Disclaimer, Warnings, Etc. - Please see the first chapter for those.

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-The Haunted-
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Chapter 4 - Searching

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When Remus awoke, it was to find himself sprawled out on an old mattress. He ached all over, as if he had been beaten, and his head had an unpleasant muzzy, dazed feeling. He had trouble sitting up, and when he reached up to push his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, he realised his wrists were bound. They, too, ached, but this was because the prickly rope binding them was digging painfully into his flesh. He tried to cry out, but all that escaped his lips was a feeble, thin moan. His lips and throat felt dry, parched. He wondered how long he had been - well, wherever he was. How had he gotten here? He couldn't remember. He closed his eyes wearily. Had he been drugged? Forcing his heavy lids apart once more, he looked down at his arms. Faint marks marred the pale skin, and if he slid himself a little to the side - the sleeve of his t-shirt pulled up enough for him to see clumsily applied band-aids on his arm, surrounded by bruises.

He shut his eyes once more. He had obviously been drugged, so there was no telling how long he had been here. But what Remus did know was that someone was holding him prisoner. But who? Why? He and Sirius didn't make enough money to warrant a ransom, and Remus was positive there wasn't a kidnapper out there who took people based solely on their knowledge of British literature. Unless - a shock went through him as the idea hit - unless it was the person who had been sending all those notes. His heart began to race. There was no other possibility. Was he going to be killed? Or was the person going to threaten him until he decided to betray Sirius' conscience? No, he would never do that! He would take the knowledge to the grave, no matter what anyone said or did to him. He would never sell his lover out like that.

A door creaked open and footsteps sounded. Remus could barely muster the strength required to raise his eyelids. A strong hand was placed behind his neck, and a blessedly cool glass of water was placed to his lips. Deep green eyes sparkled down at him. The glass was pulled away after Remus had only taken a few small sips. He whimpered.

No, no. You have to go slow, or you'll vomit.

The glass was returned, and Remus took a few more grateful sips. It went this way until Remus had finished the whole glass, then a damp cloth dabbed at his forehead. The voice spoke again, gently.

Go back to sleep. I'll bring something to eat in a little while.

The professor was more than grateful for the chance to lie down again, as he still felt dizzy. As he closed his eyes, he felt a sharp prick in the crook of his elbow. Almost immediately, he began to feel pleasantly drowsy. The footsteps faded away, the door shutting quietly behind them. A fleeting thought of Sirius crossed Remus' mind as he drifted off, but whatever he had been injected with was working quickly within him now, and his lover faded into insignificance as he lost consciousness.

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Remus had been held captive for several days, though he didn't know it. He also didn't know that Sirius was frantic with worry, and had been searching for him since Sunday afternoon. Minerva McGonagall was unpleasantly surprised on Monday morning when she returned to school to find Sirius outside her office door, smoking a cigarette. He looked like hell, his usually neat hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, his eyes bloodshot and tired-looking. He was dressed in a pair of jeans with monstrous rips in the knees and a t-shirt with a large grease stain on it, as if he had simply put on whatever had been lying under the bed when he got up that morning. Though, judging by his look, he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Minerva had never quite liked Remus' lover; she wondered how such a refined, intelligent man as Remus could have ended up with someone as boorish as Sirius, who cared nothing for what went on at the university. But she forced her face into a smile.

Mr. Black. How nice to see you. I-

Have you seen Remus? Sirius cut her off abruptly.

Minerva was taken aback. Why, no. I've been away all weekend, visiting a niece in Canterbury. Why, is something the matter?

He went for his walk Sunday morning like always, Sirius said tensely. But he didn't come back.

Minerva gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Goodness! And you haven't heard from him at all?

No. I was hoping you'd seen him.

Have you tried with his family? Doesn't he have relatives in France?

