A/N: w00t! First song fic ^-^ Read, then review and tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: Dementors and Azkaban belong to J.K. Rowling. Whilst the song "Unwell" is performed by Matchbox 20.

Unwell

It had been years since he had seen the sunlight. Felt the warm wind. Remembered what a voice was supposed to sound like. The floor was cold and hard, the walls bleak and dank. The ceiling was growing moss; fertilized by the water leaking out of the pipe attached above.

The man sat in the corner with his rags for clothes. It'd also been years since he'd known their true color. His nails were short, stubby, and had browned blood jammed just under the edge. His once brown eyes now bloodshot with a black, dilated pupil. A person in this state was under no condition to remember anything, which is why he was surprised to find himself singing a song he knew long before he'd been imprisoned in Azkaban. "All day staring at the ceiling. Making friends with shadows on my wall. All night hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep... because tomorrow might be good for something."

He blinked and smiled. It was a crazy, lopsided smile. A giggle pierced the air as more words formed themselves on his tongue. "Hold on, feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown. And I don't know why."

He grinned a bit more and displayed his rotten teeth, "But I'm not crazy, I'm just a, little unwell. I know right now you can't tell. But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me. I'm not crazy; I'm just a little impaired. I know right now you don't care. But soon enough you're gonna think of me. And how I used to be...me."

It was a wonderful feeling to actually remember something. He stood up on shaky legs and propped him self up against the slimy wall. Feeling a bit daring he raised his voice a level and sang in his cracked voice some more. "I'm talking to myself in public. Dodging glances on the train. And I know, I know they've all been talking about me. I can hear them whisper. And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me. Out of all the hours thinking. Somehow I've lost my mind."

The giggles returned and vibrated through the air. Other tortured prisoners could be heard moving uncomfortably around their cells. They were jealous of this man's memories for theirs had been lost. He felt the dementors were creeping around in the higher security end and went on with his story. "But I'm not crazy; I'm just a, little unwell. I know right now you can't tell. But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me. I'm not crazy; I'm just a little impaired. I know right now you don't care. But soon enough you're gonna think of me. And how I used to be."

His voice was louder and he made sure everyone heard him. "I've been talking in my sleep. Pretty soon they'll come to get me. Yeah, they're taking me away."

A woman shrieked and the echo rang through the halls. The man stopped singing and laughed. He fell to his knees and his voice lowered slightly. The women succumbed to sobs and the man continued to cackle quietly.

Dementors swept down to his cell feeling the presence of a Happiness. They arrived within a foot of the cell and the man fell to his side on the floor, giggling with insanity. They floated there with empty hoods watching the man. Quickly the air became silent and they moved on to several new cells.

The body on the ground began to shake and the man whispered, "But I'm not crazy, I'm just a, little unwell. I know right now you can't tell. But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me. I'm not crazy; I'm just a little impaired. I know right now you don't care. But soon enough you're gonna think of me. And how I used to be."

He took a ragged breath and finished, "Yeah, how I used to be. How I used to be. Well, I'm just a little unwell. How I used to be. How I used to be. I'm just a little unwell."