Nasyki/Dark Cherub: Sorry…I know I should be updating some of my other fics…but this one was just sitting there, begging me to finish the chapter! Really, it was! I promise and hope to die if I don't—I'll update my others too. Now then, let me not waste time you could be reading, I'll make this short. Read! Review! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do I own Harry Potter or it's characters? No! No suing, I have no money and come on! I don't need to owe people money before I can drive.

Warnings: Not many, but I might as well make note on them. Yaoi…or ya slash, DM/HP just so you know…lots of angst…dark depression…then not depressions too…and maybe some violence…but a little violence never hurt anyone…actually it's good for the heart! Er…mind? Or something like that!

Summary: Slash. DMHP. It's finally time to go home for the summer after a long and dreadful 6th year. After a large amount of deaths, injuries, and accusations directed towards Harry…he and his friends are ready to go 'home.' An argument and a good beating later, his life goes back to its normal pace, or as normal as it is for a wizard on Private Drive. That is however, only what he thinks before he receives a strange love letter by owl. Who exactly is this D.B, and what makes him so special? Who is he really? Harry has a little voice in his head telling him D.B is hiding something, but it is also telling him he can trust the admirer. What happens when a relationship blossoms from a love note, and Voldemort tries another angle at killing Harry? Rated for well…everything that's coming up, sex, abuse, rape in chapter two. A touch of dark and I'll through in some OC's!

((No relationships will come out of OC's))

Note: This fic was started before the 6th book came out, and though it does happen 7th year…6th year is how I made it. You'll get more detail what happened during that time in later chapters. >>>So pre-HBP

Love's Letters

By: Nasyki/Dark Cherub

Chapter 1 (Home Goings)

Scene One of Three: Good Byes

It was coming, and oh how he was dreading it. It was in the wind so to speak, as well as on the tip his tongue; its bitter taste coating his mouth in sheets leaving his throat dry and raw. The day had arrived as another: unwanted, vile, distasteful, resentful, and all to long a summer. It was just ahead of him and it wasn't going to be prevented. It wasn't going to be like last year where the Order had threatened his family.

It would be insane just to hope they would come. After all, the dead surely don't wake, let alone save petty teens from their abusive families.

This time he was to be left alone with the Dursleys.

There was not even the simple allotment of optimism that he could be saved by his friends halfway thought the break, they were prevented from doing that even if they wanted to.

Though he couldn't understand his own whining, he should've been used to fending for him self by now. Even so, it left that repulsive taste in his mouth just 'knowing' what to expect. He knew, of course, long before the Dursleys came into view what his summer would be like. Best case scenario —what he hoped would happed— his family would merely lock him in his room and allow him the fortune of not having to see their faces and put up with their personalities all summer.

Luck being on his side, this was the last time that he'd have to put up with things as they were with the Dursleys. Then after that he would never be forced to put up with any form of them again. That is all that he really wanted: to be rid of them forever.

This train of thought normally would have had a dramatic affect on his sour mood, the thought of being a legal adult in the wizarding world had always done so in the past, but if only he hadn't been so damned depressed. Depression certainly seemed to have a way in making a person's life less worthwhile.

Harry heaved a sigh, it was sad that even that simple wish had been compromised. Instead of him getting to leave the day of his birthday —when the blood-binding spell would be completed— like he had been told previously, Dumbledore had requested he spend the entirety of the term of the break at his home.

Knowing that Dumbledore was simply trying to protect him as best he could, Harry couldn't bring himself to argue with the man. Even if he could not agree with the method of keeping him out of harm's way helpful, he found it much harder to disobey the thoughtful orders. Though it pained him to do as told, Harry had no will to fight the man who had done so much for him, and who had constantly looked out for his well-being in any way he could. Though these days he could feel the smallest amount of doubt slipping into his subconscious…a small voice within him kept telling him that Dumbledore was not looking solely out for him, that he had the entire wizarding race at heart.

The thought pained him as much as knowing that his people saw him not as an individual, but as an idol that gave them someone to look up to. He was just a thing that shifted their attention away from their own insignificant lives. He found himself to be somewhat of a toy that could just as easily be reused as thrown away. When this idea began to betray his trust, all Harry could do was push the thought away and hope that it wouldn't resurface. Yet the thought was always there, plaguing him and making him feel vile for distrusting the people that cared so much about him…that is to say…the only people that cared for him.

