AUTHOR'S NOTE - PLEASE READ: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. Seen as I hadn't posted for half a year, to get four reviews only an hour after the chapter was published really put a smile on my face. I know I completely and utterly broke my promise about writing once a week, but I've had my end of school exams that determine basically what I do for the rest of my life, so fanfiction has had to take the back burner for a while. On an extremely happy note – my exams are over and I have a three month summer, off school, where I have nothing to do but write to my heart's content. Next chapter should be up over the weekend – you can count on that :) I'm sorry again for my slacking, please forgive me.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts Harry is given a set of letters that his mother, Lily, wrote for him before she died. Please Review, suggestions are welcome.

Harry woke up; slightly dazed. He had slept well, for the first time since his Godfather had died, he had had a good, long uninterrupted nights sleep. No nightmares, no seeing dead faces, no Fred, no Remus, no Tonks, no Voldemort; dying and bloody. It was only after Harry had thought about it, that he realised not a night had gone by without seeing those snakelike pupils staring into his mind in his haunted dreams. That is, until the night before. Harry searched his refreshed mind, he had dreamed. It flashed back to him like a lightening bolt. His letters, and the dream that had followed. His beautiful dream of family and celebrations and his mother, real, alive, in front of him. Telling him stories and memories, not through parchment and ink, but from her own mouth.

He rolled over feeling content, his eyes being met with the sight of a sleeping (and snoring) Ron. Having a short mental battle with himself, he could not decide whether to read another letter of save them. He hadn't looked at all of the envelopes and the birthdays they were addressed to, but in a way, he was desperate to keep an element of surprise to the letters. He liked the fact that he didn't know what each letter entailed. What thrilled him further was the fact that he had noticed a few blank envelopes at the back of the bundle.

As eager as he was to tear each and every envelope open in that very moment, and utterly immerse himself in his mother's words, he had to keep reminding himself that this was it. After this all of his mother's words would have been read, and the letters would become familiar to him. He knew eventually the letters would become words permanently engraved in his mind; he would have read them time after time, he knew than night after lonely night he would turn to them for comfort – only this time, the first time, would the letters contain the completely unknown. Only now were the letters a message from his mother. After he had read them for the first time they would be like so many other items he owned – remnants of other lives, relics of people long gone, memories.

Harry dressed, quietly, so as not to wake Ron. He briefly pondered the idea of waking him, showing him the letters and launching into a whirlpool of happiness, sharing these precious memories with someone he hoped would understand. But Ron wouldn't, Harry admitted to himself. Harry knew that despite being his best friend, Ron was too buried in his grief for Fred too take any interest in Harry's newly acquired source of joy. He also considered Hermione as he pulled on his socks – the heart wrenching image of Dobby still flashing behind his eyes as he pulled the warm woollen garments over his feet; But no, Hermione wouldn't do either. Nobody would understand. Sirius would have. Lupin would have. Dumbledore would have. Even Ginny would provide some interest, but she, like Ron, had far darker matters on her mind.

Tucking the bundle of parchment in his pocket and opening the bedroom door, he left the snoring Ron behind and crept downstairs, glancing at the family clock, and then his watch. It was early, and the sun was still a soft haze behind the hills as he cringed at the loud creaking of the back door. He took a breath of the fresh morning air and made his way over to a bench by the chickens, taking care not to wake the cluster of gnomes snoozing peacefully in one of Mr Weasley's scuffed wellington boots.

He retrieved the next piece of parchment, not tempting himself by getting out the entire bundle, and barely paused to read the For Harry on his 16th Birthday on the envelope, before tearing it open, stuffing the envelope under his leg so it didn't blow away in the slight morning breeze, and reading the neatly written words on the page in front of his eager green eyes.

Darling Harry,

Happy 16th Birthday! I cannot believe it! I know 16 isn't a big age in the wizarding world, and you are probably far more excited for this time next year, when you are of age, but to muggles, 16 is pretty important.

You can do all sorts at 16 in the non magical world, for example, get married with your parent's permission. Of course that is a terrible idea and I think you should wait at least ten years to get married. I know I can hardly talk, I married young, yes, but in the times I live in now, we all must live each day like it is our last. And I will also have you know I did turn down your father on numerous occasions. In fact, on my 16th Birthday your father discovered the marriage law, forged a note of permission from our parents and asked me if I would allow Remus to marry us using his 'prefecting power'. Naturally I refused, but I eventually gave in, but by that time I was sure that your father wasn't the idiot he pretended to be around Sirius.

I know you also won't want to hear this on your birthday, but your NEWT studies start this year. You won't take the exams until your 7th year, but the learning you do this year is absolutely crucial. You must stay focused and choose your subjects wisely. You of course will want to keep up your extra-curricular activities, but school comes first!

My 6th year at Hogwarts was a difficult one; you know who was gaining more and more power and the school, muggle-borns like myself especially, were starting to worry. We heard rumours and horror stories of what was happening beyond the safe walls of the castle, but it is hard to say if we really believed it or not. Those school days were so innocent and happy that I am glad in a way, of my ignorance, as it allowed us all to enjoy the last few years of peace, before the fighting started. I'm sorry – you don't want to hear this do you? Dear me, and also, you probably know all of this. I expect you are taught it in defence against the dark arts! I can just imagine you toiling over an essay on you know who and complaining about it – be grateful you didn't have to fight him! No, really, enjoy this year. Enjoy being a teenager in a world of peace, that's all I could really hope for you. All I want is for you to grow up in a world better than the one I grew up in. I want the biggest thing for you to worry about is whick broomstick to nag your dad to buy you, or what to wear on a date to hogsmeade (although, if you are anything like your father you won't give a flying house elf what you wear, and you'll turn up in those bloody quiddich robes). I don't want you to think about duelling or dark magic, you'll come across that in the future, as unfortunately I'm sure there will always be bad wizards around, but for now, enjoy your youth and freedom.

Try not to be too difficult for your father and Sirius. I know you are nearly 17 and therefore nearly an adult, but you still will be living under their roof, and therefore you must respect your elders. Sirius and your dad were really terrible at 16 – Sirius was never found without a girl on each arm and a snide remark for the teachers, and your father was nearly as bad, pranking anything that moved and completely disregarding anything closely or loosely resembling a school rule.

Have a wonderful birthday. Eat cake, have fun and laugh lots. Make sure to thank merlin for all you have – there are always those less fortunate than you somewhere.

All my love,
Mum

Harry set the letter down and reached for the next. He couldn't help himself; he needed to feel his mother's comfort surround him. Glancing up at the burrow to ensure he was alone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the top letter.

END NOTE: I am begging you, please review. You have no idea how much it spurs me on to update and write chapter after chapter. Please send any suggestions for the development of this story – I am also planning a spin off story to accompany this series of letters, so please give any comments on what your would like to read concerning that. Thank you so much. Now hit the button below and tell me what you are thinking. Love you all.