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Every year on Valentine's day, without fail, Hermione would get a small care package from someone unknown. She was in the third year the first time she received it. It had contained a cherry pink teddy, joining alongside an assortment of different chocolates. It had read a note. A note showcasing unrecognizable, clearly rushed, but elegant handwriting.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day, my fiery lion. Do keep silent about this, or I will be unable to send one next year.
Yours Truly…’
At first, it was exciting to Hermione, having a secret admirer. It was only something she read about in the novels she kept at home, and it was thrilling to experience such a romantic gesture herself. True to the strange request on the note, she kept silent. She didn’t whisper a word to her fellow Gryffindors about the small package that randomly arrived by her windowside, only telling Ginny and her other dormmates that it was something her parents sent her.
Hermione looked throughout the entire Great Hall that morning, seeing if she could catch any eyes already staring at her. Something to that may hint to her who her admirer was. There were none, as everyone was either indulging in their breakfast meal or their own gifts from one another.
Part of her wondered if it was a joke. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, quite low on the attractiveness scale as Pansy liked to remind her of so often. Perhaps it was a cruel joke put together by a group of Slytherins. Looking over at their table, she saw no one staring at her and laughing. They were like everyone else, chatting amongst themselves while minding their own.
Hermione forced herself to forget about it. Being friends with someone like Harry Potter, it was easy to forget about the little things, especially when there were big matters to attend to. She had forced the memory of a secret admirer from her brain so well that she was shocked when another gift appeared on her windowsill the following year.
This time, it contained a strip of fabric from the same periwinkle dress she had worn to the Yule Ball, to which that alone deepened her desire to uncover who this mystery man—or woman—was. Joined with the fabric was two servings of Cauldron Cakes, which just so happened to be her favorite dessert. It was baffling how they managed to uncover such a fact, as Ron and Harry didn’t even know what her favorite dessert was. The note had the same, beautiful calligraphy. Only this time, it didn’t look as rushed compared to last year.
‘A shame that I couldn’t take you to the Yule Ball myself, you were truly a sight to behold. I’ve never been rendered speechless in such a way before. Every damned night I close my eyes to let sleep encase me, I only ever see those luscious curls paired with that gorgeous dress of yours. I’m tempted to take up painting, all so I can see the beauty you bestowed upon me once more. Happy Valentine's Day, my fiery lion.
Yours Entirely…’
Hermione had never received such a thoughtful sentiment. Tears welled up in her eyes to know that someone had spent the night staring at her, memorizing every detail. She knew many eyes were on her, as she was on the arm of not only an infamous Quidditch star, but also a Triwizard Tournament nominee. She didn’t think anyone cared that much about her however, and to know that someone did and she still didn’t know who frustrated her to no end.
Thinking about it for a while, she considered her options. She had seen Ron staring at her quite a bit, but there was always a touch of anger in his eyes. Perhaps it was jealousy? He hadn’t spoken to her a fair bit of the night.
‘I’ve never been rendered speechless in such a way before.’
Putting the note inside her nightstand drawer, she didn’t want such a kind gesture to be forgotten this time around. This was proof that someone cared about her, that someone noticed her in a way that she only thought to be fictional.
She needed to find out if it was Ron—she highly doubted it was Harry—yet she couldn’t disclose that she had received a gift from a secret admirer. No doubt that if Ron found out that she had a secret admirer, he would wreak havoc and definitely draw attention. She didn’t want this to stop, and she was already looking forward to next year.
Well, she hoped she would receive a gift next year.
Once again, when she arrived in the Great Hall, she looked around to see if there were any eyes already staring. Of course, there were none. When she was finally seated, Ron didn’t even look up at her from the box of chocolate Harry had apparently given to him. Harry had received many gifts, as he was currently surrounded by a litany of sweets and heart-shaped cards.
Typically, Hermione would be annoyed at how many people fancied him, she knew they only liked him because he was the ‘Chosen One’. She couldn’t bring herself to be bothered however, as she now knew how nice it felt to be noticed. It wasn’t fair to blame Harry for too enjoying the feeling of it, he looked like a kid in his own little candy store.
