Upside Down

I'm glad you guys are liking this story so far. I'm sure you'll be entranced with this chapter.
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The next day was quite hectic for Ruby and Hermione. Hermione was mortified to discover that she would have to supply Ruby with an entire wardrobe. Not only that, but she would have to fortify it with both magical and Muggle clothes, since Hermione’s flat was in the Muggle world.

So, they took care of the Muggle shopping first, outfitting Ruby with jeans, skirts, socks and trainers, blouses, and t-shirts, before moving to the Magical world.

She decided to start from the bottom up, ushering the teen into a shop that specialized in undergarments. Ruby turned bright pink at all of the frilly underthings on display.

“Jesus H. Christ…why’s there so much lace? Can’t we just get something high-cut and cotton…I’m used to cotton…” she said.

“What’s the ‘H’ stand for?” Hermione asked, a curious expression on her face.

“Huh? Oh! Holy…duh….” Ruby said, and rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. Hermione frowned at the girl. And then the vindictive side of her took over and she released her into the hands of one of the attendants who took one look at her ill-fitting American-made clothes and tsked loudly.

“Oh my…” she said softly. Ruby frowned, but before she could comment she was ushered quickly into the back of the shop.

It took all of three minutes before Hermione heard a shriek. “I WILL NOT!” Ruby cried. Hermione couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled over.

“PUT THOSE BACK!!!” she heard the American cry, a horrified tone to her voice.

She remembered the first time she had been brought to this shop. Ginny swore by this place, and had burned all of Hermione’s serviceable white knickers, forcing Hermione to buy new ones. After a severe browbeating, of course. She had been horrified when the attendant asked her to take off her clothes, and mortified when the attendant magicked them away to take measurements.

She laughed even harder when she heard the sounds of a struggle. It appeared that she and her American cousin were a lot more alike than she thought. She was laughing so hard that tears rolled down her face by the time a red-faced Ruby appeared from the back, fully clothed. She glared at Hermione.

“I hate you. You are the devil, and you are on my list. And it ain’t my Christmas list…” she said. Hermione followed behind, still chuckling, as the attendant lead Ruby through the shop, picking up sets of bras and knickers that matched, unlike the horrible underthings the attendant had seen on Ruby.

They walked out of the store, bags in hand, and Ruby refused to talk to Hermione for the rest of the trip. When they finally returned home, arms loaded with bags, both women were completely exhausted. But Hermione put off a little relaxation until she had helped Ruby put away all of her things. As they stocked her closet, Ruby finally broke her silent treatment.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly.

“For what?” Hermione asked, slightly confused.

“For bein’ a royal bitch. It just surprised me, that’s all…I’ve never been to a place like that…” she said. Hermione smiled brightly.

“My friend Ginny, one of the Weasleys that you met, did the same thing to me a few years ago. And when you said ‘something high-cut and cotton’ I was reminded of the exact reason she took me there. I wore the exact same kinds of things. But even if you don’t show them off, it makes you feel nice to wear pretty things. Ginny taught me that.” She said softly.

“You spent so much money on me today. You didn’t have to…” Ruby said, looking at the wardrobe she had made use of.

“I had nothing else useful to spend it on. I’m just glad you like everything.” She said.

“Of course I like everything! Thanks. Does…does that mean…I get to stay?” Ruby asked, trying to keep the pitifully hopeful expression off of her face. Hermione drew her cousin close, wrapping her in her arms.

“Of course you get to stay…”

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Hermione woke bright and early the next day, eager to set about gathering her Potions ingredients. Ruby had convinced her to allow her to accompany her under the argument that ‘two wands were better than one’ and that she was ‘a full-licensed witch capable of hexing the fuck out of anything that moved wrong…’

Hermione had finally relented, but spent the following twenty minutes impressing upon her the importance of reverence and caution in the Forbidden Forest. She had managed to get a personal treaty out of the Centaurs for ingredients, so long as she only took what she needed, and thanked the Forest for its gift. Hermione had no problem with that.

They stood at the edge of the Forest, Ruby bubbling with excitement. She was a farm girl, and was very attuned to nature.

“Look, Ruby. Like I said before…there are Death Eaters in the forest. Don’t touch anything suspicious, and if we run into any of them, you use the emergency port-key I set up for you. Clear?” Hermione asked, a very serious expression on her face. Ruby nodded. “All right…let’s go.”

They walked for a bit, Hermione stopping at intervals to pluck things, kneeling when she did, and saying an audible ‘thank-you’ to the forest when she did pick something up. The centaurs were always watching…
It reminded Ruby of Native American rituals, thanking the earth for what she gave, and only taking what was needed to sustain life.

They were in the forest a good three hours, wandering about, plucking things. Hermione straightened after thanking the forest for a particularly valuable red-petal Blood Blossom. As they started the trek back to the edge of the forest, Ruby’s ears picked up a sound. It was faint, but she heard it…

“Cousin? Do you hear that?” she asked. Hermione went still, her head cocked to listen.

“No…what did you hear?” she whispered.

“I don’t know….it sounded….I don’t know….” She said, shuddering as a strange chill went down her spine. As Hermione took a step forward, they heard a distinct sound. A loud snap, followed by a blood-freezing scream. The hair on the backs of their necks stood up, and both looked around. Dammit…it appeared as if the sound were coming from the direction they had come. They cast silencing spells over their feet, and began walking again, slowing as they approached a small clearing in the Forest. They had taken a rest there only an hour before…

The two approached the sight, hidden behind trees, horror written on their faces as they watched the scene unfold.
There was a small group of Death Eaters, maybe a dozen or so, and they were gathered in a loose circle. A prisoner was bound against a tree, arms above his head, another Death Eater behind him, holding a long, lethal looking whip. The prisoner was already marked with one bloody stripe across his back. He had been stripped down to his shorts, black boxers, and his shoulders were heaving with the effort of not screaming out again.

