(A/N) Pure, pointless, non-romantic fluff. Far too much fun to right and ultimately pointless. Thank you to Thessaly, who helped me write the scene with Harry in, and to Padfoot's Sidekick, who actually reviewed the previous chapter. Cheers. Not mine, etc.

Dear Mum,

Tell Papa, sorry, I'm in Gryffindor, and, sorrier, I love it. School is great. I spend a lot time with James Potter, who's in Gryffindor and my year, too. He's awesome and unfairly good at Quidditch. If it weren't for that rule about first-years, he'd be on our team for sure. Potions class is pathetically easy, but I'm abysmal at Transfiguration, so I still have masses of homework. Give my love to the twins and tell Papa I'll write him once I've done something worth writing about,

Tiberio Constantine Malfoy

"Well, that was a full day," Elihu Douglass said, dropping his bag on the floor of their room in Gryffindor tower. The other first years, following him into the room, flopped onto bed and chairs.

"I'm going to fail Potions," James Elliot observed, bouncing on his bed experimentally. "I can already tell. Charms was massively fun though. Did you see the way Professor Simon turned the what's-her-name's pebble into a bunch of feathers when it exploded?"

"Her name's Bobbie," James Potter said. "I don't think I'm going to fail Potions, which is weird, because neither of my parents were much good at it. Now I might fail History of Magic, because I'll fall asleep in all the lectures."

"Bobbie?" said James Elliot. "That's not a girl's name."

"It's short for Roberta," said Tiberio. "I didn't get what Professor Grenville was saying in Transfiguration at all. Did you?"

The other boys shook their heads. "I can't believe he's already given us prep," said Eli.

"So's Professor Austin," said Elliot gloomily. "It's not fair. I want a few days to accustom myself to the fact I can do crazy things with a wooden stick, before I have to something so immeasurably dull as prep."

The others laughed, and James Potter said, "Are you Muggleborn, then?"

Elliot nodded. "You?"

The others all shook their heads. "Say," said Tiberio. "When you learn history in Muggle school how do they leave all the magic out of it? I mean, how in Merlin's name can you even begin to discuss the Civil War without Cromwell's use of wizards in the army?"

"Do you actually have ways to talk to each other while you're doing anything at all? Little black boxes, mobulus or something?" Eli said.

"Is it true that you really don't know anything about wizarding world? Not anything at all, I mean?" James Potter asked.

Elliot blinked at them for a minute, then said, "Yeah, I mean I'd never heard of anything like the wizarding world before I got my Hogwarts letter. I mean, when I was little I used to always beat everyone at go fish because I always seemed to know what cards they had, but everyone always said that was just luck. Most Muggles just don't believe in magic, you know. They like to think up other explanations for it."

Three descendents of ancient wizarding families blinked at him for a minute, then Tiberio voiced the communal thought, "Not believe in magic? But how can you…I mean, it just there, yeah? It's like not believing in, in Europe."

They all laughed at that. "Dad always said it was like us not knowing about the oil crisis. I mean, we wouldn't believe in it because we don't know anything about it."

There was a pause. "What's the oil crisis?" Tiberio asked.

"A thing the Muggles had?" James suggested. "I don't know. It's just what Dad said."

"Your Dad's Harry Potter, isn't he?" Eli asked, in a rather awed voice.

"Yeah."

"What's he like?"

"Who's Harry Potter?"

"He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Eli said. "It was in the last war the wizarding world had against a Dark Wizard, and Harry Potter killed him in the end. And defeated him the first time."

"What?"

"In the 90s, there was a really evil wizard, and James's Dad managed to kill him, thus preventing mass slaughter and bloodshed," Tiberio explained prosaically. "If you want more details, you could ask Professor Binns next lesson. Maybe he wouldn't be able to the make it as boring as he does the role of wizarding government in Roman Britain."

"Is that what he was talking about today?" James asked, distracted.

Tiberio nodded. "And I think it would interesting if he talk in such a monotone all the time, but as it is, the lesson just goes on and on forever."

"No kidding. I liked Professor Longbottom, though. How often do we have Herbology?"

"Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays," said Tiberio, frowning at their schedule. "Look, we have astronomy in the middle of the night."

"Cool." Eli leaned over Tiberio's shoulder. "Hey, tea started ten minutes ago. Anyone remember how to get to the Great Hall?"

Dear Grandmamma,

Well, I'm at Hogwarts now. You were right; it is a perfectly splendid place. As you predicted, the work isn't too hard yet, though I am a complete dunce at Transfiguration. Do you have any advice?

Tell Phineus Nigellus to go to the Gryffindor tower if he wants to find me; I've broken a ten-generation tradition and ended up in Gryffindor, and worse yet, am completely unapologetic about it. I would I have been in Slytherin to please the family, but, as you know, I didn't really have much choice. Calliope Lennox, who says her family knows you, is also in Gryffindor, as is Elihu Douglass, who must be some sort of cousin. What was the Douglass connection, again?

