I tried to post this before I left the country on Friday, but fanfiction.net was down all day!  Ahh!  The hotel tonite (in lovely Florence—Firenze in Italian, hee) happens to have free internet, and I had saved the chapter to a disk just in case I would be able to update. 

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#12 Grimmauld Place was bustling with activity, relatively speaking.  The foyer was abuzz with life as the Weasleys, Moody, Tonks, and others tried to finish their conversations over the din of Mrs. Black.

            "As I was saying, Martha…"

            "Stay on your guard, now…"

            "VILE!  FILTH!  DESECRATION!"

            "Hey, Remus is back!" Tonks exclaimed as they noticed the new arrival.  "Any luck?"

            "Status quo," Remus replied as he shrugged off his cloak.  Sirius floated casually around the room, gazing at each familiar face.

            "CRETINS!  SQUATTERS!"

            "Squatters?"

            "That's a new one."

            "It's accurate enough," Moody said gruffly.  "Now that we're here without any heir to this dump."

            "Let's hope that horrid little house elf doesn't appear and kick us all out!"

            "Oh, do try to understand, Mrs. Black!" Mrs. Weasley was pleading with the portrait.

            "SCUM!  TRASH!"

            "Give it up," Remus said.  None of us can quiet her."

But suddenly, Mrs. Black was quiet.

            Sirius looked up at the unexpected silence.  To his amazement, his mother's wild eyes were, for just a moment, fixed on him.  Was it possible she could see him?  Tentatively, Sirius approached the quietly heaving portrait. 

            "Mom?"  A deep breath.

            "TRAITOR!  BLOOD TRAITOR!"

Well that answered that question, whatever good it did him.

            "She hasn't gone off on that line for awhile," Tonks remarked as she roped the curtains tightly over the portrait, muffling the sound.

With that, the motley of the assemblage of the Order of The Phoenix retreated to the kitchen.

            As he listened to the news and gossip of the Order, Sirius did not know whether to laugh or cry.  Evidently, they all had moved on.  Life had continued without him.  That was a good thing, right?  But then, why did Sirius feel so betrayed?

            Remus was the only one who looked at all worse for wear, and of course that could be attributed to that time of the month.  The others were robust, smiling, laughing creatures.  Sure, whenever Sirius was alluded to, a pall would fall over the company, but it would quickly be lifted by Mrs. Weasley pouring more drinks or Tonks dropping something.  It was clear that these were not people in deep mourning.  Sirius hated them for it.  And he hated himself for feeling that way.

            "Harry sent me an owl the other day," Mrs. Weasley said.  Sirius's ears pricked at the mention of his godson.  "He thanks everyone for their birthday presents."

            "Poor boy."

            "How is he holding up?"

            "Not well, I'm afraid," Mrs. Weasley reported.  "Ron writes him long letters every couple days, and the only responses are a few terse sentences.  He doesn't actually talk about it, of course—teenaged boys don't do that.  But, well…  The boy needs a mother, now more than ever."

            "Why can't we bring Harry here again!" Tonks cried.

            "You know what Dumbledore said," Moody grumbled, his magical eye swiveling around the room.  "He has to stay with those relations of his.  Now more than ever."

            "It's not fair!" Sirius protested silently.

            "It's not fair!" Mrs. Weasley protested.  We're the closest thing to family he's got now."

            "Then you'll just have to mother him from afar."

            "That I will.  Come on, let's go write Harry a letter."  With that, Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and the others wiped their eyes and stood to leave the room.

            Sirius shuddered.  He cursed all the years he and Harry had spent apart, all that wasted time…  And then, with a start, he realized that Harry would probably be better off now if Sirius had never escaped from Azkaban.  In the two short years Harry had known his godfather, he'd finally had something resembling a family member.  But that family member had been stupid enough to get himself killed, and now Harry was even more alone than he'd been before.

            Sirius was too busy cursing his existence to notice that Mad-Eye Moody was still in the room.  The deformed old auror was sitting quietly, facing away from Sirius.  He could hear the magical eye rolling in its socket.  But it was still a shock when Moody spoke.

            "I know you're here."

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And there, my friends, is your three week cliffhanger.  Leave me lots of detailed reviews so that I feel motivated to finish this sucker when I come home.  Arriverderci!