When the Dursleys appeared in the crowd (not all that hard to miss) his oh so bright mood darkened into the depths of what one might considerer under the deepest part of the ocean's waves. He looked to his friends out of the corner of his eye longingly. Attempting to bring them with him so to speak, at least bring as much as he could of them. But they're normally 'all smiles' faces even held a type of grief knowing almost the same as he, how his summers of hell went. Though for the better good they knew simply the gist of it. Yet, hate to admit it all he liked, the silently nudging voice urged him that there was the present possibility they were all caught up in the mourning of their own losses and they in turn didn't give a damn about him."Don't worry Harry…" his bushy burnet haired friend smiled half-heartedly at his lifeless expression in seeing the arrival of his family; though his expression did seem to turn others half hearted without the added bonus of his family. "Ron and I will be sure to write to you daily."

At this promise, Harry nodded childishly knowing full well the 'what's' and 'whatnot's' to expect from his friends. He would most likely receive an owl here and there, and one on his birthday if he were ever so lucky. But lucky was something he seemed to have recently run out of…unless you count his sarcastic ones anyhow. Dumbledore had made sure to take each of his friends aside and tell them to keep minimal contact with him: Voldemort the cause of this, of course. Everyone was going to keep the closest eye on him, but not interact. Why, he did not know, but he did have a couple pretty good suspicions what these 'extra precautions' were for. He knew it for none other than his friend's safety. After what had happened last year to anyone whom talked to him alone…he was pretty sure that no one wanted to be left in the same room as him even if in the end he'd been proven innocent; it wasn't he whom had cast the spells on his friends.

What had come about from there precautions was simple they —as in everyone and anyone left of the order combined with the Ministry— decided to give him information of things only in utmost importance. Also, he wasn't allowed to stay at the Weasleys. The Ministry of Magic was now on a lock down and he needed to be at home, with the only thing left of his family. Again, he would not have complied had he not been asked upon on personal request of Dumbledore.

His Uncle was fast approaching. Harry looked at the plump purpling face of his Uncle. His Uncle had not even seen him yet and was already aggravated. He knew he'd have to make this a quick goodbye.

He didn't bother turning around. "Well…I'll see you guys later," his voice was fleeting and in a broken whisper.

At his morose voice Ron turned to hide his sadness. He'd been doing so since Harry began acting this way, he fiddled with the times for a moment. Supposing on these depressed tendencies, he would guess had begun, though a minimal at first, on the occasions after Sirius's death. But that had only been the beginning of this change in person. Since that first death…all that had followed…Ron's father one of the more recent. Guilt found means for resurfacing; it was Harry's fault for that death.

That was one of the major reasons that Harry couldn't stay with the Weasleys. Not because Harry had gotten the older Wesley killed, simply because of the absence of Author Weasley in general. With him there was a connection between the Order, Harry, and the Ministry. Over the course of last year many colorful battles had transpired between the Order and the Ministry, battles not only pertaining to the war against Voldemort. No sir. The Ministry was much too childish for that; something relevant wouldn't have made sense in their minds. Instead it had been a petty feud over the control over the Boy-Who-Lived. The Ministry was trying to look for a scapegoat for their earlier errors, so instead of concentrating on the task at hand they had tried to cover their lazy arses. They were also trying to shift all the weight upon his shoulders to make it look like it was The-Boy-Who-Lived's fault that Voldemort had come back, and that it was only because of him that Voldemort wasn't defeated yet: because no one could destroy the Dark Lord but Harry Potter himself. Harry had scoffed at the likeness of the story, and had immediately begun to wonder if someone was leaking information about his side. He was surprised when nothing about the Prophecy came up. That implied that they didn't know, and that the story was most likely concocted but several people that were raving mad…though right as they were.

