Summary: Tired of every adult letting him down, Harry decides to go to the one person who has the power to do something, and will. There is one advantage to having a sadistic, obsessive and possessive monster after you. Slight TRJLV/HP.

A/N: This is just purely for fun. If you don't like the idea, please don't read. If you do, enjoy!

I do not own Harry Potter. I just like to use the characters to play with ;)

Ron and Hermione were doing it again.

Except now the stares had turned into wordless exchanges.

The fact that they were being so blatantly obvious instead of subtle was enough to bring it to their attention that they could just piss off and leave him be.

He threw the book that he had been pretending to read for the last ten minutes down and turned to them, opening his mouth to tell them exactly that when Ron beat him to speech.

"Listen mate, we can't stand by and allow this." Harry supposed that he couldn't find his voice, much less a competent response, because Ron was broaching the subject with such confidence, compared to his usual submissive way. Hermione too was staring at Ron, looking surprised and impressed. She nodded at him with encouragement, but Ron was too busy staring at Harry's scarred hand, now crusted with dried blood, to notice.

Harry went to hide his hand, but again Ron was too quick and caught it, holding it - to Harry's mortification - in his own.

"I know you think Dumbledore is ignoring you," Ron's hand tightened on Harry's when he tried to pull away, "but there are other adults that you can tell."

Harry fought the urge to shove Ron away, even though he knew it would be futile because Harry was still quite scrawny.

"Oh yeah, because they haven't all let me down before have they?" Harry found himself snapping back. There was a silence, and Harry gave up on trying to dislodge his hand from Ron's and instead turned his attention to glaring fiercely at his discarded book.

"Harry," Hermione said quietly. There was something in her tone that caused Harry to look up at her.

"I know. But I think there is maybe one person that you could say something to." Her eyes were soft, and she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. When he did not shrug it off, she smiled at him, pleased by this. She then leaned back into the chair, and Ron looked down at Harry's hand and then released it. Harry shoved his hand into his pocket, ignoring the way it now twitched in rhythm of his pulse.

"Now, please do try and hear me out before you decide. I think you should tell Professor Snape. Oh stop it, honestly. I know that you've never known where his true loyalties lie, but think about it Harry. He saved your life in first year, he came after us in third year, and you didn't see him when you returned back from the Graveyard. Besides, I think it's time we started to trust him. He's in the Order, isn't he? I think here, he would help. He is a teacher, and he would not condone this happening to a student, even if it's you. I think, especially if it's you." Hermione was almost breathless after she finished speaking, and she looked quite nervous as she waited for Harry's response.

Ron looked as if he might be sick, but he wasn't arguing with her, so Harry could assume that - as much as the other hated it - he agreed.

And Harry?

He honestly wasn't sure what to think. Snape hated Harry. As long as there was no risk in his death, Harry thought that the professor would encourage it, or, would simply not make an effort to stop it. He could imagine Snape standing over Umbridge's shoulder, and his soft voice would be alive with excitement as he exclaimed,

"Now make him write, 'I am an arrogant brat - just like my father.'"

Do you really think that, Harry? A traitorous voice whispered, almost scoffing at him. Harry scowled inwardly at it, but found he could not lie to the voice. He didn't really think that, but it wasn't hard to imagine...

"So I just go up to him and say, 'Look Snape, Umbridge has been making me hack into my arm in detention. Can you do something about it because even though I am the Boy-Who-Lived, I have no real authority or power where it counts?'" Harry asked with a straight face.

There was another silence, and then -

"You might want to say Professor," Ron helpfully added, and Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them.

"Don't be stupid, Harry. I'm serious. Although, if that was worded better it wouldn't be too bad at all," Hermione said rather thoughtfully.

Harry's hand twitched again, and he curled his fingers into a fist.

"I don't get a choice in this, do I?" Harry sighed.

"No, Harry. If you don't say something, then we will." Hermione said in that same quiet, but firm voice of hers.

"And don't say you will, but actually don't." Ron added, holding his gaze. Harry swore under his breath at them, resisting the urge to bang his head into the table.

"Alright. I'll handle it." He finally said, and reached for his book. Hermione placed a hand on his arm, halting his progress.

"Make sure you do, Harry," She then took her hand away, and Harry swallowed, nodded, and picked up his book again.

Harry entertained the idea of telling Professor Snape. However, he could not wrap his mind about it, indeed getting stuck on the very first sentence. He had less qualms about facing Voldemort than he did Snape.

Perhaps because Snape's vendetta against Harry was personal, whereas Voldemort's...to the other man, not so much.

And that line of thought gave him an idea. A stupid one - the kind where Harry had to wonder if he was just as insane as he accused the other of being. Or perhaps due to the connection, that insanity had transferred.

Or maybe he was just so used to the idea of his inevitable death that it no longer bothered him as such. It was just there, and he had grown accustomed to it.

Maybe Harry should be concerned at that notion - certainly that it bothered him much more to go to Snape for help

Hermione was on prefect rounds, and Ron was practicing Quidditch with the twins, and those that remained in the common room were either quietly talking, or studying for their upcoming exams. Harry found a secluded corner and pulled out a piece of blank parchment. He stared down at it, dripping ink as his quill hovered.

How on earth should he address the man? Should he be polite and formal, or would Voldemort appreciate it much more if he was just himself?

Harry had no idea if Voldemort would respond, or what he would do if he agreed to help. Harry knew he would, because he understood Voldemort, and therefore knew that older man wanted to be the one with the 'honor' of hurting, torturing and killing Harry Potter.

What Harry was doing, using this to get Umbridge to stop was, well, at best morbid. However, it would get the job done, and Voldemort could continue being the only hindrance in his life.

Oh god I have actually lost the plot. Oh well, at least this should be interesting... Harry mused to himself, and pressed the quill down firmly.

Dear Voldemort,

Riddle me this - if I had a problem, do you think you could sort it out for me without your twisted need for violence and murder? Do you think you are capable of not resorting to such inhumane methods?

I mean, I know that you are quite inhumane but still...

Sorry, I think I've insulted you perhaps three times now. I really can't help it. I hate your guts (that is, if you have them) and I can't stop myself. Just like I can't seem to stop myself getting into these messes. Literally, they find me.

Anyway please don't harm my bird, and if you could send a response that is straight to the point and subtle with something that I will understand your answer to be, that would be great.

If it's possible that anything from you is great.

That's not true. Great is not defined by evil or good.

Anyway, cheers and thanks a lot.

Sincerely, the Boy-Who-Messes-Find