Summary: Hermione has always hated Valentine's Day, but this year that may just change.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Behind St. Valentine

I have always hated Valentine's Day. Whoever this St. Valentine was, he really needs to take a break from heaven and spend sometime in a teenage body, because if he had back when he was alive, I'm sure that this stupid holiday wouldn't exist. I mean, all these happy couples, hugging, and snogging? It's bloody obnoxious. Ginny says that I'm just jealous. Jealous? Of what? Having to wait with baited breath to see how much some bloke has spent on me, when I know that he's going to cheat on me in two months? Yeah, so not my thing.

I'll admit, I didn't always mind it quite so much. I used to just ignore it. It used to be just another day, except louder due to all the giggling, and with an overload of pink. Annoying, but liveable. Or, at least, it was until Professor McGonagall made that dreaded announcement two weeks ago.

Stopping my sausage mid way through its journey to my mouth, I turn to stare at Harry.

"You've got to be kidding me, Harry, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." I say in disgust.

"Oh lighten up Herms, it was just a joke."

"Prick. And I've told you before! Don't call me that!"

"What do you want me to call you, One?" I glare at him, and go back to my dinner. "Oh look everyone, I've offended little Hermione. What are you going to do about it? Run to mummy?" This solicits a laugh from everyone who heard him, which, I might add, a good half of our table.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Harry, I can't! Sometimes I wonder how you would have survived muggle high school. You certainly don't have the smarts for it." I shake my head as he begins to rebut my mild insult.

Mild, because, in truth, I could never really insult Harry; with those bright green eyes that make you feel like he is reading your soul, and that deep, brown, messy hair that he never seems to be able to control, and with his fame and fortune, there isn't a girl in the entire school who wouldn't want a piece of that. Except maybe some Slytherins, but do they ever really count for anything of worth? Yeah, I thought not. Yes. There is no doubt about it; Harry is easily the most fancible guy in our year, probably the entire school, and possible the entire wizarding world. And so of course, I had to fall for him, not because of these traits, (although they are definite advantages) but because he is just Harry, my wonderful, kind, gentle, perfect, best friend. Funny how these things work, isn't it?

"Could you pass the cream, Potter?" I ask, looking at said best friend.

"Well, I don't rightly know. What will you give me for it?"

"It's what I will give you if you don't pass it over that you ought to be worried about." A mild smile crosses his face, but I can see the nervousness dancing in his eyes, as it should. I'm not the top of my class for nothing. He passes it, just as Professor McGonagall stands up at the head table.

"Excuse me, students? Can I have your attention?" The hall goes quiet. "Thank you. As you all know, Valentine's Day is coming up," The room fills with giggles. I roll my eyes. If only these girls could see themselves! Mindless slags. "Yes, yes, I am sure we're all very excited about this."

I scoff. "Yeah right," I mutter under my breath, "that's laughable that is." Pain shoots down my shin.

"Shut up" Rom mouths to me, while Harry ties, and fails, to hide a grin. Mmm, what a nice mouth he has too. How delectable… I shake myself and turn my attention to the speaking professor.

"And so, to get into the spirit of the holiday, Hogwarts has decided to play host to the first annual Valentine's Day ball!" Whispers fill the hall, but she continues on as though it was still completely silent. I often wonder if she has just learned to drown us out. Lord knows I would if I could. Bloody annoying people we are. "For students 4th year and up, the ball will begin at seven and go until midnight. Dates are required, as are dress robes."

I hear Ron grumble, and I laugh at the memory of his audacious robes from Yule Ball.

"On Saturday you may all go to Hogsmeade to buy new dress robes should you need them." I hear some grumbles and giggles coming from down my table, and look down to see Lavender and her crew: Hogwarts's resident sluts. I'm sure they find formal dress far to conservative for their taste. But, of course they'll find something "tasteful". Ha! They wouldn't know tasteful if it came up and slapped them on their sodding arses. "I look forward to seeing you all there, and enjoy the rest of your term!" The hall erupts in sounds as students start chattering excitedly about the ball. I know! They are actually excited. Especially, it seems, my tall red haired best friend.

"So Herms," I hear him ask me, "Are you going to go?"

"Do I look like I have a date?" I answer back bitterly. "And don't call me that. I swear, you're more dense than Harry!" Harry laughs, and goes back to his food.

"You could. You really need to get out of this 'I'm ugly, no guys could ever want me,' phase. It's annoying as shit, and we both know it's not true." Harry murmurs what sounds like assent.