When Harry looked to everyone else's faces and saw the expression that mirrored on them he could easily depict the look on Ron's, the identical look that held sympathy and something akin to pity.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione finally broke and wailed desperately. She pulled him into her out-stretched arms, causing him to visibly flinch. No one had touched him nearly all of last year, and he wasn't used to physical contact anymore. Not that he ever really had been. "It'll be okay. I swear it will all be all right," she whispered supportively into his ear before pulling back so that their noses were touching. Looking directly into his eyes she continued, "Remember to keep inside and be especially careful. Death Eaters are everywhere these days, we can't afford to lose you." That doubt returned nagging him, he couldn't read if her last comment was directed at losing him as a friend, or the savior. He had now completely lost the definition between the two. Pulling back, finally not able to handle her squeeze he looked into her watering eyes and watched as she brushed away the forming tears before they had had the chance of falling. Feeling a sudden need to comfort her he sighed, he'd wanted to remember her smiling face.

"Hermione…please don't worry about me. It'll only be for the summer…" was all that he murmured. He tried to make it sound almost jokingly but judging by her cracking expression, he knew he'd failed. Hesitantly, he ran a shaky hand through his tangled locks. His trembling hand seemed to be the physical form of his voice. His voice was just as shaky and unsure as his hand, but the fact didn't help that he didn't even know whom he was trying to reassure here.

Harry nodded to her again before turning to his redheaded friend's turned back. Ron was never good with this sort of thing it seemed, not that he was either. Because Harry wasn't able to stay for the summer at the Burro or even a fraction of the summer, Ron with the loss of his father so fresh had hurt him the most, Ron had hoped to forget about his loss through the use of distracting the pain with Harry all summer. At least he wasn't the only person that began to compromise his wishes.

Silently walking to his friend Harry wrapped his arms around the taller boy's neck, it seemed that Ron might never stop growing, allowing his head to droop forward and rest on Ron's back in between his shoulder blades.

"Ron…come on," he urged nuzzling his forehead forward. "Cheer up…please? You can brood over this after it's done and over with. But for now…enjoy your summer," he ordered, knowing his words to have no effect on the boy whom had seemingly gone mute towards him. Hermione seemed to be the only one able to do the whole comforting thing right…but that just might be because she was girl —sentimentalities and such.

"Harry!" Came the firm and demanding voice of his Uncle Vernon. Pulling back, he turned and walked towards the scowling group of relatives. He didn't once turn back to glance at the tearful faces but he followed steadfastly the muggles to his doom.

Getting into the car no one spoke a word. And yet there was still a thickness to the air. The kind created when someone says something insufferable though the words fade the uncomfortable and unsettling silence is left in its wake. No words having been spoken the only other cause there could be was the hatred of one to another.

Scene Two of Three: A Beating

The car trip to Privet Drive hadn't been a pleasurable one, though it had been better than some he could remember; Harry was just relieved when the car stopped and the passengers unloaded towards the house, the silence had begun to eat away at him. Walking at a rushed pace, the moment after his Uncle unlocked the front door he had hurried into the house, he was so eager to get away that he stepped up the stairs two at a time. Only did he stop when hearing his Uncles booming voice from the down-stairs.

"Boy!" Vernon's thick voice rumbled, lacing itself with the pure essence of his hatred for Harry.

Shivering involuntarily, Harry turned heel and headed away from the sanctity he had learned to embrace from the room that had been steeps ahead of him. Silently lowering himself from the upper floor he stopped at the larger man's feet, all but batting an eye at his attempt to be frightening. There were more important things to fear in the world at the present time and day for the golden boy, he wasn't about to waste his fear for a man with nothing other than physical strength.

Nodding he responded calmly he spoke clearly, "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Let me make myself perfectly clear before we start this summer." Harry fought a scowl that sounded promising. "There are going to be some major changes around here. I will not tolerate a young boy running my household in fear of his adult friends." Harry nodded feeling a sudden dread at what had happened to most of his 'adult friends' by trying to help him, but he didn't voice his pain.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," was all he answered not lowering his head, yet submerging his voice in a pride that he had begun to except of himself in being the 'boy-who-lived.'

Glaring at what he would classify as arrogance, the purpling face continued, "So we are now limiting your access in this house. I don't want any of the neighbors even knowing you're here again. So from now on, you're restricted to doing yard work at night—"

Harry interrupted in abruptness, "—there is no way Professor Dumbledore will allow this. With Voldemort on the lose now, the Ministry of Magic would have your heads for allowing their savior to be captured." His voice was steady and cold, and he merely spoke fact having tried to be informative, though he could have added 'spitefulness' right next to that without denying it to be fact. A second later he knew that not to be the best choice being as in those two sentences he had mentioned a lot more of his magical life than he had dared to imply before, thus further provoking the blossoming wrath of his Uncle.

