Disclaimer – I didn't write the Harry Potter books, I don't own the characters, and I'm not making any money on this. None of this will change, even if I forget to put disclaimers on some of the chapters.

14 – Revelio

Hermione rushed into Grimmauld Place, hoping against hope. She went straight to the kitchen, Luna and Lavender right behind her. What if they weren't here?

Her chest felt like it would explode when she saw the many faces packed around the table. She threw herself into Harry's arms, then looped one arm around Ron as he came over.

"You're okay. You're okay." It was like a mantra. All the fear she hadn't allowed herself to feel was pulsing through her, even through her relief.

Her head snapped up, looking around frantically. "Ginny! Ginny – are you here?"

Harry's eyes grew wide with shock, then his face darkened.

She asked again, although his face had already told her the answer. "Ginny? Is she here?"

"What do you mean? Where have you been?"

Hermione took a deep breath. There was so much to explain. As quickly as she could she explained how they'd gotten the warning about the orphanage attack, skipping the part about the polyjuice.

"I tried to let you know but my patronus came back. What happened?"

"It was a trap. We were sealed. Nothing could get in or out."

"What? How'd you get out then?"

"I'll tell you later. First, where's Ginny?"

"I don't know." She explained the orphanage attack, the defense, how everything had been going so well. "Then I saw a woman, one of the orphanage matrons I guess. She was walking down the pavement with this little girl. I didn't know she was an orphan. I didn't know they were going to the orphanage, until all of a sudden they turned, they went up the stairs. Ginny had been waiting on the other end of the street. We should've done a Muggle repelling spell, but we didn't. When the lady and the girl went in, Ginny went after them. I should have gone after her. I should have . . . ."

"No. You shouldn't have." Kingsley interrupted her. "Greyback was there. Miss Weasley is a talented witch."

"I know. I thought she'd be fine. I thought she was fine. It was just a few minutes later that it fell silent. The Death Eaters were gone. I ran in. The Muggle lady was lying there, dead. It was . . . it was a mess, but it was all the transfigured pigeons. I did a Hominem Revelio and there was no one there. Ginny was gone, the girl was gone, everyone was gone."

A horrible silence covered the kitchen. No one spoke. No one moved. Mrs. Weasley brought her hand to her mouth and bit into it.

Kingsley took charge. "Minerva, Arthur, Miss Granger, we need to talk. The sitting room." Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, everyone who hadn't been named began to protest. Kingsley quieted them with a hand. "We need to move quickly. No time for debate. Molly, St. Mungo's is still a disaster. We won't be able to get a healer if we need one. Gather supplies. Be ready. I'll keep you all informed."

Hermione hurried ahead, toward the front sitting room. She quickly slipped into the library, and saw right away that there was no new message. "Miss Black? Anything?"

"No. What . . . are the children okay?"

"Yes. Well, one is missing, and one . . . a friend of mine. We're looking for them. Can you . . . , If you hear anything let me know."

"Certainly, but how?"

Hermione frowned. She must have forgotten. "The locket."

"Excuse me? What locket?"

Hermione pulled it out from under her robes. "This one. You had Kreacher give it to me."

"No. I remember it though. Is my picture still in there?"

"Yes. It's charmed to grow warm when you visit the picture."

"Okay, then." Hyacinth was satisfied, but Hermione wasn't. Who'd sent her the locket then? There was no time to think about it now. She went back out to the sitting room.

"No news," she reported.

Kingsley nodded. "Miss Granger, we need to set up a team to go back to the orphanage." Hermione summoned parchment and a quill and began to make notes. "First, we'll check for . . . ."

There was a loud crack of apparition in the hall. Kingsley frowned, then rose to go check, Hermione, Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall following just behind.

Walburga Black was already shrieking. Standing below her, hands over her ears, was an unfamiliar house elf. Kingsley had his wand drawn. Hermione dropped to her knees in front of the frightened creature.

"It's okay. We're not going to hurt you," she crooned softly.

