Disclaimer is on my profile as it is with my other stories.

Warnings include scenes of a sexual nature - rape, torture, violence and Slash.

Boredom…

No, it wasn't boredom. It was TORTURE! How could he seriously think that leaving a fourteen year old boy stuck in a room for three months with abused relatives would be all "sunshine and daisies?"

The room alone was torture. The bare walls in a plain white, the floorboards that creaked when one chose to get up off the broken mattress and plane pine bed bought from the charity shop in fear of those "freaks" his aunt and uncle believed would get them if they carried on, especially with his new godfather about. He wasn't even let him write to anyone… Well he didn't say any one he specified FRIENDS. Well hello Mr. Stupid but who the hell would write to an enemy...

Epiphany! Enemies… Not a bad idea!

Grabbing a sheet of parchment, Harry sat down at the old pine writing desk that Dudley had discarded years ago in favour of his games table and began to write a list of enemies who he could send letters to. His obvious choices would be to annoy Malfoy or Snape but then he didn't know what he could come up with to annoy them to hell without getting hexed the next time he saw them. All of a sudden the answer jumped out to him. Voldie! "Yes," a smirk arose on his face "Old Mouldy Shorts could do with a bit of humour in his life, couldn't he?"

Thirty minutes later with a role of used parchment in his hand, Harry smirked evilly walking up to his owl that would soon deliver his letter. "Hedwig," Harry called to gain her attention "Would you be so kind to deliver this letter to my arch nemesis?" A hoot in reply, and an offered leg showed her compliance and Harry hastily tied the roll of parchment to her leg in antithesis of the rivals reaction to the letter. Letting Hedwig out through the letter, a cackling laugh shot though Harry an anticipation and humour. Suddenly a grumble ripped though his stomach and Harry began to make his way out of the door and in to the kitchen with an evil smile on his face scaring his relatives as he tried to fix himself a sandwich.

Meanwhile in the Lord Voldermort's hide out, a distinctive snowy white owl made its way though the window of his personal quarters and over to the Dark Lord waiting patiently for the parchment to be removed by said Lord before flying off to safety sure of the oncoming reaction to the proposed letter.

It was surprising to say that the Dark Lord never usually received owl mail as many believed he removed the tracking spells that an owl would find him by. So when the snowy owl appeared from the window, the Dark Lord did not expect the letter to be his, especially when said letter was one from his arch nemesis from fourteen years ago. Curiosity however got the better of the dark lord and so with dignity, he unravelled the parchment in order to see who would have the courage to send him mail.

Dear Darkie Voldie Shorts

How's life treating you? I can assume you're as bored as I confined to one house for a while, staring at the same four walls just wishing you could go… say Diagon Alley for the day and do some shopping without an escort or auror watching you as you go by. Sitting there doing menial tasks while bossing your pathetic minions around as they follow you blindly like sheep.

Of course I don't get that do I?

Why is this anyway that you get the stupid minions to do all your work and I have to act like a house elf and do my relatives. This is so not fair. I feel I must complain to the welfare society of the Dark and Light Lords Division… I wonder if that exists…

Anyway back to my problem…

Mr Stupid Bumblebee refused to allow me to mail my friends encase you intercept my letters, which I know is stupid to believe considering as my owl is WAY to smart to let you do that. So I am left with no alternative but to mail my enemies. I first thought of Snape or Malfoy but then I figured that writing to them would get me hexed so I thought writing to you would be so much better because you're already going to kill me so why not end my suffering and annoy you until you decide to come and off me?

So how about it old chum, me and you hook up and write some letters and I can tell you about my boring summer stuck in the confines of my abusive relatives home and you can tell me about how resurrection is treating you?

Speak soon sweetie pie

Love your one and only boy wonder

Harry-the-boy-who-wouldn't-die-Potter

Anger rose within him as he re-read the letter thoroughly to make sure it was not some joke from one of his followers before letting out a low growl and storming over to the new oak desk of his office, summoning a length of parchment before penning a reply to the stupid lucky boy who had slipped though his clutches yet again only a month past. His evil smirk appeared on his face while he thought of how to reply to the imbecile about a letter which he could not fathom why the stupid boy had sent in the first place.

A raven flew though Harry's open window while he was drifting off to unconsciousness. Its cry however deemed him alert and he scrambled out of bed to reach the bird before it had the chance to waken his sleeping and snoring uncle. The bird seemed to notice the need of silence that Harry wanted and did not cry out again, waiting for the boy to cross the room to redeem the letter that its own had gifted to him.

Harry had never seen the raven before and so became wary before a smirk graced his face and a realisation crossed his mind at the thought of the Dark Lord replying to his letter. Harry suddenly became eager for the contact to the wizarding world regardless of who the actual magical person was and opened the letter while the delivering raven made its way out in to the night sky. Harry's smirk however spread in to a grin at the wording of the letter…

Dear Mr the Death of Me… Harry mused, this Dark Lord certainly had a sense of humour after all, and I wonder why he went bad after all. Harry carried on reading the letter.