I blush in spite of myself. I hope neither Harry nor Ron notice, and looking up, Harry is staring intently at his sausage, and, of course Ron obviously hasn't because he's busy scanning the rest of the female population, and you can almost see him mentally checking boxes off for each girl that catches his eye. Come to think of it, a lot of people seem to be doing that. I wonder how they are marking me? Ha. I bet they aren't even looking. "Pretty indeed! Don't flatter me, Weasley."

"But it's so fun! You get all flustered, and a flustered Hermione is just about the most amusing thing ever." Shit! Did I say that out loud? Just my luck.

"Look, Harry, Rom, I have some work I have to catch up on. I'll see you guys later."

"You're joking right?" Ron says, disbelievingly, "Hermione Granger? With work to catch up on? Somebody pinch me! I must be dreaming!"

"Bite me," I mockingly snarl.

"Oh god, not again," I hear Harry mumble. He rolls his eyes at us and goes back to his dinner

"Maybe I will," Ron responds teasingly, and opens his mouth. Oh, God, please don't!

"UM…" I say, not being able to think of anything to say to this most disturbing of images.

"I'd like to see you try!" says Harry, "You wouldn't get close enough to hit her, let alone bite her. And even if you did, she'd hex you to the next dimension. I suggest quitting while you're ahead."

"Well said, Potter," I say with a smile, and with a twist on my heel, I stalk off to our dorms.

I slam my head down on my open Transfiguration text. This essay is impossible, and there was no way I am going to be able to meet, let alone surpass the requirements. This would be the first time of this since my before first year of Hogwarts. McGonagall is going to be so disappointed in me. I can't have this! Most people would find this strange, but I've always felt that if I don't push myself past expectation, all my work will have been in vain. I know that people find me completely mental for it, (Ron has certainly told me enough times) but I love what we learn here, and I just want to learn everything there is to learn. However, by the looks of it, I'm missing quite a few things on this essay.

"Do you need help, Herms?" Ew! Was I just called Herms, again? Not. Cool.

"Please, never call me that!" I say, as I look up to see the slightly nervous and incredibly mousy face of Terry Boot. His hair looks like it hasn't been washed in at least a week, and his clothes looks like they needed a good scrubbing, as well. His mousy features also apparently extended to his voice, as it sounded incredibly squeaky and high. Over all, nothing like my Harry. My Harry? What in bloody hell?

"But Ron calls you that all the time." Your point?

"Yeah, well Ron is a right arse!"

"Oh, but I thought you fancied him." WHAT?

"What?"

"Oh, ok. That's cool." What's with that smile on his face? Creepy! "Well anyway, I saw you face plant into your book. I finished that essay yesterday, and I could probably give you some more things to write about, if you need it."

"Oh, Thank you, but it's ok, Terry. I'm just really frustrated. I have a lot to do. And with this ball, everything is just so crazy right now. It's starting to build up, you know? Taking its toll. I'll be fine, though."

"Yeah, about that. I-I was wondering if-if y-youwouldgototheballwidme?

"Pardon me?" Oh god, he didn't just ask me to the ball, did he?

"I wanted to know if you would go to the ball with me?" I watch Terry's face turn a deep crimson. God I hate to do this but there is NO WAY I am going to the ball, especially with Terry Boot. Hmm, this will be difficult.

"Oh, gosh, Terry, I'm really sorry but-"

"But she is already going with someone else." A voice cuts in, and I whip around to see Harry standing behind me, looking daggers at Boot. If the situation weren't so dire, it would have been comical.

"I am?" I whisper to him in confusion. He gives me a look, and I immediately shut up, and turn back to Terry.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm- I'm going with someone else." I have never fancied myself a good liar, and apparently I was right, because Terry fixes me with a reproachful glare, and says shortly,

"I don't believe you. If you are, whom are you going with?" He finishes with a smug look, which was obviously too much for Harry, because he quickly puts my essay on the open page of my book, looks up at Terry and says quite forcefully, "That, is none of your business Mr. Boot," and slams the book closed. "Come on Mione, let's get out of here." And grabbing my book in one hand, he puts his other around my shoulder, and drives me out of the library.

As we continue walking, I notice that Harry still hasn't moved his arm. Almost unconsciously I move closer to him, and I feel his arm hold me immeasurably closer. What the hell is going on with us? We walk until we are a safe distance from the library, and then when we find a deserted corridor, I turn to him, face flushed, I'm sure. Looking into his eyes, God I could get lost in those eyes! I smile.