I've tried everyone, even my own relatives in Germany. None of them have seen or heard from him. I didn't want to get them too worried, when I called he had only been gone for a few hours and I thought I was probably overreacting. But Remus never stays away overnight without telling me, and he didn't come back while I was asleep. He snorted and took a drag on his cigarette. To tell the truth, I didn't sleep at all last night. I was too worried about him.

It was obvious that he had gotten no sleep, but Minerva was far too polite to say so. She also wondered when he had started smoking again; Remus had told her once that Sirius had smoked when he was younger, but had dropped the habit not long after they moved in together. As if in response to her unasked question, Sirius reached over and ground out the cigarette in the ashtray beside the door. Look at me. I'm so damned worried that I'm smoking. It's been my first cigarette in almost eighteen years. God - I just - he cut himself off. Never mind. You've got classes. Just... if you see Remus, tell him I'm worried sick, please?

Minerva felt a pang of sympathy and sorrow for him. He wasn't exactly country-club material, but he genuinely loved Remus. She couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of hell he was going through. Yes, of course.

Thank you. He turned and strode off down the hall, head down and hands in his pockets, the very picture of misery. Minerva bit her lip. She'd have to go find someone to substitute for Remus' classes while he was gone...

Sirius had just reached the doors when he heard footsteps pounding behind him, and a breathless female voice rang out. Mr. Black! Mr. Black, please wait!

He turned. A young girl with long chestnut hair hurried up to him, clutching her books to her chest. Pleading brown eyes met his. Excuse me... but I thought I heard you and Professor McGonagall talking about Professor Lupin-Black, she said timidly. I - I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I was just walking by and I... overheard what you were saying. She looked down at her feet. I'm sorry.

No need to be, Miss -?

Grey. Edith Grey. She paused, then blurted on - Is Professor Lupin-Black all right?

The man turned away, but not before Edith saw the fear and worry in his eyes. I - I really don't know, Miss Grey. I pray to God he is. Goodbye. He slipped out the doors, leaving Edith to watch him through the glass as he strode off in the direction of the student parking lot. She raised a long fingernail to her mouth and nibbled at it, ignoring the chips which appeared in her turquoise nail varnish.

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By Wednesday, Sirius was more frantic than ever. He had spent the last two and a half days calling everyone he could possibly think of, to ask if they had seen his husband. He had taken a vacation from the garage, telling Bill he couldn't possibly concentrate on work at a time like this. Bill, whose daughter had run away once, knew the stress of losing a loved one and allowed Sirius to take time off, wishing him luck. But by the middle of the week, Sirius was exhausted. He hadn't slept more than four hours in the past three days, had only eaten one small bowl of cereal since Sunday night, and spent most of his time on the phone. Between calls, he sat and smoked, downing mug after mug of strong black coffee.

The time had come to go to the police. Remus had been away longer than the twenty-four-hour period required to qualify as a missing person. Sirius did his best to clean himself up and look halfway decent, then gathered up his cigarettes and a few recent photographs of Remus and headed for the police station.

He received a slight surprise when he was taken to a detective - the detective was none other than one of the officers who had questioned him about Williams' murder twenty years ago. He and Remus had referred to this officer as Sideburns, but now the sideburns were gone, as well as quite a lot of hair from the top of his head. The block on his desk read Detective Burns'. Well, they had been close.

Burns obviously remembered Sirius; he leaned across the desk to shake hands as Sirius dropped into the visitors' chair. Mr. Black. What's the trouble?

It's Remus. My - my lover. He's missing.

Burns reached for a form and a pen. How long has he been gone?

Since Sunday morning. He usually wakes up early and goes for a walk, but he never came back.

Did you two quarrel?

No! Not at all. I was asleep when he left, but we hadn't argued the night before or anything. He just... never came back.

Burns raised an eyebrow. I see. And you've waited this long to seek help?

Sirius shook his head. It's not like that. May I smoke in here?