"Miss? Nappy is not hurting Miss. Nappy has to tell . . . Nappy has a message. Nappy is to say that Potter's girl is . . . ."

There was a thunderous pounding in the hall as those from the kitchen came charging in, led by Harry, wands drawn.

"What did she say?" Harry yelled. He must have heard part of the message. The elf's head jerked in their direction and for a moment Hermione thought she might disapparate and be gone.

Kingsley held up his hand, furiously gesturing for the others to stop, to back off. Then he encouraged Hermione with a nod.

"Who sent you?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Master. Master sent me. Master is hurt. Master would send messages to the Order, but Master is hurt." They all looked as each other. How could they know if they could trust this elf?

"Hyacinth." Hermione murmured. "Wait just a moment," she said to the terrified elf. "No one will hurt you." She turned and glared at all of those with their wands aimed at the elf. Most of the wands lowered, although nearly all of them remained drawn and tense.

Hermione looked back at Professor McGonagall, who hurried forward to help. "I'll be right back," Hermione spoke softly to the professor, then backed away while giving the elf a vague, tight smile.

Once she was out of the hallway, she rushed into the library. "Hya . . . Miss Black, I must ask . . . do you know . . . ." She paused to remember the name the elf had used to refer to herself. "Do you know a house elf named 'Nappy'?"

Hyacinth smiled. "Oh, yes. Wonderful elf. Very helpful. Grew up in the . . . ." Hyacinth stopped, a hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, I mean, I don't . . . I'm not supposed to . . . ." She bit her lip, clearly worried that she had said too much, then pulled her face back into a more proper expression.

"Nappy is here with a message. Can we trust her?"

"Nappy is there? Oh dear." Hyacinth began to fan herself with her hand. "I mean . . . yes, of course, you can trust Nappy, but what's happened? Why would . . . ." She rose uncertainly from her chair. "I need to go. I need to check . . . ."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for your help." Hermione hurried back in the hall. It was empty, but she could hear voices in the kitchen.

When she pushed the heavy kitchen door opened she paused to take in the strange scene. Nappy was seated at the table, refusing to look at Professor McGonagall who was offering her tea. Several wizards, Ron and Charlie Weasley among them, had their wands drawn, pointing at the floor, but obviously ready to aim at the elf at any moment. Harry, however, was on his knees next to the elf.

"What did you say? We need you to give us the message again."

Nappy shook her head. "Miss said to wait." The elf stared down at the hands she had clasped in her own lap. Hermione realized that the elf was, for whatever reason, waiting for her.

"Nappy. I'm back. You can say your message again."

Nappy looked up, nodding excitedly. "Potter's girl is hurt in a field near the cliffs of Dover."

Harry stood up. "Let's go."

A cacophony of voices broke out.

"No, it might be a trap."

"I'll go."

"How do we know?"

"Get some brooms."

"Give it some veritaserum."

"This is insane."

"If there's a chance . . . ."

"It doesn't work on house elves."

"Why are we still here?"

"We can't just go . . . ."

There was a loud bang, as Kingsley held up his wand. The house elf, Nappy, flinched and pulled her feet up onto her chair, then hugged her legs and buried her head in her knees. Hermione moved over behind her, then stopped, uncertain, just before she touched the elf.

Kingsley said loudly "We have reason to believe that this elf has been sent by . . . our Death Eater contact."

Harry slapped the table loudly. "We need to go."

"You're not going," Kingsley said firmly. "But we're sending a team – Arthur, Bill, Oliver, Ron. Get brooms."

Bill started toward the door, then repeated "A field near the cliffs of Dover? How do we find her?"

"Apparate nearby, then use brooms to fly over, and cast Hominem revelio until you find her," answered Kingsley.

"What if it's a trap?" asked Oliver, even though he was already moving toward the door.

"Keep separate, disillusion yourself before you go, keep your eyes . . . ." Kingsley kept the instructions coming as the team left.