Hermione cleared her throat, taking Ron’s attention away from the box of chocolates. With a smudge of caramel on the right corner of his lip, Hermione winced. His table manners were definitely something that needed more work.
“Hey ‘Mione! Have you received any treats this morning?” He spoke around the chocolate still in his mouth, continuing to chew as he finished his sentence.
“Only the typical care package my parents send me,” Hermione lied, electing to ignore the ghastly way Ron is eating. “They sent me my favorite dessert however, two servings of it!”
“Oh! Have you received those chocolate covered strawberries? Have you any more that you’d be willing to share?” Ron offered her a dopey grin that was all too contagious. Hermione shared the smile, shaking her head. “No Ronald, those are your favorite deserts.”
Well, at least Ron was now out of question. No doubt if he were to send her something, it’d likely be something he only enjoys himself. He didn’t know her favorite desert, and now that she thought about it, she doubted he even knew how to write in such a refined way.
Sighing, she got up, giving each of her best friends the excuse that she needed to shower before classes. Hermione started on her way out of the Great Hall, frustrated that she didn’t know who it was. She’d have to wait yet another year in anticipation, it being unlikely that next year would offer her any more clues than this year had.
Just as she turned left to make her way back to her dormitory, she bumped into a solid figure. Hermione let out a yelp as she stumbled backwards. A hand reached out to grab her wrist, preventing her from falling. Her scents were encased with the smell of pinewood and parchment. Naturally, it soothed her. Pinewood scented candles were always her favorite to light when she was at home.
“Steady, Granger.” A familiar voice spoke, one that she’d never expect to hear spoken in a tone that wasn’t hostile. Hermione looked up, and the second she met eyes with the grey-eyed Slytherin, his grip on her wrist was gone, and within a blink of an eye, so was he.
Hermione stood, frozen in shock. Draco Malfoy had not only helped her by stopping her from falling, but he had willingly touched her. Contrary to everything he’s preached to her years prior, he hadn’t flinched away at the brush of her skin, nor had he called her every insulting name in the book.
Maybe he was her secret admirer?
Immediately, Hermione brushed away the thought with a disbelieving laugh. She started walking again, determined to get a shower to help clear her head. She was surely losing her mind if she thought Draco Malfoy would be sending her annual Valentine’s Day gifts.
♡
Next year, the night before Valentines, Hermione decided to write a note. She wasn’t sure the sender would even receive it, as she never heard her window open, nor did she feel the breeze that always accompanied an open window at Hogwarts. However, it never hurts to try. So, just before she went to bed, as all her other dormmates were already sleeping, she sat in her bed. She wrote in a journal her parents bought her at the beginning of the year, one that she had yet to use until now.
‘You’re very good at whatever game you are playing. I haven’t a clue who you are, and I don’t imagine you’ll be giving me any more hints revealing your identity this year, as you haven’t the last two. I assume you’re not a Gryffindor, to which a Gryffindor would be brave enough to show his true face instead of hiding behind pieces of parchment and gifts.
Do not go on the assumption that I don’t appreciate these yearly gestures from you—whoever you are. I never imagined to be seen the way you claim to see me now, and part of me is still convinced this is some sick and cruel joke. If it is, I kindly ask you to stop now.
If it isn’t, please spare me yet another year of anticipation and show me who you are.
Sincerely, Hermione Granger.’
Hermione tore the piece of paper from her journal, folding it into a neat little square. Setting it by the windowsill, she finally went to bed—though sleep only did come a couple hours later.
The next morning, she was surprised to find the note still there. Only, it was unfolded, signaling that it had been read. Hermione looked around her bedroom, trying to see if any of her friends were awake and had read it themselves. Thankfully, Ginny and Padma were still asleep.
Looking back to the windowsill, she noticed that there was another note next to her. Accompanying the note was a small black box, and a singular rose. Hermione’s face flushed as she grabbed the black box.