The face of man half human have radish glared with little slits as his upper lip and mustache trembled. "How DARE you bring up such things under my roof! I've taken you in after all these years when your good for nothing parents got themselves killed, and you mention you little fairy-tale world after I've been supplying all you need for years asking for you only to follow a few rules! Do you have no manners at all you abandoned bastard child! That right there will give you a week in your room with no dinner!" His relentlessness and sheer cruelties spoke wonders for him. The dread returned to the pit of Harry's stomach, but his uncontrolled rage did as well. He did his best to bite back an outburst by grinding his teeth together in his mouth as Vernon's face was reaching an unfathomable shade of purple, a color Harry had yet to see.

"But before I proceed with that, let me continue!" He bellowed loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

'And he made comments about my drawing attention,' Harry thought in utter spite and contempt.

As though he and his Aunt were on the same wavelength, she quickly shut the door that Dudley had so rudely left opened for someone else to close (probably for his mother anyway) before she appeared at Vernon's side.

"Vernon, dear…calm down. You will not only cause the neighbors to start talking about us, but just think of what this might do to your already high blood pressure! You will have worse problems with it! Think, is that really what you want?" his Aunt Petunia hissed into Vernon's ear a little louder than necessary.

Harry had to snort at this. '–High blood pressure? No wonder he changes color like a chameleon when he's angry!' and a second later he received a dirty look from Dudley but he tried to stay concentrated on his Uncle for that moment.

"Uncle Vernon…could you continue if it isn't too much trouble?" Harry sighed as he watched his Uncle take deep calming breathes, he had become quite good at concealing his feelings learning from the Malfoy's best, Draco. Surprising what years of exposure to infuriating situations where the person who gets more upset and does something drastic loses, does to a person. Personally he liked Draco a whole lot more than his Uncle. The only things Vernon had taught him were 'hot' and 'temper.' He smiled, maybe 'high' and 'blood-pressure' too, at least Malfoy had taught him control over what Vernon had done to him. Harry couldn't help but thank the nemesis in his mind thoughtfully. 'Next time I see him I'll have to make some comment on a 'thank you,' that should confuse the hell out of him.' Smiling smugly to himself he willed his ears to listen to his Uncle's droning commands.

Glaring daggers the man continued, "you will be doing the yard work at night, no questions asked…" he repeated emphasizing the 'will' to make his points clear. "You will wake up regular hours, and you will make breakfasts. You will continue with your daily chores. But you will not be spotted by outsiders at any time." His face was regaining its normal coloring but he remained stern-faced. "Is that understood, Harry?" He was sure to pronounce Harry's name like it was an unspeakable, making the already well-known fact that he didn't like him even more so overwhelmingly obvious.

Harry nodded, "yes Uncle Vernon…I have one question though." Though he didn't know why he'd bother asking, seeing as he wasn't supposed to ask questions, ever. He sighed; he'd probably just get beat for it so it didn't matter.

His Uncle glared, thought for a second and then nodded. 'He seems to have forgotten that rule, what luck.' Harry almost smiled. His thoughts continued, 'Maybe I could ask him a question like If Death Eaters come to kill me late at night do you want me to tell them that you're in the house and sitting ducks, or want them to find out on their own?' Harry quickly discarded the idea not wanting to ask for his own demise. Seemed a little too suicidal for his taste.

"What about Hedwig? If you were to lock me in my room, that would mean I would need more food to take care of her with." This question, though not what his Uncle had expected, had had a deep impression on the middle-aged man, and by chance it was not for the better, Harry knew it was a useless attempt but he tried to manipulate the situation however he could. "Um…it's not like she needs very much food, I'm sure she'd be happy with like a piece of bread, but you could always let me order some snacks for her…" Harry winced as the words rushed out of his mouth that was probably the least convincing you could get without being just plain stupid; he really needed to work on his manipulating skills.

