Upside Down

I hope you guys are enjoying this story. I'm enjoying writing it. I've decided to go much slower with this one than I did with You Raise Me Up. I discovered it was very hard to write a chapter a night. But I'm also working on another story (The Malfoy Chronicles: A Witch in Time) and I needed time for that, too. You guys should read it. It's pretty good...
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Hermione gently bandaged Draco, levitating him a foot off of the bed so she could loop the bandages across him for a better hold. After she covered the gruesome stripes, and went to work on the gash on his throat. It was a nasty cut, and she really wasn’t sure how he was still alive. She soaked a bit of gauze in an antibiotic potion, and carefully pressed it to the wound. He wheezed slightly, and she pulled back, afraid he would wake.

When she was positive he was out cold for at least a while longer, she wrapped clean bandages around his throat, holding the gauze in place. She would have to change these bandages every few hours, or infection would set in and kill him for sure.

She looked up at Ruby, who was taking care of Narcissa better than she thought a sixteen-year-old witch should. She had dabbed antibiotic on several deep cuts on her face, and bandaged what she could. And apparently, the wounds went further down than her face. Ruby had stripped her of most of her clothing, leaving the older witch in, strangely, a white camisole and old-fashioned knee-length underpants that cinched at her knee, with lace on the bottom and bows on the front of them. Hermione almost snorted. Those underpants looked like they would belong on her great-grandmother. But the pureblood wizarding society was a bit old-fashioned. She wouldn’t be surprised if Narcissa had never seen a two-piece bathing suit…

Bandages were quickly and efficiently wrapped around Narcissa’s upper and lower arms, her right wrist splinted because it appeared sprained, and even a few stray adhesive bandages stuck on her stomach. Hermione was surprised, but not displeased, to note that Narcissa’s left forearm was clear.

Curious, she lifted Draco’s arm. The Mark was there, but faded significantly, with light-colored scars marring the image, like he had tried to cut it off. Interesting…

After Ruby was through bandaging Narcissa, she retrieved a light blanket from the closet she had seen Hermione visit for linens, and draped it over her unconscious body. It wouldn’t do for her to wake in only knickers…she might panic.

Hermione followed Ruby’s lead, except she didn’t put the blanket past his buttocks. He most definitely wouldn’t want any sort of pressure on his back.

When they were done, Hermione knelt at her closet, and began to shift through some of the boxes on the floor. With a satisfied click of her tongue, she drew out what appeared to be a baby monitoring set.

“What’s that for?” Ruby asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I got these when I served a small bout as private healer for Harry after a particularly nasty battle. I didn’t want to be in the room with him at all times, so I used a baby monitor to keep tabs on him.

“Cool.” Ruby said. “We’ll be able to hear them, and not have to hover. Me likee.” She said, and Hermione chuckled softly.

~~

Since the spare bedroom was an infirmary, Hermione had moved Ruby into her own room. They had transfigured Hermione’s large bed into two smaller beds, and the arrangement seemed to be working out just fine. They were woken up sometimes during the night by groans or painful grunts of their patients, but neither seemed to eager to come back to the land of consciousness.

But on the third night, Hermione was awakened by a terrible wheezing. She knew it was Draco, for Narcissa hadn’t had any trouble breathing. She quickly hopped from her bed, threw on a night robe, and ran to the spare room barefooted.

Draco’s eyes were open, unfocused, and he was gasping for breath. He seemed to be in the throes of a panic attack, and his breathing wasn’t good enough to sustain the increased rate. Hermione was at his side immediately, trying to calm him down. Harry had gone through something similar as he was waking from his injuries after the battle. Unfamiliar with his surroundings, he had panicked to the point of fighting with Hermione as she tried to calm him.

“Malfoy!” she whispered harshly. He wouldn’t look at her, his silver eyes glazed, his hand at his side, clutching desperately at nothing. Hermione put a hand on Draco’s face. “Malfoy! You have to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself…” she said, her voice soft. Draco gurgled loudly, and blood began to dribble down his chin. “Malfoy, please! You’re hurting yourself. Stop struggling…” she knelt at his side, trying to get into his line of vision.

His dull eyes finally seemed to rest on her. She smiled, shushing him like a mother would a sick child. “It’s okay, Malfoy. You’re alive. You’re safe. I won’t harm you.” She said, rubbing her hand over his face. She really didn’t like him, but maybe if she saved him he would give up some info on the Death Eaters that could be used by the Order.

He looked at her, still gasping, and tears began to leak out of his eyes. “Mmmm…” he gurgled, and coughed, wincing and spraying blood.

“No, no. Don’t speak, Malfoy. You’re going to ruin your voice. You have to be silent, or you could open your throat wound again…” she said softly. She cursed silently when she noticed the white bandage was already turning red. She had just gotten that wound to scab over. “Malfoy…hold still. Malfoy…” but he suddenly began to struggle. He put his hands under him, trying to hoist himself up. But he let out a strangled cry when his back flexed, the stripes pulling and causing him great agony.

“Malfoy! Stop it…Malfoy….” This wasn’t working, so she tried another tactic. She grabbed his face in her hands, and put her nose close to his. “Draco…” she said softly. His eyes rested on her again, and he calmed almost immediately, resting on the cot again. She sighed with relief.

She summoned a glass, and mixed a pain-potion in with a little water. She conjured a straw, and held it to his lips. He took one look at the glass, and having seen her put something else in it, tried to protest.

“Nnnngg.” He gurgled. He tried to push her hand away, spilling some of the water.

