[A/N – Yay, second chapter. Am very enthusiastic about this, partly because it's a fun story to write and partly because I guess all y'all think it's a fun story to read. And I aim to please. :-) Now to thank my reviewers (skip the comments if you want, they're long this time :-p):
Miyamashi: Hehe, thank you.
Paris Detweiler: Wrote more soon for you! (Actually, almost all of the story, save the last 2/3 of the last chapter is written. But posted more soon for you.)
kazillion: Yay you for figuring it out!
Fantasy101: Thanks, and am. :-)
Swords-Babe: Haha, I never even considered anyone thinking it'd be Hermione. She's so knowledgeable about them because, well, she's Hermione. And is the girl of the group to boot. But if I'd left her out of this? It would be Harry and Ron sitting there going, "Huh. Wonder who it is." "I don't know." "Neither do I. How're we supposed to know?" "Oh well." And I can't make that into a good fic. Thus Hermione's super-smart super-girly attitude. :-p
Bluumberry: I imagined that he wrote that with quite a smirk on his pale pretty face. So there, he's got a sense of humor. :-p (Even if he probably does really believe that…) And yeah, I'm very much aware that the idea's been done before, probably to death. But after I decided that I wanted to write this, I tried to actively avoid those fics. Because I want it to be uniquely mine, instead of a mesh of all the other previous "love letter" fics, you know? So there you go.
Imogen: Thanks! I try to keep them in character as much as possible while still telling my story as I want it to happen. So I'm glad it sounds like you think it worked. :-)
natalie: Thank you for sending the email, it was quite a pleasant surprise. :-) And I'm really glad you like the fic.
And Telerairei: Yours goes last because I really wanted to talk about this point. People who write stories with a splash of mystery to them and keep their readers completely in the dark the entire time? They suck. :-p Unless that's the purpose of the story. But in mine, it isn't. I want you all to know who's writing these. I want you to play along at home with me, not with Harry, who's a bit slower on the uptake. Because to completely not tell you the entire story, until the last paragraph when he jumps out of a box and yells "Surprise!" (figuratively, not writing that in :-p) would just be so dull and manipulative up to that point. You're too nice a bunch to do that too. So that's my entire feeling on the "secret" in "secret admirer" in this story.
And now that those are done (whew, that took longer than I expected) and I've completely divulged my writing secrets (ha, what writing secrets?) onto the fic! :-D
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Harry came down to breakfast late, still sleepy after staying up half the night. Hermione and Ron were sitting together, chatting as Hermione fed a snowy owl – Hedwig, he realized – pieces of toast.
"Letter from your lover," Ron announced as Harry sat down, tossing him the paper.
"Really, Harry, this probably isn't healthy," Hermione told him disapprovingly. "Doesn't she seem a little…obsessive?"
"That's okay," Harry answered, unrolling the letter.
Dear Harry,
Don't guilt-trip me like that. There are probably plenty of people willing to attend the Ball with you. Not me, though – I'm a little bit bored by balls. Spending the night in your room alone with you, however, is an idea.
Something about me, hm? I really can't think of anything that isn't too revealing and personal and non-vital. The sheets on my bed at home are velvet and silk. I use clear nail polish on my nails. And I am really not anybody you're probably guessing I am. Is that enough for you?
Now, I think, I'm entitled to hear a secret about you.
And I hope you don't mind my use of Hedwig. That poor barn owl was getting tired and bored. But don't worry, your owl knows how to get back to me. Pity you can't talk to owls like you do snakes.
Have a good day, Harry. Until next time, I remain,
Anonymously
Ron made an impatient grunt in his throat. "What did they say?"
"They wear clear nail polish," Harry said. "Like I could even tell."
Hermione examined her own nails. "I don't see how they could. They get so chipped cutting up ingredients in Potions. Or if she's in Care of Magical Creatures? She's not the sort for hard labor, that's for sure."
