Disclaimer: This is ongoing, so I will only say it here in Chapter one. I do not in anyway own the story Harry Potter or its characters. I am simply borrowing J.K.R.'s characters for a bit of twisted fun you and I both can enjoy.

A/N: I don't know when I'll be updating. Harry/Voldemort Slash pairing. Rated M. Set in Harry's fifth year.

Chapter 1

'Today is Valentine's Day'

Harry sat in the Great Hall with the other members of his house. Together with Ron and Hermione, they sat eating their breakfast and talking. Ron, as usual, was the first to do both, and - as usual - ended up sending pieces of eggs across the table.

And Hermione, as usual, scolded him for his manners before going back to her ridiculously large book and replying absently and appropriately to his comments.

Harry, though, sat quietly, his back hunched and face drawn in a small scowl. Today wasn't just any other day for Harry James Potter. Oh no. He hated this day more than any other day. It was Valentine's Day.

Sighing, he grabbed two pancakes and some bacon. 'Better to just accept it and get over it.' Harry was resigned to the day's festivities and sat sullenly at the table, people ignoring his now common behavior. He had long grown tired of receiving letters and gifts from strangers and reading the false declarations of love, the numerous fantasies, and the 'dying wishes' from admirers. 'Yeah right. Old enough to be dying, but not old enough be unable to get it up.' Harry scoffed in his head. 'Fucking perverts.'

This particular morning was usually the loudest and most annoying of the entire year - at least for Harry. The Great Hall was alive with the buzzing of whispers, comments, and Merlin knows what else. It didn't matter that they had all just woke up or that their twenty inch essay in Transfiguration was due before lunch and they hadn't started it. No one seemed to care that their first class after breakfast was double potions with Slytherin. Nothing phased the entire population of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this morning.

Nothing, that was, except the quiet hoot of the first delivery owl.

Heads shot up at the noise before chaos erupted. Owls swooped in through the entry above the students and began searching for their owners, dropping letters and packages in every direction. The hall, previously filled with words of excitement and happiness, was now overtaken by cries, screams, and the sound of numerous wings flapping and joyous hoots as food was openly abandoned to the pets in favor of their deliveries.

Just like every year before, Harry looked exasperatedly into the air above him. Several owls were headed straight towards him. They were post owls, each with a large number of different letters attached to their legs. 'Thank Merlin for featherlight charms,' Harry thought absentmindedly.

He scowled as the owls landed around him hooting irritably at him, demanding he take their delivery. They would know about his reluctance, wouldn't they? Stupidly intelligent oversized pigeons. He sighed after the lost glaring match between himself and Hedwig, who seemed just as much amused as she did annoyed and exasperated.

In defeat, he reached forward and untied the letters and gifts from each of the birds, gifting each with a piece of bacon or bread before sending them off. Hedwig hooted happily as she nipped affectionately at his fingertips before taking flight with the others.

He frowned after her, realizing suddenly that this was the first time she had delivered anything to him on this day since it was always the Hogsmeade post owls. He looked down into his hand that grasped the single letter she had brought. Inspecting it, he found that it had a slightly more expensive feel than the others. Turning it over, he spotted only his name written in an elegant hand that could be either boy or girl. He only noticed this in second year when he once saw Malfoy's notes in potions. 'Bloody git writes like a girl.'

Turning his attention back to the pile, he glared at the ridiculously large number. He was tempted to burn them all. But alas, Hermione had this thing about presents on Valentine's Day. 'They just want to to know they like you, Harry. Don't be rude.' And of course Ron would take her side and say, his mouth overflowing with food or chocolate, 'Yeah mate. Open them up. Who knows, you might even hit the jackpot and land yourself a girlfriend. Maybe a witch from Wizarding Pleasures Monthly's got a crush on you.'

Then Hermione would glare at him and tell him how it didn't matter who is was from, since they all equally spent time writing a letter of love for him.

Love.

Yeah right.

He knew that most of these people only wanted him for his name, money, or to make little girl and boy wonders with them. The only time spent on these pieces of troll turd was with a quick quill that did most of the writing for them and a quick gift of candy. He didn't even like sweets.

