For the record, I would just like to say that I am not a hateful person. It’s not that I’m a ball of joy and sunshine. Oh, no, not by any stretch of the imagination. I like to keep a happy medium; I don’t hate, I just don’t skip around the school handing out flowers. So, I would appreciate it if you would pay close attention as I say what I’m about to say.

I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, hate Valentine’s Day.

That’s right, I said it. I hate, hate, that stupid, mushy, lovey-dovey, give-a-person-candy-and-flowers-to-show-undying-love waste of a day. It’s not even a real holiday. I have reason to believe that one day, for no other reason than that they had no love lives to speak of, people from the card companies, the chocolate factories, and the florists decided to get together and come up with something to fill their own empty lives. Or maybe it was people from the crazy-house. Seems like something they would do.

Now, please don’t mistake this downright hatred for jealousy or some other rubbish, because, let me tell you, it is nothing of the sort. And if anyone dares suggest it to my face, as a certain blond-haired Slytherin git did earlier today, that person will meet the same unfortunate fate that he did, a swift punch in the jaw and a nice little hex to send him on his way. And, believe me, that had been the best part of my day thus far.

I had woken up feeling just fine. It was a crisp and clear February morning. About three seconds after opening my eyes, I was met with squeals of delight just down the hall, as Lavender or Parvati or some other giggly girl found a surprise from her flavor of the week. It hit me then that it was Valentine’s Day, my oh-so-favorite day of the year. I reluctantly got dressed for the day, knowing that it would be filled with awkward gestures from inexperienced boys to overly enthusiastic girls from all ages and houses. I walked down to the common room to see my brother, Ron, gazing longingly at my friend Hermione, who was resolutely studying from some textbook or another, completely oblivious to the attention. I swear, ever since the Yule ball a few months ago, Ron has been infatuated with Hermione, though she seems either unaffected or unaware of his interest.

I continued my surveillance of the room, and found Harry staring into the fire. He was probably thinking about the next task in the tournament, or, most likely, that Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang. Really, it’s pathetic how he swoons after her, when he really could have almost anyone in the school. I am very happy to say that I no longer have an infatuation with my brother’s best friend, and even if he had wanted to share Valentine’s Day with me, I wouldn’t have gone along with it.

It was still pretty early, and most of the stupid giggling girls were still upstairs getting dolled up for the ‘special’ day. Not wanting to wait around for the lot of them to come rushing down to meet up with their boy toys, I waved to my three friends and left the Common Room, hoping not to come across any snogging couples on my way to breakfast. Seeing someone like Crabbe or Goyle with their tongue down some helpless girl's throat would have ruined my appetite forever. Luckily enough, I made it through breakfast without any mishaps, no snogging or groping to be seen. The Great Hall was decorated, of course, but if I didn’t look up to see the floating hearts and cupids, I could easily pretend that they weren’t there.

Feeling a little happier with a full stomach, I left the hall at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, as I was walking to my first class of the day (History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, which makes it so much more interesting, let me tell you), I ran into one of those unfortunate, appetite-stealing sights that was Gregory Goyle snogging some poor girl in the middle of the corridor. Not wanting to stay and risk losing my breakfast, I ran quickly the other way, back towards the Hall.

But it seemed that my luck had deserted me after I finished eating, for no sooner had I started heading the other direction from Goyle, that I ran into someone and fell flat on my backside. Or at least, I would have, if the person I ran into had not caught me at the last moment and pulled me back up. I was lifted into a toned male chest and held there for a moment. I took that moment to catch my breath after the near fall, and inhaled some musky scent I didn’t recognize.

Just as I was about to give my thanks for the save, I was roughly pushed away and barely managed to stay upright once again. Needless to say, I was pretty confused, not to mention angry. I took a deep breath, intending to give whoever it was a good yelling, when I realized that it was the blond-haired Slytherin git, also known as Draco Malfoy. His grey eyes bore into mine and gave me pause for a minute, but then I was back in the zone and snapped at him.

“What gives, Malfoy? Don’t you have anything better to do than to push around people smaller than you? Shouldn’t you be off groping your girlfriend Pugsy? Or is it that she can no longer stand the sight of your Ferret-face?” I ranted, gradually getting closer to him so that by the end I was practically yelling in his face. Now, considering I’m only a third-year, that probably was not the smartest thing I could have done, but, hey, I blame it on the Weasley temper. That, and the fact that it was the worst day of the year.

At first Malfoy looked at me with surprise, probably that I had the audacity to stand up to him. Me, a little Gryffindor third-year, and him, a tall fourth-year Slytherin, but that look slowly turned into a sneer.

“What’s the matter, Weaselette?” he said in that I’m-so-better-than-you-because-I’m-a-Malfoy drawl that I hate so much. “Potty didn’t give you a snog for Valentine’s Day? Upset that he’s too busy pining for Chang to even notice little old you?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” I replied. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my most witty comeback ever, and probably only made him think that he was right. But I was angry, and I don’t think straight when I'm angry.

“Ah, so it’s true. The little weasel’s jealous of Cho Chang for capturing the great Harry Potter’s attention. No love for the girl weasel on Valentine’s Day this year.”

I’m pretty sure that he would have gone on, but the punch I delivered him to his pointy jaw pretty well shut him up. I still don’t know if the look on his face was more shock or anger, and I didn’t care enough at the time to take a good look.

“This has nothing to do with Harry, git-face, so go leave me alone and find your snog-buddy Parkinson and occupy yourself for a while. That is, if you can.” At that point I whipped my wand out, very swiftly if I do say so myself, and personally delivered him a Bat-Bogey hex to the face. As he ran away, I noted that even Pug-face Parkinson wouldn’t go near Malfoy with flying bogeys surrounding him. Feeling a little happier, I walked calmly off to class as if nothing had happened.

