A Fluffy Little Olive Branch (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Three

   He imagined the owl would be quite some time, but he was back before Harry had even taken a sip of his freshly brewed tea. He blinked as the bird landed in a tumble of feathers before he hopped back onto his feet and proudly wiggled his little leg in the air, showing a new message was attached.

"You got a reply already?" Harry said, impressed despite his reluctance to feel goodwill towards the gift he'd received. "Are they close by?" The bird just carried on hopping though for Harry to take his letter, hooting indignantly. "Alright alright," he said with a chuckle, freeing the note and unrolling it.

"If you didn't have an owl though," the short reply read under his first message. "We wouldn't be talking now." Harry read the words several times, then, taking a gulp of his sweet tea, slightly enlarged the parchment and hastily penned a response.

"Does that mean we don't talk already?"

The owl was already waiting for the bit of parchment to be re-rolled and re-attached, and Harry couldn't fault his enthusiasm. "It's a shame you don't have a name," he said as he tied up the small bow. "But I'm not keeping you, so I can't really give you one."

The owl looked smug, as if to say 'We'll see about that.' Before Harry could tell him he meant it, he didn't want another pet owl, the bird took flight and was out the door, turning right down the corridor towards the lobby.

Harry tapped the side of his mug with his fingernail, keen to see how fast the owl would be this time. Whoever had sent him and the letter were obviously close by in London, if not in the actual Ministry building itself.

He opened one of his latest files, hoping to distract himself, but the more he thought about how long it took to decide what to write and then write it, added to flight time, the mysterious author couldn't be that far away at all, no more than a few floors.

So who was it? What department did they work in?

He managed to force himself to start writing up a fresh report, but it wasn't more than a minute before the beating of tiny wings drew his attention up sharply.

This time the speedy little bird achieved a slightly better landing, only tumbling over his head once before presenting the now familiar roll of parchment up for Harry to remove. "They're in the building, aren't they?" Harry said as he pulled it off. The owl kept up a remarkable poker face though. Harry grinned. "I'll get to the bottom of this eventually."

"No," said the letter. "We don't really talk now sadly. I want to, but I'm not sure how to. I guess I could use a friend too." Images of a lonely, stalker type flittered through Harry's head. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to suffer fans like that, especially after he and Ginny split up. He'd had to put up with several women who were convinced they were absolutely perfect for each other, and had spent a lot of time and effort trying to convince him of their destiny together. That was until Harry had come out of the closet in an exclusive with the Quibbler, dashing all their hopes. He'd had a couple of anonymous love letters from guys since then, but he found the hysteria had somewhat worn off.

Something about these messages though told him that this wasn't like that. "But we DO know each other then?" he wrote back. "Why don't you just say hi, I promise I won't bite!" Then, as an after-though: "How did you get into my office anyway?"

Only once the bird had shot from his sight again did he belatedly think about at least looking out into the corridor to see where he went. But he was still hoping his secret new friend would reveal themselves of their own accord he supposed.

With a determined grunt he turned back to his report, and focused on filling it out meticulously. He couldn't afford to make a mistake, and he wouldn't let idle day dreams about potentially handsome but also totally imaginary secret admirers cause him to blemish his perfect record.

He couldn't help but be intrigued though. Someone wanted to be friends, but was too afraid to just come up and talk to him. Most people couldn't wait to get a word in with the famous Harry Potter, and he felt it spoke of good character that this person was putting a little more thought into it than that.

But what exactly did they want? Friendship? Romance? Harry tutted to himself at that and started the next section of his report, trying (but failing) not to look at the wall clock to see how long the tiny owl had been. He'd definitely taken longer this time, so the other person must have either moved further away, or, more likely, was writing a longer response.

How pathetic was he that he was hoping this was some lovely, single guy, offering up a romantic gesture to sweep him off his feet. But seriously! he couldn't help but think. Who buys owls for people they don't even know?

Or sort of know. The person had said they 'didn't really' talk. So they might talk a bit. Stupidly, his mind wandered to Damien out in the lobby again, before remembering both the reasons they weren't dating already, and then on top of that excluding him from such a round-a-bout tactic. Harry bet whoever his boyfriend was, he'd got a formal, written request on the matter, then a fully updated calendar schedule for the year. There would be no ambiguity with someone that organised.

Harry had to say he was enjoying thissubterfuge though. This was the mostunexpected fun he'd had in months and months, and he was positively tinglingwith it.