Two other figures were bound tight, forced to their knees, kneeling in front of someone in the middle of the circle. Hermione had to bite back a gasp when she realized she was looking upon Voldemort himself…and some kind of private ‘meeting.’ She realized with growing horror that she recognized the pale silvery blonde hair atop the whipped prisoner’s head. She winced as she saw the other Death Eater lay another stripe, and saw Ruby cringe when the man screamed again. They were close enough to hear Voldemort chuckle.

“Do you see? Do you see what your son’s failure has cost him?”

One of the kneeling prisoners screamed something out. It was a female scream. A nearby Death Eater kicked her viciously, sending her sprawling.

The whipping of the blonde prisoner continued until the man’s flesh was nothing but tatters on his back. Hermione and Ruby watched in horror. Both wanted to look away, but it was like a terrible accident in slow motion, and both found their eyes glued. The other kneeling prisoner was pleading with Voldemort.

“Please, My Lord. Spare him. Take me in his stead…” But Voldemort ignored the man’s pleas. Hermione was positive she was gazing on the Malfoys. They had been losing Voldemort’s favor rapidly since Draco had failed in killing Dumbledore, and apparently the young blonde had done something to royally piss off the Dark Lord.

The woman, presumably Narcissa Malfoy, lunged at the Dark Lord. She only got as far as the hem of his robe when she was yanked back by one of the Death Eaters in the circle. The Death Eater picked up a stout club-like stick from the ground, and lit into the begging woman. Her cries intermingled with her son’s for only a few minutes before going still. Too still.

The man had to be restrained by three Death Eaters, sobbing and begging for Voldemort to spare his family.

“Please…please…my wife….my son….” He sobbed, fighting uselessly against the dark-robed villains.

Voldemort raised his hand, and the whipping stopped immediately.

“Cut him down and finish the job.”

The Death Eater threw down his whip, and drew his wand, freeing the young man from his bindings. He fell backwards with a strangled scream as his back hit the forest floor. He rolled to his stomach, vomiting before two spare Death Eaters dragged him to his feet. The one that had whipped him drew something shiny from his pocket. Ruby squinted. It was a hunting knife.

“Do it.”

Voldemort’s order was met with a heart-wrenching scream from the man Hermione assumed was Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater slashed with his knife, and blood began to pour from a wound on Draco’s throat.

“DRACO!!!” Lucius bellowed, pressing his forehead to the ground, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed.

“Maybe this will teach you a lesson, Lucius. Do not fail me…”

The two Death Eaters dropped Draco to the ground unceremoniously, letting him thud painfully. Ruby felt hot tears streaming down her face. What a terrible thing to happen…his wife and son…the poor man…

Even Hermione was moved by the depth of the reaction. The normally collected wizard was sobbing his heart out on the ground.

He was jerked to his feet. “This is your last warning, Lucius. Do not fail me again…”

Lucius tried to wrench away, and get to his wife or son, but he was held fast.

“Please…let me tend to them…please….my family…” he begged.

“No. Take him away.”

And with a final scream that echoed long after he was gone, the Death Eaters disappeared with Lucius Malfoy. The others disappeared one at a time, leaving only the Dark Lord. He looked between the mother and son.

“Let the werewolves take care of your bodies…”

And with those parting words, the wizard disappeared.

“We have to help them!” Ruby said.

“They’re dead, Ruby…” Hermione said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“But what if they’re not?! And even if they are…we can’t let werewolves eat their bodies…it’s…it’s disrespectful…”

Hermione had half a mind to tell her exactly who the Malfoys were…but it didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Fine…we’ll check them for vitals…”

Hermione and Ruby walked slowly down to the two blondes, looking around cautiously in case any Death Eaters had decided to stay behind.

Blood had started to pool on the leaves underneath Draco, but Hermione felt her heart wrench as his fingers twitched lightly. Ruby went to Narcissa, and knelt by the woman. She turned her over, and winced when she saw her face. She looked like raw bloody meat. Ruby pressed two fingers against the woman’s throat, and her eyes widened when she felt a soft, steady throb beneath the pads of her fingers.

“She’s alive…” Ruby said.

“So’s he…but not for long if something’s not done. They’re wanted…we can’t take them to St. Mungos. They’ll send the Dementors before they close the wounds. I guess…shite…activate your port-key to my flat, and you take her. I’ll Apparate with him, and we’ll deal with them there. If either of them doesn’t make it, we’ll bring him or her back here and then report the death. That’s the best we can do…” she said softly.

Ruby heard the pop of apparition, and pulled the small necklace out of the collar of her shirt. She wrapped an arm around the beaten Narcissa and then whispered the activation spell for the port-key.

Hermione got Ruby’s permission to use her room as a make-shift infirmary. She had an assortment of healing potions and salves she could use, but most of which were only effective on Narcissa, as the whip and knife had been cursed to be un-healable. Draco was face down on a transfigured cot, Hemrione dabbing disinfectant on both the cut on his throat and the stripes. She could see other bruises scattered along his body. Apparently he had taken quite the beating before being whipped.

Ruby dabbed medicine onto Narcissa, who rested on the other Transfigured cot. Most of the woman’s wounds seemed to be mysteriously stubborn to the healing.

When both women were sure they had done all they could for the moment, they stepped back, watching their patients rest. Hermione sighed softly.

“Bloody hell…what have we gotten ourselves into…”
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What have they gotten themselves into indeed? Well...heeeeeeere's Draco!

Tell me what you think. I really want to know. ABout everything....