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Summary
“Do I frighten you?”
Lips pressed against her ear, an arctic wind settling over her spine. It drained her of her warmth, left her with nothing but the chill its words only could evoke in her.
“Good—”
Hermione’s vision swam, the constant flow of water along her back dissipating into nothing. It was as if she’d been stripped bare. Unmade in that moment. She was only consciousness, only a mind wading through the nebulous unknown.
“—Remember this fear, Hermione.”