When she saw the contents inside, a gasp escaped past her lips. Inside was a small, silver bracelet. There was a singular charm on it—an otter. Her newly discovered patronus. Did this mean that this was someone who was inside of Dumbledore’s army? She didn’t know anyone inside the room had noticed her patronus, as everyone else was too busy conjuring their own.
Hermione instantly put the bracelet on. The small otter dangled from her wrist, and she couldn’t stop the smiling from forming on her face as she looked at it. It was beautiful—it couldn’t have been cheap. As she looked at the singular rose, her heart swelled. Hermione grabbed her wand and put a containment charm on it, ensuring that it will never die. Putting the now empty black box and the rose in the drawer, her attention was now drawn to the note he had left.
‘I waited for the day you’d finally write back. You’re a year later than expected if I’m being honest. Somehow, I knew you’d try and goad me by calling me a coward, hoping that my ego would be too big to bear such a statement. Perhaps it is, which is why I’ll give you this: I’m not in that little group of yours that meets up and rebels against Umbridge. I don’t wish to go on the suicide mission Harry Potter insists on taking you all on each year, so you don’t need to worry about me being in there. Please be safe, whatever adventure you take yourself on in the following months, I do wish to give you another gift. One may find it troublesome to do so if you’re dead, in Azkaban, or worse… expelled! Happy Valentine’s Day, my fiery lion.
Blessed to be Yours…’
She hated how widely she was smiling at the message, how warmth seemed to consume her entire being. Falling back into her bed, she fought to keep quiet, making poor attempts to contain her squeals of excitement. Holding the note close to her chest, she swore to herself: she’d find this man who admired her so much.
At first, the bracelet wasn’t exactly a big help in finding out who had gifted it to her. Hermione wasn’t one to wear jewelry that often, especially not one that seemed to be made of pure silver. She caught multiple eyes lingering on the otter charm. Lavender, Padma—who went out of her way to say it complimented Hermione perfectly—Ginny, and Hannah. However, as everyone went back to eating their meals and Hermione started to eat her own, she met a pair of eyes. Grey ones, same as last year.
Only unlike the other girls who were staring at her bracelet, he was staring at her. It was only when their gazes locked on each other for a few moments, did his line of sight fall down to the bracelet hanging from her wrist. Something flashed in his eyes, a look that Hermione couldn’t describe. He tore his eyes away from her entirely, and the question of whether he was her secret admirer came up again.
Draco wasn’t a part of Dumbledore's army, as hinted in the note. Yet he still could be such a bully at times, it wasn’t as if he had completely left her alone. Though he was at the top of her suspicions, he was also at the very bottom.
Yet another year, and she was no closer to discovering who her admirer was.
Sixth year came. Hermione was so devastated with the recent events following Ron and Lavender, she hadn’t even remembered her admirer. She actually dreaded Valentine’s Day, as it meant that she’d be left to hear Lavender’s constant chatter of whatever Ron had gifted her. They were going to be a consistent topic brought up throughout the day, and she wished to do nothing more than to hide in her bedroom all day. Since Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday, she intended on doing exactly that.
The next morning when she woke, Hermione was surprised to say the least. On her windowsill were a whole bouquet of flowers. Carnations were bundled up into one, and it sat inside a glass vase. There was another small black box, and instead of a small strip of parchment, there was an entire roll.
Hermione shot up, instantly grabbing the roll before anything else. It was tied together with a strip of gold and red ribbon, forming a small bow at the knot. Unraveling the ribbon, the parchment fell, and Hermione gasped at the length of the letter.
‘It kills me to say that this might be the last Valentine’s gift I can send you. I’ve been entrusted to a lifestyle that doesn’t allow me to do such things, so I hope the gift and flowers are enough to make up for all the following years I will miss. I’m sorry I never got to reveal my identity, though perhaps with this letter, you’ll discover it on your own. Nothing gets past you, that’s for sure.
