Chapter 2
The three fell onto the cold wood-laminate floor unceremoniously.
Harry screamed upon impact, blood spewing from his wound and vomit erupting out his mouth and clogging his airways with a gurgling choke. Draco quickly sat up to roll Harry onto his side, rubbing his back with gentle pats as his eyes took in the new surroundings.
It was a muggle house. A very small one. Or a flat, rather. The lights were off, no pictures, or any decorations for that matter, on the barren grey walls. The three of them lay between the open floor plan of a living room in front and a kitchen behind them. On the wall to their left were two doors, another door on the adjacent wall and a fourth door behind them in the kitchen. The only thing to indicate anyone lived here was the kitchen full of potions and brewing equipment, as well as muggle appliances.
"Accio dittany," Narcissa summoned as she stood, a small phial whipping through the air from the corner of the kitchen and into her waiting hand. "We need to get him into the bath," she hurried along through the first left door, then came back out to check the other two rooms. "It's all clear. Quickly, Draco," she urged as she came back over to the boys.
"Easy, Potter," Draco soothed with a grimace, patting Harry's back as he coughed up the last dribbles of vomit. "Sorry about this," Draco sighed reluctantly and charmed to cut open Harry's filthy shirt, gently pulling it off him to use the discarded fabric to wipe Harry's mouth and neck free of vomit. It still caused Harry to groan in discomfort.
"Get the other side," Draco instructed his mother as he pulled Harry's right arm over his shoulders, careful not to press too much into Harry's wounded side. Narcissa obeyed, allowing Harry to lean more onto her as they pulled him to his feet. "Potter, is anything broken?" Draco asked Harry, who gave a weak shake of his head.
"Don't think so," he replied, gritting his teeth. They stumbled and tripped, Harry dragging his feet across the floor, but it was only a few steps until they made it to the furthest door by the lounge.
It was thankfully light enough in the flat that they didn't have to turn the light on to see what they were doing. It was the bathroom they dragged Harry into, with Narcissa helping Draco lift Harry's legs over the rim to stand in the empty bathtub before they eased him to lie down in it.
"Tergeo," Draco cast, erasing the dried blood and dirt from Harry's skin while Narcissa grabbed a washcloth from a cupboard in the corner holding towels and ran it under hot water in the sink.
Draco traced his wand lightly over the deep cut with a continuous soft murmur of "Vulnera Sanentur." The blood flow eased before stopping, the wound cleaned itself and then began to slowly seal.
Harry winced at the closing wound but lolled his head back to the gentle sound of the familiar incantation, his head resting against the tub, feeling like it weighed a ton of bricks and shut his eyes.
Draco noticed his mother staring at him with a sad glint in her eyes and a small smile.
"What?" Draco frowned grumpily.
Narcissa shook her head dismissively and schooled her expression, "Nothing. Harry, sweetheart," she called, turning to Harry and patting the boy's shoulder, "Stay awake for a little longer," she said, casting a warming charm for the three.
Draco ran out to the kitchen, slamming the cupboards open until he found some glass cups. He took one out and filled it with cold water with "aguamenti" — he didn't trust the running water in this place — and ran back to the bathroom. He lightly clasped Harry's chin, tipping his head back slightly, and instructed him to drink. The water ran down his chin and out the corners of his mouth, but Draco could tell from Harry's stuttering sigh through his nose that he appreciated it.
"He's lost a lot of blood," Narcissa said to Draco with worry as he set the glass down on the corner of the tub.
Draco shook his head, grabbing the dittany his mother left on the bathroom sink and unscrewed the pipette topper to squeeze out droplets of the potion along the closing cut with shaky hands, "It's going to take weeks for him to recover. He needs to go to a hospital. There's only so much I can do."
"Well, we can't take him to St Mungo's," Narcissa frowned, "The Aurors will take us as soon as."
"What else do you want me to do?" Draco snarled back, screwing the topper back on the phial and setting it down next to the glass cup.
"Don't leave me," Harry slurred quietly.
"There must be something, Draco," Narcissa pleaded, "There's a brewing station ready in the kitchen; surely you can make something work with it."