Silly me, I was so happy to have had Harry save my ass from having to go to the ball with Terry Boot, it didn't even occur to me that Harry's response now not only necessitated my agreeable attendance to the ball but also a date. I use the term "my agreeable attendance" because as Head Girl, I was obligated to attend the entire function. But by not having a date, I was not also obligated to enjoy the night. Unfortunately, Harry's response now preclude this scenario. It should also be noted that it also did not occur to me that as Head Boy, Harry would also be obligated to stay for the whole time, and would at least have occasionally come over to the check on my well being. All this absent mindedness could only be further proof that this ball was going to be the downfall of the Hogwarts student population.

"Thank you. I never would have been able to say no, and then I'd be forced to… Oh god, I don't even want to think about it." I involuntarily shudder.

"Anytime. I also want to apologize. I shouldn't have jumped in like that I just-"

"NO! It was perfect. You were perfect." I mumble, though he seems to continue as though unnoticed.

"When I saw him with you, red as a beet, I knew what he was going to do, and suddenly I say red. Or maybe green, like jealously. Wait, did you just say that that I was perfect?" Shit, did he hear that?

"Yes..." I say quietly, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Oh, see, I, um, er, I, uh, disagree." He says awkwardly, now being the one who's blushing. It's very cute too…

"And why is that, might I ask?"

"It seems you already have," he responds with his usual twinkle.

"Ha ha, you're a funny one. You know what I meant," I say, swatting him in the arm. Swatting? Where did that come from? I don't swat. I don't flirt. Flirting is for girls like Lavender or Ginny. I don't flirt. It's not right. And did he just say he was jealous? Of Terry? It can't be true, Harry has nothing to be jealous of. Of course, he doesn't know this, but- HERMIONE FOCUS ON THE CONVERSATION AT HAND! I return my focus to my very red faced best friend.

"Well, um see, it's just that. Erm, how do I phrase this? I mean, it's just that, um. Well…" I had no idea that it was physically possible to be this red. Bloody hell, what could be so bad? He didn't ask Lavender to the ball, did he? Not that she would have said no of course, but you don't ask Lavender to anything, you simple pull her into the nearest broom closet and shag her senseless. Put simply, if it is after dinner, don't spill anything that can't be cleaned without a "Scorgify", because getting cleaning supplies can be a truly traumatizing experience.

"Yes?" I prod. He isn't this nervous because of me, is he? That would be fantastic and completely impossible. Yes: impossible. Stop letting your imagination run away with you, Hermione.

"Well it's just that. Um... Mione, you're my best friend. You've always been there for me. For years people have asked me if I fancied you. I've always denied it," Ouch! "But lately, it's been like, I can't ever seem to get you out of my head."

WHAT? I imagine I must have looked very much like a ghost at this point, for I'm sure that all my blood must have left my face by now. I hoped that he wouldn't noticed, but as I look up at him, it become apparent that he isn't noticing anything other than the words coming out of his mouth; words that seem to shock both him and myself. Despite his shock, he ploughs on, realizing that he is too far gone and that now there is no turning back.

"It's just that, your such a great friend Mione, and I wouldn't want to lose this, that is, our friendship for anything. Until you and Ron, I never had any friends. They all either didn't like me, or were too scared to get on the wrong side of Dudley. And even though I started out being closer to Ron, fourth year changed things. I know that he now realizes the annoyance I go through on a daily basis because of this," he points gruffly to his scar, "but the thing is, part of him will always be jealous of me. I don't want him to. I want him to realize how lucky he really is, but I know that he doesn't believe him when I say it. I can see it in his eyes. You, on the other hand, Hermione, you've ALWAYS been here for me. Even when Ron and I ignored you in third year because of the Firebolt and then Scabbers, you stayed true to your beliefs, and worked to make sure I was safe from Sirius. And in fourth year, you stuck by me, and in fifth with the Department of Mysteries. And, of course, sixth year, with... anyway, you get what I'm trying to say. But, in truth, I guess it was only inevitable that people's predictions about my feelings would turn out true. Well, not really, but…" He flounders off then scoffs.

"Listen to me! I sound like some sappy American date movie!" I laugh, realizing that if he had said that to any non-muggle born, it wouldn't work. He looks up at my face and the sound of my laugh, as thought seeing me for the first time, and with a socked look, promptly turns red as a beet.

"Oh god, I'm sorry! I've probably ruined everything!" I stop his rambling as I reach out and touch one of his arms. They are crossed as though he hopes to hide and take back everything he just said, and keep the gate to his heart locked. Which, considering the situation, probably wouldn't have sounded like such a bad idea to him. But it didn't sound good to me at all. I don't want him to, because if he did, he would just resort to his old secretive, reserved, insecure self, and try to make everything go back to normal, but we could never go back to the way things were and now that I think about it: I never want it to.

