Arlyn Quinn and the Lost Girl -* A Severus Snape Fanfic *-

I should not have said that

Lockhart's mistletoe idea was only the start of something completely and entirely worse.

Hogwarts looked as if someone had dumped an enormous bucket of pink paint on it. Every hallway, every corridor, every classroom, and even the dormitories were splashed in pink, decorated with hearts, roses, and garlands of love-themed shapes. That morning, instead of owls delivering the mail, a bunch of tiny Cupids came swooping down with envelopes in their short arms, dropping them into the right person's hands.

Yes, it's Valentines Day, and as if Lockhart's birthday party wasn't extravagant enough, this was even bigger.

And Dumbledore just went along with it for the sake of keeping the students' minds off the recent attacks. There had been another one a week ago. Much to everyone's shock, it was Hermione Granger who was found on the library floor, petrified.

Arlyn was floored when she was called to the hospital wing to find the second year Gryffindor girl on one of the beds, eyes open, lips parted, but unmoving. Only a few weeks ago she was still helping Madam Pomfrey undo the effects a failed Polyjuice potions left on Hermione, and during that time she has gotten to know the girl and grew fond of her.

Hermione was smart, she reminded Arlyn a lot of herself - always thriving to achieve, pushing herself to be a step above the rest, trying to prove herself...

She learned that Hermione accidentally added cat hair to her Polyjuice Potion, which turned her into a human-sized cat. It was quite amusing, but Arlyn decided to rather not ask why she had a Polyjuice potion, to begin with. The less she knew, the better. Another thing the girl told her was that she couldn't decide which electives she wanted to take for her third year. She wished she could take everything - she was that determined to learn - but there simply wasn't enough time in her schedule.

"You know," Arlyn had told Hermione while setting out the curing potions for her, "I took all the electives too when I was your age."

"Really?" the girl asked, baffled, "But how? There is only room in the schedule for three."

"Professor Dumbledore had a rather helpful trinket that can help with that, although it's risky to use. I'll ask if he still has it. Maybe, just maybe you'll find there are enough hours in the day to accomplish everything you set your mind to."

Arlyn couldn't believe that was only a few weeks ago, and now Hermione was petrified. When will it end? Will these attacks endure until every last Muggle-born witch and wizard are petrified? There have still been whispers about the heir of Slytherin, but no one had any clue who it could be. Draco Malfoy's name has been thrown around, but Arlyn highly doubted he was the infamous heir. Infamous, yes. Heir, no.

And while Hermione was lying in the hospital wing, unaware of what's going on in the school, Hogwarts was celebrating Valentines Day as if there wasn't a threat upon the school. And Lockhart was so insufferable, it was painful. He showed up at breakfast, wearing a lurid pink robe that matched the love-themed decorations and ever since then, a Cupid would swoop past him every two minutes (Arlyn timed it) to deliver him a love letter.

"Oh, probably from another student," he giggled each time he opened them, "If I was a professor during my days as a student, I would've sent a letter to myself as well."

Arlyn was pretty sure he wrote more than half of those letters for himself because, according to her calculations, he received more letters than there were girls in the school. Well, perhaps if some of the boys had an eye on him it could be doable - but as far as she noticed, every boy here thought he was a joke.

And then came the letters for her.

Arlyn was nearly pushed off her chair when thirty Cupids, give or take, swooped down to her with letters in their hands. Severus was just in time to lean back to avoid one colliding with his face and leave him with a mouthful of feathers. He was left frowning at the heap of letters that now covered the table in front of his co-teacher. Some had knocked over her coffee which now stained the tablecloth, some were dumped in the jugs of pumpkin juice, some in her bowl of yoghurt, and some covered her lap.