The detective waved his permission, and Sirius lit a fag. It's not like I haven't been doing anything, he muttered. I've been calling everyone we know, going through the address book number by number. I've tried every relative we have here in England, and the ones in Germany and France. I've asked his colleagues at school. I've gone up and down the streets he likes to walk again and again, asking people if they saw him come by Sunday morning. No one's seen him. It's like he vanished into thin air.

Do you have any enemies?

Sirius' hand shook slightly, the tip of the cigarette wavering. N-no. No one who would do anything like this. I mean, we've had disagreements with people, but never anything major, and none of them would probably remember Remus after the moment's past...

Burns studied him critically. His police sense was telling him Black wasn't being completely honest, but he let it slide. I'll need a complete physical description, and any photographs you may have.

Sirius put a trembling hand into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and drew out the photos he had brought from home. He handed them to Burns, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. Please... please find him. I - I can't - I love him, I couldn't bear it if he was... if something happened to him...

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Wake up, darling.

Remus opened his eyes. The warm voice sounded familiar, and his heart leapt - perhaps Sirius had come to fetch him? Perhaps everything had been an insane nightmare?

His excitement died almost instantly. Someone was sitting on the edge of his mattress, but it was not Sirius. It was a tall, slender man with shoulder-length brown hair and dark green eyes. A gold cross glinted on a chain around his neck, and a cigarette was in his left hand. Remus blinked slowly, taking in the man's appearance, then looked down. The band-aids on his arms had been replaced by clean, cloth bandages, but the bruising was still visible at the edges. He wondered what he had been given, and panic wormed its way through his sleepy state.

Who - where -?

The brown-haired man reached out and brushed Remus' tousled hair out of his eyes. It's not time for talk. He ground out his cigarette and stood. His hands went to his waist, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers off. Remus watched with slowly dawning alarm, realising what this man planned on doing. He tried desperately to get up, but his wrists and ankles were still tightly bound. His head swam and he stopped moving. Tears welled in his eyes as the man knelt beside him, pulling his clothes off.

No, please - don't... please, no -

Didn't I tell you it wasn't time for talk? the man said mildly. Hush, now, my love.

I don't want it - Remus struggled in vain to get away. The man merely grabbed him by his bonds and held him down. His fingers wound through Remus' hair, clenching painfully and pulling Remus' head back so far it was if he planned to slit his throat. His voice sounded in Remus' ear, breathless and excited.

You can be nice, can't you? Black's gotten you broken in very well, hasn't he? Groggy and faint from the drugs still coursing through his system, Remus didn't have the strength to resist as the man's other hand moved between his thighs, forcing his legs apart. I always had my doubts that that man could do anything right, but maybe I'll be surprised.

Tears wet the mattress as Remus squeezed his eyes shut, trying one last attempt to stop his tormentor. Please don't hurt me.... please... I don't want you inside me -

Sorry, love, but it's too late to turn back now, the man whispered, lowering himself down on top of his captive.

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It was almost two hours before it was finally over, and Remus could do nothing but weep as his rapist got up and dressed. The pain, shame, and guilt were enormous, a heavy burden on Remus' shoulders. What would Sirius do when he found out? Surely he'd be furious, but most likely his rage would be directed at his lover. Remus had allowed another man to have him, hadn't even tried to resist. He wished he had fought back harder, refusing to admit that the drugs had prevented him from doing so. If the man had... had given him a disease, or something - the tears flowed harder. What was he going to do?

He flinched when the man brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Don't touch me, he whispered, trying to sound fierce. All that came out was a pitiful, scared plea, and the man smiled down at him.

Now, now. No need to be rude. Stop your crying and smile. You want to look nice for your photo shoot, don't you?

P-photo shoot? Remus asked faintly.

The man got to his feet and rummaged around in the drawers of a nearby wardrobe. He drew out a camera and smiled. Of course. Don't you think your dear, sweet Sirius needs to know about this?

Panic rose within Remus, threatening to choke him. No, don't!

