North Wind

The cruel north wind had been blowing that day - the day she was caught.

***

Death sentence, that's what they said. All but one Dementor had been destroyed in the war, and it was on the loose. So there she was, to be killed by an old muggle method.

Many people didn't understand what Azkaban was like. The eternally cold, dark corridors, the windowless rooms, the hard stone walls... but she had been there for months. Mentally calling for reprieve from the chill, the hatred.

Half the Aurors guarding the hell hole knew her; they'd been in her class, called her intelligent - the best muggleborn witch the school had ever seen. But to some she had been a know-it-all, a pest if you will. To others she was called mudblood, worthless, insignificant.

But they'd all stared in all when she betrayed him, turned away. All marvelled at the courage she had to change, to go against the boy - no man - who knew her best. The man who testified against her, the man she loved more then the world itself. Slits appeared where eyes should be, there was a man waiting for her.

But he could wait longer. She was too lost in her memories - first year, second, third, fourth, fifth. All in a rush, all flying away before the cold grey sky.

Her arms reached for her face - feeling the contours, the scars for one last time. One by her nose, another on her eyebrow and ah - the one on her cheek. He had given that to her when he found out about her traitorous tendencies. And she had given him one as well - a larger one - a mental scar that would never leave him.

Harry - oh Harry was just her toy. He was there when she needed an outlet for anger. Anger then channelled into sexual desire. But then sexual desire turned into love.

Their story had been written by many - a romantic tragedy if you will.

Two best friends destined to be together. First they sought comfort in each others arms. Then hey found love. After being happily married for 2 years, she turned to Voldemort and betrayed him. She had been discovered when she came back home, to find him sitting next to Peter Pettigrew (who was surprisingly not dead after setting foot in the house) and he was repaying the life debt he owed Harry by telling him about her.

And he took her away and questioned her, she had cried - confessing everything but her love to him. And he sent her away, screamed at her. Traitorous bitch.

She had spent the last 5 months in Azkaban on trial for torture, murder and deceit.

Yesterday they had come to a decision. They couldn't let her still be around while the last of Voldemort's dwindling forces were rounded up. She could pose as a leader for the last Death Eaters, and the future ones.

The door to her cell clanked open - noises coming from outside.

People walked in. More than just the one she had heard. More than just that dumb Shacklebolt.

Him.

He was there to.

Looking down at her with hatred she had never seen. But there was a flicker of sorrow.

First love, last love.

And then her brain took charge, leaving her with memories of happy times. Memories from the beginning of the marriage.

Her mind finally seemed to reinhabit her body as she come out into the sunlight. Tree - rope - cart... She moved slowly, following the guiding hands. Still not really comprehending let alone noticing.

The sound of voices slowly dimmed - then she felt it, the corse strand around her neck, the woollen robes - the cruel north wind.

And her eyes jerked open.

She looked around. One tear - for one person. And he could se it.

The last thing she saw before the cart moved was the look on his face - detached, no emotion. He was just a vessel - like he always had been.

***

The cruel north wind blew the body back and forth. A young woman hanging from a tree, the only tree in Azkaban.

Legs swaying in the north wind.