Vernon's large plump face had regained every line and crease, etching it in anger. Slowly his face darkened to a light hint of pink, to a dusty red, before it then slowly turned nearly a glowing red, and last that wonderful shade of a ripening plum. By the looks of it, the man was ready to split at his seams and release his full-blown anger attack on Harry, who would not like it when it came.

His Uncle, who was normally so full of words was at the moment speechless in his blind rage, he steeped right into Harry's face, and in a low crackling voice ragged out a small reply, "Your pet, I'm sure, can last a week in the outside world while you are forced into your solitary confinement. And if not, it would be doing the world a favor if it were not to survive." Harry merely nodded feeling his own unsettling rage build up inside of him, you could practically feel his eagerness to strangle the man: he would not trust his voice nor would he let the comment get to him if he could stop it. "Dudley." Uncle Vernon ordered, making sure not to break eye contact with Harry. "Go get Harry's stuff from the car. And be sure to see that his little birdie is freed before you enter the house." Seeing his cousin nod out of the corner of his eye, with a stupid smirk on his face he turned to leave.

"No." Harry stated firmly through gritted teeth, barely managing to suppress his anger. "Don't let that filthy git touch Hedwig."

By this time the room had gone silent in shock, Dudley actually stopped mid-steep and came tumbling to the floor. He whirled around to see what would happen next; but before he had even attempted to turn he heard an ear splitting slap followed by Harry's 'oof' as he fell to the floor, the pain of the strike shooting through his cheek like a glove of needles had slapped him rather than a fat man's hand. Vernon slipped his hand tightly around the collar of the recovering boy's shirt and yanked him to his feet.

"You will not talk about my son like that again…ever. I don't like you or your kind, so don't give me more reason to hate you," Vernon seethed.

Before Harry could respond, his Uncle successfully took his knee to Harry's gut and his pain-inflicting blow was reworded by a gasp and whimper. The cry elicited a menacing grin from his Uncle, and the next thing Harry knew he was hit by an attack of spontaneous blows. Hitting where he could reach, kicking when he couldn't, Uncle Vernon all his adrenalin pumped actions seemed to be fueled by Harry's whimpers of pain. After another ten or so effective hits he let the boy fall to the floor blood leaking from his nose before Vernon proceeded to kick any part of Harry that his foot could come in contact with.

Through his blurry vision Harry attempted to crawl away from his now insane Uncle only to be stopped by the continuous blows. Finally he decided to give in, and curled himself into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut as pain showered over him. Never once did he let a tear slip down his bruised and battered face as the beating overtook him. This reason could have been because he chose not to lower himself to give his Uncle such satisfaction of doing so, or possibly because his body was to busy concentrating on the pain of the attack to remember to cry. It might have even been a mix of the two, but that wasn't the thoughts that plagued the mind of Harry Potter the 'boy-who-lived' as he was being beat senseless. The only thought that was complete enough to understand was, 'so this is how the golden boy will die. Not heroically saving the wizarding world form Lord Voldemort…but cowering in a corner as his Uncle beats him to death.'

Harry took in a sharp breath as he felt something in his chest crack. He could feel his vision fading…but something kept him from blacking out, though no difference did it make. He'd just suffocate from the burning that contracted inside of him eating away at the pain before he had even had the chance of doing so and being saved by that ragging blackness.

A hand yanked him up again and his face was met by his Uncle's, glossed with sweat. "D-don't you ever…ever say something about my son like that again. Ever again! Do you understand me?" he repeated in 'huff' and looked into Harry's eyes like a manic.

Harry whimpered and merely nodded. He couldn't find his voice. Hell, he couldn't find his body. Vernon drooped him to the ground and Harry wheezed as his protruding rib made contact with the floor. He hadn't even known it was sticking out. Maybe it wasn't though. He could feel the painful unawareness over his body, it could have been that the bone was pressing in and not out. Not like it made a world of difference. As it was now, it was useless. 'Just like I am,' Harry thought remembering all that he could have done better, guilt of his friend's death resurfaced.

"Dudley, get Harry's stuff, and get rid of that damned bird!"

Harry eventually closed his eyes as Uncle Vernon could be heard storming from the room and after he left, the unearthly quiet was demoralizing. There was a long nothingness in which Harry attempted to regulate his breathing back to a normal state and as the shock of what his Uncle had done seemed to ware off the family like a day dream he listened to the departing foot steeps. There was the faint opening of a front door, and a rush into the house somewhere.

