Author's note: Hey, this was supposed to be part of the last chapter but I divided it up just to keep up the suspense, lol. Ok the warnings of the is chapter is that it gets a wee bit dark, ok a little bit more that just a wee bit but hey it keeps it interesting. A spoiler about Sirius and was happens to him in book #5. Ok and that's about it. I hope you guys like this chapter.

Chapter Two: R.I.P.

Harry tossed and turned not able to get into a good sleeping position. Whenever he got into a new position it would be perfect for those precious seconds until parts of his body tensed and pained, causing him to turn and try to find a better position, with an irritated sigh. Having enough of all the tossing and turning he yanked at the sheets while he turned, causing his body to fall off the bed and came rolling onto a moist and grassy patch of earth; his bare chest and back getting moist. With a small but painful thud Harry hit something that stopped the world from spinning, but contact with whatever it was sent a dull drum of pain into his backside. Harry's body shivered the moisture of his expose skin cooling.

While in the process of getting up Harry leaned a hand against the thing that had stopped his fall but when he pushed his palm against it his insides turned out. He was still on his knees and his head down, eyes staring at the grass underneath him, and breathing picking up slightly. He was back, the same graveyard, the same feelings, the same tombstone, the same ending, but this was a dream he could get himself out of it, if he wanted, and he wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. He didn't want this memory to be a part of him anymore and he didn't have to be here. This was the past, not his present or his future; he had to get himself out of there. He didn't want to remember. Closing his eyes he wished himself out, but for some reason this nightmare was holding him in place. There's no escaping, a whisper in the winds told him, sending a bitter chill up his spin.

He picked up his head expecting to see was the name of Tom M. Riddle written across the tombstone but what he saw made his body go still, his blood freeze, face blanch of color, and heart break. The stab of guilt thrusting itself repeatedly into the pit of Harry's stomach as he read what was inscribed on the tombstone, his memory of reading these words would haunt him forever; a ghost of the thoughts that haunted his everyday mind.

Sirius Black

(1968-2003)

A good man killed by a careless boy.

No! I didn't kill him! I only meant to save him that was all I wanted to do! That's all I wanted to do. I didn't want to lose him, just to keep him safe, alive. He was my Godfather, my father's best friend, and the man who had taken on the fatherly role in my life and…and…Oh God Sirius…I'm so sorry! Tears surfaced and Harry's shoulders slumped, head bowed as he closed his eyes trying to keep the tears at bay; Body trembling from trying to keep the tears from flowing down his face, but it was useless, they only flowed more freely. I'm sorry Sirius, you were like a father to me and I only caused your death. The ironic thing is that I tried to save you, but then you came to my rescue. He thought trying to make light of this situation. I'd do anything to have you back. You're the only family I have left and I failed you. I tried to follow the rules set upon me but I didn't and now I lost you, and I hat myself for it. I really am sorry. I'm so very sorry. His voice broke and his eyes stung from the on going tears.

"You should be." Said a raspy voice, distant but strong. The clear night sky became misty as a dense fog set in. The heavy fog enveloping the empty cemetery.

Harry's head snapped up, and he squinted his eyes trying to see through the fog. It was then that he noticed that he didn't have his glasses on, but he could see perfectly fine without them, this was one reminder that this was a dream. But perfect vision or not he still couldn't find the source of the voice. The night air was now thick, no winds blew, it was all still, quiet but all Harry could see was the faint outline of the pale blue orb that had decorated the night sky casting its rays, and hear nothing unless that voice spoke. If anyone were out there he wouldn't be able to see him or her. "Who's there?"

"You should know that by now, Harry." The voice had a menacing tone, hard with a cold exterior; an extra coat of harshness came with the saying of Harry's name. Every word was like a thick shard of ice hitting him fast, striking low with every blow.

Voldemort. Harry's blood froze, as if the atmosphere was freezing his body. The throbbing on his forehead was more of an annoying ache than a searing pain. But how could he be here?

"Yes, you know who I am. Why so scared there Harry?" Harry couldn't move, he was paralyzed; there was just something about that voice that was keeping him on his knees. He needed to get up he needed to defend himself. "Your Frantic. What's wrong Harry don't you see that you could never have beat me, never escape me, even if you tried as hard as you are doing so now." It was a statement not a question, every word slipping out with ease. "Don't you see that all you will do is bring death to those that you care for, those that you love, and all who care about you and your well being? Like your mother, your father, and now…your Godfather." He let the last drift through the air, and let the slap of blame hit Harry hard across the face. "All three didn't have to die had it not been for you. Who's your next target Harry your two best friends? Or how about someone else's parents like Ron's and Hermione's?" The voice stopped savoring the moment, cherishing how he was conjuring feelings and emotions inside Harry's already tormented mind. Loving the fact that he can torment Harry, and watch all the emotions shimmer in his eyes all the while not being seen by Harry. "How does it feel to know all you will bring is death?" The voice was amused, stretching out the sentence, his tormenting of Harry was sickening but that was how he liked it. Turning the boy's thoughts against himself was one of the many pleasures that he is enjoying.

