Dear Valentine
by zahra


There's a tiny pink heart floating around Harry's head when he wakes up, and it's the sort of thing that he automatically knows is only going to cause him grief for the rest of the day. He takes his glasses off and puts them back on three times hoping that he's seeing things.

He's not.

The heart doesn't have any sort of tag attached; it doesn’t even flash a name. The heart just hangs there, shimmering in pink and outlined in gold.

This new development is twenty times worse than the deranged cupid from fifth year, but not as bad as the dream where he goes to Potions in the buff.

The heart hovers next to Harry while he drags himself out of bed and slopes off to the toilet to wash. For one niggling moment Harry thinks of Muggle cameras, and hopes to Merlin that he's not being recorded in the bath. When he tries to grab the heart though, it's like trying to catch the Snitch without a broom. The heart dodges out of his grasp and floats just out of reach above his head.

After several seconds full of fruitless attempts, Harry gives in and goes off to get dressed with the heart hovering close by.

On the upswing, at least it doesn’t sing.

+++

Ron and Hermione look at him questioningly during breakfast and gesture to his latest acquisition, but Harry can't explain what has no reason.

His eyes flit between Ginny and Cho and every other girl in the Great Hall, but none of them are looking, or even not looking at him. Everyone is too busy 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing over their own Valentines, and Harry pays no attention when Hedwig drops several rolls of red parchment in his porridge.

As his eyes glide over the Slytherin table, Harry pretends as though he doesn't see the huge smirk on Malfoy's face.

Of course he would notice.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

+++

Potions is particularly painful, even by Harry's standards, and Snape takes every opportunity possible to belittle Harry's latest plight.

Rolling his shoulders back, Harry decides that the best way to deal with this problem is to pretend that it's not there. Things only get worse when he's partnered up with Millicent Bulestrode, and Harry not sure how much more he can take.

He never notices the way the heart dims a little, as though it's distressed at being ignored

+++

Harry can be a trooper about most things, but spending all day with this heart flittering around him is really beginning to do his head in.

All through Quidditch practice the heart follows him like a stray dog, and if the twins make one more mocking comment someone is going to end up in the infirmary. It's on his way to the showers that Harry loses the plot.

"Just do something!" he explodes finally, trying to knock the heart away with his broom. His attempts are futile, and the little heart just keeps flashing and winking.

Like the end of a wand that's trying hard not to go out.

"What's wrong, Potter?" a voice drawls just when Harry thinks it can't get worse. "Don't you like the Valentine?"

Harry's loathe to turn around and face Malfoy because he doesn't need to be reminded that he looks like a git. Still, in for a knut and all that.

Malfoy stands with his arms crossed and that ever-present smirk on his face. Maybe Harry should try and knock Malfoy out with his broom. Surely that will make him feel better.

"Piss off, Malfoy," he says half-heartedly, the sweat from practise causing his robes to stick to his back.

Malfoy tilts his head to the side, looking almost hurt. "If I had known this was going to be your response, I never would have bothered."

Harry had opened his mouth, ostensibly to lob a smart quip, but he closes it again because that's certainly something he wasn't expecting to hear. It's not even something he had considered. He's quiet several seconds, reconsidering. "Is this your idea of a joke, Malfoy?"

"I'd never joke about giving someone my heart," Malfoy snaps, unfolding his arms, and opening open his right hand so the heart can fly into his outstretched palm.

"Oh."

"Is that all you can say? Oh?" Harry watches as the little pink heart flits over to Malfoy and begins to disintegrate into a gold dust. "If that's all I get I can certainly take it away where it won't bother you anymore." The heart becomes fainter and fainter until Harry's sure it's going to disappear at any second.

He has no idea what makes him lunge towards Malfoy so he can bat his hand away. "Don't do that!"

The heart hovers in mid-air, a shadow of what it was that morning, and Malfoy looks at him questioningly as though Harry has an idea of what he's doing. The words start spilling out of their own accord.

"I've been trying to catch it all day, but it won't come to me," Harry explains.

Malfoy is quiet, and Harry can feel himself being sized up. Being judged all over again.

"All you had to do is ask," Malfoy says finally.