This was a small assignment for my AP English class. We were to compose a paragraph as a character employing stream of consciousness. As expected, I do not own any of the mentioned characters; everything belongs to J K Rowling.

Cold

It's cold. That's all it is anymore. Everything is cold, never warm. Warmth is for the good people, like Potter. Potter, who was supposed to be dead, killed by the Dark Lord in the woods. But no, his chest was warm, and he was alive, not dead. I thought my son was dead. Draco, gone. I would have died, frozen. Life wasn't always sad; I was happy the day of my marriage, when Draco was born, when we thought the Dark Lord was gone. Everything was warm then. I was happy then, in my wedding dress, with Bellatrix at my side. She was always with me, when I was married, when I ran to Snape to save my son. And it's cold again, suddenly. The Dark Lord wanted to punish the men I loved the most. He wanted Draco dead, gone, cold. Not like those who lived through the war without the fear of the Dark Lord punishing them for disobedience. Even those who feared his wrath were warm, compared to those who faced facing their disloyalty to him, who were frozen. But Draco lived. And it's still cold.