And the smell. Harry shuddered as the different scents added to the letters mixed into a putrid stench and reached his nose. Deftly covering his nose, Harry sighed, aggravated. Harry set his jaw and picked up the bulk of them and shoved them carelessly into his bag before placing the rest just as carelessly into the pockets of his robes. "I'll meet you guys in class. I want to dump these first."

Hermione gave him a disapproving glance. "Alright Harry. Don't be late."

"Yeah, we know that Snape will already be in a foul mood since he probably won't get anything today. No point in pushing it, mate."

Harry snorted and nodded before turning on the spot and heading towards Gryffindor tower. He had twenty minutes before class so Peeves didn't waste much time in cornering Harry on his way. Only when he realized that Harry was only going to stare silently at his taunts did he leave to find more entertaining bait, with the not so subtle comment of, "Boring Potter," under his breath.

When he finally reached his destination, Harry threw himself onto his bed and groaned in annoyance. 'Can't people just leave me the bloody hell alone?!'

Harry shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to draw spots. He didn't need false confessions of love from strangers, nor their pathetic attempts at courting him. He was fine as he was.

Sighing again, Harry sat up and reached for his bag. Dumping the entire contents onto his bed carelessly, he felt a small amount of satisfaction as he watched most of them become crumpled and bend as his books landed on them. Repacking his bag with the necessities, he stood up and proceeded to empty his pockets just as carelessly. He grabbed fistfuls of paper and just tossed them, not caring where they landed.

Feeling his pockets emptied, Harry made to turn around before something caught his eye. Turning back around reluctantly, he spotted the letter from before under a few layers of gifts and other letters. Unlike the others, this one was barely crinkled, nearly pristine in comparison. He frowned at it, wondering how it managed to escape his wrath. Curious despite himself, he grabbed the letter and plopped himself back on his bed, not caring for the other letters and enjoying the raspy sound of discomfort they made in protest.

Harry rose a single eyebrow in response to the overly simply letter. Aside from the higher price of parchment, it was boring. Only his name decorated the white paper- his first name at that. Though the fact that it came from his personal owl did evoke an interest.

Letting out a high whistle, he fiddle with the envelope for a moment before Hedwig soared into the dorm room and landed on his bed beside him. Briefly brushing his hand over her soft feathers, Harry smiled. "Hey girl."

She hooted in response, staring at him adoringly.

He showed her the letter once she lept onto he shoulder. "Who'd you get this from girl?" He didn't expect an answer, so when none came he merely reclined against his pillows. Grimacing, Harry brought the envelope to his nose before noticing that it didn't give off a scent like the others. Surprised, her turned to Hedwig who only stared at him. Shrugged his shoulders slightly, he took care to not jostle his familiar. "Hopefully it's not as bad as all the rest we get." She nipped his ear in agreement before flying to a perch, taking comfort in the warmth of the room.

Staring at the letter, Harry hesitated before steeling himself and turning the envelope over and tearing open the slip. He released his breath in a gust of relief when he saw that nothing jumped out at him like a singing cupid. Now that had been a hard letter to handle. He winced at the memory. Ginny couldn't have gone about her crush in a worse way in his opinion.

Turning his attention back to the letter, he pulled the note out of it, noticing that it was another expensive piece of parchment. 'At least it's only a page,' the boy thought as he he opened the tri folded paper.

With surprise, he watched as a dark green rose fell from the the previously empty pace, thorns and all. All too suddenly, his room became overcome with the smell of roses, though it must have been spelled to not be too strong. The best part about it was that it immediately consumed the smell of his other gifts, taking away his headache and the rotten smell of cheap chocolate and disgusting perfume.

Inhaling in relief, Harry happily accepted the change in smell and relaxed against the bed, not even realizing that he had tensed up upon opening the letter.

He picked up the rose delicately, careful not to touch any of the thorns. Harry had never seen a green rose before. Aunt Petunia never liked roses, and every time she had brought him around the neighborhood in the car to spy on the gardens of others, he had never seen any this color. 'It must be spelled that way.' He caressed the petals and was pleased to find that they were as soft as normal. Pulling his hand away, his eyes were drawn to the fading tints of darker blue where his fingers had just recently retreated to.

