A/N: Oh, my! My ego is purring away, let me tell you! So many reviews already! I hope I can live up to everyone's expectations. Like Raspberry Jam, this is a slow, soft story – with a couple of harsh bumps. I will be updating every day with one or two chapters. Um, what else. Oh, yes, there are no plans to gut Albus, sorry. (Great mental image, though!) And, no, Dudley is not a half-Veela!! No! Vile! shudder

Chapter 2 – Day One

The student body glanced up when the Monday morning owls came with the post and then returned to eating. There were more owls than usual but not so many as to inspire neglect of breakfast. Several people, however, watched attentively as Harry Potter received four dozen or so pieces of mail. The watchers were disappointed when, instead of opening and reading the missives, the boy simply gathered all his letters calmly and placed them into a brown leather bag.

Despite his outward appearance, Harry was actually rather surprised. He hadn't expected to receive so many letters quite so quickly, but a quick perusal of the wax seals showed that a number of his schoolmates had been most efficient in getting the word out to their families. He wondered just how many he would receive tomorrow. He knew the interview he was giving today would start a deluge of courtship offers, but since it wouldn't be printed until tomorrow he hadn't expected any appreciable amount of mail until Wednesday. Now he wasn't so sure he would have that reprieve.

He picked up all the letters and put them in the second compartment of the bag that he had procured especially for this purpose. The bag was rather plain and an unremarkable medium brown, but he hadn't been looking for fancy when he'd purchased it. He had wanted something practical that would help him manage all the mail he knew he would be receiving and the multiple compartments designed specifically to hold papers, books, scrolls, writing implements, and other items useful for creating multiple files was exactly what was needed. The outermost compartment that could be used for holding larger objects and other purchases so that a second bag needn't be carried had been the cincher for him. The bag was technically called a scholar's purse (Scholar's Purse Plus! - catering to all your needs!) and was one of the most expensive models available because of the plethora of security and preservation spells that had been incorporated into the design as well as the "filing cabinet" functionality of the main compartment. Harry considered it fifty galleons well spent. He knew he was going to need it.

"Aren't you going to open them?" asked Hermione primly. "Don't you want to know why you're getting so much mail? It's not as if there's been an article in the paper recently."

Harry glanced at the young woman he didn't think would remain one of his best friends for much longer. He knew she was badly hurt by the fact that he hadn't confided his heritage to her and he didn't believe that she would ever understand just why he had kept his silence. She was going to be even more hurt when she found out that he had kept his silence for years and not just the last few days they had been together at Grimmauld Place. Her trust in authority was still absolute, as well, and she was appalled at his behavior towards the headmaster. One day she was going to berate him one too many times about having kept his heritage secret or about his unwillingness to trust the headmaster farther than he could throw a hippogriff or about the courting process itself and why he was willingly participating in it and when that happened… well, the frustration with her and the stress of an extended courtship was quite likely going to cause him to lay into her and rip strips out of her hide. It would be the beginning of the end of their close friendship. Still, he was going to delay that as long as possible.

Harry swallowed his bite of scrambled eggs and said, "The letters are probably all about the same thing – wanting to start a formal courtship with me. I'll open them all after breakfast, or, rather, after my interview with Mr. Lovegood, and respond to them then."

"A formal courtship?" Hermione said in surprise. "Why? Are you actually going to allow that? And what does that mean, exactly? What's involved?"

Ah, there was good old Hermione, forgetting her anger in the wake of new information. Harry smiled fondly and was about to reply when Ron interrupted.

"It means that everyone will be sending him fancy presents to get his attention," Ron said angrily.

Harry clenched his hand around his fork and resolutely kept the smile on his face. It seemed his prediction that the schism between him and Ron would start almost immediately was right. "It does mean that," he said mildly. "The type of presents they send me will help me determine whether or not they are worthy of my attention and, therefore, whether or not I'll be willing to actually meet with them. The presents can be fancy but actually don't have to be. Still, a crappy present will get a potential suitor summarily dismissed."

Hermione frowned at him. "That's awful, Harry. You can't judge someone based just on their wealth," she admonished him. "Just because someone can't buy you an expensive present doesn't mean they're unworthy."

"The presents don't have to be expensive, Hermione," Harry denied, "they just have to be nice and well-thought out. The most expensive potions book, for example, wouldn't be as attention-getting as a much less pricey subscription to Quidditch Monthly. After all, I'm the one they're trying to court, not Snape. Sending me something inappropriate just shows me that they aren't really interested in me. Understand?"

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. "But that still doesn't answer if you're actually going to participate."

"Of course I am," Harry replied, stabbing another bite of egg and placing it in his mouth.

"Why?" Hermione asked demandingly. "Formal courtship has to be restrictive. Why not date and find someone to marry the same way everyone else does?"