I wish there were enough words to describe how much of my life you’ve consumed, despite our exchanges being limited to once per year, maybe even less. I wasn’t surprised when I smelt you in the amortentia. You smell of lavender, and though it’s a scent meant to soothe the soul, you spike up my nerves quicker than anyone can dream of doing. I think I could get lost in those eyes of yours, and I hope you never lose that spark that is contained within them. I’ve yet to see someone with as much soul as you have. Try as one might, no one can knock you down. If they’ve somehow succeeded, you get back up and they spend the rest of their days regretting it. You love your friends with everything in you, so much so that you insist on going with those gits to ensure they don’t get themselves killed. I used to dream of the day that I’d be subjected to the gift that is Hermione Granger’s love, and maybe in another lifetime I’ll get that blessing.
Ron Weasley doesn’t deserve you. This year is the last year I’ll get to see you almost daily, and I despise that he’s the reason you have this melancholic look on your face every day. I don’t know who you’re destined to end up with, but I hope that you don’t settle for him. You’re Hermione bloody Granger, you’ve wasted enough tears on him.
Be with someone whom you don’t have to explain every feeling to. Someone who is on your level of intelligence—well, close to it at least. I doubt you’ll ever come across someone as clever as you are. Be with someone who can know a good thing when they have it, and they won’t take it for granted.
You are a gift, Hermione Granger. Everyone who is in any room you walk in should consider themselves lucky that you’re gracing them with your presence. You are worth so much, and I hope one day that orange-haired ‘friend’ of yours will finally get out of the way enough for you to see it. Happy Valentine’s Day, my fiery lion.
Eternally Yours.’
Tears were streaming down her face as she read the letter, and when she read the signature, a sob escaped her. She’d never find out who this man was, and she’d never get another letter from him. Someone had loved her, truly loved her, she’d never get to know who it was.
He called her a gift. He described her in a way that one would describe Gods, she’d never known it was possible to be loved this way. Yet she was, and it was the cruelest torture of all that she was denied it. Hermione might’ve been a gift, but she wasn’t blessed enough to be allowed to embrace the love one had for her.
She looked at the bouquet, her heart shattering at the sight of it. How is it that he somehow knew her favorite flowers, even though she’s never said it aloud? The petals had small droplets of water on them, to which they glimmered in the morning light, catching glimpses of gold that went well with the pink petals.
With trembling hands, Hermione set down the roll of parchment and picked up the small black box. Inside held a beautiful necklace. Like the bracelet she had received the year prior, its material was silver. The necklace held an infinity symbol, lined with small, sage stones. Hermione pulled it out of the box, tracing the lines of the symbol with her thumb.
After a moment, she put it on. Hermione opened the drawer, grabbing the rose from last year and put it in the middle of the bouquet. The combination may have not made sense to anyone else, but it did to her, and that was all that mattered. Once she cast a containment charm on it, she put everything else in her drawer. Then, she left her room, an otter dangling from her wrist and an infinity symbol hanging from her neck.
This year, she didn’t look for any gazes directed towards her. She only looked for him, the one person she suspected. Draco was nowhere to be seen, leaving Hermione to her thoughts that morning. She can count on one hand the number of times she saw him for the rest of the school year.
Two times.
Once, it was a few months later. class had just ended in potions. As she was packing up her supplies, she caught him staring at her chest. At first, Hermione felt offended, then she noticed that he was staring at her necklace. When she looked down at the necklace and then back up, he was already on his way out of the room.
The next time was just after Dumbledore had passed. Everyone was making their way down to see the fallen Headmaster, as was Hermione. As she descended down a corridor, she saw him. His eyes were filled with nothing except despair, he looked truly broken. She caught his gaze, stopping in her tracks. While he didn’t do the same, his steps slowed. His eyes flickered down to her necklace once more, and then he nodded to himself before continuing.
She knew then. There was just something about the look of reassurance he had given himself after staring at her necklace did she finally snap out of her four-year state of oblivion, and she finally knew.
Hermione wasn’t allowed time to reflect back on it. Everything went downhill so quickly after Dumbledore’s passing, that she didn’t get to think about it. The opportunity to consider why he decided to treat her with such gifts while being so cruel to her throughout the entirety of it was never presented to her, nor was the time to think on how he knew such details about her.