"'Mione, stop thinking," Ron ordered her. She smiled back at him. "Anything else?"
"Velvet and silk bedsheets," Harry said, shrugging. "Like that helps me at all." He noticed a grin spreading across Ron's face. "No, I was not just propositioned, don't smirk at me like that."
"Why else would she mention it?" Ron asked.
Hermione tapped Ron's skull. "Rich, remember?"
"Oh."
---
They didn't have Potions that morning – for which Harry was grateful, because he would see plenty of Snape tonight. The trio walked to Care of Magical Creatures for their morning class.
It really was a dull class that day: Hagrid had rumbled, "Page sixty-four for now, we'll do int'restin' stuff later," before ambling into the Forbidden Forest. Everyone exchanged dark glances at what the "int'restin' stuff" would include.
Harry flipped through the pages idly, glancing up occasionally to try to catch his mystery crush sneaking glances. No such luck. Although Lavender and Parvati did seem more giggly than usual. But that could just be his imagination.
He was also paying much closer attention to girls' nails. Lavender's were blue, Parvati's red. A Hufflepuff named Danielle had a French manicure, and a Slytherin named Persephone had painted hers black. Hermione caught his eye. "You're obsessing," she said with a smile. "Knock it off."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "It's not doing any harm. In fact…." Her pulled the note from his bag. "I think I'll answer the letter now." Hermione sighed.
Anonymously –You got it exactly right, your "clues" were completely non-vital and not at all revealing. I hope you're satisfied, I've been looking at girls' hands all morning. I don't know if you deserve a secret of mine in exchange. Nor have I got one that isn't too revealing and non-vital. I'll think about it.
If you reply tonight, don't be offended. I've got detention tonight with Snape and Malfoy. It should be about as pleasant as circumcising a hippogriff. Not that I have any experience in the matter. At any rate, expect my next letter tomorrow morning. I'll be looking forward to yours.
Harry
He folded it in quarters and avoided his friends' gazes, suddenly embarrassed of all the time he had spent thinking about the mystery girl recently. But that didn't keep him from giving the letter to Hedwig to deliver between class.
---
Detention that night began at six-thirty, barely enough time for Harry to eat and drop off his bag. He trudged up reluctantly to the Potions classroom, but the door was thrown open before he could knock.
"Potter. How kind of you to join us," Snape drawled. Draco was leaning on a desk behind him, arms crossed. Snape ushered him inside. "You both will be here for three hours, though I would gladly extend it if you are not on task." He gave them both severe looks. "For tonight, I believe that the punishment will fit the crime. Potter, you'll be milking Bobotubers. Mr. Malfoy, you will grind runespoor scales." He removed two bags from his cabinet as well as two pairs of gloves, dropping them in front of Harry and Draco. "I'll be checking up on you periodically." He spun on his heel and left.
Harry sighed as he dejectedly pulled on the gloves. "Three hours with Bobotubers and you."
Draco looked up. "You're just a pessimist, Potter."
"It's not pessimism if the glass really is empty."
Harry saw a flicker of amusement in Draco's pale eyes as he reached for his gloves. "Think it's funny?"
"Yes, Potter, I do. And I'm in the same situation, so complaining will get you nowhere." He reached into a cabinet, pulling out a mortar and pestle. "Need a container?"
"Yeah." Draco tossed him a metal tub and shut the cabinet again. "Really, grinding scales for Professor Snape. This is slave labor."
"I'm in the same situation, so complaining will get you nowhere," Harry told him mockingly.
"Right. Sorry."
"Are you really?"
"What do you take me for?" He poured runespoor scales into the bowl, grinding them half-heartedly.
Harry watched him as he milked a Bobotuber. "At that rate you'll be done in a day or two."
Draco glanced at him and pounded the pestle down violently. "That, Potter," he announced, "was your face." Another violent slam. "This will go by much faster, you're right."
