Author's Note to New Readers: This story is the sequel to my Sirius Black story Never Gone, Never Forgotten, and Never Letting Go. To better understand this story, I would advise you to read the prequel first.

Author's Note to Friends: Hello, and welcome back! Here is the second part of the Black-Potter family line series. I'm starting this one because it seems no one is highly interested in W.o.W. anymore, and I'm going to need a story in which I can be constantly fed reviews so that I can keep writing.

Summary: A month after Harry has pulled out of his Voldemort-induced coma, he goes missing. A grief-stricken Sirius Black struggles for hope, while everyone else struggles for answers.

Kidnapped right before his godfather's eyes, Harry struggles to survive the merciless torture of Voldemort and his followers. Will his friends and newfound family save him, or is Harry on his own again?

While fighting memories of the past, and fears for the future, Sirius Black demands to become part of the team that is searching for his godson. A mysterious contact is leading the Order around by the nose. Who is this person? Are they reliable? More importantly, is Harry alive?

Warning: This story consists of numerous flashbacks. I will try to be as consistent and clear as possible, but if things get confusing bare with me. I'll do my best to make this story fun for you and me. (smiles)

The Present...

Sunken eyes stared into a dying pile of embers in the hearth. There was some comfort to be found for him in this growing darkness, Sirius observed, as he sat now in his study. A small fire burned in the grate at his feet, but it was not enough to give off sufficient light or warmth. Just as well, Sirius believed. Such things had no place in his life anymore.

Elongated shadows of his surrounding possessions and heirlooms swayed as the small fire danced its mystical, sumptuous waltz, and silence echoed mercilessly in this seemingly cavernous room. The house itself was cavernous to Sirius these days. It had become incredibly empty after the recent events in his life. The love that once filled each and every room was gone. All that existed now was cold fear that choked the air and walked the halls like guests that simply refused to go home. Time after time, Sirius found himself encountering those unwanted entities. These constant shadows that he lingered in, and the ever consuming anxiety, was turning him into a monster. The past few weeks had been worse than all thirteen years in Azkaban, for within the walls of this house Sirius was allowed to physically revisit all the chambers of Grimmauld Place. His mind able to easily recall every lingering memory, every moment shared with his godson within these walls.

And if the silence was not there to mock him, his past was.

Sirius groaned, allowing his head to fall into his knees, now brought up to his chin. He had refused the chair and taken a seat upon the hard, wood floor; his back leaning against the leg rest of his preferred seat. Shoulder length, black hair hung in tangled bunches around his wan face. It had been days since Sirius had last eaten a real meal, yet his stomach didn't growl with hunger. The shaking of his hands and legs he mistook for nerves, not malnutrition. He was in a precarious situation with both his body and mind, but Sirius was far from noticing. His thoughts had been far too distracted of late.

Long moments passed, and Sirius only drifted further in the enveloping, comforting silence. Hypnotized by the dance of the flames, he did not hear the soft tap of light footsteps coming down the hall. His mind was millions of miles away, cast to the four winds in hopes of picking up some sense of what he had lost. For hours he had sat here before these glowing embers, hoping against all logic that somehow things would fall into place. Hoping that things would turn out all right, and soon shift back to normal. His spirit was nearly destroyed. The rage that built in him was only swallowed by this indescribable grief that he could not fight. Sirius was losing. He was losing a battle that he could never have dreamed of wining.

"Sirius?" said a raspy voice.

The man didn't budge. He was used to being addressed with this tone. A tone that was filled with grief, pity, and had the weight of a voice which was being uttered in the house of a dying man. A dying man? How Sirius felt so much like a dying man. If life had any mercy, it might have dealt him such a fate as well.

"Sirius?" the voice called again. Still, he did not acknowledge the speaker. The dying embers of his once comfortable fire were still far more magnificent, far more reassuring than the face of a sympathizing friend. How Sirius hated them all. How he wished that they would just go away. Why could he not have his peace?

"Sirius?"

Perhaps if he just kept silent, he'd go away. Perhaps if Sirius just kept staring into that dancing blaze, Remus would go back to his room to toss and turn in his nightmares. Sirius wanted to be left to his own without company that constantly dealt in false hopes.

"I know you can hear me."

Sirius swallowed. The fire was so beautiful. So comforting. So tempting. What did it feel like to be consumed in something so exotic? How fast would it act? Fast enough?

"If I can hear you then why do you keep calling my name?"

There was a pause.

"I had hoped you'd look at me."

The man on the floor did not respond. He didn't feel like looking at anyone. It was all the same after a while. The features changed, the eyes changed, the hair changed and the voices changed, but in their eyes was reflected the same thing. Pity. Grief. Hopelessness. He had tired of it long ago, and now Sirius simply refused to look at anyone. It made things easier on him.

"Will you?"

