Don't own it. Pre-HBP (so it's AU).

This story was originally written in response to a challenge:

"Write a story compiled completely of letters exchanged between Draco and Hermione. They do or don't have to know each other's identity." –Penelope.

A few dedicated reviewers motivated me to develop the original letters into something bigger.

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Homer awoke and stretched his extremities. As his rich mahogany feathers reached out, he accidentally grazed another owl. Homer twisted his head at a ninety degree angle and hooted angrily. No scrawny screech owl was going to invade the great barn owl's bit of perch. The screech owl trembled, eyeing Homer in terror. Homer tried his best to keep his alpha-predator glare upon the intruder, but it was no use. He began hacking violently. A lump forced its way up his throat and out of his beaked mouth. The pellet landed with a soft pof onto the ground, advertising Homer's hunting prowess.

The door to the Owlery creaked open and a head of bushy hair peeped in. Homer glanced out the window of the West Tower. It was barely dawn. Students didn't usually visit this early.

Homer swiveled his head back to look at the very brown girl. He could have smiled contentedly, if he had had lips. He was still the best looking creature in the room. The brown of his feathers was significantly more luxurious than her hair and he was certainly more tidy. She began tying letters to various owls and whispering to them conspiratorially. She was definitely up to something. The girl reached the owl next to him, the invasive little screech owl, and tied a letter to his ankle, then hissed something into his ear hole. Before she reached Homer, she stopped, studying the last letter in her hands, studying the name in particular. She took a deep breath and sighed. "All of them," she told herself firmly, and then she looked up at Homer.

Homer took an instant liking her. She was looking at him very seriously. Obviously, she knew he was an equal. The girl approached him and said "I would appreciate it if you'd deliver this letter. It would be nice, though, if you brought it to him with the regular post, during breakfast. All the others are going to do the same, okay?" Homer hooted his agreement and the girl stepped forward, pulled the last strip of leather out of her pocket, and secured the letter to Homer's leg. She looked into his eyes again. "Thanks," she said. Then she turned to walk out the door, saying "thank you, all of you."

Homer scuffled around a bit to look down at the name on the letter. Draco Malfoy. He didn't know the boy. Homer hooted loudly, asking anyone whether they knew Draco Malfoy. Half the Owlery hooted back. He wouldn't be able to miss him, they said, hair so blond it was almost white. Looks like a bloody albino except his eyes aren't red, kind of like Hedwig, the snowy white. Hedwig, over near the window, hooted back angrily at the room. She didn't like being compared to the boy.

Homer waited for a while, waited for the sun to rise completely. Time seemed to move so slowly when one had to deliver a letter. The other owls with letters began ruffling their feathers in anticipation. Then, just a bit before it was really time to fly, they left, out the Owlery window.

Homer waited for the others to leave first. He was, after all, one of the most refined, and wouldn't be seen jostling with a group of over-excited fledglings. He took off, soaring through the window, and did a few loops outside. Homer scanned the grounds. Yes, he had a letter to deliver, but mice didn't always wait for business to get done. It seemed, however, that fate had placed this letter in higher order than Homer's stomach, so Homer flew down towards the front of the castle. He flew through the slight hole high in the Great Hall (made especially for owls) and began scanning the heads of humans.

Homer saw that white hair almost immediately. The boy was looking up and down the table of Slytherins, scowling. He was probably wondering why so many of his fellows had gotten the same official looking letters. Homer swooped low and landed directly in front of the boy, just behind his plate. The blond boy's gaze swept quickly over Homer and to the letter, his expression hardly changing as he took in the name. The boy leaned forward and untied the leather strip. "Thanks," he said coldly, and pushed his plate of sausages toward Homer. Homer watched as the boy stared at the letter, sticking a long thin finger under the seal. "S…P…E…W…" the boy mouthed silently, contemplating the seal. He unfolded the parchment and to Homer's great satisfaction, spread it out on the table in front of him.

Homer read:

7:00am, September 2

Respected Elf Enslaver,

Wizards throughout the centuries have believed themselves to be above every other magical creature. They have taken it upon themselves to control these creatures. If wizards have named themselves as supreme rulers of the magical world, they must take responsibility for the equal and courteous treatment of all beings within their authority.

