A/N So here's a little re-write of a one-shot I wrote about 6 years ago? (Man I feel old). It's my first attempt at writing again for a very long time so I like to think my writing has improved a little since then but who knows. It is still intended as a one- shot, however I have been playing around with expanding a little more but we shall have to see where my inspiration takes me i think:).

Darkness.

It's everywhere, surrounding me, suffocating me, nothing and something all at once.

It's been like this for a while now, this emptiness. Well I say emptiness, but I there's something there, I can hear it. The voices whisper to me, haunting me, not truly there but never alone. A faint whisper, the end of a sentence, a hint of conversation. Nothing full, nothing concrete. They sound like them you know, Lily and James, that's how I know I'm in hell. A specific form of hell to torture me into insanity, much worse than anything Azkaban could ever have achieved. After all, I had Harry, my beacon of light and hope. My reason. And now he's gone, on the other side of a veil I have no hope of breaking through. The voices still, they have done their job, they have broken me. I am stuck in this limbo with no chance on moving. I almost pray for death, but if death is this quiet, I do not want it

I can smell it too. That's how I know its death that clings to me, clings to me but does not take me. Salty tears, soft muddy soil, musty socks on a warm summer's day. It smells of Lily and the perfume she wore the night before they went into hiding, when we'd gathered to say our goodbyes. It smells of James, the tangy smell of broom polish and fire whiskey. I know that's silly. How can death smell like my friends? It's been fifteen long years since I last inhaled them, but they are still as intoxicating as ever, a constant reminder that there dead and I'm stuck here. I don't need a reminder. I almost pray for death but if it's this lonely, I do not want it.

I try to recall what day it is. Time means nothing here. A minute, a day, a week, who knows? A whole decade could pass by and I would be none the wiser. It's rather hard to count the days when there is no light. Distinguishing between the brightness of the sun and the darkness of the night sky has enabled people to tell the days apart far longer than calendars and clocks but that becomes a challenge when the sun is no longer in the sky, and the only darkness you see is so thick, it creates a fog around you. Encapsulating you. Consuming you. I wonder what goes on beyond the veil where those I love go on with their lives. Is the battle won? Are they happy? Are they dead? If death is this unsettling, I do not want it.

My feet lead me on though where I do not know. I have no sense of the direction in which I am heading. Darkness to my left. Darkness to my right. Behind me and in front of me. Surrounding me. I have no destination, no goal to aim for. Simply wandering, long since given up hope of finding a way out. Long since given up the dream of seeing the sun again and hearing their voices, feeling their comforting touch. Harry. Remus. Both vulnerable, both alone. If death is this hopeless, I do not want it.

I know stomping around, lashing out at the darkness will not unravel this, and I know my hands will reach nothing. I know that screaming and sobbing will not solve this, no one will hear my cries and come to comfort me. I know praying to a God I don't believe exists will not help this, there is no way out for anyone to enlighten me. Yet this does not stop me from doing these things. It doesn't stop me from crashing around punching the darkness, trying to rip it away. It doesn't stop me from collapsing on the floor when I can physically do no more, and letting out a guttural scream from deep within my very soul. A scream that echoes far off into the distance, no walls to cage it. It does not stop me from sobbing till I can cry no more tears. It does not stop me from whispering prayers, asking for salvation. Pleading for an angel to rescue me. Praying for an end to this, even if that sweet relief comes in the form of death. It doesn't stop me from begging for sleep when I can do nothing more, in the hope that in sleep, I will dream of a place where I can see more than darkness. Feel more that darkness. Smell more than death. I finally pray for death for death just can't be this painful.

And that's when it changes. What the change is yet I do not know but it's there. It's the small things first that my senses hone in on. A change in the intensity of the darkness that has become my only companion, the slight smell of a slight summer breeze floating through. The voices begin again and I intently focus on them for a hint of understanding. There is one there that I do not recognise. A female voice that is much softer than the others, a subtle tone with authority laced through. The more I listen, the more I wonder if I've heard it before. Certainly not in the veil, but before. Possibly. They sound powerful. Maybe is death, I've certainly had enough brushes with it to find some familiarity. Maybe she has come to answer my prayer.

The other voices don't want me to hear. I know. They speak louder. Begin to shout, each voice melding into the other, once again becoming unrecognisable, this is time in a haze of noise instead of silence. I try to focus on what they say, but nothing is distinguishable in riot the voices are making. Nothing but her, for I'm sure now that the voice belonged to a woman who has something she really wants to tell me. Freedom, hope, home, all combined in that one delicious tone that could become my saviour. Now I am not so sure she is death. Death would not be that!

'Sirius'

She knows me. My saviour knows I am here.

'Sirius, I need your help.'

Help? What can I do? For too long I have wandered through this empty space, sought out every possibility to escape and yet nothing. I have nothing to help with.

'I need you to hold on to me Sirius.'

Reaching out, I grasp thin air. There is nothing there to hold on to. How can I hold on if all I can feel is the thick air?

'Hold on to my voice. Feel it wrap around you. Let it encase you. Feel it within you.'

How easy it is to let her voice encase me. How easy it is to feel it within me, holding me, comforting me. I feel alive. A small flame in the pit of my stomach, alight, feeding of the very essence of my being. I can feel it surge up every vein and through every cell. Spread right through me until every part of my body is alight with her, she is burning me, holding me. For one short moment she becomes me, and I her, no foundry of where I begin and she ends, we are one.

And then it's gone.

And I'm falling

Falling

Falling

Falling

Then I'm not.

Opening my eyes right now is barely possible. The brightness burns me. I begin to open them but cannot resist the urge to close them again and I embrace the darkness I have been trying so hard to avoid. The pain of adjusting almost overwhelming me. Without my sight my other senses kick, I reach out and listen for the voices that I know should be there, haunting me, whispering to me. I can't hear them, not a thing, complete and total silence. I strain my ears and slowly my hearing returns. I can hear breathing, I'm not alone.

"Sirius! Oh Merlin Sirius, please be ok."

My angel! My beautiful precious angel. She's here with me. Right here, right now. Her hands gently stroke my hair, brushing it away from my eyes. She moves her hand lower to cup me face, the other resting gently on my arm. The comforting gesture soothing me, relaxing me. She must have been the angel sent to collect me. She sounds so concerned, almost distraught. A tear drops on to my face and is gently wiped away by her only a second later. I didn't think angels cried. I need to comfort her. Reassure her.

"My Angel..." I croak. Hopefully she understands.

"Oh Sirius. Thank Merlin you're ok. I was so worried."

I don't care about the light; I need to open my eyes, tell her how grateful I am. It's just so bright, I can't adjust, not yet, it's just too much.

"Angel?" I mutter again trying desperately so stop the sleep that's threatening to take me under.

"Sirius it's okay, it's me, Hermione"