Her favorite desert, her patronus, her favorite flowers. Those were all pieces of knowledge that not even her closest friends held. Hermione never got to embrace the thought of a love that could’ve been, as she was then thrown into a war to which she had to fight in.
The next time she saw him, she was being tortured by his own aunt. His aunt was digging a blade into her skin, and she was screaming in agony. Somehow, in the midst of her pain, she caught eyes with him. The second she did, she was taken away from her current surroundings, into a space of nothingness. The sensation of a blade piercing her arm was still there, only there was no excruciating pain to accompany it.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ A voice—his voice—has spoken to her. She couldn’t see him, but somehow, she knew he was there. Was this Legillimency? It was nothing like Harry described, but that might’ve been because his sessions of Legillimency were performed by sadists rather than Draco Malfoy.
Suddenly, she was back in his drawing room, and Bellatrix was off of her. Hermione whimpered as the pain came back to her, missing the numbness she was subjected to moments before. Her eyes were still locked on Draco’s, who looked as guilty as he sounded when he was inside her head.
Why did he feel guilty? He wasn’t the one torturing her, he relieved her of pain—even if it was just for a few moments. If anything, she was thankful for him. Why did he look like this was all his fault?
After the war, she saw Draco when she and Harry pardoned him. The thing that bothered her the most was that only she saw him. Draco, however, refused to look in her direction. The entire time she was speaking, his eyes were cast down or simply anywhere she wasn’t.
It killed her, she wanted to see him. She wanted to talk to him. The second they were out, she ran throughout the building, frantically looking for him. She still needed to thank him, and to do it by themselves. Not in a room surrounded by a council where her gratitude was simply a way to keep him out of Azkaban. No, she needed him to know she was thankful for it all. Everything he had done, every word written, every gift given, and the moment he saved her.
She was only able to catch a glimpse of his white-blonde hair before he apparated, leaving her vicinity entirely. Hermione halted her steps, sighing in defeat. Why was he so determined to stay out of her reach?
Hermione didn’t see Draco for another five years. He never went back to Hogwarts to finish his education—nor did Harry and Ron—he didn’t elect to work at the Ministry, Hermione wasn’t even sure he lived in London. The last time she saw him was the day of his hearing, and after that, he was never seen again.
Throughout the time that he was gone, Hermione had called whatever was going on with Ron off, deciding that she deserved better than what he had to offer. Thankfully, he agreed to remain friends, which gave Hermione the wonderful opportunity to attend his wedding with a lovely woman two years younger than him. Jane Delia, a pureblooded witch who was actually a Slytherin in her time at Hogwarts. She keeps Ron in line, all while continuously showering him with love and admiration. They were a perfect match, truly.
Hermione had also gotten to open up her own bookstore, a lovely two-story building in Diagon Alley called Pinewood and Parchment, a name to which only she knew the true meaning behind. There, she got to sell some novels that she had authored. Every book she wrote had been a success, and with the income of the books and the store, she was able to buy her own flat.
She was living happily and comfortably, and was so close to forgetting about the man who loved her like there was no other being in the world. All until there came a knock on her door on February fourteenth mid-afternoon.
Call it a sixth sense, but Hermione knew who was behind that door long before she opened it. She was wearing a camisole and jeans, her hair in a loose pony as she had spent the day watching trashy romcoms while eating from a bowl of popcorn. Her stomach twisted into knots, and Hermione took a sharp inhale as she reached for the doorknob.
When she opened the door, she was greeted with the sight of Draco Malfoy. He had filled out a bit since she last saw him, and was more full of life. She wanted to be angry, and part of her was. He had left her for nearly five years, leaving her wondering about a love that they could’ve had during Hogwarts, or after the war. She could’ve helped him. Yet seeing him now, hosting soft muscles beneath his shirt and no longer the malnourished, almost ill looking kid she once knew, she was glad he helped himself. His eyes, once empty and soulless, finally held some sort of light within them.
