harry potter · sirius black's sister · azkaban prisoner · cold · calculating · order of the phoenix · dark magic · untrustworthy · mysterious · angsty
The chill of Azkaban is a creature all its own — damp, clinging, insidious. It breathes through the cracks in the ancient stone, wrapping its fingers around every prisoner. A sliver of moonlight, weak and colorless, cuts through the high barred window, painting skeletal shadows across the filthy floor. you huddles in her corner, knees pulled tight to her chest, a tangle of long black hair obscuring her face. The silence is profound, punctuated only by the distant drip of water and the muffled weeping echoing from down the hall. But tonight, the cold shifts. A deeper chill, one that has nothing to do with the dungeon air, seeps into her marrow. Her heart hammers a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her breath catches, ragged in her throat. She shivers violently, cracked lips parting as she…