Love From, Your Secret Admirer || Harmione

Part 4

Nope.

The morning after, Harry found himself sat across from a glaring Ron and a down-trodden looking Hermione. He hated seeing her look like that. She should be smiling, laughing, dancing in the arms of someone who made her happy. Just because Harry knew that wouldn't be him, he still wanted Hermione to be happy above all else. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, something he had done made her look like that. And that just wasn't ok.

All he had done was fail to work out the identity of his persistent secret admirer. Harry was frankly stumped as to who it could be, and he was bewildered as to why Ron thought he should've worked it out by now.

Trying his best to not sigh, so as to not invoke Ron's shocking anger issues, Harry re-read the letter that had arrived earlier.

Dear Harry,

A little birdie told me that you're in love with me.

I don't think you understand just how that made me feel when I found out. I could hardly sleep that night as I replayed that memory again and again in my head. Once I got to sleep, I dreamt of that moment over and over, and I was deeply disappointed when I woke up. However, I then realised that it would soon become a reality. Me and you will be together and that honestly makes my head spin in the best possible way. If I told little 12 year old me that the boy that jumped on a troll for her would declare his love many years later, I'm sure that she'd denounce magic there and then due to how ridiculous it would sound. Instead, I'm fairly certain that it's my new patronus memory, but I know that we could create a new one, an even stronger one, together. How does that sound? Me and you. I think it sounds utterly wonderful.

All my loving, I will send to you.

Love from,

Your Secret Admirer

How on earth was he supposed to know who that letter was from?

There were hardly any clues, not even a crumb of suggestion as to who it could be, and yet Ron was looking as though he'd blow a gasket at any moment. Who did Ron think Harry was, Sherlock Holmes? Puh-lease.

"Harry, one more time, you love Hermione, right?" Ron asked, his hands rubbing his face in exasperation.

"Yes, obviously. We've discussed my feelings about her extensively." Harry replied, briefly glancing at Hermione who was watching the situation unfurl with detached curiosity.

"Right, and the author of this letter, your secret admirer, said that she knows that you love her."

"Uh huh."

"So the person that you love is Hermione, and your secret admirer says that you love whoever your secret admirer is."

"That is correct."

"Who is your secret admirer?"

"I... don't know, you've lost me."

Ron just stared.

"Where? Where the fuck did I lose you?"

Harry just shrugged.

Just then, as Ron was repeatedly muttering 'Honestly, mate...' for some reason, another pink owl flew down and dropped a letter off in front of Harry.

As Harry opened the envelope, he realised that this letter, unlike the others, came with a gift.

Also known as a vial of an unknown potion.

Gently putting the vial to the side - which was immediately snatched up by Hermione - Harry read the letter.

Dear Harry,

How about you give that vial of potion a good swig and go down to the boathouse? I've got a surprise waiting for you :)

Love from,

Your Secret Admirer

This one was easy.

"Romilda Vane. And chances are, that is a love-potion," Harry expertly deduced as he took the vial from Hermione's grasp.

Popping open the vial, Harry gave it a good sniff and was suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of Hermione's shampoo.

It smelt of vanilla in a Summer's breeze. The idea of nostalgia and innocence enveloped Harry's nostrils, as the addicting fragrance threatened to drive him utterly wild. All he wanted at that moment was to spend the rest of his life smelling Hermione's hair, and what a life that would be. It would be a great reason to become immortal, just to smell Hermione's hair in every living moment for the rest of time. 'Maybe I should talk to Hermione about that, and we could agree on a system where I do my homework on my own, and she'll let me smell her hair...' Harry thought, until he realised that that would probably require Hermione being attracted to him, which, unfortunately, wasn't the case.

With nothing better to do, Harry brought the potion up to his mouth, but was only stopped from pouring it in by Hermione's sudden grasp on his wrist.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing?" Hermione said sternly, "You literally just said that it was a love potion!"

"Yeah, but Hermione, it smelt of your shampoo, what do you expect me to do? Not drink it?"

"It smelled of my shampoo... that must mean that it's-"

"Amortentia? Yeah, I know."

"...Then why the fuck would you drink it?"

"It smelt of you," Harry replied, as though the answer was obvious (and it was).

"That... that... that's really sweet of you, Harry," Hermione was heavily blushing at this point, "But please don't drink things just because they smell of me."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a stupid thing to do! You almost drank amortentia, Harry, for goodness sake!"

Harry really couldn't understand Hermione's argument, but he thought that the smart thing to do was to just drop it, and let Hermione have her (unjust) way.

Ron was watching the exchange with a strange and unattractive combination of confusion, amusement, and annoyance.

"Listen, I've got to go finish my potions essay, but I'm just going to go to Professor Flitwick and claim the house points, then give the potion to Professor Dumbledore and hopefully see Romilda expelled. I'll see you guys later!"

"He's really something else, isn't he?" Hermione said, as Harry walked away.

"That's putting it lightly," Ron replied, "Part of me thinks that he's just taking the piss, but then again, he's always been a bit oblivious, hasn't he? Especially when it comes to you."

"I know, but this? This is a completely new level of obliviousness. Thankfully, the next letter should leave no doubt that I am writing them"

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