco wasn't about to accommodate the little bugger.

A deep voice, tinged with a Greek accent and entirely too close to Draco's bed for comfort, broke into Draco's musings. "Has anyone ever mentioned that you look scary in the morning?"

Draco closed his eyes and prayed for patience. And a really, really big club. "It's a family trait. We Malfoys always look frightening. Rain, sleet, or shine. Morning, noon, and night. Now for gods' sake, bugger off." He turned on his side, trying to pretend that someone wasn't sitting on his bed like a lover awaiting a bloody kiss or something.

"Actually I was referring to your bed head. Such a spectacular case simply must be documented."

Oh, this was not the way to start a morning off right.

Irritated, Draco sat up on the opposite side of the bed. He snatched his clothes from his trunk and stomped off to the bathroom. Once the hot soothing spray began to run, Draco tried to lose himself in comfort of routine. Staring at the shower wall, he worked up the shampoo into a lather and ran it through his hair. He squished, he squashed, he even managed to get the locks to stand up in a perfect rendition of one of those Muggle Mohawks he secretly admired, but still Draco could not ignore the persistent humming right outside the shower stall.

Draco gritted his teeth and forced himself not to start yelling expletives. Three Ss, remember the three Ss! Silent, shifty, secretive. Silent, shifty, and secretive. Silent, shifty- Draco's eyes fell on the shampoo bottle.

That would do.

Cu got the shampoo bottle to the forehead before he'd even processed that the shower curtain had been pulled back! He lay on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling. When had his feet-? Oh, his chair had tipped back. Right then. Better get his feet back on the floor and stop looking like a woman about to give birth.

He rolled to his stomach and groaned when the world wiggled a little bit more than it was supposed to. "You're a fast mortal, I'll give you that," he muttered, managing to get up to his knees.

"Crawl in a hole and die," came the immediate response from behind the again-closed curtain.

Cu rubbed his forehead. "It's going to take more than hair care products to get rid of me, DM." He picked up his chair, righted it, and sat back in it again.

"And stop calling me by that atrocious abbreviation. My name is Draco Malfoy. You may call me god."

Cu had to hand it to this kid- he had style. Crossing his arms, Cu smiled at the shower stall. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this would be so much fun. "You're going to eventually have to listen to me. I'm not leaving until you fulfill the requirements to my satisfaction. Take my advice and give up."

"When Severus Snape decides that he looks dandy in yellow."

Cu had the misfortune to develop a mental image of that scenario. He closed his eyes, prayed for a brief period of amnesia, and plowed ahead. "I don't understand why you're being so stubborn about this. All you have to do is sweep the Valentine I've chosen for you off of her feet by the end of Valentine's Day. Simple. You haven't even heard who she is yet."

"I don't care if she's the bloody centerfold of Wizard's Weekly." A pause. "Is she?"

"No."

"Then I reiterate my stance. Blow it out your ear."

"You have a very unhealthy obsession with chaos and destruction, DM. You and Mars have that in common."

Draco had emerged from the shower, fully clothed in a matter of seconds and standing before the mirror. He stretched his neck one way and then another, cracked his knuckles, and took the gel and brush in hand, ready to do battle. Cu watched with open fascination, idly remarking, "You're hell on my schedule, Draco. According to my clock, you should be throwing yourself at my feet in gratitude by now."

A sundial (of all things!) appeared before Draco, the shadow falling on a mini Malfoy with his hands raised up in supplication. Draco took great satisfaction in batting the timepiece violently to the side. Ha, not even if he had been schnockered off his bum! He returned his attention back to the important issue at hand—hair care. One could never have too much of it.

xxxxx

Cu was being ignored again. Malfoy must have gotten tired of throwing him out of the window. Cu had done this sort of thing quite a few times in his rather considerable lifetime, and this was the first time anyone had given him trouble like this. Usually, he only had to deal with disbelief. Mortals were less and less accepting of the existence of gods. Strangely enough, Draco Black Malfoy hadn't even blinked at the claim. He only seemed to have issue with the reason Cu had arrived at all.

Cu didn't think that Draco fully appreciated the enormity of the situation. That was Cu's fault. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had to explain what the contest was about. Contestants usually jumped at the chance he offered without bothering with the petty details. Not Draco Malfoy. Cu sighed as Draco finished up, preparing himself. The kid was going to get his chiton in a twist when he finally figured out that it was a do or die sort of situation.

Cu was looking forward to it.

xxxxx

Draco was trying valiantly to pretend that he didn't have a god trailing him.

He wasn't all that sure what bothered him more, that the Overgrown Nappyed One was following him, or that all the girls were making him their new target of attention. It reinforced, for the twelfth time, that the female gender only wanted Draco Malfoy until someone offered something new.

He was getting damned tired of it all.

"It occurs to me," the smooth Greek voice broke in, "that I've been a bit remiss in explaining myself."

"If I were a god," Draco said suddenly, "I would be doing something more constructive with my time. Destroying an island, taking over the world's owl post, that sort of thing." He cast a meaningful look over his shoulder. "Take a hint."

"If you think about it, I am the most destructive god out of the lot. Excluding Zeus."

Draco's interest was peaked despite himself. "How so?"

Cu walked alongside him, hands folded behind his back and taking in the sights. "I like this architecture. Very imposing. Not enough columns, though." He shook his head at the lack, and then continued with his discourse. "Men have waged wars over love. Mankind all over the world has committed extreme acts of unimaginable consequence for the sake of avenging a broken heart. There is no stronger motivation in the world than love. Men and women kill, fight, and sacrifice themselves to have it. They don't care about the consequences, so long as they can know what it feels like to be loved, no matter how brief the moment."

Cu thought about all the mortals that he'd met, and all the ones that he hadn't. "There are some people that already have love, but they can't handle all the doubts or jealousies that love can bring. They start to break apart inside, and sometimes they hurt the one they love the most." He stepped out of the way for a first year to pass. She gaped at him, blushing as she ducked her head and ran on. "That's why I came up with the contest. There are so many people in the world now that it's easy to get lost in the sheer emotion of it all. The point of this contest is to pay personal attention to a deserving contestant, to give him or her a chance to experience what love is really about."

