Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Plea for Help

"Ah, kindness. What a simple way to tell another struggling soul
that there is love to be found in this world."
-via Alison Malee

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Malfoy Manor, September 1979

Malfoy Manor stood tall and daunting, even from the end of the driveway nearly thirty yards down the driveway. The rows of rose bushes – white petals wilting under the brutal weight of autumn – might convince one that the manor is a warm, welcoming abode with kind owners who love to garden and crotchet. But Sirius knew better. He'd nearly his entire life to learn otherwise.

He knew the serpent statues, with their wide and protruding stone eyes that followed the intruders every move ever so carefully, set the stage for who the Malfoy's were and what they were like. If there'd been an embodiment for a conniving snake, Lucius had been it by textbook definition. Cissy came in close second. The crunch of gravel beneath their boots resounded across the property, dancing against the stone walls of the manor. It had been a call to the entrance – a warning – to tell those within the halls of such an intimidating home that someone was approaching. Nonetheless, no matter how the sound of gravel echoed, or the laborious breathing of inexperienced soldiers streamed through the already frigid air of September, it did nothing to mask the cries of desperation and anguish within the manor.

James lit the tip of his wand, pointing it at the stone steps leading up to the entrance. Droplets of blood – fresh – trickled down the stairs as a languid waterfall, illuminated under the scrutiny of the moon and their wands. Lily gasped, her ring clad hand covering her quivering mouth.

"We should call for reinforcements," Remus suggested, disgust edging his words.

James merely nodded; hazel eyes fixated on the pool of blood spilling seamlessly down the steps. Remus moved away, summoning his Patronus – a wolf – to request the presence of more experienced Order members to help assess the damage; four teenagers could hardly manage to scrounge up the guts to enter the hollowed halls of Malfoy Manor, knowing that tragedy awaited them. Lily clung to Sirius' arm, breath heavy and shaking.

"Whose blood do you think that is," she asked, fully aware that Sirius couldn't possibly know the answer to such a question but searching for the reassurance only James could grant her had he not been busy. "You don't think it's Narcissa's, do you?"

Sirius shook his head, a trimmed bang obstructing his left eye, "Even though I hate to admit it, I doubt Lucius would let anyone lay a hand on her."

Lily sighed, clearly relieved. Damn her kind heart; the Malfoy's didn't deserve her worries. They didn't deserve the Order's assistance. They were worshipers of Voldemort – a terrorist in Sirius' eyes. The Devil Incarnate. Brutality bottled in a withering vessel. However, here he was. Sirius was sure there'd be protests if he made any attempt to abandon the "investigation" Moody had set upon them.

And there night had been going so well; leave it to his family to ruin the fun.

"I suppose we ought to head in," James inhaled deeply, rushes of white air released from his nostrils as he willed his nerves to steel. "Someone is screaming bloody fucking murder."

Remus walked toward them, "I've just sent the word to Dumbledore. I'm sure he and Moody will arrive soon enough."

"I just hope everyone is okay," Lily let her eyes rest upon the obscured windows, a sliver of light bleeding through cream curtains.

Sirius didn't want to mention, lest he reveal his worst fear, but he'd be a fool not to know that shrill, throaty scream from a mile away. With a gun to his head, he could put a face and name to it. It struck a chord with him, one he'd buried quite some time ago, or so he thought, and his marred palms sweat.