JKR owns everything. I own nothing but my imagination.
...
My Mask
My face and body are a mask. Hard, dark, cold.
An iron shell clad in mourning to receive and contain what must not show to the outside: regret, fear, hurt and rage, tenderness and vulnerability no one must glimpse, unfathomable sadness and a longing so deep I want to...
No. The shell is my spine and skin. It keeps together what is me, it protects my very being and soul. Not that there is much to protect after everything I've done.
But the shell has held so far, even against the Dark Lord.
It's a small triumph, though, and hard-won.