The Prisoner of Azkaban (Hermione Granger X Male Reader)

27. A Peaceful Enough Morning

(Y/N)'s POV

" . . . I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I don't want to do this . . ."

"I love you so much . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

" . . . we'll meet again, I promise . . ."

" . . . I love you . . ."

" . . . I hope you can forgive me . . ."

Cold. He felt so cold.

Like a swirling vortex straight from a nightmare, (Y/N) was plunged out of the dark void in which (M/N)'s voice echoed from, and suddenly his feet planted themselves on soggy earth.

Rain battered his face as the mud he walked on squelched and bubbled up over his feet; lightning lit up the sky, illuminated the falling droplets and the grey clouds they spawned from; thunder boomed through the air like a round of applause from giants.

With a flash of lightning and another boom of thunder, (Y/N)'s blood froze in his veins as several long, rattling breaths carried themselves through the air.

Looking up as lightning flashed through the sky, (Y/N) saw the cloaked figures of the Dementors hovering high above him.

Within an instant, they sped down towards the ground; their scabbed hands scratching at his body as they clawed and grabbed at him; the decaying entities pulled (Y/N) up into the air, their long and rattling breaths pulling all essence of life from him.

(Y/N) felt numb within mere moments, he could breathe, he couldn't feel.

Thunder tore through the air, like a knife through a curtain.

This would be his last sight.

The peeling flesh of the disgusting faces of the Dementors. The dark abysses which held no teeth that was the inside of their mouths. Their bleak and completely hollowed eye sockets.

His final sight would be the epitome of what people imagine death looked like.

However, as if his body was fighting for consciousness, for life, he felt a sudden jerk that rocked him to his core.

Bolting into an upright position, (Y/N)'s chest heaved as he took deep gulps of breath. Strands of hair were matted against his pale face, stuck against his skin because of the cold sweat that he had been drenched in.

"A dream?" (Y/N) shakily whispered out. "A dream," he repeated once more, "that's all that was, there's nothing to be scared of."

However his dying panic wasn't helped when he saw the curtain on his four poster being pulled back. His eyes widened as he stared into the crazed eyes of a man who (Y/N) thought he'd never truly meet.

He stared into a gaunt, sunken face with eyes that were widened and shaky. Dressed in drab rags revealing his waxy skin. His mouth was slightly open, as if he too was out of breath, revealing yellow and decaying teeth. Like (Y/N), his long hair was matted against his forehead and was sticking by out at different points.

Sirius Black. Standing at the foot of his bed, gripping the hilt of a glinting dagger, was Sirius Black.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGHHH! NOOOOOOOOO!"

As someone in the dorm room bellowed out that scream of terror, Black looked like death was upon him and turned on his heel and rushed out the room.