Draco sighed in frustration. "For the last time, I don't want to do your bloody contest. I am perfectly content with my love life," he lied smoothly. "Take your goodwill and foist it on some other poor fool."

"Well, you see, I can't do that."

Draco stopped right in front of the Great Hall, focusing in on Cu with intensity. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Cu shrugged, adjusting the cuff of his white button down. He liked this style of clothing. "Once a winner is chosen, I'm bound to remain with him or her until the end of Valentine's Day. My job is to help you, but not directly interfere."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Stay until then. Just don't make that much noise, and don't get in my way. And stay the hell away from my showers from now on. I didn't get a single plot formed this morning." He turned to walk into the Great Hall.

"There's more," Cu said casually. Too casually.

Draco turned back slowly, gritting his teeth. "Spit. It. Out."

"If you choose to refuse to participate in the contest, I am compelled to inform you that your love life withwill be shot to hell." The corner of Cu's mouth twitched, but he managed to suppress the smile. "What I mean to say is that you will never have sex again. No women. No men. No animals of any sort, except water creatures." Gods only knew how that little tidbit had managed to slip past Athena's keen eye. Ah well, perhaps it was her morbid sense of humor showing signs of life.

Draco looked ready to murder. "Water creatures?" He made a strangling noise.

"Yes. And your Valentine?" Cu looked down at his wrist dial. Greek-Ex. All the rage on Mount Olympus. "She should be arriving right…about…now-"

Draco felt something collide with his back. He lurched forward, off balance, barely managing to keep from crashing into Cu. He whirled around.

Hermione Granger clutched a book to her chest. "Oh, I'm sorry! I wasn't watching—oh. It's you." She looked at Cu. "I'm terribly sorry. It was my fault."

"Nothing to forgive," Cu replied mildly, nodding at her in Old World acknowledgement. Hermione smiled shyly.

Draco gurgled something incoherently.

Casting him an expression that clearly stated he had finally reached the level of insanity that she'd always been expecting, Granger continued into the Great Hall.

xxxxx

"I'd rather take the fish." Crash. "You'reYou've lost your bleeding mind if you think for one moment that I—" Two successive thumps blocked out the words. "I ought to rip your—" Bang. Boom. Crunch crunch crunch.

"Not the vase!"

Draco paused. "Why not?"

"Your mother gave that to you, remember? What happens when she realizes what you did with it? Use the books your father gave you."

Draco looked at the vase, considered, and then gingerly set it back on the table. "Right, then." He snatched up the signed first additions and pitched them right for Cu's head. To his absolute consternation, Cu simply sidestepped calmly.

Cu scratched his head idly. "I can see you are a bit upset at the moment. I understand. I've sprung quite a bit on you in a short amount of time. Maybe all you need is some time, hmm?" He grinned wickedly. "I'll leave you alone for now." He disappeared without another word, to where, Draco didn't know. He could only hope that he would never return, but very much doubted he was that lucky.

Draco collapsed on the couch and buried his face in his hands. Hermione Bleeding Granger. Just thinking that name made his head hurt. What sort of sick and twisted being imagined that she could ever be his Valentine? It violated every unofficial Valentine rule he could think of. Couples usually spent months pretending to like their significant sucker. The more time invested, the better the gift. He had absolutely no time to work on her. Three measly days were like a drop in the ocean compared to what he would need to convince her he was sincere. He might as well kiss sex goodbye right now.

Emasculated at seventeen. Just bloody perfect.

There was a terrible feeling of destiny being wrestled out of his control. That just wasn't on. He needed to do something and quick to get it back. Coitus may not be everything, but damnit, it was all he had to look forward to! Draco was not going to give up sex with women up without a fight.

Think. What was the most obvious loophole? Draco sat back, drumming his fingers on his knee. Hermione Granger. Sweeping. End of Valentine's Day. The God of Love threatening his love life and keeping an eye on him the entire time. No chance of cheating that he could see. Draco rolled his eyes in disgust. Ye gods, he was going to have to go through with this mad scheme.

End of Valentine's Day. No mention of what happened after. "Interesting," Draco drawled. That meant this wasn't a permanent arrangement. He wouldn't have to deal with the Bushy Haired One for the rest of his life. Things were starting to look up! Draco sat forward, an idea forming. All he had to do was get Granger to like him by the end of Valentine's Day. He could throw her over the next day, and his sex life would be saved!

But how to snag her?

Draco pursed his lips in thought. He had three days. Not a lot of time, but then, Granger herself might aid his cause. When was the last time she'd had a Valentine? Hell, when was the last time someone realized that she was female? Viktor Krum in fourth year had paid attention to her, but that was three years ago. Weasley seemed to be confused on the whole issue, and he was the type to avoid what he didn't understand. Draco began to smile. She must be starving for male attention by now. She would be so utterly overwhelmed by all the shiny things he could give her that she wouldn't think twice about his intentions.

Draco stood up, triumph surging through his veins. "Yes! It can be done!" He rushed toward his room, adrenaline pumping. There was no time to waste!

xxxxx

Draco regarded the card with mixed feelings. He couldn't decide if he was disgusted or satisfied. It had to be the most mindless, unoriginal, pink thing in existence. He thought that he'd lost a little self-respect for himself for even creating it, but the quest for sex was a noble one. Draco raised the monstrosity to the light with two fingers barely pinching it. He wanted to touch it as little as possible.

It was a configuration of all tried and true methods of Valentine mushiness Draco had ever witnessed. IT was the biggest pink heart Draco could conjure. Made of the finest parchment, the heart not only smelled like a rose shop, it glittered like a monstrous diamond. Draco was almost blinded by the sparkle.

The coup de gras of the piece would reveal itself when the ribbon was untied. The Valentine would play any recording Draco chose. He'd riffled through a few music collections scattered throughout the dungeon. Finally he had decided on Songs of Love for that Special Day….

Draco listened impatiently to the deep voice crooning something about a heart skipping a beat. Two lines in he ripped the needle away. That would do. He magically transferred the song, tied the ribbon, and dusted his hands off.