Hermione pulled a chair over to Nappy who was standing, looking all too eager to leave. "Nappy? It's okay. No one's going to hurt you." Nappy turned to look at her. The elf's eyes were red and she was still shaking.

"Wait, Nappy, your master? How hurt is he?"

Nappy began shaking her head back and forth frantically. "So bad, Miss. So bad. And Nappy not allowed to heal Master. Master will die. Nappy can't help." The elf was becoming more and more distressed, now clutching at her own hair.

"Why won't your master let you heal him?" Hermione asked. Several heads had turned around the kitchen.

"No. No. Not Master. Not Master's rules. Have to follow the rules or Master will be punished." Nappy's voice came in a rushed high pitched tone that made the words hard to decipher.

"Not your master's rules? Whose rules?"

"Mustn't say. Nappy can't say. Nappy don't want Master to . . . ."

"Nappy," a gentle voice interrupted. It was Professor McGonagall. "We can work around the rules. There are ways to help your master without breaking the rules."

Hermione was thoroughly puzzled now, but she turned her head to the professor.

Nappy, however, began wringing her hands vigorously, almost violently. "Nappy gave message. Nappy needs go."

"Nappy?" The professor spoke softly, but Nappy's eyes swept wildly around the room, as though looking for an escape route. "Nappy? I know about the rules." The elf was wringing the hem of her own pillowcase dress until Hermione thought she would rip the cloth. Hermione wasn't sure if the distressed elf even heard Professor McGonagall.

Suddenly, Hestia Jones jolted out of her chair. "Hermione? Don't we still need to clean up at the orphanage, bring the real children back, modify memories, all of that?"

"Oh my gosh!" Hermione jumped to her feet. "I forgot. I was so worried about . . . ."

"Don't worry. I'm on it." Hestia said. Neville offered to go with her and Lavender agreed to show them where it was. The three of them headed for the door.

Hermione turned back to Nappy, just in time to see the shaking elf snap her fingers and disappear.

"Oh, no!" She gripped her face with her hands, then sighed and said to Professor McGonagall, "That's it then. She's gone. We have no way to find her master."

The professor drew her aside. "Perhaps you could leave a message."

"If what the elf says is true, her master is in no shape to get a message." Professor McGonagall sighed with resignation.

"Professor, was that true? What was Nappy talking about?"

"If it is what I think it is – it's simply barbaric. There are punishment rules. Old Snake Eyes occasionally punishes by refusing to allow anyone to heal certain injuries. He calls it 'healing the Muggle way,' but what he means is no healing at all."

"But you said there's a way to heal the injuries so that he doesn't know?"

"Yes, but it's tricky. He uses a spell which reveals any potions in a wizard's system. He checks the wizard's wand, and the wands of any close to him, and, of course, he uses legilimency to check for any other healing efforts."

Hermione felt slightly nauseous. This was something Voldemort did to those on his side, his own supporters.

"There is a way – a way we've used before though. Someone . . . another professor . . . kept a journal that explained how to recreate the effects of common healing potions with spells." Hermione wondered why they still couldn't speak publicly about Professor Snape's role as double agent, but this wasn't the time to get side-tracked. The Professor continued. "Since we Order members are not known to be helping Death Eaters our wands won't be checked. Finally, a spy, all of our spies, must be skilled at occulemency anyway."

"I guess it doesn't matter now anyway."

"No, but if you need it, we have his journal, as well as his notes in some of his books."

Hermione gave a half-hearted smirk. She was well-acquainted with Professor Snape's habit of marking up his books.

The kitchen grew awkwardly silent. Harry remained standing, leaning face first into a wall, bracing his head on this arms. Hermione wanted to comfort him, but she knew, until they found Ginny, there was nothing she could say. Part of her wished he would look at her, and part of her was hoping he wouldn't.

Every few moments she checked the Weasleys' clock. It had been moved to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place since Mrs. Weasley waited there whenever there was a raid. The clock didn't tell her much; the hands always pointed to "mortal peril" now, but as long as Ginny was in "mortal peril" they'd know she wasn't . . . . Hermione didn't want to think about it.