Oh, yes, it appears pets are permissible again. Can you send Dante when you can spare someone to bring him? I miss them both horribly, but I know you prefer Beatrice. Thanks, and much love,

Tiberio Constantine Malfoy

"I thought you'd already finished your essay?" asked James, who hadn't.

"I have. I'm just writing my family."

"Already? We haven't even been here a week yet."

"I know. But I thought I'd break the bad news to them as early as possible. Besides, I want Grandmamma to send one of my cats, now it turns out that we can have pets." Tiberio sprawled across his bed, feet on his pillow, so he could talk to James, who needed the entire floor space to spread things around, if he was to get anything done.

"Why your grandmother? Don't your cats live at home?"

Tiberio laughed. "Not on your life. They won't let anyone near them but me, and Mum and Papa outlawed them years ago when Beatrice scratched Antonia."

"So why does your grandmother agree to keep them?"

"She doesn't have a choice." Tiberio stretched blissfully. "Techniquely, I own her house."

"What?!" Tiberio had never struck James as too posh, but that was just ridiculous. Now that he thought about it, James supposed Tiberio did have an awful lot of expensive stuff in his trunk.

"The Manor hates Papa, so he gave it to me as a Christening gift. Grandmamma isn't a Malfoy by birth, you see, so she can't own it. Since she looks after everything, though, I don't actually have much say in the running of anything, but I can make minor demands, like it being a home for my cats."

Dear Tiberio Constantine,

I received yours of the fifth. I'm glad to hear you're happy at Hogwarts, though I cannot be pleased with the results of the Sorting. Things have changed since my day, however, and I am sure you will find suitable friends whenever you are. I know your friend Calliope's relation, Pyramus Austin, quite well. I believe you have met him once or twice yourself, dear, and I have certainly read you his poetry. He does the prettiest work.

I will tell Phineus Nigellus, though he does not spend a great deal of time at Hogwarts these days, except when the Headmaster needs him, of course. And I will look up the Douglass connection, if you particularly wish, but I believe it is somewhat distant.

You mentioned your work only in passing, I believe. Are you enjoying History as much at school as you did here? I hope the library is as good as I remember it. Who is the current Potions teacher? I understand they prevailed upon Mr. Slughorn to return for a brief period in the nineties, but I quite lost track after that. For Transfiguration, I suggest you look through some of the theoretical works of Gaius Maximus. I believe your father sent the family copy to Hogwarts when he was clearing out the Manor library, so the school library should have it.

As for the cats, I shall be delighted to send you Dante, and I suggest you apply for permission to keep Beatrice at school, as well. She is the better tempered of the two, but she gets nearly as bad when both you and Dante are away.

Your grandmother,

Narcissa Black Malfoy

P.S. I thought you might find the quills useful, and the other is a little something to indulge your boyish need for sugar. N.B.M.

"Biscuits!" James exclaimed, as a brown barn owl dropped one of its four packages at his place, before heading toward the other red heads at the Gryffindor table. "I love Uncle Ron. I really do. Say, who's that from? And what is that?"

A snowy owl had landed in front of Tiberio, a faintly scented letter on thick paper with an engraved header in its beak, and an elegant package wrapped in silver tissue paper in its claws. "Grandmamma," Tiberio said, taking the letter from the owl's beak, slitting the forest green seal, and skimming the contents. "The box has quills (how does she always know just what I need?) and sweets. Yes, Adonis, you may have some toast."

"Was that letter actually sealed properly? Who does that?" Eli Douglass asked incredulously.

"My grandmamma. She thinks it's still 1900," Tiberio grinned as he pulled off the tissue paper. The quills were eagle feather, with three different sizes of silver nibs. The sweets were spun sugar decals and marzipan figures of racing brooms.

"Wow. My grandmother would never send anything that elaborate," James said around mouthful of ginger biscuit.

"Want to trade?" Tiberio asked hopefully, pushing the box toward James.

"No, thank you. I like Uncle Ron's biscuits much better."

Tiberio sighed. "I was worth a try. I hate almond." He put the pens in his school bag, and offered the sweets to Eli and James Elliot, who sat across from them. "Subtleties, anyone?"

"Subtleties?"

"It's what they're called."

"You're a subtlety. Or possibly just archaic. How do you eat those for breakfast?" Calliope joined them (late, as usual; she was not a morning person, and after she gave Roberta Fisher a black eye, her roommates considerately let her sleep in as late as she wanted) and shuddered as Eli nibbled a marzipan broom.

"Hey, Mum, what's a subtlety, exactly?"

"What, dear?" Ginny Weasley said absently, stirring the closest pot. "Harry! Dinner!"

"I said, what's a subtlety?" James repeated patiently.

