Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Twisted Tragedy
Dark Lady Desmonda

Write about me, he murmurs. Tell me a story about myself where I am important, where I am the protagonist, where I am the star, where I have some worth. Make me a star. Make me real. Help me breathe. Help me breathe. Make me over. Rewrite my story from beginning to end. Make me be the hero, the star, the winner. Remake me. Make me me. Make me free.

And so I do. His eyes light up as I weave a wonderful web about a lost boy with no family that would ever care to claim him. I spin a sad story about a lonely girl with neither family nor friends that would ever understand her. I tell him how the boy with the shattered heart meets the girl with the broken mind. They fall together into an idealistic love -each knowing the other rather well - and live happily ever after.

He laughs a dead laugh. He knows who the characters are: he is the boy and I, the girl. That story is the twisted tragedy of our wrong-sided love. I laugh with him and grin inwardly as my laugh turns low, dull, and mocking.

Good. He smiles, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. A fake smile, as worthless as he feels. I smile back hesitantly, not quite hiding my pity. His smile hides his self-disgust for wanting...needing me to reaffirm his existence. You are worth it, I say, or want to say, I can't remember which. I feel pity for him and self-hatred for wanting...attempting to lie to him when he knows the truth. I like happy endings, and it seems like this'll be the happiest it'll ever be.

We both blame it on him: him in an obvious manner, and me in an attempt to be subtle. I never really managed to be subtle. I could be quiet (thanks to years of bullying at Muggle schools) but never be truly able to hide my feelings. I try to take it in stride and not think about it, but he manages to keep it lingering. I believe he had internalized the many worthless freaks and abominations that had been called his way and now that his power, his prestige is gone, he reverts back to a state of his childhood when he was the one getting shunned for being different, or for things that aren't his fault. I feel sorry for him yet I can't help him.

We need each other. We belong to each other. And yet we can't help each other.

I love him, yet I can't help but to think if we had never met. We wouldn't be forced to become the very thing he despised. I feel sorry for him, from the devastatingly great Dark Lord to a mere Muggle. He must hate himself. He must hate me. He probably thinks about our very relationship as a union of two things which should never be. He probably had a moment of weakness where he thought that love was good. He was right, love is stupid and weak, and it always ruins everything. I ruined everything. With my stupidity and emotional weakness, I ruined it all.

He could've died with honor, as powerful and well-known in death as in life. Instead, he'll die as weak and as helpless as he was born, with only one thing to blame:love. Interesting how love was so lacking throughout his life. He was made by the union of a loveless marriage. He never encounters love again and is smart enough to realize that love is for the weak. At Hog...school, he knows the story of the greatest dark wiz...the story of how one of the best falls from his pedestal due to love. Love is the reason for all of this. It also brought him down from the pedestal that he earned himself, and forces him into a role he doesn't wish to be played. Love always ruins everything.

Love isn't real. I should've known that a psychopath like him could never have actually loved me. Foolish me, I thought love could break all bonds and barriers, leaving the two lovers in a state of eternal happiness. It's all my fault. I had converted Tom (purebloods are weak because of being inbred, yet you and Potter are the most powerful wizards despite being...or maybe because of being halfbloods), but I could never make him change, make him feel as real and human as he'd ever want. The intelligent and fallen Hermione, so foolish she thought love brought happiness. She supposed Tom, if he had ever loved her before, certainly didn't now. Her love had brought their downfall.

What exactly is love? Tom had asked. And typical Hermione had stupidly ranted on the beauty of love and how it made you at peace.

Love is one of the most amazing and powerful forces. Ha-Potter survived because of the love of his parents. To love another person is to see the face of God. Love is such a treasured feeling. It brings you happiness. And the two lovebirds lived happily ever after. All those fairy tales are right. It was only with love that the great evil was defeated.

Am I the great evil that has become defeated and tamed?

And I had laughed and ignored him, choosing to continue on the greatness of love with the help of those Muggle fairy tales that I'd always been fond of. Thinking back, during the wars, was Mrs. Potter the only one to sacrifice herself for her child? I was sure that was not the case. And they already knew of the prophecy. They probably tried to save Potter because of that. Love isn't real. Love was never real. Love is only a myth for those searching for happiness.

And even if Tom had ever loved me, he sure doesn't now. And I remain the lonely girl with neither family nor friends that would ever understand her. The girl with the broken mind and no where to belong. There's only the Wizarding World - where I am treated as a second-class citizen and am reviled for sullying the purebloods' bloodlines, the Muggle world - outcast extraordinaire, and with Tom, who ignores me now. When I had first met Tom, he knew nothing of my bloodlines, and later, he didn't care. But now the love is gone and bitterness has settled in to stay.

Oh, the terrible tragedy of our lost love.

A/N:Please read and review, as this is my first fanfiction and I wish to know how I can improve :)

PhantomPhoenixa