It was the most spectacularly boring holiday of the year. Of this he was certain. All the PINK!

He hated pink. He hated the stupid oogly-moogly couples playing giggle-and-kissy in the hallways. He hated those heart-shaped boxes of over-priced chocolate that wasn't even that GOOD, and most of all, he hated the damned atmosphere.

He could FEEL his perfectly straight white teeth decaying with the sugary-ness floating around the school. He half-expected to see cotton candy and sap covering the floors and walls like some particularly noxious glue.

And it was bad... REALLY bad... that he had been assigned the Astronomy Tower to patrol that night.

He was sure that he was acting like that former stick-up-arse-d spectacled-Head-Boy Weasel, what with the detentions and points given to the aforementioned oogly-moogly couples.

This was not a happy situation for Draco Malfoy to contemplate, in any way.

"Bloody pink. Bloody stupid lovey-dovey twits. Bloody Valentine and his bloody holiday..." he muttered to himself, after busting the third couple that evening. After bellowing and chewing them out for public indecency, he sent them packing back to Hufflepuff with a loss of fifteen points and a snarl.

"And who shoved a stick up YOUR arse?" a chirpy, amused female voice interrupted his thoughts. He groaned. Her. Another reason to hate Valentine's day. The littlest Weasel. The girl Weasel. Weaslette. She-who-lived-to-worship-the-Boy-Who-Lived. She who once upon a time disgusted him and the whole school with a particularly heinous singing Valentine. Now THAT was a horrible memory if there ever was one. He was sure that if he ever ended up in Azkaban, he would be thinking of that. Constantly.

It was a very unpleasant thought.

"Weaslette, kindly leave me and my misanthropic outlook the bloody hell alone and take your cheerfulness elsewhere. I was having a lovely time eloquently bewailing the stupidity of the holiday and the school. I would like to continue."

She didn't leave. Damn her. And not only that, she bloody SMIRKED. "You know, most people who are bitter on Valentine's Day don't have a Valentine."

"Don't fool yourself. Let me assure you, I bloody WISH that those twits who want me to snog them would leave me the bloody hell alone."

She giggled, "Ah... so THAT'S the problem."

"Go away, Weaslette. Just go away. Go and... be your cheerful little redheaded snippet self around Potty, or... whatever."

"Naw, this is fun. You're amusing when you sulk."

"You're pathetic if watching people sulk amuses you," he scowled.

"You should at least do SOMETHING more productive than sitting here grumbling. You're starting to remind me of Percy, and even HE had things to do now and then that didn't involve grumbling."

"I refuse to snog Mudblood Ravenclaws in empty classrooms!"

"Good. That's not a good mental image-- you snogging my brother's girlfriend," she shook her head, "But MUST you use that hideous word?"

"Go away, Weaslette."

"I've every right to be here, you know." She flashed her Prefect's badge.

"Well I'm Head Boy and I can still order you around and... go away!"

"No. You may NOT order me around," she said firmly, "Don't deceive yourself, Draco Malfoy."

"Weaslette," his voice was whiney now, "I just want to disparage this bloody holiday ALONE..."

"But that's so BORING," she laughed, "Why don't you do something more interesting instead?"

"Like what?" he raised his arms up, "Bust MORE snogging couples in this bloody place? Bloody hell, most of them don't even do it right! What's that sluglike thing they do with their tongues, anyway? Sick-making! How ANYONE can stand to do this? It's gross! Are they trying to snog or trying to induce vomiting? Honestly..."

"Patronizing much, aren't you?" she smirked (dammit, that was HIS expression! Damn her! She wasn't ALLOWED to use it without his express, written permission!) at him again, "Think you're much the kissing expert, hmm? And yet, you despise this holiday."

"I'm a Malfoy. I'm good at everything. Certainly kissing," he lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow, giving her a look of ineffable haughtiness, "And as for this holiday, all this PINK! And all this-- asinine GIGGLING!"

"Oh... well, it's true that lots of people are rather tiresome on this day. But give them a break, they're in LOVE!"

"Why should I give them a break?" he demanded, "If they're so-called in love, they should be considerate, no? As love is about thinking about other people and such foolishness, or whatever. And being considerate means not polluting my eyes by making horrible spectacles of themselves."

"You're very twisted."

"I'm a Malfoy."

"That's twice you've said that."

"And this is more than twice that I'm telling you to go away."

"You... should learn to be more understanding of couples and their need to express their love or... whatever," she maintained, her eyes glinting, "I don't care if you don't like this holiday. It CAN be rather... silly... but you should at least go and get a life, rather than sit here on your arse sulking and criticising other people's kissing technique."

"I HAVE a life! And I will sulk all I want! As for kissing technique, those bloody prats DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING!"

"And you think you do," she laughed.

"Damn straight!"

"People tell you that you're a good snog? Who?"

"I REFUSE to answer that question," he glared at her, "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

She didn't answer in words, but merely stepped up to him, until their robes were brushing and her face was just a few inches from his. Crazy Weaslette, what the devil was she up to?

His thoughts didn't get a chance to be voiced, as she leaned up, using one hand to pull his head down to hers, fusing their lips together. He squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, before understanding that he was being snogged by a reasonably attractive young woman who tasted like vanilla and cranberries and that she had had the audacity to doubt his snogging virtuosity.

He would bloody well prove her wrong.

A few moments later found her backed up against the closest wall, her arms wrapped around his neck, as his hands roamed up and down her sides and his mouth plundered hers. When he pulled away, she kind of slumped against him, with a muffled sort of sound. Then, she sighed.

"Fine. I'll admit that you're not bad," she conceded. And that my toes are still curling and I'm sure my face is red as my bloody hair and now I want to do it again and this means death and dishonour and apopleptic brothers...

"You mean, I'm spectacular," he smirked, taking in her flushed face and feeling the first bit of pleasure he'd felt all day (well, besides the pleasure from the snogging...).

"You're an egotistical prat," she retorted, poking him in the chest. He shrugged.

"Admit it, I'm good."

She gave a mischievous look then. "You need practice, Malfoy." Saying so, she pulled his head down to hers again.

Valentine's Day was STILL a stupid holiday, and he would never like it.

But this one had been SLIGHTLY less odious than most others.