Big. Pink. Shiny. Sexy voice. All the elements of a guaranteed Valentine's Day heart-stealer.

Granger would be his by the end of breakfast.

xxxxx

Looking back, breakfast had been a tad optimistic, even for a Malfoy.

He'd eaten in a hurry and then exited the Great Hall to stand outside the doors. He could see in, but no one would notice him as students were known to loiter by the door during mealtime. The album had been minimized and resided safely in his pocket.

He didn't know why he'd kept it with him, and could only guess at the reason for his nervousness. Presumably his anxiety was due to Granger's reaction being directly linked to any mutual orgasms he had hopes of achieving in the future. He couldn't possibly be worried she wouldn't like him. Such a concern would be foolish.

After all, what did he care if she really liked him? It wouldn't last longer than it took for February 15th to arrive. She only had to think that she liked him for that long at that. Girls only liked him until something more appealing came along. For once it would be to Draco's advantage instead of the other way around.

Enough of this! No more self-doubt. He had to get his head back in the game. Granger was easy pickings. Chronically single, asexual, and on the precipice of the Pink Pestilence. She was primed for it. Once she received that corny confection and read his— Buggering buttersnipes!

Just as the Valentine zoomed past his ear, Draco realized a very crucial point.

He'd forgotten to sign his wretched name.

Draco could have punched a hole through the door. Barring the fact that it would hurt like hell, it wasn't dignified, so he restrained himself…with difficulty. Breathe deep, Malfoy, don't panic. He pressed a fist to his mouth and watched the Valentine speed toward Granger. This wasn't bad. This wasn't devastating. Secret admirer bit. Yeah. That was better. Seduction by secrets.

Weasel threw his hand out in a grand gesture of typical stupidity just as the Valentine arrived, knocking it off course and sending it hurtling toward the entrée of the evening. In come misguided redheaded attempt at saving the day, he reached out frantically to catch the thing—and closed his hand around it.

The Valentine crunched. Draco almost bit his knuckle off.

"Oh, Ronald, you squished it!" Hermione snatched the card away and tried to smooth out the corners. Draco wanted to kill Weasley for almost fouling up a good thing, but managed to still the hex that surged forward. Mustn't give myself away. The Three S's. Remember the Three S's, Draco.

"Who sent it?" the redhead asked, not at all that concerned with the near death of Draco's plan.

"I'm not sure," Hermione murmured back. "Stop crowding me, Ron."

"Open it already."

With a meaningful look, Hermione began to pick apart the pink ribbon that tied the folds of the heart together. Right on schedule, it leapt to life, hopping out of her hands to hover in front of her. The ribbons became arms, and the charmed mouth opened. Draco prepared himself to hear the sweet strains of victory.

What emerged was a sound that could only be described as hideous. High-pitched, off key, the damaged voice that burst forth belted out the lyrics as though it was serenading every kneazle in the vicinity. "Looking at you makes my heart skip a beat!"

Everyone at the Gryffindor table covered their ears except Hermione, who stared at the Valentine with morbid surprise.

The Valentine, which sounded much like a chipmunk who'd partaken of Helium Helper, was really warming up to the song. "I love everything about you, from your hair to your feet!"

Draco slapped his forehead. How could such a brilliant plan go so wrong?

"My hands long to caress your sinfully muscled chest-"

Draco's brow furrowed. Sinfully what chest?

"Your defined jaw, your stubbled cheek-"

Hang on a bloody minute—

"Most of all, I want to kiss your thick, juicy-"

"MEATBALLS!" Weasel shouted desperately, trying to drown out the Valentine just as Potter dove to cover Granger's ears and the general population gasped in understanding. Draco's jaw went slack with shock. Incredulous, he brought the album up. Songs of Love for that Special Day… He flipped it over.

...with that Special Wizard in Your Life!

xxxxx

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Cu had his face buried in his hands, trying ever so hard not to laugh out loud and push Draco to do something dramatic.

Like creating the worst Valentine's card in history. Oh! Too late!

Cu couldn't help it—he started laughing. "Meatballs!" he repeated. "Your—your—sinfully muscled—" He was suddenly too overcome to even speak!

"Shut it," Draco said to the table, where he had been banging his head for the last ten minutes. There was no real rancor in his voice. He was too humiliated to muster any.

Tears started to leak out of Cu's eyes. He brushed them away, shaking his head. "If you had seen the look on your face, Draco…Thank providence I decided to come back that very moment, I wouldn't have missed that for Apollo's chariot, really…" He sniffed, trying to regain some control of himself. "Why don't I give you some tips? Obviously your idea of romance is a little—" Laughter threatened again, but he held it back. "A little skewed."

That got Draco's attention. There was no way in bloody hell he was getting dating tips from a god with such bad taste in holidays! He sat up straight and glared. "No."

"No?" Cu repeated, surprised. "Why not?"

"You must be joking. You chose Hermione Granger of all people for my Valentine. Therefore, you are not only a bastard and grossly misrepresented deity, you are delusional!"

"I protest! I'm the god of love and desire, you dolt! I know what I'm doing. I don't make mistakes when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Ha!" Draco snorted in derision. "As if being the god of love recommends you to me? Have you any idea how many poor fools think this travesty is some symbol of hope? They give themselves up to the idea and in the end get that hope smashed to bits. No. Bloody. Thanks." He leaned back and folded his arms defiantly.

Cu sighed in frustration. "You're being an ass. No faith anymore…" He sat forward and pointed at Draco. "Give me one reason why you think she isn't the one for you. And it can't have anything to do with being in different houses or this Dirtblood—"

"Mudblood."

"Whatever. It's not as if she could not conceivably kick your arse, and I happen to know that's one of your fetishes."

"Fetishes? Fetishes!" Draco Malfoy did not have fetishes! He had…preferences, yes, preferences for strong women.