After classes, which despite the teacher’s efforts, were filled with cuddling couples and kissing in the back of the class, I tried in vain to find a spot to just relax and get some reading done. The Common Room was a no-go, as it was filled with more couples snuggling by the fire or whiny people who had nothing better to do. The Library was worse. It contained people in almost every nook and cranny doing things I don’t even want to think about, despite the best efforts of Madam Pince. Really, I feel bad for that woman, having randy teenagers all over her precious books. I wasn’t even going to try the Room of Requirement, because it was almost sure to be occupied.

So that was how I ended up where I did, sitting in an open-arched window by the courtyard, bundled up in my best cloak and a blanket I borrowed from Hermione, trying in vain to read my book. It was a really good book, not one of those trashy romance types that people always think I’m reading. This one had a plot, about a nation in danger from a coup attempt by a cunning, daring politician—

Smack! I almost toppled over from the force of the snowball that hit me. I wiped the cold snow off my face and scooped up a snowball of my own with a grin, abandoning my book and the warmth of the cloak, expecting to find Colin Creevey standing a ways away with a similar grin. What I saw instead was not a grinning Colin, but a smirking Draco Malfoy, another projectile already in his gloved hand. If it was possible, my mood darkened even more than it already had. I had had enough of people interrupting my attempts to get away from the evils of Valentine’s Day.

I gave Malfoy what Fred and George referred to as my 'evil smile', and stared him directly in the eyes. “What is it now, Malfoy? Didn’t have enough this morning? Or were you rejected by Pug-face? No love for the little ferret on Valentine’s Day.” I taunted, throwing his words from earlier back at him.

I think that my words had the opposite effect than I had intended, for his smirk only grew. “Not quite, Weasley.”

“Then what, Malfoy? You’re not one to start snowball fights with puny little Gryffindors for the fun of it. At least, not when there’s no one around for you to gloat to. Spit it out. I was trying to read before you interrupted me.”

Malfoy looked speculatively at me. “Why do you dislike Valentine’s Day so much, Weaselette?”

The question gave me pause for a minute. No one had ever really asked me that. It was just a known fact that I didn’t like the day, and that if people didn’t want a hex thrown at them, they would stay away from me that day. To hear Malfoy, probably the one thing I hated almost as much as this dreaded day, ask me that question, was unusual to say the least.

“It strikes me the wrong way, I guess,” I answered honestly, for it seemed the best thing to do. “All the frilly girliness, red hearts and white chocolate, all for no reason at all. It’s pointless. It’s not even a real holiday. It was made up by some people with no lives and nothing to do.”

Malfoy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s quite it, Weasley.”

I snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. “Oh, really, Malfoy?”

He shook his head again. “Nope.”

This had to be good. “Alright then, Ferret-face. If you think you know me better than I do, why, pray tell, do I dislike Valentine’s Day?”

“Simple, really. You dislike today because you’ve never had a reason to enjoy it,” the smug git replied, as if it were the simplest concept in the world.

I, of course didn’t buy it. Really, didn’t that guy pay attention? “I told you before, Malfoy, I’m not jealous.”

He looked like a disappointed professor. “That’s not what I said, Weasley. To be jealous of something, you would have to know what it feels like to have it, have it taken away, and watch other people enjoy it instead. No, you are not jealous, because you have never felt it to begin with.”

And, to my supreme annoyance, I began to realize that the smarmy git was right. I had never been treated to a Valentine’s Day outing, simply because I did not want one. And because I did not want one, and consequently didn’t have it, I was angry and frustrated. It was a circular path that would probably have made me quite bitter in the end.

Instead of being bitter, I was now angry at the smug-looking boy in front of me for pointing out the fault in my logic. “So? What’s it to you, Malfoy? Did you just come out here to show me what an idiot I’ve been? Sounds like something you’d do.”

For the third time, Malfoy shook his head. “No, I did not come here to gloat or hold it over your head or anything. Really, even I have some compassion today. No, once I figured out your predicament, I decided to do something about it,” he stated with a blank face, not giving anything away. And, to my surprise, again, Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out a single white rose. He handed it to me with an expressionless face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Weaselette.”

I took it wordlessly, a bit stunned. I looked into his face, trying to see some kind of emotion to explain his actions, but I was met with nothing. He must have read my mind, though, because he continued. “Don’t read too much into it, Weasley. It’s just a flower. I didn’t even buy it. I grabbed one from one of the many bouquets I get every year. So don’t go getting all emotional on me or anything.”

I still didn’t say anything, just looked down at the white rose in my mittened hands. Malfoy gave me a flower? On Valentine’s Day? I didn’t believe it. But as I looked back up to ask him why he would do that, I saw that he had already turned and was walking away. I couldn’t just let him go, though. I had to say thank you, even if the gift was unexpected and meaningless. I ran up to him and grabbed his arm.

He turned slowly around, a bored look on his face. “What?”

I didn’t say anything, didn’t think, just stood up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. I locked eyes with him, and saw them widen in surprise. His look of shock snapped me back to reality, and I realized what I had done, who I was kissing. I pulled back from the kiss, and took a step back. Taking a shaky breath I managed to say, “Thank you for the rose, Draco,” before I turned around and walked back towards my book and blanket. I tried my hardest not to look back at him, afraid that I would see rage and disgust on his face. Really, though, it was just a little touch. To him, it probably barely even counted as a kiss.

But I couldn’t resist looking over my shoulder once, and I saw him standing in the same spot, with the same look of surprise on his face. It was only there for a second, though, before he turned and walked away towards the dungeons. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I grabbed my things and made my way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

I figured it was time to re-evaluate my opinion of Valentine’s Day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~



So? Like, dislike? Any and all reviews are welcome.

Tam