Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc.

Authors Note: This is weird. I wrote it atthree in the morning, which explains a lot. The pairing/people in this are open for interpretation, but I did actually have one in mind… care to guess? Review, I'd love to hear what you think!

Story
All stories are true.

For me, time has ceased to exist. Can you imagine a universe in which time and space no longer play a part? What about light and dark? I can. It is what my life has become since our clandestine romance ended. Ever since you left, ever since you bid me goodbye on that stormy night in October, my life ended in some ways.

My heart was torn away by your soft smile and gentle spirit. You told me you didn't want to hurt me, that you loved me in ways that went beyond mere mortal ways. You held my hand in the rain, laughing as you took my breath away with a kiss.

Now, you're gone, for forever, I fear. There was a time when you promised me that we would last forever, our love would survive everything sent our way. You never expected for him to come along, did you? He was everything I wasn't; he was the light that shone stronger than then sunlight that you adored.

I was the kiss of darkness that embraced you on cold nights like a lover's whispered words and caresses. You would ruffle my hair and I would give you a taste of the danger that you so dearly craved. You wanted shadows, peril and complete abandon. I gave you it all, abandoning such trivial things such as morals and true friendships.

I ruined my life so that you could ruin yours.

Now I watch you with a sick feeling settling in my stomach. Alone - looking beautiful and innocent - with a book in your hands, in your room. I feel almost disgusted of the places that I have gone to sit here, away from your eyes, away from your touch, watching.

Is my voice reaching you? Do my thoughts have a coherence in your world? Or am I only a gust of wind rattling on your windowpane? Have you realised that you are not as alone as you once thought you were? Have you finally noticed that I did not forgive your betrayal as you once thought?

Can you see me?
Can you hear me?

I am the thing that flits at the periphery of your consciousness, the slight movement at the corner of your eye which, when you turn to face it, is gone. Sometimes I am standing right next to you, as close as the breath you exhale, but you cannot see me.

I suffer the guilt. I am human, after all. It feels so long ago since I held you in my arms, since I whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Those times are over, though, and that is why I cannot let you go. I love you. Do you know that? Did you ever know that?

Or am I only a shadow, an imprint, of what once was an imperative piece of your life? Am I nothing to you? Can you remember my name? Can you remember my face? I fear you do not, and this might hold the reason behind the mask of madness that I wear. I am broken. I will break you.

And I will show you the chasm of blackness that rests beneath you everywhere. Think of the worst thing you have ever done in your life. Was I there? I think I was. Was it the time you broke into a shop, with me goading you further? Was it the time you drank vodka and gin until you were ill on the bedroom floor?

Tell me. I need to know.

You aren't the angelic soul everyone believes you to be. You reek of intimate encounters with darkness, with the empty night. Do you still crave a touch of danger, an experience of pain and misery? Do you still want me? I do. I want you, that is.

What about you? Can you still hear me? You know I'm here, don't you?

Alas, you must believe in me, because my thoughts are creeping into your head. My presence is creeping into your mind, my scent tickling your nostrils. You glanced up from your book for a moment – you've realised that you will never be as alone as you think you are. Nervous, aren't you?

I thrive off your fear.

Sick, isn't it?

I am that sudden draft that you might feel on the back of your neck. I am the sense of not being alone that you might suddenly suffer. You know, you must. Can you feel the brief whisper of my lips on your silken cheek?

Your eyes. They're frightened, I can see it clearly. Hands are shaking, aren't they? But you push it away; you always did. Do you know that all stories are true? Somewhere, someplace, they once took place. Don't be alarmed. It's only me.

Think hard.

You think you are all alone in your room with a book.

You are not.

Feel those eyes watching you? They're mine.
Feel that draft. That's me.

Because all stories are true, I am present in your mind. In the forefront of your mind, one voice – that of reason – tells you that you are only reading a book in your room, so very alone. But then there is another voice within you, something deeper and darker inside your mind. It is the voice that tells you there is a man with a machete in your closet or some unfathomably evil creature lurking under your bed.

Care to go check either? Care to think exactly how unspeakable your terror would be if you dropped your hand by the bed some night and felt something grab it? Or opened up your closet and something big and hairy rushed forward at you?

All stories are true, don't forget.

You used to love me, once. It was obvious - as obvious as anything is these days. You used to whisper my name while I nuzzled the hollow in your throat. You used to tangle your hands in my hair and tumble down to the bottom, laughing. These memories are like errant shooting stars. A brief flare, glowing brightly, then gone into oblivion.

Am I in your head? I want to be in your head. When you walk away, I will still be in your head. Think of me in the darkness. The invisible hand that you are about to feel settle on your shoulder will be mine.

I am not cruel. I only seek justice.

Even though it is over between us, I will always be there with you. I will be the shadow in the periphery of your vision, the voice in the back of your head, the promise that was never held true. Because all stories are true, they also all hold an end. Don't forget that.

You looked at the corner where I sit for a moment. You sensed my company. Don't cry, I know you might. I am not here to hurt you, I never will. I only come here to remember.

To watch…

To lament…

Do you know where I am?
I am in your mind.
But I am also right behind you. . .

FIN.