Sirius shook his head. A long stream of air hissed through Remus' teeth: the sound of disappointment. Too bad Sirius didn't give a damn if Remus was disappointed or not.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Remus moved into the chair nearest his friend and allowed his gaze to fall upon the man with the most piercing glare he could muster. Considering Remus was such a laid back, calm man, it didn't amount to much. The only time someone cowered before Remus was on the night of the full moon. That night was a long way off. Right now, Sirius was going through his own metamorphosis, and it was Remus' job to comfort him. Or at least get his mind off of things.

A task that was proving impossible under the most optimistic light. To Remus, it was damnation. The house itself seemed to have sunken into a state of depression. Sirius, it appeared, had only gone with it. Not that he'd put up much of a fight.

"You're going to die if you continue on like this."

Sirius continued to stare into the fire. There was no reaction beyond those sightless eyes. There was nothing. What Remus beheld was the shell of a man who's soul had been ravaged, burned away by the wear of time and the numerous blows of disappointment. The image was beyond sad, or even pitiful. There was no word to describe what had become of this creature that sat before his eyes.

"If you care."

Silence, save for the crackling of the fire that was growing weaker and weaker by the second. As it did so, Sirius seemed to become even more enveloped in its glow. Orange light cascaded over his otherwise ashen face. It was the only vision of color that Sirius' countenance had been exposed to in weeks. The change was stifling, regardless of how unnatural the hue might have been.

For long moments Remus merely stared into that face that held no sign of life. How many things that were happening behind those eyes, he could only guess. Sirius was not as dead to the world as he might seem. He could fool others, but not the person who knew him longest and best. Second best, if he wanted to count another. But they weren't here now.

"You can't go on like this."

The hell he couldn't. Remus knew better than to think like that. Sirius sighed, but inwardly. He'd go on any damn way he pleased. It wasn't like he had something to live for anymore. This house, these rooms, they were all infected with memories that Sirius would never be able to escape. Unlike his days with James, these memories were too recent, and too meaningful to just turn away from to never look back upon. Sirius couldn't pack these days away in a box to pull out again whenever he felt it necessary. These days were the times that would define the rest of his existence. These days were supposed to be the most meaningful ones of his life, because he had been helping to form another. But they'd been cut short, just like everything else.

"You can't blame yourself."

Why not? It had been his fault, after all. If Sirius had been there he could have prevented this. He could have stopped it. He might have been able to even capture those responsible.

Yet all these things ideas hollow. It was pointless to dwell on possibilities, when in reality Sirius had failed. Failed...again.

Had he done something wrong somewhere in his life? Was he just not meant to know happiness? Things had been going so well. Why did they have to end?

Remus stood to leave, deeming this task futile. "If what they say is true, you have to let go."

Silence.

Sirius watched the last bits of the embers die. The room was suddenly extinguished into blackness, save for the few red heat spots that still lingered in the grate.

"I don't know how."

Remus sighed and turned to face Sirius. Despite the darkness, he still had a strong sense of where the man was. "You know how, you're just not willing to do so yet. Some part of you is still holding on."

A pause.

"How do you know that?"

Another pause.

"Because if you weren't, you'd have died of grief by now."

Meaning he hadn't already? Sirius was slightly amazed. Somewhere along the line he'd convinced himself that he had died at one point, and was now left to linger in this self-created hell. It made sense, but the idea of being alive...being alive when Harry was not...it just didn't seem to fit. It disproved everything that Sirius had come to create within himself. It defied his morals and went against his set of rules. Harry had to be out there...because Sirius' own heart was still beating.

"He's been gone for over a month now. They wouldn't have wasted time."

No, it wasn't true. Sirius buried his head in his knees once more, his arms wrapped beneath the bending joints of his knees. It couldn't be true. Sirius had lived for his godson. There was no way Harry could be dead if Sirius was still alive. It didn't make sense to his heart. This wasn't right. The world shouldn't have been allowed to go on! Damn it, why?

"It doesn't make sense."

Remus sighed. "Of course it does."

"You don't understand."

"No, I can't understand what you're going through."

A pause.

"Then why does everyone try?"

Remus frowned. "Try what?"

Another pause. This one longer. The darkness had not lifted, and the fire had now died out completely. Even the coals cast no lasting lights.

"To understand."

Shaking his head, Remus tried to swallow the rasp that crept into his voice...along with the tears that crept into his eyes.

"They never will. What Harry meant to us will never amount to what he meant to you. We are all panged, Sirius, but none of us as much as you."

The fire was dead. Wintry darkness surrounded him. It wasn't right. It couldn't be. The world couldn't go on without Harry. It defied everything Sirius had foolishly built up in himself.

"Goodnight Remus."

That finalized it. Remus slipped out of the study, the door clicking shut behind him. Sirius stayed, wallowing in the shadows of his psychological prison; still unaware of the darkness of the physical one.

Once again, I tell you who read this: This story is a sequel to my story Never Gone, Never Forgotten, and Never Letting Go. Before you read this, please, please(!!!) go and read the prequel. Thank you,

Ela,