"Normally it's not a noun," Ginny started spooning curry into bowls. "Why do you ask?"

"My mate Tiberio got a package from his grandmum with these subtlety things - see," he waved a marzipan broomstick he thought was an old Nimbus make. He'd abstracted one that morning and meant to eat it, then put it on his night table and forgotten. Only nutters like Eli ate marzipan in the morning.

"Oh." Ginny sat down, stood up again, and yelled, "Harry! Get in here now!" She sat down for a second time. "Jamie, that looks like desert - eat your curry first."

James rolled his eyes. "Mum."

"Hello, James." His father had come in wiping broomstick varnish off his hands. "Well? I haven't gotten a detention notice yet, but I'm not going to give up hope - you have a record to beat."

"Oh?" James tried not to look too curious.

"Ron's Chas got a detention her first day for trying to break into the Slytherin common room." Harry shook his head. "Silly girl. I could have told her where it is, and so could Ron."

"She did drop a lot of inquisitive hints," Ginny suggested.

"But she didn't ask the right questions," said Harry. James rolled his eyes. He'd been hearing that one for a long time.

"Did she find it?" he asked hopefully.

"I should imagine," said Harry tranquilly. "It's fairly easy to find."

"Oh well." James shrugged. "I didn't get detention. Sorry Dad."

"On the whole," said Harry, "I think that's all right."

"Met some new people," said James. "The boys in my house are loads of fun."

"Oh?" Harry nibbled his curry. "Remind me who that is again."

"Harry," said Ginny. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"Not really."

"Well, it's your own fault if you don't know then."

"There's me," said James. "Then Elihu Douglass, James Elliot, couple of girls, Calliope Lennox, and," he took a deep breath for the final flourish, "Tiberio Constantine Malfoy."

"Excuse me?" His father coughed. Ginny patted him on the back.

"Really?" she said. "Draco Malfoy's son?"

"Dunno," James gulped down more curry. "Guess so. I think his grandmother's called Primrose or Lilac or Narcissa or something…you all right, Dad?"

"Fine," said Harry when he could breath again.

"Draco named his son Tiberio Constantine?" said Ginny. She looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"Please don't tell him I gave his full name - I promised not to."

"I'd have seen it soon enough," said Harry. "I do get rosters."

"You just don't read them," interjected Ginny. She looked at her son. "No, of course Harry won't let on. But you know, your dad was at Hogwarts with," her mouth quivered, "Tiberio's father."

"Little more than that," said Harry, looking a bit like he did when enterprising Slytherins had cut off their water supply. Very grim.

"What happened?" Normally James didn't ask questions because they never got answered, but this seemed like his lucky night.

"Never mind," said Ginny. "Who wants pudding?"

"Hey, Dad," said James, distracted, "what's a subtlety?"

"Lord, I didn't know," said Harry. "You might ask Aunt Hermione when you see her next."

"Well, what's this?" James compromised, thrusting the marzipan broomstick at his father.

"It looks like desert," said Harry. He squinted at it. "What make is it? You tell me."

"Dunno," said James. "Some kind of old Nimbus?"

"That my son," said Harry Potter, "is a Nimbus 2000. It was the first broom I ever owned."

"Oh, that one," answered James, having heard many stories about the famed Nimbus. Most people's parents told stories, but Dad's were much better and completely (or mostly, said Aunt Hermione) true.

Harry laughed. "Yes, that one. Where did you get that?" he added, as his son rendered the broomstick flightless by eating the tailpiece.

"Tiberio," said James, licking his fingers. "Uncle Ron sent me biscuits but Tiberio's grandmother send him these marzipan goodies."

Ginny, doing something with dishes, began to laugh. "He always did have lots of sweets at school," she said. "I suppose that makes sense."

"It's very good," offered James.

"I'm sure it is," said Ginny. "Only the best for the Malfoys."

"Oh, and guess what," James added, eager to boast about his new friend, "Tiberio owns a house! How come I don't own a house, Dad?"

Harry spluttered again. "James, we don't even own a house."

"Harry…." Ginny rolled her eyes. "We might as well - it's yours in perpetuity."

"What does that mean?"

"We get this house until your Dad retires."

"Hey, Dad, what if you keep teaching after you're dead, like Professor Binns? Then what happens to the house?"

"Well, presumably I don't need a house any more, so it goes to somebody else."

"Wait, James, did you say this friend of yours owns a house?" Ginny paused in the doorway

"Yeah," said James, a bit of envy in his voice. "He's madly rich. He calls it the manor and uses it to keep cats. And his grandmother."

"Draco gave Malfoy Manor to his son?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Heavens."

"Maybe Val had something to do with it," Ginny suggested. "She's never been keen on architecture."

"Maybe," said Harry fatalistically. "I suppose I'll meet this bloke next week won't I?"

"I should think," said James, perfectly satisfied that his new friend had made an impression.