The Letter

Hi, guys. This a simple, fluffy H/Hr one-shot that I wrote in response to a prompt at school. The prompt was: “The Love Letter. Sometimes it requires help to write one.” I just changed the names and added a few details. It has no plot - it is pure fluff and very predictable. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Obviously I am not JK Rowling, and I do not own any of these marvelous characters.

The Letter

`To the best girl in the world,' I begin to write, pausing to think. I stare into the fire's glowing embers. I've never written a love letter before. This is kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing…I don't exactly know where I'm going with it.

`You are,' I continue, my quill scratching away on the fresh piece of parchment, `wonderful.'

I stare into space, my bright emerald eyes peering around the Gryffindor Common Room, searching for some object to trigger my thoughts. It is in the wee hours of the morning, and everyone is fast asleep, blissfully oblivious to my trivial problems.

I sigh and turn back to my letter; that little scrap of a tree that's driving me insane.

`I don't know exactly how to say this,' I add, wracking my pathetic brain for ideas. Give me a break; I'm just a sixteen-year-old guy. I'm not good at writing fluffy stuff like this.

Suddenly I feel a presence behind me, and a small hand taps my shoulder. I wheel around on the plush couch to stare at the intruder. It's Hermione, decked out in plaid pajamas that are five sizes too big. She rubs her eyes.

“You're up late, Harry,” she yawns, a cute little smile playing on her face. She motions to my scroll of parchment. “What have you got there?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, hastily trying to cover up my feeble attempt at a love letter.

“Aw, come on. You can let me see it,” she murmurs. “I can help you…it isn't right for you to be awake so late.”

“Um, thanks…but, I don't really need any help. I'm - er, almost done,” I mutter lamely. I hurriedly crumple up the letter, clutching it tightly in my fist.

“Don't expect me to believe that, Harry. I've known you for too long,” she says matter-of-factly. “You're practically dying, figuring out what to write. Is it Potions? I've finished mine.”

She pulls the letter out of my clenched fist kindly. She sits down on the comfortable, scarlet couch and smoothes it out on her lap. She leans over it in concentration, tucking a few, stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. I don't have the heart to snatch the letter away from her.

Mercifully, she doesn't read it orally. Her intelligent, hazel eyes fly over the few words that I have managed to write.

She looks up at me, her pink lips suppressing a smirk. She cleared her throat.

“I - uh. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't know…”

“It's fine,” I mumble gruffly, my face beet-red. I stare, shamefaced, at the carpet. `At least she has no idea,' I think ruefully.

She bites her lip, gazing at me thoughtfully. “You want any help?” she asks urgently. “I could help you, you know. I do know what girls like.”

I ponder this offer for a moment, deciding that I have nothing to lose. Quite frankly, I suck at this sort of thing. I nod feebly.

“Here,” she says excitedly, scooting her petite body closer to me. She began to dictate carefully selected words to me, telling me exactly what to write. The finished result is this:

`To the girl of my dreams,

You have no idea how much you mean to me. You're beautiful; you're smart; you're everything I want in a girl and more. I think I'm falling in love with you, and I can only hope that you feel the same way.'

I wave my wand, and the scroll of parchment rolls itself up neatly, a perfect, fragrant pink rose attached to it with a white ribbon.

Hermione smiles. “She'll love it.”

I could hardly miss the sorrowful glance she gave the letter.

She sighs. “Are you going to owl it to her?”

I shrug. “I won't need to.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Why not?”

I inch closer to her. “Because…she's right in front of me.”

She looks taken aback, her lips silently forming words. “W-what?”

I smile sheepishly at her and hand her the letter. “It's for you, Hermione.”

“M-me?” she whispers, taking the note in a trembling hand. Her captivating eyes are gazing into mine, shining brilliantly. We've reached an understanding.

“Yes, you…” I sigh, taking her hand in mine. I lean down over her, and our lips meet gently.

You see, sometimes you need a bit of help to get exactly what you long for.

-End