Harry twiddled his fork and thought about how to best answer without sounding defensive or hostile. Thankfully, someone else spoke up.

"Because he needs a mate soon," Neville said. "His Veela half will demand it."

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow in Neville's direction but nodded his agreement and took another bite of his eggs.

"Soon means what?" Hermione asked and then added suspiciously, "And I thought Veela had destined mates."

Both Harry and Neville snorted at that. Harry waved his fork and said, "A very false romantic notion spread by the masses."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance at Harry's reply and testily asked again, "Soon means what?"

Harry shrugged, "As soon as possible."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

"A year," Neville said, looking apologetically at Harry. Harry smiled wryly and Neville relaxed.

"A year? You have to be married within a year?" Hermione exclaimed in horror.

Harry shrugged and continued eating. He had to leave soon and didn't want to waste much more time not eating.

"How can you just sit there!?" Hermione demanded. "Aren't you worried about finding the right person in such a short time?"

Ron chose this moment to once again interrupt with an angry comment. "Don't worry. He'll have plenty of people fawning over him. He'll have lots to choose from."

Harry once again resolutely kept his mouth shut. Just because Ron was right didn't mean the redhead had to say it in such a fashion. He listened for a couple minutes to the argument between Ron and Hermione before grabbing his bag, rising, and announcing stiffly, "I have to go meet Mr. Lovegood at the gates. I'll see you all later."

Harry ignored the protests and apologies behind him and made his way quickly to the front entrance and out into the cool morning. If he had stayed much longer he would have lost his temper. Damn Ron, anyway, for being such a jealous prat. Why couldn't he stop and think about the downsides of Harry's life for a change? Sure, he was going to have hundreds, probably thousands, of suitors all sending him nice presents, but that also meant he was going to have to evaluate hundreds, probably thousands, of suitors and all those presents. He was going to have to read and respond to thousands of pieces of mail. He was going to have to meet with hundreds of people he didn't even know. His courtship was going to be highly public – privacy was going to be nonexistent. Plus, he had to mate – he couldn't simply decide on a whim to stay single until some vague future time when he was "ready" for marriage. He wondered if Ron would ever grasp the realities of the situation Harry found himself in. He was jolted out of his bitter musings by a bright greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you this fine morning?" Mr. Lovegood asked cheerily.

Harry smiled at the man, some of his frustration leaving him in the presence of such a positive personality. "I'm doing well, thank you. Yourself?"

"Oh, excellent, excellent. I must say I was quite surprised by the owl my daughter sent me last night," he said with a grin.

Harry relaxed even more and grinned back. "Gave you warning, did she? That's too bad. I wanted to shock you."

The man laughed. "Oh, you have. Have no fear of that. This certainly wasn't what I was expecting when you contacted me and asked for a special edition. I presume I'm here so I can write the truth of the matter?"

"Yes," Harry said. "My idea was to actually contract with your paper to provide some interviews during my courtship. I figure it will help us both – you to sell papers and me to get out what I'm looking for in a suitor and maybe get some of them to actually drop out." Harry turned partway and gestured towards the school questioningly.

"True, true," the man said, nodding his head thoughtfully and beginning the trek towards Hogwarts. "I can draw up a basic contract while I'm here. Nothing fancy, but it would give us both protection from other, less savory, ah, businesses."

"All right," Harry agreed, matching his pace to the older man's. "I want the interviews published word for word, though."

"Doable, doable. Tallies?" the man asked, already writing the contract in his head.

"Tallies?" Harry asked blankly, glancing at the man walking beside him.

"How many suitors you have at a given time," Mr. Lovegood said, waving a hand in the air. "Maybe a weekly flyer sort of thing."

"Oh," Harry said, disconcerted, and almost missed a step. "I suppose that would be all right. I'm not sure I like that idea so well, but I imagine it would help you sell a lot more papers, wouldn't it? Especially if I include a short statement with the count?"

"It would, yes, but we don't have to include that if it makes you too uncomfortable," Mr. Lovegood asserted.

"No, that's all right. It's not as if everyone won't be trying to figure that out, anyway. I might as well provide an official count," Harry said with a grimace.

"True enough," Mr. Lovegood said sympathetically.

"I'm not going to make comments about specifics, though," Harry said defiantly. "Nothing about the gifts or about why I reject anybody specifically."

"That's probably a good idea," the man agreed. "That way you won't have to worry about anybody trying to accuse you of slander."

Harry snorted. He didn't think it was very fair that he had to worry about slandering others when nobody seemed to worry about slandering him. As soon as he was mated he was going to put an abrupt stop to all that. For now, though, the gossipmongers would suit his purpose. After all, anybody who refrained from courting him based on their lies was one less suitor for him to have to deal with.