The time crawled by. Hermione wished they'd just return, then hoped they wouldn't. Not until they'd found her. She tried not to think about Ginny and found herself worrying instead about her Death Eater contact. She knew now he was male – Nappy had called him "master." He was injured, seriously according to the elf. Was he bleeding? Was he in pain? Was it Draco? Why did she picture Draco when she thought of her contact? Because he was the only Death Eater that she knew had second thoughts? Because he was the only Death Eater she knew?

She needed to think about something else. She ran through the ingredients of Wolfsbane Potion in her head, then Polyjuice, then Veritaserum.

There was a noise in the front hall – the front door!

"Mum!" someone called out. She could hear activity in the hall, as Mrs. Black began yelling again. They were back.

Hermione and the others surged toward the door, then backed away, not wanting to block it.

Bill burst through the door, arms laden with Ginny, bound with heavy ropes to a child – the orphan Hermione seen before – both of them covered in blood, pale, eyes closed. As she watched, the ropes were vanished, and Mr. Weasley hurried to catch the child.

Harry rushed forward, then stopped when Mrs. Weasley motioned him not to come too close. He started to ask the question that Hermione couldn't even think. "Are they . . . Is she . . . ?"

"They're alive," Bill answered. "Not in the best shape though."

Mrs. Weasley cast a quick scourgify and the blood vanished, although they both were still horribly pale.

There was a crack, apparition, in the hall. No one seemed to hear it except Hermione. She bit her lip. Someone had to check.

"Episkey," Mrs. Weasley's voice shook the first time she said the spell. "Espiskey." Her voice grew stronger. She was focusing now. "Episkey." Mr. Weasley used the spell on the child. "Episkey." Mrs. Weasley again, Hermione realized that she'd just been standing there, watching as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley healed Ginny and the child.

She hurried into the hall – there, standing wide-eyed and alone, was Nappy.

"Nappy?" Hermione's mind had trouble catching up with the obvious fact that the elf had returned.

"Miss can help Master? How help? How not break rules?"

"Yes, Nappy. We've done this before. There are ways to use spells instead of potions. It can be done."

Nappy bit her own lip. "Nappy mustn't disobey Master."

"Of course not. I'm not asking you to disobey. Did your master tell you not to bring me to him?"

Nappy frowned, clearly not comfortable with this idea. "No."

"What did your master say?"

"Him gave me message. Told me tell about Potter's girl."

"Yes, and you've delivered your message very well. Did he say anything else? Nappy - what did your master say?"

"No. Him too hurt. Him not talk. Him say . . . ." Nappy's eyes grew wide with realization. "Him say 'Help me.'" Nappy gave Hermione an excited smile.

"And you are helping him." Nappy nodded eagerly. "Can you wait here? I'll gather some supplies."

"Yes. Miss must help Master."

A rush of victory swept over Hermione, followed immediately by a flash of fear. She was no healer and she wouldn't even be able to use the usual healing potions. She shook her head to banish those thoughts. There was no one else available and she was just going to have to do the best she could.

She closed her eyes and began planning, making a mental list. After a few moments she opened her eyes and was surprised to see that Nappy was there, completely still, obviously waiting for her. The elf seemed to understand that Hermione needed to think this through.

Hermione peeked into the kitchen. "Professor," she whispered.

Professor McGonagall looked over, then hurried around the table to her.

"Professor, Nappy came back. She's taking me to . . . him."

"I'll get you Severus's books." She waved her wand while saying what appeared to be a complex summoning charm. Two books and a little metal box flew into the kitchen from somewhere and into her hands. She handed them immediately to Hermione, who opened the top book. It was a handwritten journal, with familiar handwriting - the Half Blood Prince's handwriting.

The second book made Hermione frown – "Elementary Healing Potions." Wasn't the whole point that potions couldn't be used?

