[A/N – Okay, announcement about my personal life. It affects everybody reading this who cares. I'm in summer trig. It's brutal. I understand half the concept twice too late, if that makes sense. So I'm pouring 110% into that and absolutely none into writing. So my fourth and final chapter of this isn't complete yet. I wasn't planning to update this until the fourth chapter was done, but then I felt that would be really unfair to all of you who reviewed, asking me to update soon. Because I'm going to be scarce all this week. Tuesday and Wednesday I'll be preparing for my midterm in trig. And from Thursday to Sunday I'm going camping with extended family and friends. Because I really really need a fricking break. However, I'm going to write in every spare moment I have during that trip, and when I come back on Monday I'll have the fourth chapter ready to be typed up and posted. So you've got awhile to wait for the end. Really sorry, but I feel like if I do it any more quickly than that, I'll implode. Hope you all understand.

And another thing, this time strictly about the story. I've gotten a couple of reviews so far, saying "Oh, is this slash? I hope not! Because slash is gross!" or along those lines. The sentiment, for whatever reasons those people have them, is a little upsetting to me, but I'll refrain from my soapbox because I doubt I can change anyone's mind for better or worse just in an author's note. However, yes, this story is SLASH. I've adjusted the summary to warn everyone so, and if you don't read slash, well, I wish you luck finding a fic more to your liking. Sorry if it feels like I've led anyone astray.

And finally, thank you to all my reviewers. I can't respond individually, however, because as I mentioned previously, I'm hella busy. So. :-p But thank you for reading, and I always appreciate feedback. Enjoy!]

Dear Harry,

The clues were really not helpful, I know. That was intentional. If you'd like something more important, you're probably looking at the wrong people. I'm not part of your fanclub of first-year Hufflepuffs. Or a certain sixth-year Gryffindor or two.

Sorry about the detention. However, your hippogriff comment was crude and completely unnecessary. But it made me laugh.

And I so deserve to know something private about you. I've told you about a half a dozen things by now about myself. I'm surprised you still don't know who I am. Not that I'm complaining.

Looking forward to your next letter,

Anonymously

PS – Hedwig doesn't like me, so back to the school owls.

It had come with the morning post – this time delivered by a minute sooty-black owl who looked pleased to have a job. "You know what, Ron?" Harry said with a grin. "I think you've been chatting with my lover. I'm not part of your fanclub…a certain sixth-year Gryffindor or two." He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Yes, Harry, it's me, glad you finally figured it out," Ron answered. "Will you come home with me and make passionate love on my – what was it? Silk and velvet bedsheets?"

"Only after we paint our nails together," Harry answered.

Hermione had been watching with mild interest. "You should ask them to meet up sometime." She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't they mention the Autumn Ball awhile ago? Meet her there."

"Like they'd agree to that. You've seen the letters, you know they want to stay Anonymously."

Hermione shrugged. "You choice, then. But wouldn't you like to know who it is?"

---

Of course he did. He wanted to know so much that he didn't pay attention in Potions and take notes, instead penning a reply to Anonymously.

Anon –

First of all, Hedwig likes everybody unless you drop her cage while she's in it. So don't even start. Unless you did, in fact, stuff her in a cage and then drop it. But why on earth would you do that?

And I finally know something useful about you. Thanks, I think.

In exchange, something about me. My middle name is James. I hate the people I live with and they hate me back. And I'm allergic to grapefruit. I really don't have anything that's secret and not scandalous to tell you. Sorry.

Detention again tonight (and for a month more) at the same time, so don't expect another letter until tomorrow morning.

Harry

He swirled the quill absently under his name, making loops and curlicues. Okay, so it was a bit girly, but it looked nice. Almost flirtatious.

No. He would not be flirtatious with a stranger.

Well, a bit late now.

He sent the note off with the perky black owl in between classes, and was as distracted during Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was staring at nothing and thinking about nothing when Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

"No more Hermione, remember?" he hissed. "Take your own notes!"

"Why don't you," Harry replied irritatedly under his breath. Ron gave him a look that said they both knew how likely that would be. Harry sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment.

But during pauses in the lecture, he practiced his swirls and curlicues along the margin of the paper.

---

During lunch a raven swooped down toward the Gryffindor table, a relief from the dozens of owls overhead. And it landed right in front of Harry.

"Good lord," Ron murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "It's someone else. See? No black silk."

It was an unaddressed white envelope sealed with unstamped wax. Harry broke the seal and pulled out a letter.

"It's not your lover?" Ron asked, sounding disappointed.

"I hope not," Harry answered. "It's from Moody. He says he can get me into a position as an Auror straight out of school if I want."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Give me that." He took the letter and scanned it. "He's not lying!" he said to Hermione, astonished.

Hermione slapped his wrist lightly. "Of course he's not. Congratulations, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry answered numbly. He took his letter back, tucking it in a pocket. "I'll have to write him back this afternoon." He ran his hand through his hair. "Wow."

---

So that was a second day in Care of Magical Creatures he didn't pay attention. But when he had told Hagrid, he was swept up in a smothering hug that lifted him off the ground.

So he figured Hagrid would understand.

He had just finished his letter to Moody when Hermione pushed a scrap of parchment in front of him: Harry, I'm happy for you, but you'll never be an Auror if you fail all of your classes. Pay attention!

He looked up at her, and in return she raised her eyebrows reproachfully. He folded his letter and turned to listen to Hagrid.

"Malaclaws aren' really dangerous, but if yer bit by one they make ya unlucky." He paused. "Well, 'kay, they might be dangerous if ya rock-climb or somethin'. But they're pretty docile 'slong you don' aggravate 'em." He reached into the aquarium and ran a finger down the creature's shell. "See? They're fine, ya just gotta be gentle – Ow!"

Harry peered into the aquarium and saw that one of the creature's claws was firmly latched onto Hagrid's finger. "Blasted thing, not with Quidditch startin' next week," he muttered. He lifted his hand, malaclaw still attached, out of the aquarium. "Er, I gotta go take care a' this. Class dismissed."

There was a hasty shuffling of papers as everyone packed up their things. "Come on," Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I know a paste I can make that will help. Oh, poor Hagrid. Let's go." Ron followed her, but Harry hung back.

"Harry?" Ron asked, glancing back at him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Actually," Harry said hesitantly, "I was going to the Owlery and get this mailed before Defense."

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "Can't it wait?"

"I've got no evenings anymore, remember?" Harry answered defensively. "He'll be fine, Hermione."

"Oh, go then," she said irritatedly. "Come on, Ron." She grabbed his wrist and ran after Hagrid, calling, "Hagrid! Do you own any baking soda and orange juice?"

---

Harry rolled the parchment and searched for a spare bit of string in his pocket. He found one and tied it around the paper. Then he pushed open the door of the Owlery to find Hedwig.

He wasn't alone; Draco was standing on a stool trying to coax an owl down from the rafters. An excitable minute sooty-black owl.

Draco spun around when Harry let the door close. "Potter," he greeted him, stepping off the stool and trying to slip the letter into a pocket of his robes. But not before Harry saw it. A roll of expensive parchment. Tied with a black silk ribbon.

Harry looked back up at Draco, and they both knew. Dammit. "Um, I should go now," Harry said awkwardly.

"Yeah, you should," Draco answered quietly.

Harry left the Owlery quickly, Moody's letter now forgotten. The grounds were deserted; everyone was still in class. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione - there was a vague sense of shame in telling them. So he started back to his room, thinking about Draco the entire way there.

He was going to be sick.