She drifted from dark corner to dark corner, never intruding on their lives. No one spoke to her, no one took note of her presence.

She watched from the shadows, day by day, and as she watched, she sketched.

Strong, dark, angry lines formed a perfect figure of a man. At first glance, alarmingly simple and one-dimensional, but a second look revealed hidden depths.

A clash between the polar forces of light and dark, but which was which?

A flash of red, skulking in the shadows, mingling with a sea of brown, shifting apart, coming together, always in motion, never resting. Separating, coming together, little disagreements always bringing them further up and further in, onwards towards a single, final disharmonious form of harmony. Illogical yet perfect.

A sea of green, calm and clear on the surface and yet turbulent and stormy underneath. Loneliness, anger, discontent warring with pride and joy. Searching, seeking desperately for understanding and simple love, yet destined always to fail. Doomed.

A sea of lemmings, pushing and pulling at each other in an idiotic urge to be the first to leap off the edge of the cliff. Always going with the flow with nary a thought in their little heads.

A teardrop, twisting and turning as it followed the path of gravity from the deep and bottomless well of sorrow to the pitiless earth.

She saw everything, and recorded it all, yet nothing and no one took note of her presence until after she had already gone.

They came and found her, spread between her drawings, her closest friends. They saw and they wondered, but it was too late. The clear-sighted eyes had dulled forever, closed upon the merciless world which birthed a genius yet failed to recognize her worth. Whether to endless pain or infinite joy, her span on earth was done.

Disclaimer: HP never was and never will be mine.

AN: I welcome you to speculate as to who she is and who the subjects of her drawings are.