What do you think he'll say when he sees these pictures? his rapist asked sweetly, raising the camera. Remus winced as the flash went off. What do you think he'll do when he sees what his so-called faithful lover has been up to? Whoring himself out to a complete stranger? Why, he'll be furious. I'd be amazed if he even wants to see your face again after this.

Remus burst into tears once more, the words cutting deep, even through the humiliation he felt. This man, this foul, wretched, twisted man, was voicing the very thing that Remus was afraid of. He was right - Sirius would never want to touch his lover after he had been violated like this. His body shook with his sobbing, and he didn't even notice as the man silently left the room, closing the door behind him.

The man smiled secretly to himself as he headed for his basement, which was equipped with his own personal darkroom. He was a photographer, and he always developed his own pictures. Though, if he hadn't been a professional, a private darkroom would have been necessary to develop the pictures he had been taking recently. As he stood in the darkroom, dipping the photos into their trays of liquid, the nasty smile on his lips spread. How will Black react? He'll be destroyed. Utterly destroyed. And infuriated. Hopefully this will add fire to his search.

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Friday morning marked the fifth full day of Remus' disappearance. Sirius woke up around noon, feeling decidedly groggy. He had forced himself to take sleeping pills the night before, a practise he usually loathed, but he wasn't going to be very helpful towards finding Remus if he didn't get any rest. He trudged to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stood motionless under the spray for a long time, his face in his hands. He probably would have stayed there for hours, except the hot water ran out. He washed up quickly, shivering in the cold water, then hopped out and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He still looked wretched despite the shower and sleep, and peaky from not eating properly for the past week. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the mirror. A long sigh escaped him. The police had had absolutely no luck in trying to locate Remus. Granted, they had been searching for only two days, but you'd think with so many people asking questions that someone would remember something. He made no effort to brush away the strands of wet hair that fell over his shoulders, still shivering as a cool breeze from the open window met his wet skin.

Sirius closed his eyes. He could understand now what it felt like to have your world suddenly fall apart in a manner of seconds. What it was like to lose someone you loved so dearly that you'd give your life for that person... tears threatened, stinging his eyelids, and he straightened up, brushing them away angrily. Crying wasn't going to help at all. He reached for the comb and the hair dryer. All he could do was to get out there and start asking around, for what felt like the billionth time, hoping against hope that someone would remember seeing Remus on Sunday morning.

After drying off and getting dressed, he headed downstairs for breakfast. He didn't feel much like eating, but it also wouldn't help to be passing out from hunger in the middle of the search. A pile of mail lay at the foot of the stairs, and Sirius bent to scoop it up. Nothing much. A few bills, advertisements from the local garden shop, a catalogue, and - a blue envelope.

The rest of the post fluttered to the floor as Sirius gaped at the envelope. He ripped it open, noticing it was rather thicker than usual. A slew of coloured photographs fell out, along with a single sheet of blue stationary. There was a short message scrawled on it: He was wonderful. You trained him well, Black.'

His mouth suddenly dry, Sirius turned his attention to the photographs. His stomach plummeted. The first was a photo of Remus, lying on that same stained mattress. He was naked and tied up, tears running down his cheeks. Bandages were wrapped around his arms, and there was blood on his thighs. Sirius bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, slumping down to sit on the first stair. The other photographs were of Remus, too, from different angles and directions. Sirius' eyes grew wider and wider as he went through the pictures and saw what had been done to his lover. He was wonderful. You trained him well, Black.' He hadn't just been raped. He had been tortured.

The photographs slipped from Sirius' fingers and landed in a terrible spread at his feet as the raven-haired man lowered his face into his hands and began to sob.