Draco growled in annoyance, grabbing hold of one of Harry's trainers and yanking it off with a grunt, stumbling backwards from the stubborn release. He tipped the shoe upside down and scoffed as dirt and tiny stones poured out from it onto the tiled floor, the rubber sole of the trainer flapping loosely at the toe seams. He looked at the many holes in Harry's sock with a shake of his head as he yanked the other trainer off before removing the socks too.
"Can't believe I'm stuck here, undressing Harry bloody Potter on his death bed and doing his bloody potions homework," he grumbled to himself, vanishing the socks, trainers and shirt discarded in the kitchen.
"Hush, Draco," Narcissa scolded, wiping the excess grime of sweat from Harry's face and torso with the wet washcloth and soap.
Draco furrowed his brows and leaned over the tub's rim to cup Harry's jaw, forcing him to look at Draco through droopy eyelids. "Potter," Draco hissed, "Potter, stay with me. Did you do it?" Draco softly shook Harry's face to sober him from his daze. "Did you kill The Dark Lord? Is it over?"
Harry winced and grumbled a lazy "yes" with a sagging nod.
Narcissa and Draco locked their wide, hopeful eyes together for a fleeting moment before Draco snapped back to Harry with a grin.
"You're bloody brilliant, you are," Draco leaned in to give a congratulatory kiss to Harry's cheek with an exaggerated smack of his lips and a light pat of his hand against Harry's face. "Never doubted you for a moment," he lied happily.
Harry scowled at being jostled around but allowed Narcissa to wash his hair with a jug of water and shampoo until eventually passing out at the relaxing sensation of gentle fingers in his scalp, allowing Draco to vanish his jeans, leaving Harry in his boxers and tending to his other scrapes and gashes.
Draco sat back on his knees with a wobbly sigh, running his hand through his grimy hair to push it out of his eyes before it flopped back over his face. "I can try a blood-replenishing potion. I'm not sure, I've never done it before. Do you have any books in this place?"
Narcissa nodded eagerly, "The bookcase in the lounge," she directed and began to tidy the bathroom.
Draco stood and walked out to see the small bookcase against the wall in the lounge. He skimmed his fingertips over the spines of potion books, magic and even muggle cookbooks before landing on one for magical medical care.
"What is this place anyway?" Draco called to his mother, pulling the book out from its slot.
"A last-minute safehouse," Narcissa replied, walking out of the bathroom with a refilled glass of water and a levitating limp Harry following behind her.
"'Last minute'," Draco snorted in amusement, flipping through the book's pages until he found the specific potion he was searching for.
Narcissa floated Harry through the furthest door on the left wall to reveal a small bedroom and set Harry down on the twin-sized bed and the glass of water on the bedside table. Draco looked inside the other room on the left wall closest to the bathroom to see another bedroom with a queen-sized bed taking up the majority of the space.
He assumed the door in the kitchen was the front door. He didn't want to open it.
Narcissa came out of the room and began to raise the wards as Draco buried his nose in the kitchen cabinets to find the potion ingredients. "When did you find the time to set this place up? How did you even do it?" he asked as he pulled out a glass bottle of honeywater and a jar with a bouquet of Valerian Root inside.
"After your father was sent to Azkaban, I met up with a squib woman. I won't say who she is, how I found her, or where we are. Her identity and our location are to be kept secret and for our knowledge alone. We arranged for her to keep this flat as a secret safehouse for us in case anything were to go wrong during and-or after the war. Not even your father knows.
"After his sentence, I had taken out small amounts of money — so as not to raise suspicion — to pay the squib for her services in maintaining the flat, for keeping us updated on the outside world, as well as bringing us weekly supplies if we were to ever arrive. I sent her letters to acquire everything here since I couldn't leave the Manor without everyone knowing my whereabouts. I made sure to get everything I possibly could for our potential needs. A muggle residence would be the last place anyone would look for us. Our chateau in France was out of the question. I need to contact her to let her know we are here and will require her assistance."
In all that time of explanation, Draco had cleaned the vomit and blood from the floor and assorted all the required ingredients and equipment to start brewing the potion. He shook his head with a fond expression as he watched his mother finish raising the Wards.
"Mother, where in Salazar's name would any of us be without you?"
Narcissa turned around to smile sweetly at her son. "Probably dead."