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Finding True Happiness	By : CeliaEquus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 19445 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have no claim on the Harry Potter franchise, and am making no money from any of my fan fiction.

Chapter List
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“Heart on Parchment”

“Whatever happened to the person that left you those flowers, `Mione?” Harry asked.

“Don’t call me ‘`Mione’, Harry.”

“You didn’t tell me that Hermione got flowers,” Luna said, gazing up at her boyfriend.

“We thought it was a Death Eater or something,” he said. “But she seems okay.”

“It was not a Death Eater,” Hermione said, crossing her arms. “I checked the flowers, and nothing was wrong with them. Is it so hard for you to believe that someone might be attracted to me?”

“So you have a secret admirer?” Luna asked. She nodded. “That’s so romantic.”

“Harry,” she said, glancing down at her book bag, “you haven’t lent your Invisibility Cloak to anyone, have you?”

“No. It’s locked up in my trunk.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, scratching his head. “It’s too bloody difficult to get at.”

“Ron! Have you been trying to break into my trunk?”

“Uh… no?” Harry scowled at him. “S-so, does this mean that you’re still getting stuff from him, Hermione?” he asked hurriedly, shrinking back in his chair. “Why haven’t you told us?”

“Gee, I wonder,” she muttered, looking across the room at Ginny. She was helping some of the younger students with their work, no doubt keeping as far away from Harry as she could without having to leave the room. “I’m going to bed.”

“Isn’t it a bit early?” Neville asked.

“No. I had to patrol last night, so I’m a bit tired. Besides, I’m in separate rooms now, remember?” She mock-frowned. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed until now.”

“N-no. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“Well, good night,” she said, standing up. She hauled her bag over her shoulder, waved to Ginny, and left the common room.

There were no additional notes on the parchment, so Hermione started on her Transfiguration homework. It was unusual for her secret admirer not to be waiting for her; and she knew for a fact that he wasn’t there. She could sense that she was alone.

Halfway through her Potions homework Hermione felt a shiver down her spine. She whirled around in her chair, but – as usual – her visitor was invisible. Her heart sank.

“Will I ever see you?” she asked. An unseen hand twirled one of her curls around his finger.

“Yes,” he whispered, the word barely a breath. She moaned and pressed her head against his hand. It must have been a strange sight, seeing shallow, finger-shaped indentations in her left cheek, rippling as he stroked her. His thumb began to rub her lips.

“Yes,” she repeated in a hiss. Moments later he was kissing her.

Heavens!she thought, pressing back desperately. She heard him groan into her mouth – felt it, too – and tried to grab his shoulders. But he pulled away swiftly.

“Sorry,” she said, looking down at the hands now resting in her lap. “Um… write to me?”

The next movement she saw was the scraggly old quill dipping into her ink bottle, which she still hadn’t capped. He pulled ‘their’ parchment to the edge of the desk and began to write.

My dearest Hermione,

I suppose now is the time to tell you about myself. As you know – although you don’t believe it – my favourite colour is purple. Clearly I do live at Hogwarts. I am very creative, as you have said. Your every compliment means so much to me. It is rare that I receive praise.

He backed away, leaving no inscription. It was quicker just to write without one.

“Why?” Hermione said, frowning at the last line. She picked up her favourite quill, the one he had made for her.

I’m sorry about that. It’s such a shame, because you really are talented.

She pushed the parchment back towards him. He tapped the feathery end on the surface of the table for a while. Finally…

Do you know why I chose you?

With an inaudible gasp Hermione looked up. She shook her head.

“I can’t think why anyone would,” she said. He snorted softly and wrote some more.

You are a smart and kind witch. Your power comes not only from your magic but the love you have for those you hold dear. Perhaps someday I will be one of them?

Hermione had been reading it as he wrote. As soon as he had dotted the question mark she grabbed his hand.

“…You already are,” she said, her eyes roaming the air above her. “I just wish that I could see you.”