He couldn't feel his body. Surely he had been paralyzed or something! Yes, he could feel the pain; the pounding in his head wouldn't let him forget it. But what does it mean for a person to try to move: to get up, to do anything, but there not seem to be a body extension past your sights. If he couldn't see it, couldn't feel it, did that mean it wasn't there?

Harry hissed as something soft and wet touched him. 'Well, at least I could feel that.' Opening his eyes his saw his Aunt Petunia looking surly down at him as she dabbed at his bloody face murmuring something like, "blood all over the place! Next time I'll tell Vernon to go elsewhere…"

After she seemed to make sure he was devoid of all blood to not get everywhere she stood and glared at him. "Take a shower, I don't want you messing up the house, and then go straight to your room."Harry groaned and slugged up as she went away, not getting halfway before falling back down. "Arg…" at second impact of the hard ground he cringed closing his eyes again. He couldn't get up. How was he going to get up?

The front door opened again and Harry watched as his rounded cousin, who must have snuck away from his diet waltzed into the room, a trunk and empty cage following in his wake. 'Hedwig!' He screamed into his tormented mind. 'I'll kill Dudley if anything happened to my snowy owl. I swear my life on it.'

Harry willed his tired mind into a light, unsettling sleep.

Scene Three Of Three: Resourceful

When next his consciousness stirred he knew something was out of place. An unwelcoming taste of iron saltiness stained his taste buds; one thing that he wasn't used to waking up with. Also, there was a solidness to the bed where he was sleeping, 'surely Hogwarts hadn't that hard of a bed in the place. Hell the Dursleys beds were s-'

That's when Harry remembered.

His eyes shot opened and in a split instant he was sitting, but before the next competent thought even had time to register in his head he was crumbling over in pain. That wasn't normal.

Harry howled out as the pain took to strangling him to a point that his head was pounding with rushing blood. Relentless aches were all he could think about as he instinctively held his stomach to doubled-over. His true demise, for whence his tight grip latched itself about his crippled chest his agony increased ten fold, overloading him with such feelings, as he didn't want to experience.

Quickly he dropped his grip, and tried to lie straight on his back, leaving him with only his eyes and fists and jaw to clench tightly to get him through the pain. Staggered breaths was all that broke into the room and once he had time to compose himself, without the risk of an ear-splitting scream he lifted a shaky hand and rested it on his forehead. Opening his eyes for the first real time, ready to take in his surroundings he had to blink several times before the blur of his vision cleared.

He groaned as he noted he was still at the Dursleys, exactly where he had been beaten. 'It was not just a dream,' he confirmed.

Looking around so as to find some sort of clue as to how long it had been. He looked up to see the sunlight streaming into the front room window a few yards from him. 'So it is still day.' He thought and took a deep breath, he rolled over holding his breath to stop another threatening scream as he positioned his hands at both his sides, looking like someone ready to do muggle push-ups. Gritting his teeth together to keep sound from erupting from his throat he pushed up and gasped, he only got a few inches from the ground before he had to stop and slowly lower himself down again. This wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped.

'If I can just get to my trunk…' Harry thought despairingly, though he would never admit it to be desperate to himself.

Harry pushed up another couple inches, and almost felt his limbs give out. Pressuring himself to finish getting up he did not allow himself to stop.

After a long while of lost time's struggle he managed to stand up, head spinning ambiguously. He stumbled forward and tripped on nothing causing him to slam into a wall. Wincing he continued forward to the closet beneath the stairs. If he could get there he would be fine. He had already pre-made several pain reliever, and healing potions. After having no friends for nearly an entire year he had managed to study forcefully hard, he had even requested…private lessons with Professor Snape to learn the more complicated potions, such as healing being the most frequent request with help. Professor Snape had immediately given him a strange look but had complied anyway with some persuading with a good three other teachers as well as his dear headmaster.

Harry took several more steeps forward, running along the wall for support. He needed a few more steeps before he was there…'just a couple more steeps,' he kept telling himself knowing he had to keep his mind clear.

