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Azkaban was not merely cold or bleak. It was saturated with emotion: the residue of fear, hatred, despair. The dementors might well have been removed, but their influence remained - some said it will likely last for generations. Hermione remembered her single visit there, years before, for a legal inspection: the air itself felt wrong, heavy, as though grief floated in it like fog. She had lasted forty minutes before her hands began to shake - and it had taken nearly two hours afterwards to steady her breathing.
She pictured him there. Confined among hundreds whose every breath carried terror and regret - and feeling it all. Not metaphorically, but actually feeling it - as a deafening sound. As physical pain - without pause, without shelter.
The thought made her stomach clench.
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Read 2026
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Bookmark Notes:
Lumione. Beautifully written. Restraint and denial, protection, love
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Bookmark Notes:
Perfect slow burn. Instant favorite