"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 unexperienced 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.

They climbed the blood ridden stairs, careful to avoid the crimson liquid dripping into the gravel. Their eyes remained attentive, scanning their surroundings and searching for discrepancies. Constant vigilance was now a crucial component to their investigation routine; Moody took it to an extreme, yes, but after some of the battles the younger members of the Order had experienced, Sirius now understood what their recklessness could cost.

For Edgar, it'd been a finger. For Marlene, it was nearly her home. For Sirius, it was so close to be the love of his life just a year ago. It drove them all mad knowing one must sleep with one eye open, or else risk the entirety of the life you know.

They entered the manor, a chill sweeping across their skin. Sirius noticed no house-elves greeted them upon entering, nor was any alarm sounded. It had disturbed him, and he knew the others thought the same. Goosebumps raised on his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. The halls were dark, lit only by sparse candlelight and moon shadows spilling from the windows. The home itself had been destroyed over the course of the night, splintered furniture upturned at every corner and alcove. Paintings were torn, vases smashed; the luxury Narcissa and Lucius could hardly live without were all ruined.

Remus kept a watchful eye at the rear, keeping to the shadows and not drawing any unwanted attention to his exploring. Lily, in contrast, lead the group, wand gripped firmly in her delicate hand, pale hand. Don't let that fool you. This was the same Lily Evans who'd memorized the entirety of their Charms curriculum a summer ahead just to hex James Potter whenever he'd gotten on her last nerve. She was careful to move slowly, feet edging toward the sound of Walburga's cries soundlessly.

They'd learned the hard way not to charge headfirst into unknown territory such as this; this was how Edgar had lost his finger. It had been bitten off by a Dark Wizard's elf. The man had been captured, eventually, at the cost of an Order member. They were wary not to make the same mistake twice lest a worse injury befall another person.

"James," Lily whispered. "You bring up the right, and Sirius you take the left."

"And Remus," James asked, eyes flitting over a shrouded figure a few feet behind them.

"He knows what to do," she reassured them.

Sirius was, if he dared to admit it, anxious to come face to face with his mother. It had been a year, and he'd been hoping he could keep that streak going for the next decade if God were kind enough. Facing the epitome of his trauma, the root of all his "fuckery" as Remus put it, was unnerving in and of itself. To face her in spite of whatever other dangers had been present that night had chilled him to the bone. She'd no doubt been drinking, if the incessant howling had been an indicator, and she was absolutely unbearable intoxicated. Though, this hadn't been the only worry.

He'd heard Regulus' name called every so often, the wailing and sobs inducing a sense of dread within him as his mind conjured the worst. It had the nasty habit of doing that; those thoughts took over his better judgement, and that was when the brash, impulsive idiot within him roared to life. If he'd gotten his way, and he was tempted to forge his own destiny whether it had been vigilant or not, he'd have ran into the dining area and assessed the situation as he went. No time for waiting, as Regulus' life may have been on the line.

However, he followed Lily's instruction, trusting her better judgement as she and Remus seemed to be the only ones with common sense in their own little quartet. He forced himself to believe that Regulus was just fine; Walburga wouldn't let anything happen to her little bird. She couldn't. The woman hardly let him leave the house as a child. Sirius was sure her near obsessive love for her youngest child still rang true even as he was nearly an adult. It was, perhaps, the only thing keeping his brother alive in the moment.

A familiar cackle boomed over Walburga's pleas, "Poor Aunt Wally! Whatever will you do without the Dark Lord to save you now? No Orion and no Regulus. No Sirius!"

Sirius felt his body jerk forward, but was caught by the strong arms of Remus. He held Sirius in place, making sure he didn't do anything he would regret. Killing Bellatrix was a thought in the forefront of his mind; it was very appealing in the moment, and he might just have without Remus' restraint.

"Bellatrix," Walburga said. "I've done all He's requested. I've told you all everything I know, damn it! What more could you want?"

"It isn't enough," Bellatrix shouted. "You and your insolent family have betrayed the Dark Lord time and time again. You must suffer the consequences!"

"My son had nothing to do with what my husband and I decided," Walburga cried, voice cracking beneath the pressure of Bellatrix' rage. "He's just a boy."

"I've seen how he worships your other Bastard son," Bellatrix said. There was a beat in time before she spoke again. "Oh, did you not hear? I thought you were in with all the gossip, dear Aunt Wally. Have you also been oblivious to your son's dallying's for the last year?"

Sirius' blood boiled beneath his flushed skin, fury roiling in his chest. It was aimed not only at Bellatrix and her taunts, but also at himself. How could he have been so foolish? So reckless? So fucking careless! Fleamont had warned him – warned him to remain attentive. Sirius had failed to follow orders, failed his brother. Look at what it had cost him. Could he handle yet another loss?

James hissed, an attempt to gain Sirius' fleeting attentions failing.

A foreign, yet oddly familiar, contorted voice muttered, "Bellatrix… I think we've done enough."

