A/N: Written for the Acrostic-y Challenge of Chapter Titles Competition, Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass. Prompt was Nurmengard.
Nurmengard
Nurmengard had life; Azkaban was a place people ceased to exist. They became one with despair, with the empty hollow souls that guarded them.
Whatever else Nurmengard was, at least it wasn't a black hole that sucked out every drop of emotion that had bled. It was a place where he still lived: lived with the presence of his mind and heart, lived with the ability to regret.
And he did regret. He regretted the choices he had made, the actions he had taken to enforce them until he was knee deep in mud and couldn't go back. He regretted being stuck in that mud now, it squelching all around but holding him tight, refusing to let go. He regretted dreaming, regretted running away. And Nurmengard clung to it all, unlike Azkaban who would have washed it away with his soul.
He had never been to Azkaban, but he still preferred his lonely little cell in Nurmengard. Because, in there, he could hope for atonement. In there, he could hope for hope – that, one day, the doorway to repentance would open up. That the world would not mutter his name in that tone forever.
He knew he did not deserve forgiveness. The first bad thing he had done was dream; the worst of them all was tearing his best friend's family about – because what did it matter whether or not he'd been the one to raise his wand to Arianna. She was dead because he'd tried to corrupt the too good Albus to his own ways, and the weaker little brother had tried to stop him.
It was almost funny how he'd killed so many after that in cold blood, but not one of them imprinted in him as fiercely as Arianna's death did. He didn't remember any of them as clearly as he did Arianna's soulless eyes, or Aberforth's dim furious glare, or Albus' mouth parted, eyes staring blankly at his sister's corpse as the man who was supposed to be his friend just fled.
Gellert had waited a long time afterwards for Albus to reappear and give him justice. Death had been too good for him, but some act of mercy had saved him from Azkaban.