---

Remus lay as still as possible, shivering. He was still naked, and he was very cold. He actually wished that horrible man would return, just so he could ask for a blanket or something. His tears had long since dried up, but he still let out a hitching, watery whimper every now and then. Shame burned in him, aching worse than his injuries. How could he have let this happen? Where had he gone wrong? He shouldn't have trusted the man outside the antiques shop. It was the same man who had kidnapped and raped him, Remus knew, and he cursed himself for bringing it down on himself. He wished he had a little bit of Sirius' cynicism and mistrust. The thought of his lover made Remus cringe. He hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to explain all this when he got home. If he got home, that was.

The door creaked open. Remus looked up, trembling. His captor was back, dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas. However, he was carrying a pile of blankets and what looked like a mug of hot tea. Remus could have wept in relief, but he was terribly afraid the man would hurt him again.

Don't be scared, darling. The hand that caressed Remus' cheek was gentle, but he flinched from it. The man pulled a pocketknife from between the pile of blankets, and slit the ropes binding Remus' wrists and ankles. Deep, angry red weals were left from where the ropes had dug into his skin, but it was good to be untied. Remus rubbed his wrists as the man unfolded a pair of pajamas. He helped Remus into them, then wrapped him in the blankets and pressed the mug of tea into Remus' hands. He was so weak that he could barely keep a hold on it, tea dripping onto the mattress as he raised the mug to his lips with trembling hands.

Finally he summoned the strength and courage to speak up. Who... who are you?

The man chuckled. Why, Remus! Don't you recognize me?

Remus shook his head. Sorry, but no.

The man ran a hand through his long hair. I'm Peasegood. Nigel Peasegood. And at the sound of the name, Remus remembered him - Nigel Peasegood had been one of Williams' friends when they were all at at school together. His hands shook a little more violently, and tea dribbled down his front. Nigel dabbed at it with a napkin. Do you remember me now?

A barely audible whisper.

Nigel took the empty mug from Remus. Now lie down. He laughed at the panicked look on Remus' face. Would I really take the trouble to get you undressed and have you again after I've just made you warm and comfy? No, it's time for sleep.

Never taking his eyes off the other man, Remus laid down. Nigel pulled something out of his pocket - a syringe tipped with a long needle, filled with a clear liquid. Remus gasped and tried to pull his arm out of harm's way, but it was no use. Nigel was a lot bigger and stronger than he was, even if he hadn't been woozy from drugs and nearly unable to move after being so viciously hurt. The bandages were unwound and the needle pierced his skin. With unease, Remus realized the track marks were more visible than they had been the first time he had noticed them. He lay quite still as his arm was rebandaged, beginning to drift on the drug. What was he being given? Morphine, perhaps?

Nigel kissed his cheek. Goodnight, my dear. Oh, but first - Metal clanked, and Remus' arm was jerked rudely. He opened his eyes to find he was handcuffed to the radiator beside his mattress.

Can't have you getting away, can we? Nigel breathed in his ear, before getting up and leaving the room. The very last thing he did was to click off the light, leaving Remus alone in the dark.

To Be Continued...

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(A/N: This guy, Nigel. He's brutal, isn't he? I feel so bad for Remus. And Sirius, too. The end of this chapter reminds me of a book by Stephen King, called Gerald's Game'. In it, a woman was handcuffed to the bed, but her husband had a heart attack and died before he could let her out of the cuffs. Since she was all alone at their vacation house in the woods of Maine, she had no one to help her and ended up spending days there. I won't tell you how she escaped, because it was quite gruesome. I don't recommend that book unless you have a strong stomach.

On a lighter note, I am the proud owner of a Sirius Black t-shirt! It has Sirius' wanted poster from the PoA movie on the front. I'm not a fan of Gary Oldman and I really don't think he looked ANYTHING like Sirius should, but how could I resist a shirt paying homage to one of my two favourite HP characters? I really would have loved a shirt with Sirius AND Remus on it, but no luck. The people who make PoA merchandise always seem to forget Remus, anyway. I wanted his and Sirius' action figures, but it was $7.99 a set and I'd end up with two Harrys. Sigh.)