Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters', so don't sue me please!

Pairing: hints at SS/HP

Dark, angsty – dunno if it's any good, but I like the idea. See if you can tell who's who.

I sit in the corner.

Dressed to please, yet remain unobtrusive – my clothes glitter in muted tones; eye-catching when in the light, but not enough to stand out in the dark. These days I spend a lot of time in the dark.

You stride importantly through the chamber. Expensive cloak billowing out behind you, you always walk like you have been urgently summoned somewhere these days. You remain quick to point out to people that they have little right to summon you – you did save everyone afterall – and yet, secretly, you crave the attention, the need people have to be in your presence. It's rare for you to spend long in the shadows these days.

To begin with people questioned our relationship…if you can call it that.

Too young. Too old. Too naïve. Too cynical. Too soft. Too abrasive. Me. You. Not suited.

I knew, even then, what would happen. Invisible chain around my ankle – pulling me deeper into the dark. Yet I said nothing, for in truth I craved this. Keeper of the key – refusing to release me.

You used me…continue to use me, although I can honestly say you no longer realise you are doing so.

Not sexual, oh no, never that. Magic though – yes.

All this time, years, we've been together, a continual drain on my resources. It keeps me level, keeps me from brimming over. Again.

The steady drip accompanies the beat of my heart – slow. Sluggish. Drained. Faltering.

The cold down here has long since seeped into me bones, but I can't shiver for I am colder than even that.

It's been years since that night, when it all came to a head. The red-eyed monster, cackling with premature triumph, thinking you were there to hand me over to him. Always said he was an idiot.

I remember, though I claimed not to. The screams, the waves of magic pulsating out of the evil creature. The way you whimpered. The way you fell. The way you scratched yourself up, trying to crawl away.

I remember you losing conscious.

Later people theorised it was due to the massive expenditure of personal, latent, magic you used in destroying the beast, lord, man. Only I know it was due to fear.

Your eyes slipped closed in slow motion, eyeballs rolling up in your sockets, black hair covering your death-pale face. I waited for that moment, when you lost control, dropped the key. And I struck.

All the darkness you'd kept leashed came pouring out – whipping that puny sorcerer into a mere teardrop on the moon's eye. All my rage. All my hatred. All my sorrow. I gave it all to that human and it destroyed him.

You came to with a groan. First view; me, kneeling in blood, black outfit highlighting my own pale, pale skin. An ornament. Or so you thought.

Your black gaze skittered over me; unseeing. Pausing at the mangled body, it took a moment for your brain to catch up. Vomiting, crying, laughing, shrieking. Your responses were extravagant and perfect for the situation. I shrank back into shadow.

The years passed, people congratulated you, held parties in your honour. You puffed up on the praise, bloated yourself by over-feeding on all you had lacked during the years. I let it go unsaid. Give you your moment of glory, let me fade to shadow, for what I hold within me made a monster quail.

I hear the voices of guests, your own dry voice greeting them caustically; as expected.

I curl into my chains; darkness holding me tight whilst you, unknowingly, carry the key.