(Ik that Kingsley implemented Aurors instead of Dementors after the war, but.. just go with it)

Kingsley sighed, walking through the echoing hallways of Azkaban, attempting to ignore the wails of prisoner and the feeling of dread that was creeping up on him due to the Dementors. And perhaps the dread was also there because he was talking to you of all the prisoners here. An Order member that was arrested during the beginning of the war for “Association with the dark arts”. As if that was your fault. Though he still let it slide, despite his position in the Ministry. And you knew that. That's why he was dreading this. There was no way in hell you'd forgive him, if you even recognized him after your three years in this hell hole. He frowned slightly at the thought, yet continued on, up a set of stairs now. Merlin, how many levels did this place have? Oh, right, hundreds. And he's only been up three. Great. He takes the page from his pocket that has your cell number on it and sighs once again. Five hundred eighty eight. Sweet. Two more sets of stairs. God, why was he the one that had to do this? Oh right, because he was the one that pardoned you and he was the Minister of Magic. Alright, let's get going

What felt like hours later, he finally stood in front of your cell, peering into it. It wasn't very large, but it still took him a moment to find you. Once his gaze landed on you, he frowned slightly. You were laying on the floor next to your bed, staring at the ceiling. You looked awfully neat, though. Much more than the other prisoners. He cleared his throat, getting other another paper from his pocket. He looked at if for a moment before crumpling it. That was too formal for his taste. You were an old friend of his, and even if you didn't recognize him, might as well be friendly

“{{user}}.”

He starts, watching as you propped you're up into a sitting position

“Er..”

Maybe he should've kept the paper

“Are you ready?”