"I don't want to hear another word out of you, you leeching rodent of an imbecile," she sneered, a flicker of green light flashing. "The Dark Lod left their fates in my hands. I must cleanse our movement of such traitors as the Black Family!

"Look at him," the stranger coughed vigorously, the heavy thump of feet across the dining hall floor echoed. "He'll never make it. We've done our job; let's not push our luck, Bellatrix."

Sirius didn't have to think too hard to imagine that infamous, slimy sneer that made itself quite at home on Bellatrix's face – the crooked, yellow toothed grin that haunted his dreams for years. He'd experienced it countless times as a child whenever she subjected him to her unusual ideas of fun and games. They usually ended up with her deriving pleasure from Sirius' torment; she was psychotic. To that day, it made his skin crawl.

"If you wish to remain cowardly, then be my guest," she said. "Work for the Dark Lord is not for the faint hearted."

Footsteps faded into another hallway, the grumble of a bothered voice going with it, and Sirius braced himself for another moment with his nasty cousin.

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought, the brush of fright creeping into his bones. After years of hardening his nerves, Sirius felt the weight of anxiety on his chest, an elephant's foot firm against his sternum threatening to crush his resolve. His vision, shrouded by the darkness of the manor, blurred momentarily, rendering him unable to calculate a move if necessary. The air in his lungs became thin and weak, rushing in and out of his nose all too rapidly to be considered healthy. Sirius tried calming himself – nearly forced the image of serenity in a pure state into the forefront of his mind – but failed miserably. Nothing could ease the ball of tension growing stronger by the second as he awaited Lily's cue. She was taking far too long for his liking!

"Steady, Padfoot," James whispered.

Sirius looked at his friend, at his hazel eyes strong and sure of everything. Sirius envied James in that moment; he envied his resolve and his placidity in such a situation – envied the cool, easy breaths filling his chest. The world around him seemed to spin; there'd only been a single thought rummaging through the fractured pieces of his mind – the hope that his family, however horrible they might have been, was okay. His mother and father included despite how cruel and cold they'd been toward him.

The years of neglect and abuse stood in front of him, memories of harshness and catastrophe presenting itself in the utmost manner. Visions of tubs full of blue, icy water and kitchen floors with remnants of bloodied salt grains threatened his courage. The ruler kept in the compartment of the stand in the drawing room, flecks of deadened skin and scabs from the years of use; his father's favorite leather belt that bit like a rabid dog in the summer. Echoes of arguments – the shouting of his mother bonded with Kreacher's unearthly howling – filled his ears, drowning out whatever his cousin had been saying.

Sirius went against his better judgement and the years spent with Joycelin in a moment's heat, throwing himself blindly into harm's way as one does. He gripped his wand in his sweaty, pulsing palm, ignoring the shout of Remus somewhere in the distant, and hurled his best hex at Bellatrix.

"Incarcerous," he shouted, thin ropes conjuring from the air around them and wrapping themselves around Bellatrix's bony wrists.

"Sirius, no!"

Someone had been shouting at him from elsewhere, but he hadn't bothered to listen. Not to any of them. He felt his feet carrying him through the dining room, dodging the toppled furniture and crushing bits of china beneath his boot. The marble floors were slick with what smelled of wine and blood, but Sirius paid no attention to the world around him. Whatever had been left of his attention had been centered on his mother's crumpled figure. There'd been no sight of Regulus or his father in the midst of his dash, and Sirius assumed they'd made their escape during his spell; one could only hope.

"Sirius," Walburga cried, throwing her arms around her eldest son's shoulders in reprieve. "It's really you! You came."

"I'm here," he said, falling to his knees before his mother. His hands ensnared her own, clammy and trembling. "Where's Regulus? Orion?"

"He's dead," she wailed.

The trails of tears and mascara were now visible beneath the dim lighting of the dining room, salvia drenching her chin as she howled her mourning. She heaved, her chest filling with scented air and stray tears, coughs bubbling from her throat here and there. Walburga's entire body shook as she cried; he'd never seen her so distressed before.

"Who," he asked, his sanity leaving him. Walburga could not hear him over her hysterics, her damp hands fisting his tshirt. "Mother, who!"

Hurried steps trailed around him, James and Lily assessing the scene and Remus tending to a captured Bellatrix. They spoke to one another, their hushed voices masked by the buzz in Sirius' ears. The world spun even faster, on an axis held up only by a sliver of hope that she'd been mistaken. Walburga must've been mistaken. Regulus was not dead, and neither was his father. They'd somehow escaped Bellatrix's wrath; perhaps they'd gone outside?

"Sirius," someone shouted, the click of heels against marble drawing his attention.

He dared look away from his mother for only a moment, vowing to figure out who the hell had died, and blanched. Regulus stood in front of him, pale faced and frightened as any young boy might be in such a situation. His robes were torn, revealing a bloodied suit beneath him of the finest fabrics the Black's could afford. His hair was wild, gelled bits sticking to his ears and forehead; his cheeks were tinged pink and wet. He'd been crying.

