Yo! Someone left a review, their second one on the topic apparently (it's totally my fault for not noticing before) with a question about the whole writing on their bodies thing. The question is, does that writing/drawing eventually disappear? The answer is yes, yes it does. I never really thought about it, actually, but I figure it'd go away on its own after a few hours, or by washing it, since it's just ink. The markings, whatever they may be, definitely don't stay there forever. If they did, everyone's bodies would be covered in random sentences and doodles! So yeah, that's my fault for not explaining. Oops? Sorry about that! Hope it clears things up a bit!

Also, if you enjoy the soulmate trope, and fem!Harry, and are also a Snarry fan, I'm working on a fic of that nature. I don't plan for it to be very long, and I'm writing it as practice for a different fic of that pairing, but if you're interested, keep an eye out for it. I haven't posted it yet, and don't have a title yet either, but it'll be up eventually. Just thought I'd mention it for anyone who might be curious.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

The school year had finally come to an end. Violet wasn't looking forward to the upcoming break at all. Summer meant going back to the Dursleys, and she hated being there, and being around them.

She could just tell someone, she knew. She could tell Dumbledore or McGonagall about the Dursleys, and maybe then she wouldn't have to go back, but...but she couldn't. She had told adults before-three times, actually, and it had never once gone well for her. Each time, through no fault of her own, the Dursleys had come off looking squeaky clean, and she would come across as an attention seeking liar, which was terribly ironic, really.

That was one of the unfortunate things that came with living with the Dursleys. They impressed people. They always had, and probably always would. That was what they strived for. Everyone knew them, everyone liked them, everyone thought highly of them.

Vernon Dursley with his top position in Grunnings, working so hard to provide for his family, going to dinners with his wife, spending time with his son. What a good man! Petunia Dursley raising her son the best she could, cooking and cleaning and being such a fantastic mother, yet still finding time to meet with her friends, and attend all the women's clubs, and ooh she had the best summer pasta salad recipe! Dudley Dursley certainly had a few problems, but he was just a boy and was obviously going to grow out of it, but he was a lovely son even then, and was always out and about with his many friends! And then there was Potter. Small, and filthy, and couldn't even bother dressing herself in clothes that fit her, not to mention she had been barely scraping by in primary school of all places. Always alone, always quiet, always getting into trouble, the little brat. So bad she had to be sent off to St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Girls! No, no they didn't want someone like her, who was so much trouble for her loving family, mixing with their children!

No one ever believed Violet over the Dursleys, and that was exactly what her relatives wanted. They didn't want anyone to believe anything she said. They didn't want anyone to think positively of her, or to even pity her. Because if people looked hard enough, listened hard enough, then they would realize that they were being deceived, and have been for years. And the Dursleys never wanted that to happen.

And frankly, at this point, Violet was tired. Tired of trying. Tired of caring. What was the point? It wasn't ever going to work out for her anyway. And trying to think or believe otherwise would only make her delusional.

So she didn't say anything, and once the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross, simply said goodbye to her friends and approached her grumpy looking uncle who had, surprisingly, actually come to get her. She hadn't expected that. What she had expected, however, was to be forcibly shoved inside the house the moment they had neared it some time later.

"Where are your school things?" Uncle Vernon demanded to know.

"At school," Violet replied quickly.

His eyes narrowed. "At school," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, sir."

"And that ruddy bird of yours?"

"She's with a friend." Having expected this, she had asked if Hermione could take care of Hedwig over the summer, briefly explaining she wasn't going to be able to keep the owl with her, out of safety. While Hermione had been curious, she had been happy to help.

"A friend..." He stared at her for a moment longer, then all but dragged her up the stairs and towards Dudley's second bedroom. "You'll be helping your aunt with dinner. Until then, stay in there!" He shoved her in, and had the door locked before she could even straighten back up.

Violet waited for his footsteps to make their way back down the stairs, then released a sigh of relief. Well, that had gone better than expected. She had lied about her school stuff, of course. She had her self-shrinking trunk hidden down her sock, but she obviously wasn't about to tell any of the Dursleys that.

If they found out she had her things, they would take them away from her and probably lock them away. She supposed it wouldn't have really mattered much if it wasn't for all the summer homework she had. If she didn't get that done, she was going to have a lot of detentions to serve, according to the professors, and she really wanted to avoid that.

But things could have been worse, she thought as she 'helped' her aunt make dinner that evening. At least she wasn't back in the cupboard again...

Marvolo was not in a pleasant mood. There was something he needed to remember, something he was so close to remembering, something that was going to answer so many of his questions, something that was continuing to elude him. He knew it was somehow tied to Divination. It had to be, because that was what he was thinking of when all of...that had happened. But even if he thought of it now, there was no-no reaction, no feeling. He didn't understand it.

Severus was still attempting to figure out how a very dangerous weed had ended up in an entirely different storeroom, Dumbledore was nagging again, Nagini was fussing, and some of the more...rowdy Death Eaters were beginning to grow rather restless, not to mention the ones in the Ministry were beginning to have a tough time thanks to Fudge and his incompetence.

Truly, the only solace Marvolo found he had right now was in Violet. They didn't write every day, not even their usual morning and night messages. He was busy, often had to go days without sleep. Why did he become the Dark Lord again? No, more like why had he tried doing things the right way after that and stopped torturing people? But Violet didn't write every day either. He wasn't sure how busy she would be, considering she, at least, had a vacation, but he didn't even notice half the time.

But when she did write, when he saw the letters on his skin, something about it didn't sit right with him. Her words were bizarrely casual, the letters forcibly neat. It was Violet writing, of course, otherwise nothing would have appeared on his skin. But despite that-

The door to his study burst open abruptly. "My Lord!"

Marvolo sighed inwardly. When the 'My Lord's came back out, something had gone wrong. "What is it this time, Woods?"

"It's Suzuki, he-!"

Salazar, this was going to take a while...

I have now had a migraine at some point in the day for the past twenty one days in a row. Four more days and I'll break my old record of twenty four days, set a couple of summers ago. It sucks about as much as you're thinking. Probably more. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!