“Draco…it’s pain-reliever. It will help your back. You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Come on, Draco. You have to drink. I would hate to put liquids in you intravenously, but I will if I think you’re going to dehydrate…” she said. He looked at her, a strange expression crossing across his face before he leaned forward and took the straw between his lips and took an experimental sip. He pulled back, waiting a few moments as if something would happen.

When he deemed it safe for complete ingestion, he leaned forward and drained the glass thirstily, settling himself back on the soft cot, eyeing Hermione warily.

“You’ve been here three days, Malfoy. If I wanted to kill you I could have just left you in the forest. You were well on your way.” She said. Draco didn’t seem quite convinced, however, and closed only one eye, trying to watch her with the other. She snickered. “Close your eyes, Malfoy. I’m going back to sleep.” She said, and left the room, the hem of her night robe billowing out behind her. Draco watched the door for a moment, before closing his eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that his mother rested only a few paces behind him. He was out cold again in minutes.

~~

Ruby stretched out like a cat, and yawned loudly. She looked over at Hermione, who was still asleep.

“Sleepy head…” she murmured, before rolling out of bed and stretching again. She decided to surprise her cousin with a bit of home-cooked breakfast. She had been taught to cook by her mother before she passed, and had been the one to cook meals for herself and her father after that. She was quite the accomplished little cook.

She found some potatoes, and set about cutting them into tiny cubes, mixing them with eggs and frying them into a patty-shape. She did love hash-browns. Then she found some flour and buttermilk, and set about making American biscuits, which were not the same as cookies.

To accompany her biscuits she fried some ground sausage into individual patties, and used the residual grease, along with flour and milk, to make some Southern-Style sausage gravy, a slightly spicy white-sauce that would be served over the bread. Then she added some eggs to another pan, scrambling them to a perfectly fluffy yellow consistency.

The smell roused Hermione, whose stomach growled happily. Whatever that girl was cooking, it smelled delicious.

Unbeknownst to them, it also roused a certain blonde female as well. Her eyes fluttered open, and her hands went gingerly to her face. She winced when her fingers touched, whimpering as she passed over bruises and lacerations. She must look a terrible mess. Her stomach growled angrily, reminding her that she had not eaten in several days. She pushed back the covers on her, and gasped when she saw her son in the next cot.

She was on her feet immediately, and limped to Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder. He groaned softly, and she pulled back, remembering the whipping he had taken. She leaned down to his face, seemingly content that he was sleeping rather peacefully.

Narcissa looked around, trying to get her bearings. One eye was swollen almost shut, and therefore almost useless, but she gathered that she was in a bedroom of sorts. And it wasn’t a very fancy one, so she wasn’t at the Manor. Where in the world could she be?

Another whiff of something delicious caught her nostrils, and she was drawn to the door, partially open. She poked her head cautiously out of the door, not wanting to be hexed in her wandless state. She heard voices from another room, and exited the bedroom slowly, inching along the wall as to not be seen. She noticed another door, and taking her barely clothed situation into consideration, prayed that it was another bedroom. It was.

She looked through Hermione’s closet until she found a suitable robe to wrap around herself to cover her underwear, and then she was back against the wall, moving stealthily towards the voices. One of the voices sounded familiar, but the other was a boisterous American voice, and she had no idea who it could be. But the smells coming from that room were mouth-watering. Maybe they were friendly… She was, after all, alive and well, her son tended to and resting.

Narcissa took a deep calming breath, and pushed open the door to the kitchen, walking through with her head held high.

Hermione and Ruby stopped talking, and looked up at her. Hermione blinked, and put down her fork, standing to meet the pureblood.

“Mrs. Malfoy…” she said. Narcissa’s head cocked to the side. She knew this girl…vaguely. She was a muggle-born, and the brightest witch in centuries. Why would she help them?

“I couldn’t help but smell the food.” Narcissa cursed at herself at her own pitiful sound. Her voice was cracked and strained, hoarse from the screams she had produced during her own beating. The other girl, the dark-haired American, grinned broadly.

“Help yourself. I’m used to cooking for a grown man, so I made a bit more than I needed to. It might not be exactly what you’re used to, but Hermione said it was good.” Ruby said, standing and pulling out a chair for the woman. Narcissa approached the table cautiously, like a cat observing its surroundings. But she didn’t observe too long, as her stomach gave a terrible grumble. Her face colored heavily under her bruises. Ruby grinned.

“Don’t be ashamed, Ma’am. You haven’t eaten anything in three days. You must be famished.” She said. Ruby fetched another plate, and filled it with food. Narcissa gave her a strange look when she broke open the biscuit, and poured some of the thick white sauce over it. “Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.” She said, pouring the woman a glass of juice. Ruby and Hermione both watched as Narcissa brandished a fork and knife, cutting into the sausage patty. She looked at it, sniffed delicately, and put it into her mouth. The meat was tender on the inside, with a slight crispy layer on the outside. It was indeed different than the heavy and rich foods she was used to, but it was good nonetheless. She gave a smile, and Ruby grinned even bigger.

“Score one for the American.” She said. She licked her finger and drew it down in the air as if making a mark on an invisible board. The three women ate in silence, the only sounds being of cutlery and chewing. Hermione looked over at Narcissa, and frowned.

“Is that my robe?”
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Sooooooooo..... What do you think? I know it's starting out slow...but we have to get our favorite blonde healed up first. I have plenty of surprises for you guys...don't fret. *Evil smile...*

And don't forget to review. As always, I will hunt you down and stare at you unblinkingly until you leave a review. And besides...the poor plot bunnies need it....they're starving....help the bunnies....the bunnies....

REVIEW!!!

A/N: Narcissa's undies: http://www.ipc.lt/wg/php/images8/bloomers.jpg