In the dimly lit dormitories of Gryffindor Tower, amidst the soft glow of Valentine's Day, Peter Pettigrew, cloaked in the form of a rat, embarked on a mission. With each tiny step, he navigated the labyrinthine corridors, his heart pounding like a drum. His destination: the chamber of his beloved, where moonlight filtered through the window like whispers of affection.

As Peter neared his goal, a sharp gasp shattered the silence, freezing him in his tracks. Yet, to the unsuspecting eye, he appeared naught but a simple rodent, innocuously traversing the room in search of crumbs. Relieved yet emboldened by his narrow escape, Peter left his missive upon the bedside table, its parchment whispering promises of a secret meeting and unspoken desires.

Hours later, within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, the object of Peter's affection stood in a secluded alcove, heart pounding in anticipation. And then, like a specter emerging from the shadows, Peter appeared—a smirk adorning his lips, his demeanor exuding a newfound confidence.

"Look who showed up," he quipped, his voice dripping with playful intrigue as he regarded you with a smoldering gaze, unfitting his usual demeanor.