Sod Off, Valentine's Day

A/N: Just a one-shot in honor of my least favorite holiday. I was just wondering how a grumpy woman who hated Valentine's Day would deal with it...especially when her two best friends are oblivious men, one of whom she is in love with.Review!

Sod Off, Valentine's Day

Hermione Granger slammed her books onto the table and flopped onto the couch with a disgusted sigh.

The two men across from her exchanged confused looks as she tucked a wispy curl behind her ear and scowled.

"What's her problem?" mouthed Ron. Harry shrugged.

The wizards watched Hermione cross her legs. Then she un-crossed them. Then she sat on one leg. Then she sat on the other. Then she tucked both legs under her. Then she sat Indian-style. Then she curled herself in a ball. Then she--

"Hermione? What are you doing? Why are you so fidgety?" asked Harry.

"Oh, so I'm not allowed to fidget, huh? Just good old Hermione, who can't even fidget?" she spat out angrily.

Ron appeared to be rather frightened. "Sure, Mione, you can move around all you want. Uh, go ahead. It won't bother us at all. Really. Dance a jig, if you want. We'll even clap at the end."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nice save, Weasley. Really...are you okay, Hermione?"

"Oh sure, I'm just fine. I'm great, I'm..." suddenly the witch broke off and burst into tears.

"I hate it!" she croaked. "It's sostupid. There's no point, right? It's just to sell chocolate, and chocolate makes you fat anyway. And if you turn into a fat cow then you won't ever get another date, right?"

At this point, with typical Gryffindor courage, Ron stood up in wide-eyed horror and threw Harry a terrified glance. "You take care of this one, kay mate? I'll just, uh...go hang out with Snape or something. Because Merlin knows that's what I wish I was doing right now. Even hanging out with Snape.....and uh, Bye!" And with a flurry of robes he was gone.

Harry was certain that if Ron moved that fast during Quidditch matches, they would never give up a single goal.

Hermione was still a bit hysterical. "...flowers die, too. It's all just one big idiotic excuse to snog!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He should do something he knew. It's just that normally when he didn't know what to do, Hermione helped him.

This time, he was on his own.

"Uh, did, uh, something happen?" he asked tentatively.

"No. Nothing happened. NOTHING. Because I'm a geeky, frizzy little bookworm and no member of the male species is ever going to find me attractive! I'm just not sexy!"

Oh, Merlin's beard. Hermione had just used the word sexy. Harry was in way over his head here, and he searched the common room desperately for a female to field this mini-breakdown his best mate was currently experiencing.

Not one. Not one single girl. They were all...hey...where WERE they all?For that matter, where were all the guys?

"Nothing. I mean, a girl goes through all the trouble of fixing her hair, and trying to look pretty, and then it doesn't make a bit of difference! I'm all alone, and now, I'm going to have to get a monkey!" She howled even louder.

Now he was positive he had missed something. "A monkey?"

She nodded. "Yeah, a monkey. Because if I'm going to be a creepy old woman, I need a hook. You know, like that guy at the train station who eats his own face? So I'll have to buy a monkey. Kids won't walk past my house, they'll run. 'Run away from crazy monkey lady!' they'll shout. And I don't even know how to housebreak a monkey!"

This was ludicrous. Harry knew it was ludicrous. She wasn't even making any sense. She wasn't even using coherent sentences! What was she talking about?

"Plus, it was so much bloody work going to all that trouble, and then, and then, and then..." Hermione just sank into the couch cushions and sobbed. Harry moved next to her and put what he hoped was a comforting arm around her.

She sniffled loudly and Harry searched frantically in his pockets for a handkerchief...wait a minute. He didn't carry a handkerchief. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to comfort her when he couldn't even give her something to wipe away her snot? Cursing himself and feeling a sense of unfounded panic run through him, he finally just offered her a sleeve.

She blew her nose loudly, and then seemed to stop a moment and realize what she had just done.

Then she began to cry again. "See? You see? Men don't even carry anything to wipe away a woman's tears anymore!"

"Technically, I didn't wipe your tears, just your boogers," he said consolingly.