Though the gods knew they seemed to be an endangered species of late…Abruptly Draco felt very deflated. Why was he even bothering with this contest? It wasn't as though he was incredibly excited at the possibility of sex with many anonymous women in the future. Orgasms were wonderful, but despite his earlier determination, the thought of having sex with someone whose name he couldn't remember left a stale taste in his mouth. The more he dwelled on it, the more depressed he became. "That's it."

"What's it?"

"I'm quitting this contest." It was a drastic move, but right now he was feeling reckless. He could regret it later. He was in the middle of a self-pity period at the moment. "Mermaids count as water creatures. I hear they're gorgeous in the Mediterranean."

Cu froze. "What? Mermaids? But you can't-"

"Yes, I can. What's the point? Maybe it's a sign that I'm not meant to be with a human woman anyway."

"Draco! You can't seriously be considering—"

"It's decided. There is no way in Merlin's magical multitude that Hermione Granger is going to be my Valentine, even with my admittedly formidable good looks. So why bother? Wish me luck and much gillyweed, it's been heinous meeting you, now sod off." And in true dramatic fashion, Draco Malfoy exited the room.

Cu stood stock still, staring after him. Well, if this wasn't an unexpected move. If he'd been any other god, he'd leave and let the little snot rot in his decision. Only two things stopped him.. One, he wasn't any other god.

Two, there was no way he was losing that bet he'd made with Mars.

This called for Backup Plan A.

xxxxx

Draco was flipping through Merfolk of the Mediterranean when it happened.

He'd been reading and walking, murmuring to himself. He should have been paying attention to his surroundings, but hindsight and all that. By the time he'd registered the twang of a bowstring and a feminine cry of warning, it had been too late. "What-?"

Then there was a feeling so amazing, so incredible, that it defied description. Draco actually gasped in pleasure, blushing furiously for no reason at all.

"Malfoy! Are you alright?" he heard distantly.

Alright? Was that a joke?

"Are you in a lot of pain? Is that why you aren't answering? Blast it, Malfoy!"

If this was pain, he always wanted to hurt—A small slap to his cheek brought him out of euphoria. Startled, he looked down at a frazzled Hermione Granger. She was ripping his book out of his hands and closing it firmly. "This is no time to go into shock," she admonished brusquely.

He blinked at her. How had she known?

"Malfoy!"

The words were so crisp and clear. An unexpected shiver went up his spine. He'd never realized how pleasant her voice was. He would normally be irritated at her bossy manner, but for some reason the sight of her glaring up at him made him want to smooth the furrow on her forehead. He watched in abject fascination as her lips formed around new words.

"Malfoy, there's an arrow in your arse!"

xxxxx

Hermione was trying not to panic. It had all happened so quickly. She'd looked up at just the right moment to see that boy standing at the end of the hall behind Malfoy. He'd had a bow and arrow of all things, and he'd been aiming right at Malfoy. Apparently the idiot had pushed someone too far…again.

And now that same idiot was staring down at her as if she'd just informed him his fortune had tripled. Hermione grew just a bit more alarmed. He hadn't shouted or cursed once. She reached for her wand. "We have to hurry, it might be poisoned."

"Wouldn't matter," Malfoy murmured softly.

"I realize that you might feel remorse for your complete and utter bastard-like existence, but that's no reason to throw it all in! You've made a bit of progress in the last term. Give it thirty more years and you might end up a decent human being!"

"Not remorse. Tolerance. Poison doesn't effect me anymore." He was still using that dreamy tone. "You're really pretty. Did you know that?"

"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy, I said there was a-" Hermione stopped, having turned Malfoy's body to point out the source of her current agitation. "Where's the arrow?"

"Dunno."

Hermione was fully behind him now, staring at the arrowless arse intensely. Her grip on his waist tightened. "It was here. I saw him shoot you."

"Him?"

"The one that was with you before breakfast."

Draco knew he should be enraged, but he couldn't muster the necessary strength. He was too busy staring over his shoulder at Hermione. "That's impossible!" she was saying. "It wasn't a magic arrow! It was right here!" She patted the cheek where the point should have been.

"Um, Hermione?" Harry's voice interrupted. "Why are you feeling up Malfoy?"

Surprised, Hermione looked up. A crowd of students stood in the once deserted corridor, all focused on Hermione's hand—still firmly cupping Malfoy's arse.

Hermione jerked away as if burned. "I-he-" she stuttered, lost for words. Speechless! Her legendary brain had failed her for the first time! "It's not what you think!"

Ron's eyebrow was twitching. Harry appeared shell-shocked. For whatever reason, Blaise Zabini was laughing behind his hand.

"No, really," Hermione snapped. "There was someone standing at the end of the hall, and he shot Malfoy with a bow and arrow—"

"Where is this arrow then, you hussy?" Pansy Parkinson demanded. Hermione glared back.

"I say it's a lie," a Slytherin boy said suddenly.

Harry snapped out of it. "If Hermione says it's true, then it is," he retorted.

It escalated from there. Someone fired a heated reply, it was answered, someone swung a fist, and magically a mass fistfight erupted right before Hermione's eyes. "For goodness sake, stop that!"

The world abruptly tilted. For a split second Hermione wondered why she was staring at Malfoy's bum again before realizing that the boy had just tossed her over his should and was casually walking away from the mob scene.

Amazingly no one noticed.

Not even when Hermione called out.

She considered struggling but really, did she want to stay? No one was going to listen to her. Hermione's mouth thinned. Seven years and still no one had any sense. Let the fools fight it out.

Still, this position wasn't exactly dignified. After a few hundred feet of going quietly along, Hermione started to get a little motion sick. "Malfoy, you can put me down now."

Malfoy grunted in agreement. "Here's as good a place as any," he said cryptically.

With surprising care, he set her on her feet. They were once again alone. This time they were in a bower formed by trees in the courtyard that hugged a wall. It cut them off from the world with nothing but a tree at her back. There was still a chill in the air, a cold that wouldn't disappear for some time yet. There was also anticipation in the air. It was as if the trees were excited by the coming spring. Hermione tucked her hair behind one ear and sighed. She looked up at Malfoy. "Those gits."

He said nothing, but continued to study her with an unreadable face. Hermione flushed a little under his scrutiny. "Ahem, well, as you seem to be all right after all, I'll just be going. Be sure to go to the infirmary first thing if you feel strange."

