Letter #3

DEAR MS. GRANGER,

I'm not going to stop using your last name in these letters until you're married, at which point I plan to switch to "Mrs. Weasley" for my own amusement, so you can stop asking. Think of it as a countdown to the day. But if you continue to counter with "Mr. Potter," I suppose I'll just have to put up with it…

You guessed right in your last letter; you saw through Draco's hints whenever he spoke to me in our third-year Memory Vials. You, Ron, and I all knew Sirius never sent a letter explaining that the Firebolt was from him, but he was given the credit since he couldn't confirm or deny it to anyone after he died.

You especially knew it couldn't have been Sirius, even if he had enlisted Crookshanks's help. There would have been no way for him to successfully put in an order even if he signed it in my name; the goblins at Gringotts wouldn't open their vaults to a vast sum like that so freely, not without wanting to at least see the vault owner's identification. If a simple letter was all it took, which can be easily forged, fraud and theft would be commonplace, and Gringotts wouldn't have the reputation for guaranteed safekeeping that it currently has.

To allow money out of Sirius's vault, regardless of who put in the request, even Kreacher, would've damaged everyone's trust in the Wizarding bank completely. My godfather was the world's most infamous escaped convict at the time; the goblins would not have let so much as a Knut be withdrawn—let alone eight hundred Galleons—without all their paperwork and meticulous security protocols coming into play. The goblins might be an ornery lot when it comes to the lengths with which they will protect whatever's in their charge, but that's why they're so dependable, and they'd never be so stupid as to not alert the Ministry of Magic to suspicious activity involving Sirius Black's vault.

If Sirius really had access to his money after escaping from Azkaban, we could've easily given him Crookshanks for a time, along with a quill and roll of parchment along with the use of my name, and he would not have wanted for anything, not even food, while he was in hiding.

Draco never wanted to be found out, and I didn't even know about it until long after Voldemort had been defeated. From what he told me, he had begged his parents for the Firebolt, pitting them against each other through shrewdly written letters that played on his father's pride in his achievements and tugged on his mother's heartstrings in turn. He was always a skilled and manipulative penman—would've made a great columnist for the Daily Prophet—evidenced by his mother writing to him explaining that she loved him so much that she had ensured he wouldn't be disappointed when he came home for the winter holiday. Lucius had caved to Narcissa's coaxing and gave Draco the broom on Christmas Eve. Narcissa had apparently won the argument after convincing Lucius that Draco might become captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team once Marcus Flint had graduated at the end of that same year.

The Firebolt was his, but he rewrapped it that same evening and sent Oberon, along with his mother's owl, to the Hogwarts house-elves who delivered all our presents at the foot of our beds by Christmas morning. Draco had almost talked himself out of it, since he had wanted the Firebolt for himself and definitely didn't want to give me an edge over him on the Quidditch field, especially since he still wanted me to suffer for not choosing him over Ron.

But he wanted me to be better equipped if the dementors dared to encroach on another game in the future. He hates Dumbledore to this day, and thinks all his efforts to keep me and the rest of the students safe were incompetent at best. He had also always wanted to give me gifts, so he couldn't resist the urge when an opportunity presented itself.

It was an extravagant gift. His only regret, he says, is that he was unable to brag about it being from him when the whole school flocked over to our table to fawn over it. He didn't let me know it was from him because he thought I would refuse it—and he was right.

He also didn't want anyone in the school to know what he'd done, especially his friends. Flint would have killed him, and he knew he was probably signing away his victories on the Quidditch field from that day forward. But he says he was in love with me by that time, and the Firebolt seemed like an appropriate way to put those feelings into action.

I decided to share all that in a letter because Draco only told me about the broom after Voldemort had been defeated. It came as a shock to me, but I think somewhere deep down I had always known… No one else could've afforded to be so generous. But also, knowing that he could've given me his old Nimbus instead of the Firebolt made me realize just how much he must have cared for me at the time, even though he was still a spoiled and selfish brat.

I guess that's why I believe in love so much. I've seen what it can do. I think of the Firebolt as his first real act of love. The fact that he did something so selfless without requiring recognition for it has meant a lot to me…

As for the lunch we've been trying to plan between the four of us, I'm sorry Ron's feeling put off about it. I get that he still feels sour about Draco, and I don't blame him, but I think he's being stubborn.

Look, I don't want to make Ron tense or make him regret having asked me to be his Best Man. So I was hoping you could talk to him for me, without telling him anything that we want to say to him ourselves. He'll have to sit with us eventually. If not sooner, then when we're all gathered at your wedding, which'll be even more uncomfortable if we wait till then I think.

Also, before I sign off, I ought to warn you about some of the upcoming Memory Vials, since you're reviewing them before anyone else. Well, Hermione, you asked for them, so don't say I didn't warn you. You'll remember some of these events, since you were really butting into our flirtationship at the time. But I never let you in on the gory details, except for the little you knew about what happened at the Yule Ball.

With everything that happened during the Triwizard Tournament, especially with Cho eluding me the whole way, I was bound to find myself with him eventually. Especially with you meddling and shoving us together the way you did.

I'm embarrassed about some of the things I did, so go easy on the teasing. As you'll see, I got Draco to fulfill one of my, uh… horny teenage fantasies, but you said you wanted to see everything, so I'm taking you at your word. Depending on how that goes, I can mark the offending Vials for you in the future, that way you can pass them on to the Ghost Writer without reviewing them.

I swear, I didn't do anything to him as a ferret, even though Draco sent a joke letter saying as much. He's lying. Although, I never would've been against cuddling him in my robes after the trauma "Professor Moody" put him through…

Yours sincerely,

HARRY POTTER