Harry panted, as his world seemed to spin in circles around him. He took another steep forward. —If he could just get to the cupboard…to his trunk…his potions…. His vision was already ill defined as he fell against the door, forcing him to acquire sharp intakes of breath. Covering his mouth his tired eyes resting, he coughed a useless attempt at forcing a liquid that seemed to be pouring into his lungs out.

As he sat there catching his breath, and trying to keep him self from passing out, a thought struck him, 'they had probably locked the door.'

If the pain of the attack that Uncle Vernon had lashed out on him had subsided, he more than likely would have been able to feel the dread for what that would entail roll over him in rising tides. But instead of trying to think of what more pain he could have, he hoped beyond hope that the door wouldn't be locked. He was so caught up in his doomed thoughts that he didn't even register the 'click' of the lock on the door.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for his unfathomably unfortunate luck, he reached up for the doorknob, and was surprised when it turned. Quickly, or as quickly as he could muster with at least one broken rib and so many other injuries he couldn't identify he scooted away from the door and then through it.

"Yes…" He smiled as he crawled his way towards his trunk and opened it. There was all of his Hogwarts things laid out perfectly. "Thank Merlin…" he mumbled as he noted none of the vials of his potions had broken.

Reaching for a deep green liquid, he popped the cork on it and took a large gulp before setting it back once it was recapped. After his sip, a stinging sensation coursed through his body causing him to shiver slightly. He hadn't been expecting it really. But as soon as another drowsy spell came over him, he knew that he'd have to get upstairs before it overtook him.

Sighing, he shut his trunk, got to his feet with the only difficulty being his vision hadn't recovered, and shut the door. Now the only clouded thoughts of his mind were to get to his room before he passed out from the aftereffects of the potion.

Using the wall as his supporter, he made his way up the stairs to his room; he opened the door in a rush to his bed. Just as he was about to let the potion take hold of him and allow him self to drop to the bed, he ruefully noted a slight rapping at his window. Looking over with shock he rushed to the window swinging it opened.

'Why do I have to be bothered now?' He wondered as a midnight colored owl flew in and settled down on his shoulder.

Because it wasn't the normal barn owls that the Ministry used, and it wasn't an owl that he recognized as belonging to one of his friends, he tried to fight the tiredness that was knocking at his door, to yield to his undying curiosities and find out who it was that sent it. He took the envelope the bird was carrying and sat down on his bed, the black owl flapped its large expanded wings to keep its balance on his shoulder.

Harry blinked to clear his miasma, and looked at the curled letters that read across the envelope, addressing it to him.

"Harry Potter"

'Descriptive,' he thought sarcastically comparing it to those of the letters he received from Hogwarts, flipping it over not recognizing the handwriting to be anyone he knew, he then looked to the wax seal, and alas it was too of something that he never knew. As most seals were, it was in a circular shape, a serpent with diamond markings all up it's back rimed the symbol, but at the heart of it, was a hatching dragon's egg, with two meeting swords clashing for the backdrop.

It surely screamed to be something Slytherinesk, but he still failed to see what Slytherin would be writing to him. He was definitely not a popular one among them.

The owl cocked its head to the side and gave a friendly hoot, as if pressuring him to open the letter before it flew over to Hedwig's empty cage. Harry sighed.

"Sure, why not…" he told himself as he broke the seal and read through the letter. Once…Twice…Three times and his cheeks were a flaming red. The first thought that came to his mind as he looked over to the black bird being; 'Merlin…it's a love letter.'

End Chapter 1

To Be Continued…

Nasyki/Dark Cherub: Muahahahhahahahaha! That sucked…Y-Y;;; I'm sorry…nice ending, ne? Little hint for next chapter, the love letter…er…has some interesting parts to it! ((Evil smile)) Oh ya! And I'm really sorry about all my commentary in this chapter, no more after this chapter. I swear…unless it is oh so important. Ah well. Let me tell you this now before I forget, this fic isn't getting any longer until I get some reviews, and this note applies from now until it's done, but I won't say it, so if you want me to continue at all, remember that! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! I SWEAR I WON'T UPDATE! Oh! An' if you want the 'almost-prequel' with more Draco Harry slashy goodness, tell me! I'll get to it! ((Shifty eyes)) Eventually…if you want it any who…but you must review this story if you want more of Love's Letters! So remember that too!