This is where you come in. As a member of the wizarding community, you have a responsibility to all magical creatures. They must be treated with respect, kindness, and, where it is reasonable, they must be treated as equals.

Obviously, I will not demand that you campaign for each and every poorly treated creature, but consider those individuals under your very own control. As you will note, duplicates of this same letter are being owled to many other students in the Great Hall. You have something in common with each of those students. You, as an anonymous, free-thinking wizard, have the power to make a difference in the life of a house-elf.

As you sit there eating your breakfast, consider the house-elves many floors below, slaving over the stove, or washing your plate in scalding water. House-elves everywhere work tirelessly without pay, without freedom. Please take the first step toward the fair treatment of house-elves. Set your own family elf free.

Responses may be owled to

S.P.E.W. Headquarters

Homer watched the boy pull a bit of spare parchment and an expensive quill out of his pocket. He began writing, but Homer's view was blocked by the plate and the boy's hand. Homer pecked at a bit of sausage. It was good, but not quite as fulfilling as freshly dead, life-warmed flesh. Besides, at least when Homer caught mice, he was providing his own meals, not exploiting fellow magical creatures, as this boy obviously did. Within minutes, the boy – Draco Malfoy – was finished. He looked up at Homer, his grey eyes warmed by amusement. "Ah, still here? Good, send this back for me, would you?"

Homer allowed Draco Malfoy to tie the scruffy bit of parchment to his leg and took off, catching up to another owl. Homer asked where exactly S.P.E.W. Headquarters was and the owl told Homer to bring the letter to that brown girl when she was away from the Slytherins. Homer flew outside and spent a few hours catching mice, significantly hampered by the letter tied to his leg. After he had eaten his fill, he flew back up the Owlery to sleep and regurgitate. Homer listened as the pounding of students escaping their last classes rumbled faintly up to the West Wing. He ruffled his feathers, stretched, and took off.

He flew to the seventh floor and began pecking at one of the Gryffindor common room windows. A tall redhead let him in with a curious expression on his freckled face. Homer flew straight toward the brown girl, who was seated in front of a table piled with books. She smiled warmly at Homer when he landed on her homework. "Hey! My first response!" she said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

She took the note from Homer's leg and smoothed it out on the table in front of her, trying to ignore the little splash of mouse blood left over from the day's activities.

7:30am, September 2

Respected Nosy Prat,

I do not appreciate the interruption of my breakfast with brainless nonsense about poor, miserable, little house-elves. Obviously, you're too stupid to notice, so I'll make it clear for you: house-elves enjoy being our slaves. Before you launch any grand campaigns to set them free, maybe you should visit a few of them and see what they have to say about it.

Anyway, if they were set free, what next? The same routine, but they'd cost their families a bit of gold and a few old socks. It's like you wrote, isn't it? Magical creatures should only be treated equally "where it is reasonable."

Regards,

A Generous Provider for House-Elves

Just like the blond boy, when she began to write back, the brown girl's fluffy quill obstructed Homer's view of the letter. He'd have to read the letter when it was delivered.

In the meantime, there was an overly excited speck of an owl trying to play. Homer eyed the thing as it twittered persistently, making small circles around the table.

"Pig," said the redhead, "PIG! Stop zooming around his head, you git," and with that, the redhead made a lunge at the little owl Pig, who just escaped. The redhead, however, did not escape a collision with the table. Homer fluttered gracefully out of the way, over to the arm of the very brown girl's chair while she completely ignored the mess the redhead had made of her books and parchment. She was intent upon her letter. Homer watched as Pig continued to chirp and fly erratically. Homer was immensely happy that the redhead had been smart enough to keep the devil in his dormitory; the owls in the Owlery would probably have had Pig stuffed under a pile of straw in five minutes.

A scrawny boy with black hair and glasses stood up from his seat near the brown girl and the redhead. Homer knew him at least, even if he rarely bothered learning the names of students. The boy was Harry Potter. Harry Potter laughed at the redhead, who was straightening up the girl's books, and then locked his green eyes onto Pig. Harry Potter's head began jerking around, in time with Pig's mad flying, and then his right hand shot out to capture the little bird. Homer was impressed in spite of himself, though he was sure he'd have been able to do the same thing if he'd had opposable thumbs.