With a smile, I look up into his eyes. Oh god, those eyes! I could melt in those eyes. No wait, I CAN melt in them!

"Stop. You have nothing to apologize for. Do you have any idea how long I have waited to hear you say those words?"

"What? Really?" If the tone of the moment had been different, his facial expression would have been hilarious, as it was; it instead made me weak at the knees. His eyes, bright with hope, locked with mine, as though searching my soul, to see if I was telling the truth. In all honesty, they probably were.

"Really." I smile sweetly, and a smile that could break hearts appears on his face. Reaching up, he brushes a stray hair behind my ear. "Does this mean you'll go to the ball with me?"

"I think I could pencil you in," I say with a wink. His smile grows, and I feel the colour rise in my cheeks. His eyes search my face and after a moments hesitation, he bends down and softly kisses my cheek.

Looking back on it, this should have led to happily ever after, but of course, since he is Harry Potter, and I am Hermione Granger, things didn't go as planned. What else, when you're dating The-Boy-Who-Triumphed?

I smile up at him and he smiles back, but our moment is broken by our red haired best friend.

"Oy! Guys! You'll never guess what just happened!" You ruined the most romantic experience of my life?

"Luna Lovegood just asked me to the ball!"

Harry laughs, "Finally, she's been bugging me and Gin about it all week. She was bloody nervous about your response. She was so nervous that you'd say no." He pauses and I see worry pass through his eyes. "Wait, you didn't say no, did you?"

"Of course I did! I couldn't go to the ball with Loony Lovegood! What would it do to my reputation?"

"RON!" Harry and I both yell exasperatedly.

"Luna is really nice, Ron. Yeah, she's weird, but her heart is in the right place, and she is really sweet." Harry says indignantly.

"Well, if you like her so much, why don't you ask her yourself?" Ron says in annoyance. He obviously hadn't expected this response from us. Wait, what if this didn't occur to Harry? He wouldn't back out on me, would he? Oh God! What would I do if he did!

"I can't ask her. I'm already going with someone else, Ron." Thank god.

"Wait, who?" Ron looks curious.

Harry looks down and smiles at me, and I return it. "Hermione," he says simply.

"Are you serious?" he asks, looking back and forth between the two of us

"Yes, Ron, we're serious. Besides, even Harry had wanted to ask Luna, she would have said no. She really likes you, Ronald."

"Yeah," Harry cuts in, "and by the sound of it, you just totally broke her heart. I suggest you go rectify this situation before she sets crazed Whangdoodles on you." We both give him confused looks, and he shrugs. "I dunno; she was talking about them the other day when I was helping her and Ginny with a defence essay."

"Wow. So what do you think I should do?"

"Has anyone else asked you?" I ask him, "or is there anyone you wanted to ask?"

"Not really, I was just waiting for a good opportunity to come along."

"And by the sounds of it, it has," I say matter-of-factly, while Harry nods in agreement. "Luna is a really good girl. And if you went with her to the ball, you definitely wouldn't be bored. I don't think its possible to be bored while with Luna. Even if what she says isn't necessarily believable, it is definitely interesting to listen to."

"True," he admits quietly, "And she does have really nice hair, and a good body." I roll my eyes, while Harry laughs.

"Mione was right, you really do have the emotional range of a teaspoon, and to top it off, the mental capacity of maybe a tablespoon. If you're lucky." I laugh softly, and Ron glares at Harry.

"Come on, Ron, you have to know that that is true! Look at the situation, for like, one minute, and you would see what we mean. Just go talk to her Ron, if not to agree to go to ball with her, then at least to med your friendship. Having you guys hate each other will make life really awkward for those of us who wish to remain friends with her," says Harry, anger and disappointment flashing in his emerald eyes.

"Fine," He grumbles, "See you two love birds later. I hear the astronomy tower is quite nice at this time of night," he says with a wink, and walks off.

"I hope he's going to go find Luna," I say quietly. Looking at my watch, I realize I was supposed to have started my rounds 15 minutes ago. "Uh, Harry? I have to start my rounds. Would you, um, like to join me?"

"There is nothing I would like better,"' he replies and cautiously takes my hand, looking at me curiously. I give it a quick squeeze, and smile up at him, and so, together, we head towards Gryffindor tower.

And you know what, maybe St. Valentine had it right, because suddenly Valentine's Day doesn't seem quite so bad.

Fin.

Please review! Thanks for reading!