You will, he wrote. What do you want in a man, appearance-wise? Tall, dark and handsome?

She giggled and picked up her quill.

Not too tall, she wrote. I wouldn’t want to get a sore neck from craning my head to look at my hus, she quickly scribbled those three letters out, boyfriend. I don’t really mind about hair colour, but I’ve always been more attracted to someone with darker hair. Straight, not curly.

He nudged her hand out of the way to write.

Eyes? Skin colour? Anything else?

She shook her head.

“It really doesn’t matter to me,” she said. “I suppose… much as I love dark brown eyes, dark blue eyes – the colour of sapphires – would be stunning to look into.” She gazed off into the distance before shaking her head. “But I don’t care what you look like.”

“Oh?” he said. “You would consider me?”

She bit her lip when she realised what she had implied. “Uh…”

“Don’t answer now.” He stroked her hair before picking up the quill one last time.

Finish your homework, and I will return later. That is, if you wish me to.

“Of course,” she said as he returned to the quill to its place. “I always look forward to it.” He chuckled and she blushed. “You know why. Do you really have to leave so soon?” There was silence. “I’ll try to finish as soon as possible. Only more essay to do after this one…”

She felt the sadness descend once more. He was gone.

Earlier

The pounding of small feet came from the next corridor over. Peeves was on his way to Hermione’s room, having been delayed by the Fat Friar. He peered around the corner and saw that an ickle firstie was being chased by some third year Slytherins. The first year must have been the missing Hufflepuff that the Friar was asking him about.

Had he more time he would have gone back and told the ghost what was happening, but the students were rapidly approaching the top of a flight of stairs. Horror consumed him, and he flew forward, knocking the Slytherins out of the way and grabbing the Hufflepuff just as he tripped.

The older students scattered, portrait subjects splitting up to follow them. Nearly-Headless Nick floated into view.

“Good thing you saw what was happening, Peeves,” he said. “Well done, ol’ chap.”

“You Evan Peterson?” Peeves asked, shaking the boy. He nodded. “Good. The Friar was looking for you.”

Nick frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked. Peeves sneered at him.

“`Course I am,” he said. “Why?”

The Gryffindor ghost sighed. “Come along. We must go and see the headmaster about this?”

“Let the Fat Friar do it,” Peeves whined in his ‘usual’ voice, not the toned-down one he used with Hermione. “It’s one of his kids.”

“P-please, could you let go of me?” the student asked. He stumbled as the poltergeist pushed him against the side of the staircase.

“I have somewhere else to be. You take care of it.”

“Must I get the Bloody Baron?” The stairs were firmly in place by now, and the student was shakily hurrying down.

“Let `im come,” Peeves said. Nick gaped at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m leaving.”

“You have to make a report,” he said, his sternness dampened by his shock.

“Fine!” he said, throwing up his hands. “Let’s go.”

At least Hermione knows how to keep herself occupied, he thought.

After giving the headmaster his ‘statement’ Peeves whizzed out of the office, taking every shortcut he knew to get to Hermione’s room. His time spent with her was becoming increasingly enjoyable, and he was focussing less on coming back to life and more on getting to know her.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was thinking. Whenever he had an especially perplexing problem – which was, fortunately, not very often – he went to the library after curfew, more than once turfing out amorous pairs of students. After all, he hardly wanted his thinking time disrupted by a lot of unpleasant (to him) noises.

This was not the first time Peeves had behaved out of character recently. Mischief had been happening less to other students, and yet more to the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy. The Bloody Baron wanted this stopped, but the other ghosts came down hard on him. After all, the Slytherins had had it easy for years.

However, this blatant uncaring attitude towards the Baron was something different. It was a theory that required testing.

More un-Peeves-ish behaviour coming up! You know, sometime…

It’s difficult, this task that I’ve set myself, I’ll admit. But I think I just might be able to pull it off. We shall see.

Are you all rooting for me?

(And every one of my of-age Australian readers just sniggered, I’ll bet…)
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Finding True Happiness