Cursing herself for acting as though she cared, Hermione took a step to pass by Malfoy. He suddenly placed his body in from of hers. "Marry me."

Hermione's head snapped back. He looked completely serious! "No!" she blurted.

He tilted his head to one side. "Why?"

What a question! "Because I don't love you. I don't even like you. You're selfish, boorish, mean, shameless-"

"So be my lover. I'm wealthy. I could give you anything you wanted."

He was too old for seventeen, the degenerate! "That's a mistress, you fool, and I've more respect for myself than that."

"How about the mother of my children, then?"

Hermione blinked. "That's one step worse than a simple lover. At least then it would only be you and me to contend with."

Draco perked up. "So you'll be my lover?"

"No!"

Draco sighed, looking quite put out. "You're being difficult, Hermione."

"You're being irrational, Malfoy," Hermione shot back.

"I've always heard that love makes fools of us all," Malfoy remarked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Is it foolish, then, to go after what one wants?"

"No, it's actually quite admirable—that is not the point! What has love to do with this?"

"Well, I love you. Given how devastatingly rich and handsome I am, it shouldn't be too long before you fall for me too."

It really was astonishing how he could state all that so matter-of-factly. Hermione realized that her mouth was hanging open and shut it with a click. Abruptly she turned on her heel and faced the bench, breathing deeply. Draco smiled a bit at her back. "I know, I know. You're completely overwhelmed by my incredible offer. I understand. I'm known to have that effect on people."

When Hermione turned back, she had composed her features into a mask of calm. "Malfoy, listen to me. Someone is playing a joke on you. You aren't yourself, and I think that it would be best if we both went back to our dorms and relaxed."

Draco cocked his head at her. "What would you like for Valentine's Day?"

"Excuse me?" Had he heard a word she'd said?

"Valentine's Day. I'd like to give you something better than that awful singing card."

"You saw that? Yes, well, I suppose it was hard to miss. I thought it was a bit sweet, in a clumsy sort of way."

"Believe me, I can do better." He caught her chin and held it up, studying her neck. "I think pearls would look nice on you. Matching earrings, and maybe a bracelet to finish it off-"

Hermione brushed his hand away with impatience. "Listen to me. Your money doesn't mean anything to me, nor do the gifts that you buy with them. There's no real emotion behind them, and those sort of gifts I can do without."

Draco blinked. "Are you turning me down?" He looked a little hurt by the prospect.

Against her better judgement Hermione actually felt sorry for him. She studied him for a moment. "So this is what you would have been like," she observed softly, "if things had been different."

Selfish, shameless, and utterly without humility, but very difficult to dislike. He was simply Draco Malfoy now, a charismatic person one couldn't help but be drawn to. It made her sad to see it. Once the love potion (for it could be nothing else) wore off, he would go back to that same git he'd always been. "Yes, Malfoy. I'm turning you down. Though heaven knows I would have enjoyed inflicting some well-deserved payback on you," she finished wryly.

This time he looked very hurt. "But I'm offering you everything I have," he protested.

"The only thing I ever want from a man is a sincere and honest love." Hermione smiled up at him. "I never thought I would say this, and heaven knows I might regret it later, but I hope you come to know what that feels like one day."

xxxxx

The Flightless Wonder was no where to be found. Draco had the distinct feeling he was supposed to be angry about something, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. No matter. There were more important matters at hand; getting the girl.

How could he have missed it? Hermione was pretty, smart, friendly, organized, talented, and genuine. She didn't want his money or his name. Had he been bloody blind all of this time?

A sincere and honest love, she'd said. He could do that. Probably. He hadn't had much practice at being sincere or honest, true, but how hard could it be? All it would take was a little plotting.

Draco coughed. Planning. He'd meant to say planning.

Sincere and honest. He could do that.

xxxxx

Hermione looked at the package that an owl had just dropped onto her desk. She glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. No one was hiding in any dark recesses of the classroom, but there were a lot of interested stares aimed in her direction. Hermione regarded the bright red box with uncertainty.

Was it from Malfoy? Was it from the secret admirer who had sent her the…interesting card this morning? If it was from Malfoy, she would have to beat some sense into him after all. But, she thought as she tapped her fingers on the wood, there was an equal chance that it was from her anonymous admirer. While she was sure he meant well, it was obvious his sense of romance differed from her own. Caution was definitely in order.

For a moment, Hermione wondered if Malfoy could have been the card's author, but disregarded the idea quickly. Malfoy's fixation on her had begun with the arrow incident this afternoon. There had been no reason on earth for him to do anything so out of character as sending her a card that morning.

So it seemed she had two admirers, all in one day. Hermione tentatively stroked the ribbon with a small smile. This was certainly a break from her routine. She simply hoped she would come out of the experience in one piece. Well, there was no use avoiding it any longer. For all she knew the admirer was in this very class. She had to at least open it for courtesy's sake. Hermione took a fortifying breath, steeled herself, and gingerly undid the ribbon. She lifted the lid a bit. Nothing. No screams, cries, or unbearable singing so far. Maybe the other present had been a fluke. The lid came half off now. Her eyes widened.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Why is she blushing?"

Hermione ignored the murmurs and tried to understand the meaning of the scrap of satin ensconced in the tissued depths. Just what sort of person gave out red satin garters as a first Valentine's Day gift? Her eyes suddenly narrowed. It was something Malfoy would have given a lover, the wretch. Surely this wasn't from him. Her attention caught on a scrap of paper tucked in the side of the box.

I chose this to symbolize the intimacy that exists between two people, both platonic and passionate. May it express the depth of my devotion.

There was no signature. Hermione bit her lip. What a mind this person had! While any other girl would have been a bit frightened at the implications, Hermione heard the unspoken sincerity behind the sentiment. He, whoever he was, had awkwardly tried to express his feelings. Despite herself, Hermione smiled. It was a strange gift, but for some reason, Hermione was touched.

Suddenly the gift box began to shake.

xxxxx

"Did you hear about Granger?"