"How does it feel to be asking such stupid questions?" He retorted his anger boiling over. The heat of his body thawing out his blood vessels making them coarse with his heated blood. "And why the hell don't you show yourself it you're so full of it?" Harry let venom drip from his words. This was a challenge.

"Such anger." The voice said in a tsk-tsk sort of way, but hidden underneath that was pure and utter happiness. The fog was closing in, and it was starting to get too hard to breath. "Let loose that anger held so deep inside you. Give in to your hate, and let it all loose."

The fog let it's grip loose as it felt his muscle contracting and his jaw clenching. The anger was surfacing. When the fog was loose enough around him, he went for his wand to find nothing there. He felt his face drain of color, his eyes go wide, his heart race, and his worry catching up to his anger. Then it went cold, he couldn't feel any warmth, none at all.

A hand had reached out from the fog and clasped around his neck choking the air out of his lungs. The fingers were icy cold as if death was so close to this man, that all it needed to do was move out of it's own darkness and swallow the man whole. The fingernails pierced his skin, but that pain was numbed by the chilly voice, "Helpless without your wand?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Of course you are, how pitiful." Harry's hands clung onto the one hand, which had an iron hard grip around his throat, trying to pry the hands off. "Your fear, your anger, you loathing, its all balled up inside, just let it all go Harry. Unleash your furry! And stop trying to fight it."

Taking one last breath he said, "Let…GO!" He tried to get as much force into those word as he could, but it only came out as a faint cry. He felt tired, drained, exhausted. Voldemort was sucking out his fear, his angry, his life.

"Grasp the fact that you have lost, and I have won." The voice roared with laughter, the grip tightening. The pain in Harry's forehead began to thunder, as the laugh increased.

Breathing was extremely hard his lungs trying to use the air to keep Harry's body from fainting, his body went limp from no energy and the hammering in his head was deafening. It was becoming dark, Harry blinked trying to keep away that unwanted darkness. He didn't know if he could keep breathing, keep holding on. No! He had to, he needed to stay here, he couldn't go without trying to do something to stop Voldemort from growing stronger.

Then the scent of roses was back, filling his nostrils, expanding his lungs. It gave him hope; it gave him enough strength to hang on, to keep the darkness away.

Harry, wake-up! Please! This is only a dream. A dream! Harry please wake-up! You have to open your eyes.

The voice had a melody, it held hope, but it was pleading, it wanted him to wake up. A pair of hands, small, delicate, and soft cupped his strained face. They held a comfort of their own, filling him with strength as they caressed his cheeks.

Fight back Harry. Fight back so you can come home. Fight so that he knows that you are not weak.

Light, a pale blue light poured into where the darkness dwelled, and chasing it away. It, the darkness, was retreating, the grip loosening ever so slightly. Harry taking that chance to grip the hand, that had just seconds ago been strangling the life out of him, with the newfound strength he twisted the hand, heard something pop and pushed it away.

There was a yell, which turned into a cursed scream. Voldemort was now the one in pain.

Harry you're not alone. Never alone. I'm here, I'll help you.

Harry's body crumpled onto his knees, palms digging into the cold soil. He hadn't realized that Voldemort's hand around his neck was the only thing that had been keeping his body up. The grass had been turned over, now exposing the mud to his flesh, due to his and Voldemort's struggle. His chest heaving, his lungs not taking in the air that he was feeding them. Heart pounding against his chest, muscle thawing now that the cold was far away, throat burning, neck aching and yet he was comforted by the light. The small hands had not let go of him. The girl was now sitting next to him and she moved a hand to his back, rubbing gently. His body relaxed, and he eased his head onto her lap as he lay down. When he was lying down, his head on her lap, he started to calm down, his body relaxing. It was helping that her voice was soothing.

Shh Harry shhh, take your time. Don't rush. Just breath. Breath. I'm here for you, so that you're never alone. Soft lush lips pressed against his forehead, the throbbing of his scar disappearing and he only felt a tingle. Believe only what you remember. The warmth he felt all over came all of his other senses, and sleep over ride his thoughts. He felt arms go around him before darkness became complete; a darkness that he embraced without hesitation.

Be in peace, Harry. The voice was distant but he had still heard what she had said.

Please review and I hope that you had fun reading this chapter, but a quick note. I had to change the dates of Sirius' death to fit the twenty first century, so potter-holics don't send me a howler. Lol , k, remember review, I need my readers' input.