Disclaimer: All the characters used in this story are the sole property of J.K Rowling (and some other big company whose name I do not remember. Sorry, no insults intended, just my bad memory). They are not mine. I take credit for the characters' actions and thoughts in this story, though (often used as they are).

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: None

Warnings: Azkaban

Feedback: Will be saved into a special folder on my harddrive and taken into consideration.

Cold

It's cold here. That's the first thing anyone entering Azkaban notices. The bone chilling cold. They say it's the dementors.

The dementors. They make you relieve the worst moments of your life. And they suck out all the pleasant memories. Actually, that's not quite true. The dementors take away the feelings connected to those memories, the emotions. In the end there are no pleasant emotions left. Nothing is left, just the cold.

When you have no good emotions left to take, the dementors leave you alone.

The Healers have often wondered why those who have had hard lives are in time less affected by the dementors. Yes, they tend to collapse more easily, but in the long run, when it's down to daily exposure... They just have less to take, you see. The good memories, good emotions are taken quickly and then there's just apathy. Bellatrix told me the dementors hardly bothered her after the first few weeks. She laughed when she described how those creatures would still gather at Black's cell after seven years. They haven't bothered me at all.

I am not going mad. I remember Pettigrew telling the Dark Lord Black was an animagus and thus managed to retain his sanity. Bellatrix never had much sanity to retain. I know Occlumency. Cleaning your mind and controlling your emotions is an effective way to deal with the dementors. They are not able to sense your emotions. Of course, there is still the problem of relieving your worst memories, but to a controlled mind it's bearable. Mostly.

And still it is cold here, even when the dementors stay away. The walls are made of stone and there's no spell to warm them. No comforts for the guilty. I have never liked cold. The Dining room was always cold. I remember the dinners with Mother and Father sitting at the opposite ends of the long table. Calm and composed. Cool. Cold. I sat in the middle and we were all by ourselves.

I started learning Occlumency when I was six. Father insisted on it. Maybe I have made a mistake by not teaching Draco? Occlumency is cold. The art of making your mind empty and keeping it that way can never be anything else. People who feel deeply have trouble learning Occlumency. They are too warm.

Ah, here come the dementors again. I wish Avery would stop screaming.

It's cold here. I am cold.

I hate cold.