Professor McGonagall noticed her expression. "There's a chapter in the back of that one that discusses spells that can be used when the potions are unavailable." The professor gestured to the small box. "This has some Muggle painkilling pills. Professor Snape swore by them. Check his notes to see which ones are which." Hermione opened it. Sure enough there were more of the small white pills she'd seen in Snape's quarters, as well as some larger blue pills and some small round light pink ones.

Hermione summoned her purse and slipped the books and the box of pills into it. The undetectable expansion charm meant that there was plenty of room. Hermione jabbed her wand into the air and concentrated as she summoned one more book from her own quarters.

Should she go? Someone was waiting, needing healing, somewhere, but she had to know that Ginny was okay.

She glanced back into the hall at Nappy, still waiting.

Ginny shifted. It was such a slight movement, but Harry saw it too. He was still standing a couple of feet back from Mrs. Weasley, but Hermione could see the hope in his eyes from here. Then Ginny made a sound, not quite a moan, more of a breath, but it was something. It was enough. She was alive. She'd be okay.

"Professor – can you tell the others I . . . was called away?" With the professor's nod, Hermione rejoined Nappy in the hall. "Let's go," she said.

Nappy reached out for her. "Nappy is sorry, Miss, but is being best if you is blindfolded." Nappy snapped her fingers and Hermione saw only darkness. She couldn't help but be impressed at the elf's smooth magic. She meant to tell the elf that it was okay, but before she could speak she felt the pull of apparition. Her mind flashed to Dobby. Just as when he had apparated them away from Malfoy Manor, something felt different about house elf apparition.

"Master?" She heard the elf call softly. All she heard in reply was a noise, a faint grunt. "Master?"

Fear gripped Hermione. Why had she trusted Nappy? Where was she? Hyacinth had said Nappy was a good elf, but what reason did she have to trust Hyacinth? She tightened her fist on her wand, halfway expecting it to be yanked out of her hand.

"Master? Can Nappy be showing the Miss where she is?"

Silence. Were they playing with her?

"Master – you is saying 'help me.' Nappy is helping." There was a snap of fingers and Hermione could see.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She was in a room, a small, comfortable room that she would have never associated with a Death Eater. One side of the room had a fireplace, a carved white mantle and mirror above it. Across the room, reflected in the mirror was a painted landscape - a white flowered tree next to a lake. There was a low red-brown leather sofa and behind it she could see a body on the floor. Nappy stood next to the body, worriedly chewing on her own fingers.

Hermione stepped forward to see more. Whoever it was lay curled in a ball, dark Death Eater robes splayed out on the floor. One more step and she saw white blond hair.

Malfoy. Of course. As soon as she saw him, she knew she'd been expecting to see him, although not like this. She went around so that she could see his face. He was flushed, his cheeks spotted vivid red. Without thinking she reached out and felt his forehead. It was shockingly hot.

Her touch provoked a quick response. He lurched away from her, clutching his arm even closer. A pained cry tore from him. The movement hurt enough to cause him to take heaving breaths, but – amazingly – he didn't seem to wake. At least, he never seemed fully conscious.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched him writhe, then still. This would never work if she couldn't get anywhere near his injured arm.

"Stupefy." She spoke the spell quietly, but it was enough for a flash of red light to burst from her wand. She glanced up at Nappy, but the elf seemed to understand that she wasn't attacking him. If she had time she could probably find a better spell, but at least this would keep him completely unconscious while she worked, even if she did something that hurt him. His head fell back and his pinked cheeks reminded Hermione to get to work.

"He's feverish," she said – to herself or to Nappy, she wasn't sure which. She started to summon her bag, then thought better of it. "Nappy, we need to move him. Can you . . . ." before she could finish asking Nappy had levitated him. "Yes, well, could you put him on the sofa?"

Nappy settled him there. Hermione sighed. House elf rights would have to wait for another day. "Nappy, can you change him into something more . . . comfortable? Then get me two cool wet washcloths, please."