Harry and Mr. Lovegood waited outside the doors to the Great Hall and talked of inconsequential things until all the students had left for their first class. They then took a seat at one end of the Gryffindor table where a tea tray immediately appeared. Harry served both himself and Mr. Lovegood while the older man readied parchment and quill. Both of them ignored the presence of the headmaster at the head table.

Mr. Lovegood activated his dicta-quill and turned to his daughter's friend. "Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you've sprung quite a surprise on the wizarding world!"

--HPDM--

The interview and the subsequent writing of the contract had taken much longer than Harry had anticipated. He had expected to be able to attend his second class of the morning but, instead, it hadn't been until halfway through said second class that he had escorted Mr. Lovegood back to Hogwarts' main gates. He was pleased with the interview, though, and was hopeful that it would help limit the number of suitors vying for his attentions.

Mr. Lovegood had promised to have the interview printed and distributed tomorrow in a special edition of The Quibbler and to send Harry several complimentary copies. Harry had warned the man to be prepared to have plenty of extra copies of the edition available and to be ready to send them all over the world. Mr. Lovegood had assured him, with a bit of a mischievous grin, that he would take care of all logistics and that there wouldn't be a single person who wanted a copy that wouldn't be able to get one. Harry idly wondered just what the man had planned.

The remainder of time before lunch Harry spent on the letters he had received that morning. This time he was under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall, who had changed positions with the headmaster at the end of the first class period. After reading through all of them, Harry sighed in disgust. Only two of them were on behalf of males. Two!

Had he not stated outright that he was an x-male half-Veela? Being an x-male half-Veela meant that it was his X chromosome that was Veela, not the Y chromosome. His Veela half, therefore, had the submissive instincts from the Veela X chromosome and not the dominant instincts from the Veela Y chromosome. This, in turn, made him highly inclined to desire a dominant male as a mate, that is, to be homosexual. And that meant…no women.

Obviously that conclusion took a few too many logical steps for the average sheep.

Harry attempted to wrench his thoughts from such a cynical path and told himself that it wasn't necessarily the fault of the letter writers to presume he would prefer a female mate instead of a male. It was quite possible that his schoolmates hadn't relayed the most important tidbit of information – that being that he was an x-male half-Veela – to their families. In addition, due to Ministry suppression (circumspect, of course), factual information about Veela and half-Veela was hard to come by in Britain and it was likely only those people directly affected were in the know. Honestly, Ministry supported ignorance was quite annoying.

Harry pulled out a stack of file folders from his bag and diligently filed each letter in a separate folder, labeling each one as he went with a number and a name. He then promptly turned forty-five of the folders red and addressed a pre-prepared "Thank you for your interest but I want a male" postcard to all the females. The pre-prepared "Thank you for your interest, please show up here" postcard was addressed to the two male suitors. He then placed all the folders in the main compartment of his bag in alphabetical order and packaged all the postcards together to take to Hedwig. She would deliver the package to a post service in Hogsmeade that had been hired to be responsible for handling all his outgoing mail this year.

Finished with his courting tasks for the day, Harry waited for his classmates to appear and for lunch to be served. He considered going up to the owlery now, but there really wasn't enough time to get there and back before lunch started and he was hungry.

As it turned out, he would have been better off skipping lunch and going to the owlery.

Lying in bed that evening Harry pondered over whether it would be feasible, or even possible, for him to take the remainder of his meals for the school year in the kitchen, as he had that evening's dinner. Hermione appeared to have gotten her second wind by lunchtime and had been all over him about keeping such an important secret when it was obvious he was going to need all the help he could get from his friends and the adults looking out for his welfare. He honestly didn't know how she could have been any more offensive and he reluctantly revised the probable date of their fallout from Christmas to Halloween. Ron had continued to be a jealous prat but had picked up steam and Harry had lost count of the number of snide comments that had been issued. He had kept his silence vindictively, knowing that saying nothing would piss off Ron even more than sniping back. The comments and speculations by other classmates had not been beyond his hearing and he had walked out of lunch before it was half over.

The afternoon had been spent stiffly ignoring everybody that asked about his heritage or his confrontation with the headmaster the night before and, fed up, he had gone straight to the kitchens for dinner. All he could say was thank Merlin for house-elves.

The little beings had been utterly delighted with his company and had fed him until he could barely move. They had gone out of their way to prepare additional food for him that was more compatible with half-Veela physiology than the standard British fare regularly served at Hogwarts. The food had been delicious and he had stuffed himself as if he was a clone of Dudley. He'd have been ashamed of his excess except for the fact that his little companions had been ecstatic. He had never before felt so satiated after a meal in his entire life and the elves had promised him similar fare whenever he decided to come to the kitchens.

Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't be able to get away with always going to the kitchens – he needed to be present for the mail delivery at breakfast every morning, at the very least – but resolved to go once or twice a week. Maybe next time he would even ask for a take-away basket.