Harry Potter deposited Pig into the redhead's hands. "Thanks, Harry," the boy said, and then he gazed longingly at Homer. "Why couldn't I have had an owl like him?" As the redhead stomped up some stairs and tried to muffle the shrill hooting of Pig, Homer decided he liked that human, too.

The brown girl straightened in her seat and began folding the letter. She tied it to Homer's leg, saying "would you mind waiting until breakfast to deliver this? I just don't want him to know who I am." Homer hooted in the positive. "Thanks," she said. She carried him to the window and Homer took off, back to the Owlery for the night.

The next morning, Homer was sitting in front of Draco Malfoy's plate, reading the letter the boy had spread out on the table in front of him. Normally, Homer wouldn't take an interest in wizard affairs, but this correspondence was anything but typical.

6:00pm, September 2

Dear Deluded Slavedriver,

Yours is exactly the attitude that forces house-elves into servitude. I have spoken with house-elves, and though most have been brainwashed by power-tripping tyrants like you, many are more receptive to my Elf-Liberation movement.

What next? I have plenty of objectives to accomplish. Besides freeing all the house-elves, which is plenty to get on with, there should be an elf representative at the Ministry. And not only should house-elves be free, they should feel free. They should feel justified in their freedom. Eventually, I wish to see them trying new things, not just cleaning houses and running errands.

You obviously haven't imagined these objectives as remotely possible, but they have already begun to be accomplished. I actually know a free house-elf, released by Harry Potter, who works in Hogwarts. This house-elf is happy with his freedom. He wears clothes proudly, earns money, and even takes holidays. I am proud to be attending a school that supports elf rights, and I'm sorry Hogwarts hasn't had more of an effect on you.

I continue to ask you to try to feel more sympathy for our magical brethren.

I also ask you not to call me stupid. No doubt you're from Slytherin, the students of which have, by far, the greatest amount of helpless elves under their command. I didn't think there was half a brain among your house, but seeing as, however prejudiced, your letter at least had no spelling mistakes, I suppose I was wrong. You see, I've admitted you might be intelligent. Please pay me the same courtesy.

Sincerely,

Your S.P.E.W. representative

Homer watched the boy scoff loudly. "Intelligent, sure you are," he muttered. Homer fluffed his feathers out indignantly, purposefully letting a few flutter into Draco Malfoy's eggs. Draco Malfoy looked up at Homer. "Oh, so you like her? What? Has she promised to campaign for your right to a seat on the Wizengamot?" Usually, Homer liked people who spoke to owls as if they understood, because Homer always did understand, but he did not like this boy or the way he drawled out his sarcastic joke.

"So where is this do-gooder?" Draco Malfoy asked, peering around Homer to the Gryffindor table. Homer felt his heart pound frantically. The brown girl wanted her identity to be secret, and would probably be caught looking at this stupid boy. Homer rotated his head around, scanning the Gryffindor table. No one was looking at him or the dolt behind him. The brown girl wasn't even at the table yet. Her secret was safe.

In the moment it took Homer to spin his head back around to Draco Malfoy, the boy had pulled out his extravagant quill and another bit of parchment. Homer waited impatiently for the boy to write back, his pale features twisted in an unpleasant sort of sneer as he scrawled his response. Within minutes, he looked back up again to tie the letter, marked with the letters "S-P-E-W," to Homer's leg.

Homer took off, out the window to search the grounds for rodents. He could hardly keep himself from tearing open the irritating boy's letter. It was like being an eager fledgling again, so excited about the contents of the letters under his responsibility. When Homer was sure classes had been out for a while, he flew to the third floor. He was pleased to see the window had been left open for him. He landed on the book-strewn table in front of the brown girl. "So what has he got to say next?" she asked Homer in exasperation, but Homer could tell she'd been looking forward to his arrival.

7:30am, September 3

Dear Obnoxious One,

I see from your unjustified opinion of Slytherins, your reverence for the scarred Wonderboy, and your daring to correct me that you are a Gryffindor. And which whiny, self-righteous Gryffindor would waste her time trying to free a people so happy in their enslavement? Well, I really couldn't guess.

As to your argument, I know the house-elf you were referring to. All Slytherins know how Potter tricked Draco Malfoy's father into setting that elf free. That particular elf must have been a fluke, just like you. I'm sure the Malfoys treated that elf the same way every house-elf is treated, yet he is the only elf happy with freedom.