Hermione pulled out Snape's notebook and his jar of pills. Skimming through the notebook she found a spell to take a temperature. She touched her wand to his head. "103.8." No wonder he felt like he was burning. She summoned a couple of analgesics from the jar, put them in his mouth, and used another of Snape's recommended spells to make him swallow them.

When she looked back, Draco was lying, now on his back, a large pillow under his head, wearing sumptuous navy silk pajamas. She smiled at herself. Why had she expected him to wear only green? She certainly didn't wear only red and gold. It was disconcerting to see how completely still he was now. She studied his chest closely to make sure that he was still breathing, and found herself letting out a breath when she saw that he was. He certainly had grown up. His chest was now broader, his arms were . . . she was getting distracted.

She glanced at her watch. She'd have to remember to check him in 20 minutes, see if his fever had gone down.

"Nappy, can you tell me when 20 minutes has passed?" Nappy nodded eagerly. Hermione dug into her bag again, this time pulling out an anatomy textbook that had belonged to her parents. She'd taken a few books from their library when she closed up their house, mostly because she missed them, but tonight this would be useful.

Nappy held the washcloths out to her. She laid one across his forehead, and put one behind his neck, marveling at the lush cotton. Of course, even his washcloths would be luxurious. She didn't know if they would actually help bring his fever down, but her mother had always done that for her, and they'd felt so cooling. Of course, he was out cold so it probably didn't matter anyway.

He had a thin line of blood running down his face. She pulled his mouth open. It seemed fine. She closed it again. He must have bitten his lip. "Scourgify." At least he didn't look gruesome any more.

He was still cradling his arm. She'd have to deal with that soon. First, she wanted to make sure she wasn't missing anything else. It would be foolish to fix his arm and miss the large knife sticking out of his back.

Nope. No knife.

"Nappy? Is it just his arm? Are there other injuries?"

"Nappy is not seeing any. Master is getting home holding his arm. Master's clothes had no other rips or blood."

Hermione smiled. Were all house elves this competent? Or was this another case of the Malfoys only having the best of everything? No matter.

Time to deal with his arm. She reached out, then remembered her parents' dental practice. She didn't have any gloves to wear, but she scourgified her hands and arms up to her elbows. Now that he was unconscious she could pull his left arm away from its position, tightly protecting his right hand and arm. She recoiled for a moment as his injured limb became visible. No wonder that hurt.

It was hardly recognizable as a human hand - enormously swollen, so much so that the skin ballooned, shiny and tight. Mottled shades of black, blue and purple were mixed with harsh red slashes where the skin was broken. Some of the many cuts and scrapes were already puffy and white. In a couple of places pus was oozing out of wounds, with the repulsive smell of infected flesh. Even though his fingers were bloated, she could still see that they were unnaturally bent, misshapen. What they done to him to break every one of his fingers, some in multiple places?

Hermione heard a soft squeak and looked over to see Nappy peeking in horror through her own fingers.

"It's okay, Nappy. We can fix this." Immediately, she realized she might be lying. She could certainly do some things to help, but would she be able to fully heal this mess? It was his right hand too. She'd vaguely noticed during school that he was right-handed, since Goyle was left-handed so they always let him sit of the left side of their row. If only she'd spent more time reading up on healing. If only there was a healer, someone, anyone, available to help. With the attack on St. Mungo's there wouldn't be any healers available, especially not for an injured Death Eater.

There would be no help. She would have to do this, she and Nappy that is.

First to deal with the infection. His arm was filthy. That wasn't helping. She cast a scourgify, levitated his arm so that she could scourgify the underneath, then did another one on the back of his hand and arm, where most of the cuts were, just for good measure.

Next – antibiotics. If there weren't any antibiotics in the jar, maybe she could get Nappy to fetch some, well, steal some. A quick glance through Snape's list told her to look for a large white pill. She found one and spelled him to swallow it. That would have to be enough for now.