Hermione continued as if she hadn't even heard him.

"Chivalry is dead! Romance is dead! Sod off, Valentine's Day!"

Valentine's Day. Oh, bloody hell. SO that was what this was all about. Every since Dumbledore had banned those stupid little cupids, there had never been any indication of the holiday in the Great Hall.Harry didn't have a girlfriend, so he never kept track of things like this.

But obviously Hermione did. And so did the rest of the female population, because they were all out doing something with their sweethearts...

A sweetheart. She was upset because she didn't have a sweetheart.

Oh no. Oh no. This was awful. Harry gave a longing look at the portrait hole and wondered if he could make a run for it.

What do you say to a single girl on Valentine's Day?

"You...uh, you....Sod off, Valentine's Day!" he agreed weakly, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Why don't boys like me, Harry?" she asked, her brown eyes desperate for an answer. "Tell me the truth. Am I ugly?"

He snorted before he could stop himself. "Are you kidding? No way."

"Really?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to get into this. He didn't want to do this. This was heading for trouble. This was the kind of thing he avoided talking to her about. He was going to spill his guts if this had to go any farther. And he couldn't do that.

"Sure," he shrugged. "You've got nice features."

Her chin trembled. "You are such a liar!"

Damn. He didn't know how to do this. Why couldn't she just have an eating disorder like normal teenage girls?

"I'm not, " he said softly. "I swear. You're lovely. Your skin is soft, and your nose is adorable, and your freckles are charming. Your hair is wonderful and feminine, and your mouth is inviting, and your eyes shine. Your figure is absolutely delicious, and your...your...you have a nice...uh...well....that is to say, your...yeah. You're beautiful." He blushed.

"That was pretty good for off the top of your head, Harry." Hermione wiped her cheeks.

Off the top of his head? Off the top of his head? He sighed and stifled the insane urge to yell. Because it wasn't like he studied her every single day. Not at all.

"So, why can't I get a date? Can you tell me that?"

"Sometimes, deep down, you know that people aren't right for you. However subconsciously, maybe you're putting off guys who are interested, because none of them are the right one."

"You're right," she sighed. "None of them are the right one. The right one...the right one doesn't know he's the right one. So I just tried to find...the next best thing."

"Maybe..." the man trailed off thoughtfully. "Maybe you just haven't found anyone who deserves you. Men know when a woman is special. And you are."

"You think I'm special?"

He wiped away what remained of her tears. "Yeah," he mumbled softly. "I think you're special." His emerald eyes pierced her brown ones. "I think you're the most special person I've ever known..." he seemed in a dreamlike state, almost as though he was talking to himself. And suddenly, he saw a flicker of realization in her eyes. He cursed himself. She couldn't know. No way could she know...

"You," she breathed. "You."

There was no need to elaborate. He knew what she meant.

"Me," he nodded. "Me."

"I thought you didn't know you were the right one. You never saw me."

"I did see you. Believe me, I did. I saw you every second. I just...I couldn't face this."

"Why?"

He smiled gently. "I already told you. You're special."

She laughed. "So are you.I can't believe, I thought you'd never...never know how I felt. And certainly never feel the same way."

"How could I not? You're perfect. My geeky, frizzy little bookworm. And you ARE sexy."

"You should have told me, you great prat."

"I'll make it up to you."

They gazed at one another adoringly until Hermione spoke again."So...now what?"

"Now you don't have to get a monkey,"Harry grinned.

"How about some chocolate?"

"How about a kiss?"

"Even better." And she accepted his clumsy, warm kiss without hesitation and curled up against his chest with a contented sigh.

"I'm scared," Harry admitted.

"Me too. But in a good way."

"Yes," he agreed, "In a very good way."

There was a paused as they absorbed the moment.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I still think Valentine's Dayshould sod off."

"Absolutely.Sod off, Valentine's Day."

After all, who needed flowers and candy when you had true love?

A/N: Hermione's hysterical, hilarious theory about needing a "hook" in order to be a spinster is based on an old episode of Friends, "The One Where Mr.Heckles Dies." Only Chandler could come up with something that ridiculous, but I thought it fit here.