"Sirius," Walburga heaved, gripping her son by the chin and forcing his stare onto her pleading eyes. "You must leave. You must take your brother and leave."

"I'm not leaving you, Mama," Regulus said, joining Sirius in front of his mother on his knees. "You can't make me."

"He'll return," Walburga growled. "And this time, he will not be so generous."

"Who will return," Sirius was bemused. "Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Remus," Lily shrieked, skin lit up by the flare of magic.

Across the room, Remus' body fell. Sirius' eyes caught a plume of black smoke ravaging the air above them, shattering the chandelier and magnificent décor of the dining hall. His cousin cackled, circling them as a vulture would its breakfast. Too much had been happening, and Sirius found himself incredibly overwhelmed by the circumstance.

Lily was screaming, James was begging Remus to rouse from his comatose, his mother was pleading with her children to abandon her crippled body, and Regulus protesting like an angry toddler. Sirius began hyperventilating, the air refusing to wash over his lungs. Every breath felt like a mouthful of razors being shoved down his throat – icy and sharp. The taste of blood filled his mouth, cheeks chewed to hell.

"Sirius, listen to me," his mother demanded. "If there's ever been a moment when I needed you to listen, I implore you, it is now." Sirius, dumbstruck by the intensity of the manor, nodded breathlessly. "You will take your brother to a safe place. Not your home."

"Why n—"

"Don't interrupt me," she hissed. "Take him to the old vacation home in Vienna. The Dark Lord will never think to look there."

"Why is the Dark Lord looking for you," Sirius asked, eyes gone wide.

"Regulus will explain later," she said. Her eyes glanced upward at the ceiling, watching Bellatrix's smoke falling closer and closer to the ground as she praised Voldemort's glory. Lily's wand directed spells, anything, to distract his cousin to no avail. The situation was growing more and more dangerous by the moment; they were losing control.

"Mama, I can't leave you," Regulus whimpered, tears swelling in his eyes. "Please, don't make me leave you."

Walburga grasped her youngest son, her palms on either side of his cheek, "I will not see my son die this night."

Sirius' chest constricted, and his averted his eyes. It felt as though he were an outsider in their own world, unwelcomed and foreign. Something ugly and hot roiled in his stomach, churning the remnants of his dinner and pride into a ball of upset mush. Never had his mother looked at him as such – as if he meant something. Those looks were saved for her little bird – her perfect son. Heat rushed to his cheeks – angry heat that made his blood boil.

Plumes of black smoke filled the room, masked faces of gold and copper closing in on a small group of child soldiers. Their magic outmanned and overpowered them easily; still, they fought. James defended a wounded, yet now conscious, Remus and Lily protected the family saying their goodbyes.

"Please," Regulus pleaded, sobbing into his mother's dress.

"Take him, Sirius," she ordered. "Take him and your friends far from this place."

"I won't run from this," Sirius yelled. "I'm not scared of him!"

"This isn't about you, you insolent little brat," Walburga screamed. "For once, think of someone other than yourself!"

Without thinking much of it, Sirius flinched at his mother's words. Something in him had hoped that her dying moments, if it had truly been their last goodbye, would have been filled with the affections she'd withheld all of those years. Full of smiles and laughter, maybe tears of regret and longing for something different. To be met with the same distrust and distaste he'd gotten for the entirety of his life, well, it stung. In fact, it inflicted a greater wound than anything ever had before. Remus' rejection and the loss of his uncle – none of it compared to the last words Sirius' mother had ever spoken to him.

Without another word, Sirius gripped his brother by the arm, albeit a little too roughly for him to handle, and called for his friends. There was no way possible to win such a fight. Not with ten other skilled wizards holding their wands to their throats.

Sirius had never been one to tuck his tail and run, but he had also never been one to lose. He decided that the greater loss that night might as well have been his pride rather than his life. Upon apparating from the manor with his brother in tow, a blinding green light lit their faces as Regulus howled his plea for help. Help for his sanity and his mother. Sirius, if he had the energy, might have joined him.

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Sorry guys, that was kind of heavy. I figured it's time to crank up the heat in terms of canonical deaths lol. Sorry :/ Anyway, I just wanted to say I dropped a class this semester not only because it sucked but because my workload was filled to maximum capacity and I just couldn't handle it. A bright side to that is more time to write! I can't promise a consistent schedule like I'd hoped, but I will always try my hardest. History majors require a lot of reading and writing, so it's hard for me to squeeze in time.

Also, I got a girlfriend! Yay me. It feels odd being in a relationship after so long, and after pining over this dude for four years of my life. But it's refreshing and I feel loved, so I couldn't be happier. I hope you all are enjoying 2020 so far, because I am still on the fence about it lol. Hopefully this chapter brightened (or darkened) your day. Also, I am now changing my sign off because I cannot stand Snape and I refuse to quote him. Instead, I will use the words of James Fleamont Potter – one of the best dads in the world. Much love to all of you.

Until the very end,

Nic.