Draco perked up. He'd been anxiously awaiting news all day. He'd barely been able to sit through all of his classes. Now he was back in the dungeon, ear practically to the ground. He listened intently to the gossiping fourth years while he pretended to study.

"She got another gift."

"No! Her? Who would be stupid enough to fancy her?"

"The latest is a red satin garter. Whoever he is, he's either a genius or demented. A garter? It's crass!"

Bugger, Draco thought to himself. Perhaps he could have chosen a less, well, intimate symbol of intimacy. His shoulders slumped a bit. Back to square one?

"I suppose Granger's hard up for it, since she wasn't as offended as she should have been." The fourth year smirked. "She was singing a different tune when the garter woke up."

"It woke up? Tell!"

"Petunia Littlefield managed to get a look at the note. Some rot about expressing devotion. Anyway, the spell apparently went wrong. All of a sudden the thing leapt out of the box—" The fourth year paused for effecteffect, making his audience lean forward in anticipation, including Draco.

"—and tried to tear her knickers off!"

Draco fell out of his chair.

xxxxx

Hermione huddled in her beloved library corner, determined not to come out until the Valentine's Day of Doom had passed. No gift would find her here, she told herself almost desperately. That garter had chased her all the way down the corridor. She hadn't even had time to reach for her wand, as pausing to aim would have been akin to kissing dignity goodbye. Thank goodness she had run into Professor McGonagall!

Hermione blushed furiously at the memory. But as angry as she was at being laughed at, Hermione wasn't really upset at her secret admirer. It was irrational given the evidence, but she truly didn't believe that he had meant to embarrass her. That, however, didn't mean that Hermione wanted any more gifts! The next might explode accidentally or something.

"You look a little lonely," a deep voice said softly behind her.

Hermione buried her head in her arms. "I assure you," she mumbled, "I'm not."

The chair next to her was pulled out, and Draco Malfoy dropped into it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sit next to his arch nemesis. "I heard about today."

"I'm sure everyone heard about it." She was the picture of misery at that moment. She peeked up at him through her fingers. "Love potion still hasn't worn off yet?"

"What do you think of Italy as our honeymoon tour?" He rummaged through his bag and pulled out brochures. "I have a house in two of these cities and I've heard hotels in the other two are—"

Hermione covered his mouth with her hand, frantically trying to keep the insanity in. "Shh!" she hissed. "People will hear!"

Draco stared at her over her hand, unblinking. A red tinge was beginning to stain his cheeks. Hermione couldn't believe it. "Malfoy," she whispered. "Are you blushing?"

Draco nodded.

"Because I-I'm touching you?"

He nodded again slowly, a new light beginning to burn in his eyes. Like a moth to flame Hermione stared back at him, strangely unable to look away. "I-um…" Where had her voice gone? Why was she blushing too? Her fingers flexed nervously and abruptly she realized her hand was still pressed to his mouth. She pulled it away. "I'm sorry!"

He caught her wrist, surprising her with his speed. Eyes hot and focused, he gently lifted her hand back to his lips. He pressed a small, open-mouth kiss to the palm, never breaking eye contact.

Hermione's brain was stuttering. "Malfoy, stop." She managed to get her hand away and hid it in her lap. "You're embarrassing me." She had the blush to prove it.

"That means I'm affecting you," he said smugly. "You aren't as immune to my charm as you'd like to think."

Cu leaned away form the Fountain of All Souls and smirked at Mars. "I told you he was a smooth operator."

The god of war bit into his ambrosia and grunted. "You must be joking. He wouldn't know romance if it slapped him in the face. If you hadn't bowed that boy, he'd still be reading up on mermaids and stockpiling gillyweed."

"Shh!" Persephone and Delight chorused. "We can't hear!"

Hermione huffed. "You do no such thing. In a few days you'll look back on all the things you've said and you'll do some blushing of your own. Honeymoon in Italy," she muttered. "I wish I had that on film."

"You are recording this, aren't you?" Athena asked, uncharacteristically anxious. She was even nibbling on a fingernail. "I don't want to miss anything if I'm suddenly summoned."

Cu looked stricken. Simultaneous groans erupted. "You didn't set the Fountain up?"

"Don't worry, I did it," Delight interrupted. "I knew he would forget."

"I think that you're falling a little bit in love with me."

A heartbeat. Two. Hermione replayed that last statement over and over again and simply couldn't comprehend it. In love with Malfoy? And he was the one to suggest it? Was the world coming to an end?!

Draco leaned in, invading personal space without a second though. "You're intrigued by this new side of me. You like that I'm nice to you, that I want to talk to you every time I think of you. You like it when I admit that I think of you often. You like the look I'm giving you. You like knowing how very much I want to kiss you." He was staring at her lips, which were parted in surprise.

The words of denial came forth again, but somehow got stuck. For as long as she lived, she could never forget that moment in time. A snapshot would live vividly on in her mind's eye forever. Everything she had ever hated about Draco Malfoy had been stripped away to leave someone she had never seen before. Someone who loved her very much. Someone she could easily love back.

Someone who didn't really exist.

"You're an idiot, Draco Malfoy," she told him sadly. "Stop following me. It's bothersome."

Without another word she stood up and left, ignoring his call.

Chaos exploded in the Fountain room.

"It's so tragically romantic!" Delight sighed dreamily.

"Unbelievable!" Cu was shouting. "Even with an arrow he can't get his act together!"

"I'm going to win," Mars chortled evilly.

"You've underestimated Hermione Granger, Eros," Athena broke in sagely. "She won't easily forget the past or be swept away by empty words."

xxxxx

Hermione went about her morning routine with a strange lack of enthusiasm. She'd spent a lot longer than she should have thinking about Draco Malfoy last night. Remembering that moment over and over again. It had been so beautiful, so poignant in its impossibility. There were few perfect moments in life, but that could have been one of them.

Hermione studied herself in the mirror. Subdued eyes stared back. Unable to bear the longing she glimpsed, Hermione lowered her lashes and turned away. There was no use in this, she told herself. When she went down to breakfast, there was an excellent chance Malfoy would have returned to normal. She might as well steel herself now.