She levitated his arm again, to get a good look at his palm and the inside of his wrist. Other than the discoloration and puffiness, this side didn't look too bad. She gingerly began to set his arm down, then called "Nappy, can you get me a towel?" Nappy's response was instantaneous, and she slipped the plush towel under his arm.

After the cleaning she could see that there was something, stone fragments – brick, maybe – in a few of the larger wounds. She concentrated on each separately, waved her wand and said "Accio." After the first one she averted her eyes, so she didn't have to watch the chunks of rock emerge from his skin. Nappy silently held out a rubbish bin and she dropped the pieces in it.

Time to look at Professor Snape's book again. "Episkey" was a spell she knew, but according to this it was best for flesh wounds and simple fractures. In a compound fracture the bones might not be set correctly. She tried a recommended spell – "osteo revelio" - and her eyes grew wide as his bones glowed through the skin. A live x-ray, she marveled, then she looked more closely, and had to close her eyes for a moment. So many of the bones were broken. How would she know how to fix them, what they should look like? She began to flip through the anatomy book, then froze as she had an idea. His left hand would be a perfect illustration of what the bones of his hand had looked like before, what they would look like again. She levitated it and reached over to pull back the loose pajama sleeve.

A foul black snake leered at her from his inner wrist. She pulled back, then closed her eyes. He was a Death Eater. How could she be surprised? It was foolish, but she performed a quick glamour to conceal the thing. She couldn't let it distract her right now. Then she cast another "osteo revelio," and smiled as the perfect, healthy bones of his healthy hand were revealed. This would be her model.

She was just about to perform her first "reparo," Snape having reassured that it would work on human bone, when she frowned. Her parents had discussed the most gruesome things over dinner. Now she was grateful. One thing she remembered was that nerve damage was more serious than bone or tissue damage. She'd have to check for that. She bit her lip and gambled – "nervosa revelio," then smiled as the nerves now glowed, also white. With a bit of concentration she was able to get them to show blue, so that she wouldn't confuse them with the bones. She could already see that some of the nerves were crushed. She whispered "reparo," and watched in awe as one nerve repaired itself.

Another quick look at the anatomy book and she sighed. She'd also have to deal with the tendons, arteries, veins, muscles. Nearly everything was damaged.

"Nappy, could you get me some tea – black and strong, please?" It was going to be a long night.

******************
Hermione allowed herself to lean into the cool washcloth that Nappy was wiping over her brow. She sat back and looked at the stately grandfather clock. It had taken almost 4 hours, but the healing was done. His hand looked so much better, still discolored, but almost all of the swelling was gone, the infection cleared, the fingers now straight and elegant. The sad thing was that she was going to have to make it look bad again, at least enough to fool Voldemort, to conceal the fact that he had been healed.

As tired as she was, there were a few more things she needed to do before she rested. The first was to wake him. Part of her would rather just leave him unconscious – that was so much simpler - but for all she knew he could be summoned at any moment.

"Ennervate." Hermione sat back and waited, but – nothing. Then he made a vague humming sound and shifted slightly. He was just asleep. She'd let him rest for now. Pain like he'd been in was exhausting.

Normally, she would bandage him, but that couldn't be done, not if the healing was to stay a secret. Instead, following Professor Snape's recommendation, she said "petrificalus partialus," and carefully immobilized his forearm and wrist. It would work like an invisible cast, with the added advantage of making his movements seem awkward, as though he was still in great pain.

It was time to begin to artistically recreate his injuries. She muttered "pigmenta," concentrated and began to add random purple splotches, focusing intently when she wanted to change the color, making some lighter, some darker. "Engorio," caused the arm to swell again, although she didn't make it as large as it had been before. She didn't want to damage the skin, or make it hurt too much.

As she thought of pain, she realized that she should probably give him some more painkillers. They wore off after 4 hours. She poured a couple into her hand, then looked back, directly into a pair of now opened dark grey eyes.

AN – Sorry about the cliffhanger, but this chapter is already insanely long.