Hermione smiled, seeing how lively he looked now. At the sight of her doing so, Draco’s lips lifted in a soft grin. He brought out the hand that was behind his back, revealing a bouquet of carnations.
“Happy Valentine’s Day?” He spoke, his voice more of a question than a declaration. She rolled her eyes, taking the bouquet from his hands. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled the scent of fresh flowers. Hermione looked back to her coffee table in front of her couch, one that held a small glass vase full of carnations, with a singular rose in the middle. She looked back at Draco, who looked almost relieved.
“You have a lot of explaining to do. Come inside.” Hermione walked back into her flat, setting the bouquet down on the kitchen table. She turned to see Draco just as he was closing the door, and holy hell was he a sight to behold. In his black trousers and black button up shirt, his clothes fitting him perfectly, Hermione never felt more attracted to him.
However, she needed to appear calm and collected. She’s supposed to be mad at him, at least slightly annoyed.
“So,” She started, leaning back against her kitchen table. “Where have you been the past five years? Better yet, why not contact me at all within those times? Why wouldn’t you look at me at the hearing? Why wouldn’t you reveal your identity whilst we were in school? Why give me gifts every Valentine’s Day? Where was the sudden attraction coming from? I mean I thought you hated me! You acted as if you hated me, even after the first gift had been delivered. I know it was you, you know! In your drawing room, that singular moment where I was pain-free, I know it was you behind it all. I wanted to thank you! You didn’t let me thank you!” Hermione ended her tangent, out of breath as she recovered from asking every two questions in a singular breath. Draco only looked at her, looking… amused?
“Could we sit down?” He only asked. Hermioned flushed at the question, unsure why he elected not to answer any of hers. Embarrassment ran through her as she tore her eyes away from his.
“Yes, of course. Have a seat.” She mumbled, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. Draco sat down next to her, turning his body to face hers. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath.
“To start with your first question, I’ve been in France. I have family on my mother’s side, a cousin, who offered me to come live with her. I took her up on it, and the conditions of me living there was I had to go to weekly therapy, alongside getting a job. So I did, took care of myself, let myself heal from past mistakes that continued to haunt me,” He glanced at her arm as he spoke, momentarily pausing before staring again. “Then, I was offered to go through the training program to be an Auror, to which I also accepted. It was a good job, and I just was transported from there to here recently. I never contacted you because I felt too guilty for all my actions back in Hogwarts. I wished I would’ve shown you who I was rather than hiding behind a strip of parchment. I wish I hadn’t called you every name in the book, I wish I could’ve done more than just stand there while you were crying out in pain on my drawing room floor. I didn’t think you deserved to be haunted by my presence, so I kept out of reach. After nearly five years of therapy, I learnt otherwise, but it took time.”
Hermione listened intently, taking his words in. She understood. He needed to heal, and she could never in a million years fault him on it. Granted, there were definitely different ways that he could’ve gone about it, but this was the only one that brought her back on her doorstep looking happier and healthier. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I know it’s been five years, but my admiration for you never ended. I’m not expecting you to be willing to date me right away, or even ever, but I’d like to have the blessing of being in your life.”
Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. No man had ever asked to be in her life, they just chose to be. Yet he was trying so hard to be careful, it was almost adorable.
“What are you doing tonight Draco?” She asked, barely able to conceal a smile. She didn’t even try once Draco beamed at her, his eyes lighting up at her request.
“Nothing! Would you like to do something… with me? I could find a place, but I’m sure most of everywhere is booked. Unless you don’t want to go out to dinner, and you’d like to do something else.”
“I was hoping to walk throughout the streets of London, and find what interests us at the moment then. Only if that’s alright with you?”
Draco nodded, standing up. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll come back here in…” he trailed off, checking his watch. “Two hours? And we can just walk?”
“I’ll see you then. Thank you for the flowers, Draco.” Hermione offered, looking up at him and relishing in the feeling that she finally got to receive the love he had to offer in person. There was no war, no hidden identity, nothing to keep them separated. They could just be.
Before Draco left, he smiled at Hermione’s gratitude. Giving her a nod, he spoke, “From Yours Truly.”