She tried not to notice how her feet were dragging while she gathered her bag and books. Hermione's attention wasn't on the walk to the Great Hall. It had returned to yesterday once again. "Honeymoon in Italy," she murmured with a small smile. How outrageous. He was going to be so humiliated when he came to his senses.

Speaking of whom…Without her notice, Hermione's feet had taken her to the Great Hall. Leaning against the wall beside the entrance, glaring at anyone who came near him, was Draco Malfoy. Despite herself, Hermione's heart dropped a bit in disappointment when he spotted her. He didn't look happy. Hermione watched him kick away from the wall and stride toward her purposefully. She could already see the red stain on his ears. He really had come back to his senses, and now he was coming to take it all back or rail at her or something.

Hermione straightened her shoulders. Well, then,best to get this over with.

He stopped right in front of her. They locked gazes. All around them students stared, waiting for the blowup they were sure would follow. For a long moment no one moved. Draco slowly reached in his pocket. Tension rose. Was he going for his wand?

He drew out a piece of paper and offered it to Hermione. "Here," he said gruffly. "Read it."

Hermione slowly took the paper and unfolded it. "It's a limerick," she said dumbly.

"What, you were expecting Shakespeare?" Draco was pretending not to feel the heat of his blush.

"You wrote me poetry? Why?" Hermione was truly bewildered.

"You said you wanted a sincere and honest love, didn't you? Honest means that someone is honorable in intentions and actions." He'd looked this up in the dictionary last night. "So here it is. I'm not hiding how I feel about you." He indicated their public setting. "As for sincerity, I'm not giving up just because you're balking a little. You'll fall for me eventually."

Suddenly he leaned in close, whispering for her ears alone. "Besides, you look cute when you're speechless…Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened. Chuckling, he leaned back and smiled down at her boyishly. "See you later, love." With one last sly look in her direction, he went into the Great Hall. Ignoring the gawking crowd, Hermione looked back at the limerick.

Let's clear the slate

And forget the date

You're brilliant, I'm gorgeous

Combined, we've got it all for us

Who are we to fight Fate?

He thought she was brilliant. Hermione began to laugh. The narcissistic, love-potioned fool.

xxxxx

News spread like wildfire in drought season. Draco Malfoy was writing poetry for Hermione Granger. Many were convinced the end of the world was at hand.

Hermione herself was finding it all surreal. Limericks were five lines long. The first two and the fifth line were to rhyme, while the center was composed of a couplet. Once one got into the swing of things, limericks were easy to jot down. Hermione had been getting little humming bird notes all day long. They ranged from the mundane to the ridiculous.

Are you sure about Italy?

It's a bit cliché, admittedly.

How about France?

Would you, by chance

Give in if I asked prettily?

I like your hair

It has a certain flair

No one else can match

You're quite the catch

I think we make a great pair!

Your cat is mean

As hell, it won't preen

Under my attention

Spurns my offers of affection

That little drama queen

Do you think Potter

Would look good as an otter?

He keeps glaring at me

And had the nerve to decree

If I continue, I'll be Hippogriff fodder

Did you know that your nose

Wrinkles when you read my prose?

I'd be offended and crushed

If I didn't know that you also blushed

And most likely curled your toes

When are you going to admit

That I'm the one best fit

To be your Valentine?

I could say something like, "Be mine!"

But it wouldn't quite capture my wit

After the seventh limerick of the day, Hermione couldn't resist replying any longer. Quickly she dipped her quill and jotted the note, sending it before the teacher noticed. Draco was in the middle of scribbling another masterpiece when the crisp humming sound snagged his attention. Excitement raced through him when he realized that, at last, she'd replied! He snatched the note out of the air and opened it hastily.

No, I've not changed my mind on Italy

I doubt you can do anything prettily

Leave my cat alone

You've effectively shown

Me your senses are lost, literally

Draco ginned. "She's falling for me."

"I am surprisingly impressed," Mars admitted.

Apollo nodded. "Pass the grapes, Bacchus."

"Is it too late to get in on the pool?"

Athens held up an abacus. "Flowers, chocolate, or jewelry?"

xxxxx

Hermione was back in her library corner, her collection spread before her. She heard the whispers in the book stacks. She knew they were talking about her. For once, she didn't care.

Hermione had never understood women who had entered into doomed romances. Regardless of the pleasure they received, the pain was too much in Hermione's estimation.

Anything between her and Draco Malfoy could be nothing other than doomed. The feelings growing inside were foolish. She didn't want to be lumped together with those other women. She didn't want to fall in love and have her heart broken. She knew herself too well. Memories would never be enough, and all too soon that would be all that she was left with. Hermione felt tears prick. She lay her head on the table, pressing her cheek to the papers. "You're an idiot, Granger," she told herself.

Don't ever tell, her mind cautioned. Don't ever voice it. You'll forget eventually. Accept the secret admirer if he shows himself. Be strong, Hermione.

Valentine's Day

Hermione was avoiding him. She ignored his notes, wouldn't meet his eyes at mealtime, and managed to disappear when he wanted to talk to her. Draco was bewildered. What had happened?

All around him couples were coming together, exchanging gifts and basking in a big pink glow. He could barely see Blaise over all of his friend's presents. Draco stared down at his dinner, thinking. It should be him. It should be him getting presents, getting a confession, a kiss, a hug! Draco's hands clenched around the fork and knife. This was a repeat of all the others. Him alone, left out of the loop. Unable to participate or experience that rush of emotion. The more he thought about it, the angrier Draco became. "No more."

Blaise looked up. "What?"

"No. More." Suddenly he slammed both fists on the table violently, startling the other students. "I am not going to spend another holiday being miserable! I'm going after what I bloody well want, and hang all the rest of it!" Draco shoved away from the table and stormed from the silent Great Hall.

"Well," Blaise drawled. "Bravo, Draco."

xxxxx

In a few hours Valentine's Day would be over.

She'd managed to avoid him all day. She'd thought she would be avoiding hurt too, but the few times she'd glimpsed Draco's face, Hermione had felt her heart constrict painfully. She hated hiding, hated felling this way, but it was for the best, wasn't it? She was saving herself heartache and him more embarrassment.

