His name was Brutus. Apparently, that means "Killer of Souls" in Dementorian. Brutus the dementor. And as strange as it sounds, Emily was dating him. He somehow lost all of his dementor powers and found a way to love.
"I took in too much emotion," he explained one night. "It was bound to happen some time. Creatures who take away love and happiness have to put it somewhere. I actually grew a heart." Emily put her hand to his chest and felt it thumping. Brutus wrapped his arms around her as they walked around the lake. Their shadows were reflected in its smooth surface. Brutus', of course, seemed to be a mirror image of himself. Brutus was nothing but shadow, shadow and a heart. Emily could love him, no matter what her friends thought. There was just one problem.
"I should like to kiss you," Brutus said thoughtfully one evening.
"Kiss me, then," she replied. Brutus leaned in and began to kiss her, but she suddenly pulled away and gasped. Her lips were blue and chapped. Brutus could see her breath. "Oh…" she heaved, "You were sucking my soul. Oh, Brutus we can't kiss. I'll lose myself." Brutus glided away in more misery than he had ever felt. And that's saying something.