Eyes wide with interest, Harry's hand guided back towards the rose, touching the surface again. The tips of his fingers left a trail of blue before they faded into green once more. Harry smiled in awe. "Brilliant."

Placing the gift onto his stomach, Harry returned to the innocent letter, now openly curious as to who had sent him it.

My Dearest Harry,

With this letter I will express to you a truth that cannot be uttered. A horrifying truth though it is- one I will not attempt to reveal in any form after this letter- is simply that, a truth. Just as I am sure this will not be the only letter you will receive on this jointly celebrated and abhorred day, I am also certain that you will most likely discard this letter before your eyes can take in the words formed here. Such facts of truth- though harsh and far crueler to one's heart than any I could possibly achieve, sets my soul as ease. I am free to express the truth to you without fear of revolution, disbelief, humor, or any other heart wrenching emotion.

To me, you are beautiful- the manifestation of perfection in human form. From your untamed hair to your awkward and constantly skewed glasses which incessantly fall to the very tip of your nose, you are beautiful. I see as you do not the smoothness of your skin, the slender and pleasing motions of your gangly limbs, the grace in your awkward moves, the beauty in your feared Slytherin gift, the fierceness of your skills in battle, the complete and total power you possess, the whole of yourself which you give to each person who has a place in your heart. To me, no one can be more beautiful. No one can ever possess the qualities you do Harry. No one.

Your midnight hair, messy to the eyes, could only be soft to the touch as my mind will not allow any other belief. I cannot tell you the number of times I've dreamed of running my hands through your dark strands. Whether the reason be for your comfort, my fantasy, or our desire, I do not care. I cannot bring myself to. In any world- yours, mine, reality- any action between us would only be because we felt a desire for it to be done. There mustn't be another reason. Tell me Harry, why must everything have a reason behind it? For this question, even with a vast and seemingly endless supply of knowledge at my feet, I cannot find an answer.

But that is not all. Your green eyes- such the color of the deadliest curse known to the wizarding world- are as bright and fierce as the blazing sun. Your every emotion is shown clearly, as illuminating to my heart as the lonesome north star is to the dark night. Your love, you hatred, your determination, your loyalty, your courage- no one, my darling, could ever feel as strongly as you.

No one in this world of beings could ever feel for you as I do- as you do to those who you trust in. They are unaware of how much love you give them, of how much you care for them. They are... undeserving. Do not feel deterred or upset my love, for I feel no one is deserving of your pure heart; the only one, I am certain, ever in existence. Not even I, a truth that pains me to my core, but a truth nevertheless.

You are far too good, far too perfect, far too pure to see the evilness around you. As I am a cause of many pains in your life, so are the few you hold dear. But you do not see that as you are left involuntarily blinded to the harm those you trust could do. I do not blame you my serpent, for such facts. Comfort in harsh times- no matter how false- can be the most powerful thing on this planet. And even the strongest of us need comfort in our lives. I know you are mine.

I would rather you feel safe and comforted by lies then to feel lost without it. Truth... is a harsh thing. Such is the reason that even though I will spill my heart out to you, I will not reveal myself. A name, a person, a face can hold more power, more sway than the truth of words, my love. I know that well. For this, I give you the gift of my heart, utterly and completely, without the limitations of life and society, without the obstacles of beliefs and morals, without opposing factors of sides and choices.

You have my heart, dear one. You cannot give it back. Nor do I ever wish you to. I am yours as I only ever dream you are mine.

Life is cruel, is it not my Raven? My Serpent? My love? Humans only feel their most comfort in the darkest and most feared parts of their minds and hearts. In this abyss of darkness, where my life lies and my path is headed, I tell you now; I do and will continue to love you like no other.

This once, my darling, my perfection, my everything and with utter devotion, love, and sincerity,

The Person Whose Heart You Have Completely Stolen

When Harry reached the end of the letter, he realized it was shaking. 'How odd.' Upon closer inspection, he found that it was actually his hand that was moving. 'Oh. Well that makes more sense,' he thought numbly. Taking a calming breath - and when that didn't work, a few dozen more - he reread the letter once more.

Finally putting the letter down, Harry stared off into space dully, not realizing that simply by reading the letter, he had changed everything.