Dear Mr the Death of Me

I guess you are wondering why I am actually replying to your pathetic letter, but I must say that I admire your forwardness in your reasons for writing to me and I have to say I know exactly what it feels like to be in your position, trapped in four walls wanting to get back in to the wizarding world. However your situation, unlike mine will be redeemed in a few weeks that I am sure when I decide to come over there and kill you for calling me "Mouldy Shorts" and of course "Voldie". I shall not be referred to as either of those nicknames, although I do allow Mr Badass Dark Lord.

First let me forewarn you, I do also have a sense of humour and will therefore allow the stupid nicknames that you try to impose on me go as I have decided to get to know my arch nemesis more before I destroy you so that I can know how to do it more efficiently. I will not be how you referred to it "getting chummy" with you, but I would like to get to know your strengths and weaknesses so I can kill you more easily without you getting lucky again and running off.

However I do have some speculation about your letter. You refer to yourself as a house elf for the Dursleys which I can only assume are your relatives and so I do not understand how a pampered prince such as yourself can refer to himself in that manor unless you a have something you would like to tell me about your relatives.

Also be aware that I will not harm your owl in the process no matter how much you try to annoy me and so she can stay to receive my correspondence so that Dumbledore will not get suspicious of the numerous birds breaching your window.

Yours gracefully

The Big Dark Lord that Will Destroy You

Also known as Lord Voldermort

Harry stared at the letter rubbing his eyes numerous times and trying to check its authenticity before giving up after a loud yawn and making his way back to his bed leaving the letter without a response until he had a nights rest to try to comprehend what the Dark Lord was really up to and what to respond with.

Harry woke to the pounding of his uncle's fist against his door, rising him from his slumber in order to do the endless list of chores that the man deemed necessary for Harry to gain barely enough food to survive on.

"I'm up!" Harry shouted at the door, his head beginning to pound like the door from the banging.

"Good!" His uncle replied "We are going out today and I want you to repaint the shed and your aunt wants you to weed the garden before we are back." There was silence for a minute from the other end of the door while his uncle waited for a response. Receiving nothing the man added "We will be back at six and don't do any of that freaky business while you're out, especially in front of the neighbours."

"Fine," Harry replied after taking a deep breath to stop himself from hitting the man with a hex, "But I want food when I've done."

His uncle grumbled outside of the door before his heavy foot steps indicated to Harry that he would comply and would not come inside the room. Harry let out the long held breath he did not even know he had been holding. He was in desperate need of food. He usually got care packages from Mrs Weasley and his friends Ron and Hermione but because Dumbledore had said not to mail him, he had not eaten anything in four days and he knew if he continued he wouldn't have any strength left. His uncle walking away from his response gave him hope of some food tonight although he knew it would not be able to be classed as a meal.

Harry turned towards the letter that he had received the previous night and began to muse in response. He had never told anyone about the Dursley's abuse of him. He had made sure to hide the bruises with glamour, accidental when he was young, but now completely instinctive when around someone. Harry knew that Mad Eye Moody should have been able to see the glamour that he had applied throughout the last school year, but he did not comment on it. Then again the Mad Eye Moody who had been teaching him was a disguised death eater so he did not expect him to really care.

No one cared.

So why was this stupid idiot of a Dark Lord deciding to take an interest? Harry was sure he could have got information about his strengths and weaknesses from just about anyone. Harry wasn't ready to talk about the Dursleys yet. Especially not since last summer. Not after what his uncle had done to him. Harry shuddered uneasily. Don't think about it the voice inside his head told him, every time he got close, he would shut out the images of last summer forever.

… His uncle coming towards him with that malicious grin on his face. The smell of stale beer from his night on the town with co-workers. The cruel laugh as he grabbed Harry's arm dragging him closer to him before…. "STOP! Don't think about it!" Harry shouted at himself. Dragging him out of his thoughts of the summer past, "You can't think about it, so just stop thinking about it and come up with some annoying response to send to," Harry re-read the line from Voldermort's letter with a grin on his face, "Mr Badass Dark Lord."

Harry had to admit that Voldermort was not what he had expected. He thought he would have received several death threats from the man upon receiving his letter. However Voldermort had clearly taken it aside and wrote his response… well as one of Harry's friends if Harry was to admit it. It looked from appearances of most of the letter that Voldermort could have been sending a response to one of his friends rather than his enemy especially with the preferred nick name that he had put in to the letter.

While musing what to put in his response, Harry strode over to the wardrobe changing in to Dudley's old hand me downs and rubbing his eyes of the sleep that had taken residence in there before grasping the handle of the door and opening it to an empty house ready to do his chores for the day.

Sitting by the shed painting the bottom panels, Harry thought of his response with ideas of what to send to the Badass Dark Lord what would be comical. Suddenly Harry sprung up with an idea in his head. Racing back to the house to grab his quill and parchment responding to Voldermort's letter, Harry also grabbed a red leather bound album from his bedside cabinet with a grin on his face. Running in to his cousin's room, Harry threw the book in to the scanner copying one of the pages and printing it off while writing his letter to Voldermort. Once finished, Harry attached the sheet of printing paper and ran back in to his own room to send off the letter.