She should have been more firm. She should have shredded the first limerick. There were a million things she could have done, but Hermione had discovered a new side of herself in the past two days. She'd wanted to feel special. She'd wanted to know what it was like to be treasured. Somehow, some way, that need had narrowed until she had wanted to be cherished by one person…Draco Malfoy.

Hermione rubbed her face. "Be strong, Hermione."

An explosion sounded in the distance. Pop. Pop. Pop.

Hermione crept to the window. That sounded like…fireworks? She opened the window. Yes, fireworks! Hundreds blasting into the night over the Black Lake. All sizes and colors, coming to life and reflecting back at her. In the light she could see something steadily coming toward her. A paper airplane?

It screeched to a halt a foot in front of her, magically unfolding itself. Draco's deep voice filled the room.

I cannot cut you from my thoughts

Sometimes, it feels as though I ought

To try something, anything

To erase all the confusion you bring

To me, but it seems that I am caught

I feel your presence in every room

Without you, they can feel like a tomb

I must rest in,

Killed by the sins

I committed far before you came into bloom

Forgiveness is hard for one to grant

And I've little experience as the sycophant

Despite what you've heard

Please, Hermione, say the words.

Don't ask me to forget…because I can't.

This feeling inside is so big, so new

Emotions to which I can compare are few

I know it's love

And I refuse to shove

It out of sight to collect dust as grass does dew.

I'm not the hero for whom they cheer.

More often than not, I make them quake in fear.

But not with you, never with you.

It's very unusual but true

That I feel a sentiment that shall turn the world on its ear.

I love you, Hermione Granger

And as if life couldn't be stranger

I'd like to marry you too.

If you must, you can bring that motley crew

To the wedding…even the redhead, born in a manger.

This is the first poem I've written

That has no obvious or hidden

Meaning or intent

I must be content

To let it speak, immortal in pen

The fireworks in the distance had coalesced into a single symbol. A loose, reversed four set over a 'P' shape. Fehe, the ancient rune for love. Draco had painted his feelings in the sky.

She was running before she thought. Through halls, down stairs, out the door. Running toward one goal, the dark figure standing by the lake. He turned as she arrived. She froze, searching his face.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You think I'm going to regret this."

Hermione nodded.

"I might later," he admitted. "But right now, Hermione, I'm happier than I've ever been before in my life."

"Why?" she asked breathlessly.

He smiled. "You're here, aren't you? It's a perfect moment." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Hermione sniffed. "Maybe."

"In happiness?" he asked suspiciously, hands on his hips.

In that moment, Hermione let go. "Yes. In happiness."

"Then why are you all the way over there?" He opened his arms. "Come here."

Hermione went. Warm arms wrapped around her, holding her close. A mouth buried in her hair, smiling in satisfaction. "Do you love me?" he whispered.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy. Very much."

"Awwwww!"

Hermione and Draco whipped around in surprise. "The boy who shot you!" Hermione gasped.

And he wasn't alone. Draco and Hermione were surrounded by men and women who hummed with power. For some reason, two were crying.

"It's so sweet," one sniffed.

Draco tensed. "Cu," he growled.

"I knew you could do it, Draco!" the boy cried jubilantly. "I told Mars that—"

Draco slammed his fist into Cu's smiling face. Cu stumbled back, glowering. "What was that for?"

"You deserved it, Eros."

"Shut up, Athena. And don't call me Eros."

"Come on, Father. You shot him with an arrow, after all."

"But Delight—"

"Draco." Hermione's voice was flat. "Is that—" Pieces were beginning to come together. "Is that Cupid?"

Draco sensed danger. "I…" His shoulders slumped. "Yes."

"You know the god of love."

"Yes." Draco was very solemn as he said this.

"Draco was in Eros' contest. Sweeping his Valentine off of her feet by the end of the day was the agenda," Athena stated.

"That card he made will go down in history," Delight supplied.

The card. It made sense, Hermione realized. The awkward expression in the gifts matched Draco's personality. Why would he, a boy taught to keep a tight rein on tender emotions, have any idea how to properly woo a girl? Why hadn't she seen it before? The limericks should have given it away. They had been all so sweet, so clumsy. She'd been so busily defending her first admirer that she hadn't considered that he might be the second, as well.

"And then the arrow…" Hermione whispered. "I see. It was always you. None of it was real after all." She was numb. So numb.

Draco looked stricken. "Hermione, no-! I love you. I do-! The arrow has nothing to do with it," he said desperately.

"Well, of course it didn't," Cu retorted in an offended tone. "It wore off once he went to sleep. So the last two days—"

Draco slammed his fist into Cu's face again.

"I love this kid," Mars said.

"What was that for?" Cu rubbed his cheek and glared.

"Water creatures," Draco said simply.

"Cupid," a cultured voice cut in. "Have you been causing trouble again?"

Cu had the look of a desperate man. "Psyche, my love!"

A stately brunette stepped from the shadows. Even Draco had to blink. "That's your wife?"

Cu swelled with pride. "Yep. Over a thousand years old and still a babe!"

Psyche shook her head at her husband. "You're incorrigible. Are you meddling again?"

"Possibly," Cu hedged.

"The water creatures clause?"

"I was with him in spirit, if not body," Cu defended. Draco almost went for him again.

Psyche sighed and looked at Hermione. "I can't do anything with him. Is everything all right here?"

All eyes focused on Hermione, anxious for an answer. She looked at Draco, who watched her with unreadable eyes. A slow smile broke out on her face. "Yes," she said. "Everything is fine."

Draco smiled back in relief.

Psyche took Cupid by the hand. "Let's go home, darling. I'll treat your wounds."

"You always know the magic words, my love." As one, the gods disappeared. Draco and Hermione looked at one another. "Think they're still watching?" Draco asked.

"Probably," Hermione answered. "Let's give them something to look at."

She leapt into his arms. Two mouths melded in perfect union.

Somewhere in the distance, someone sighed in happiness.

The End