Harry clenched his teeth and squeezed a Bobotuber a bit too hard, splattering pus along the desk. "Oh, I was kidding, don't get all testy and vicious," Draco told him exasperatedly, leaving his mortar to help mop up the mess.
Harry watched incredulously as Draco helped him clean up. "Malfoy? Are you feeling okay?"
Draco tossed the rag he had been using in a sink and rinsed it out. "I'm just splendid, spending my evenings for a month in detention."
"I thought there was a mutual agreement not to complain," Harry said. "But why are you being…helpful?"
Draco rung out the rag and left it to dry. "Well, we're going to be spending a lot of time together. So why not at least be civil?"
Harry blinked. "Are you capable of that?"
"I'm trying."
"Oh." Harry picked up a second Bobotuber. "You're going to just confuse everybody by being nice."
"I can still pretend I hate you outside of detention, if you'd like," Draco offered mockingly, picking up his pestle distastefully.
"What do you mean, pretend?" Harry burst a Bobotuber. "You don't really?"
Draco said nothing, instead looking carefully at the scales in front of him.
"Then why did you always act so…like you around me?"
"Because you've been nothing but hostile to me since I introduced myself in the first year."
"I had no reason to be nice to somebody who was a snotty, pompous jerk that made fun of my friends."
"No, you didn't."
Harry didn't know quite how to respond to that, so he fell quiet and concentrated on milking Bobotubers. Draco was grinding the scales a bit more powerfully than was necessary. And every once in a while, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye, Draco glanced at him, then back at his scales. No doubt picturing his face in the bottom of the mortar.
Detention passed silently until an hour later when the door swung open and Snape entered. "You're both still alive?" he asked with mild surprise.
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Harry answered shortly.
Snape came up behind him and pushed his hands out of the way, peering into the tub. "It's a shame you aren't this productive in class, Mr. Potter." He moved to Draco's desk. "You too, Mr. Malfoy." Draco looked up, setting down the pestle. "Does this mean I can go?"
"No, it does not. I have already contacted your father about your behavior in class. However, Mr. Potter, I don't have the address of your relatives…?"
"It would be a waste of parchment, Professor," Harry answered honestly. "They wouldn't care anyway."
"Nevertheless, it's standard policy for me to write them. So the address?" Snape had a quill ready.
"You can get it from Dumbledore if you care that much," Harry answered defiantly. "And while you're there, he can tell you too that it's a waste of parchment if you don't believe me."
Snape's nostrils flared. "That will be upon my discretion, Potter, thank you for your input." He left, and they returned to their tasks.
"You live with Muggles, don't you?" Draco asked.
"Yeah," Harry answered defensively. "Why?"
"Are they horrible? Do they feed you? You always come back from holidays looking a bit gaunt." Draco eyed his form, and Harry blushed.
"I'm fine. And yes, they're horrible, but I'm moving out after this year."
"You've got nowhere to go."
"I'll buy a home nearby."
"You'll be lonely. Unless Potter's got a lover he hasn't told me about?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, I don't, and you wouldn't be told if I did," Harry answered shortly. The acrid smell of pus was making him dizzy, and he glanced at the clock. Still an hour and a half left. "Why are you asking?"
"I told you, I'm trying really hard to be civil."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot."
Draco glanced up again from the mortar, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Harry shifted so he couldn't see him out of the corner of his eye.
Snape came back at nine-thirty, deeming their work "acceptable" and allowing them to leave. Harry pulled off his gloves, allowing them to shrink back to their original size and vanish the stray drops of pus before tossing them back in a cupboard.
Draco pulled off his own and threw them in the same cupboard. "Same time tomorrow, Potter?" he asked amiably.
Harry blinked. "I guess so."
"You have no sense of humor." Draco turned on the faucet and rinsed his hands as Harry turned to leave. "See you later."
He turned back. "Bye." Draco wiped his hands on a towel and was now inspecting his fingernails.