So, good for him. The little traitor got what he wanted, and no one really cares. Unfortunately for you, he is one of a kind. Other elves scorn him because he is so happy with his freedom.

Sincerely yours,

A Slytherin with Much More Than Half a Brain

P.S. Stop sending me owls.

The brown girl tutted, muttered "honestly," and began writing back. Homer held out his leg obligingly once she had finished. "Thank you. You'll wait till tomorrow again?" she asked. Homer blinked kindly at her. "You really are a great help, you know. I'll bet he hasn't even noticed the way you're always kind enough to wait for a response." She stroked Homer a few times and then brought him to the window.

Homer flew back to the Owlery for the night. The next morning, as he soared in through the high ceiling of the Great Hall, he saw Draco Malfoy looking up at the wing-born parliament of owls, waiting for his letter. Homer landed in front of Draco Malfoy, who yanked the letter from Homer's leg without hesitation. "Of course, she couldn't restrain herself, could she?" he smirked. Homer clucked his beak. "Ya, ya," Draco Malfoy said, pushing his plate of toast toward the bird. "Help yourself."

Homer forwent the toast; he would hunt for mice soon enough. Instead, he read the upside-down words on the parchment the boy spread out on the table.

6:00pm, September 3

Dear Arrogant Slytherin,

I doubt the Malfoys treated him as well as any other family could have, but you're right; Dobby is unusual. I do not think, however, that he is a "fluke." I believe he represents what every other house-elf can achieve.

As to your snide comment about me being a "fluke" as well, I'll have to ask you not to insult me, just as I don't insult you.

I'm so glad to see you're happy for Dobby and are concerned for his social life. I, personally, think the other house-elves are just jealous.

Sincerely,

A "Whiny, Self-righteous Gryffindor"

At the sarcastic end of the brown girl's letter, the boy snorted contemptuously. When he had finished reading, Draco Malfoy looked up at Homer. "Do I look like the sort of person who would worry about a house-elf's social life?"

Homer stared at the idiot.

"Exactly," Draco Malfoy said.

"Malfoy," a burly boy with gorilla arms grunted, "the first years still haven't handed over their –"

"Not now, Goyle," Draco Malfoy snapped impatiently, beginning to scrawl angrily on a bit of parchment.

"But they don't know they have to –"

"NOT NOW, Goyle," he yelled, scribbling persistently. He had a nasty look on his face as he concentrated on the letter. The big boy slumped away, using his massive arms to gesture to an even bigger oaf farther up the table. Draco Malfoy took a few more minutes to finish the letter and then tied it to Homer's leg with a smug smile.

Homer swept off the table and out the window. He waited for the brown girl to get out of lessons and caught quite a few mice at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. At the sound of the bell, Homer flew back to the Gryffindor common room. The brown girl was waiting right at the window, smiling at Homer as he flew in. She took the letter eagerly and opened it up, letting Homer read from his perch on her shoulder.

7:30am, September 4

Dear Whine Queen,

I will insult you and call you stupid just as often as I please, so don't think you can tell me what to do.

Yes, I am just so happy for Dobby. He's such an attractive house-elf. It'd be a shame for him to ruin his noble visage with anymore self-inflicted punishment. And don't worry, I'm sure all the elves in the world will be clambering to be set free once you convince the Slytherins to free their family elves. Which, of course, should be easier than spotting Hagrid in a crowd of fairies.

What have you got against the Malfoys, anyway? Draco's in my house, you know, and he's very well-liked and respected.

Yours,

A Justifiably Arrogant Slytherin

If Draco Malfoy had snorted at the sarcastic part of this girl's last letter, it was nothing to how the girl scoffed at his. She started mumbling under her breath as she sat down at a table and began writing back. "Call me stupid…sure, you're happy for Dobby…what have I got against the Malfoys, indeed…"

Homer desperately wanted to read her response, but no matter which angle he tried, her bushy hair always got in the way. Her hair got even bushier as she plucked at it in irritation. By the time she had tied the letter to Homer's leg with a new bit of leather, her hair was so mad that if that owl Pig had happened to fly into the giant tangle, he would have been lost for days.

"If he wants to pretend I don't know who he is, fine," she told Homer angrily. "He'll just have to swallow the truth," she said with a vindictive smile.