Entry tags:

*log, *thread-inprogress, andromeda black (1965), bellatrix black (1962), druella rosier (1946), meda lestrange (2020), narcissa black (1974), rabastan lestrange (1974)

Black/Lestrange/Rosier group arrival; hospital wing [RL, NB, ML, AB, BB, DR]
WHO: Rabastan Lestrange, Narcissa Black, Meda Lestrange, to be joined by Andromeda Black, Bellatrix Black, Druella Rosier and one or more Founders
WHERE: Hospital wing,
WHEN: Evening of 4 September 1000 of the old timeline, morning of 5 September 1001 of the Accersitus timeline
RATING: PG, probably – maybe PG-13 if tempers flare?
SUMMARY: The instability of time makes itself known in a large way when it displaces the Black/Lestrange/Rosier group. IN-PROGRESS log.

Two days. Two days Meda had been ill, fevered and at times confused and Narcissa had slept through little of it, closing her eyes and leaning against Rabastan only when she grew too exhausted to keep her eyes open any longer. Sleep meant possibly missing something and a will stronger than she had imagined forced her to be aware should something happen. But now Meda was sleeping and for the first time, it was not fraught with constant waking to retch so once the girl's breathing had settled to a slower rate, Narcissa rose from her chair, took Rabastan's hand and moved to a spot some feet away, far enough to keep from disturbing Meda but close enough to react immediately.

The days had been tough on Rabastan too, full of worry and fear for his daughter. Their daughter. His sleep, just as Cissa's had only been unintentional, moments when his body rebelled and insisted that he sleep for a moment or two until Meda's troubled stirring brought him back to reality. His eyes were dark rimmed and troubled, but it seemed that Meda had taken a turn for the better, as her breathing seemed a bit easier and her face seemed a bit more relaxed. Because his worry about her seemed less demanding, less imperative than before, he allowed her to lead him away.

It was only once they had come to a stop, bodies angled slightly away form the beds but within a brief head turn from seeing Meda, that Narcissa broached the subject that had been so heavily demanding attention she had been unable to provide in great enough quantity. “We have to do something more for her,” she said, her voice only lacking urgency from how exhausted she was, “I was considering... perhaps going someplace history noted for excelling with the healing arts, but I cannot think, no matter how hard I try my mind refuses to recall any fact I ever retained in History of Magic. If someone in the journals can tell me more, I want to follow such a lead in hopes of helping her.”

Rabastan nodded. "It's foolish to just sit here and stare at her... I should be out there somewhere, doing something to help her--I just don't know what I could do..." He raked a hand through his hair, lowering his voice. "I'm frightened to stay, to do nothing, " He trailed off, his eyes darting to where Meda was laying in her bed. "I wish that I could find her parents. I would be devastated if she went back with them, but if it's what she needs in order to recover..." he looked distraught just thinking about it.

Narcissa's tired gaze took on a flash of indignation for a moment despite wishing the very same thing over and over the past two days. “We are her parents, in every way that matters,” she said, shaking her head as she leaned her shoulder against the wall. “I desperately wish they and my own parents and yours were all with us, but I know that without the necessary items, they would be just as ineffectual as we are. What I wish is for a better situation for all of us than we are in right now.”

And no sooner than she spoke it, the room seemed to tremble, though it was more like Apparition than anything else within her frame of reference, though still like nothing she had ever experienced before. What captured her attention, though, was Meda's movement downward, as her cot was no longer under her and, on panicked inspection, neither was anything else in the room with the beds at different placements and other obvious changes.

Rabastan too noticed the change in the room, only having the chance to ponder it for a moment before he noticed that Meda was falling and he dove for her. Of course there was no way that she could be reached in time, after all, they were several feet away from her, so instead his frantic dive reached her a few seconds too late. He didn't notice that the room was situated differently, or that the cots were in different places, or even dwell on what had been the source of the apparition like spell. All that he could concentrate on--save a backward glance to Cissa to make sure that she was there and seemed to be alright--was to see if Meda's head had been hit, if the fall had harmed her or happened to rouse her a bit. "Meme?" he asked quietly, voice almost painfully gentle."Meme, it's your Dad...." He paused, remembering what she had called him in her last ill journal entry. "Daddy. It's your Daddy little Meme. Are you ok?"

Having been sleeping only lightly, though better than she had been, Meda became aware of the disappearance of her bed rather abruptly, her upright motion saving her from cracking her head on the floor. Her backside and back hurt, but as they already ached with illness it was not really noticeable as being worse. She rolled toward Rabastan upon hearing his voice, groaning in a tone made hoarse by how often she had uselessly retch with a completely empty stomach. “Sick,” she mumbled, blinking before shutting her eyes against light that was just too bright in a room that was no longer so stuffy as it had been. “Sleepy.”

Narcissa was right behind Rabastan, dropping to her knees on the rug-covered floor – another change from a moment ago where the hospital wing had been without anything on the floor. She let out a ragged gust of breath at Meda responding, fingers already probing the back of Meda's head gently to check for injury. “And your head?”

“Heavy,” Meda mumbled, burying her face against Rabastan. “Sleep now.”

Rabastan's eyes flickered questioningly to Narcissa, silently asking her if Meda were injured or not, but then he turned his gaze back to Meda. "Yes..." He said soothingly. "Sleep now, Meda, your Dad and Mum are here and we're going to make sure that you feel better soon..." He pressed his lips to her forehead, relieved to feel that she felt a little less frighteningly warm than before, though it still had not quite returned to normal. "Let's get you back in bed, hmm?" Very carefully Rabastan lifted her into his arms and carried her to the nearest cot, testing it with one hand before laying her fully on it."

Narcissa's answer was a silent and short shake of her head and she brushed Meda's hair back, tucking in strands that had come loose from the very short plaits Narcissa had fixed them in to keep Meda's hair neat.

“'Kay,” Meda agreed groggily, already on her way back to sleep once Rabastan had lifted her.

Narcissa followed them, only taking time to look around once he had Meda settled and covered with a blanket that had a strangely better quality to it than the ones from moments before. The hospital wing itself was brighter – no longer evening as well as the room itself no longer as dull? – and airy, yet not drafty or cold. It was strangely surreal and for a moment, she dared to hope they had gone home, though this looked nothing like the hospital wing under Madame Pomfrey's control.

Rabastan saw Meda settled in bed, taking an extra moment to fluff her pillows and straighten her blankets before turning to Narcissa with a questioning look on his face. "Exactly what was that?" he hissed softly, not wanting to wake Meda. "Did you Apparate us somewhere? Because I certainly didn't and Meda..." his eyes widened and his voice dropped substantially. "You don't think the founders sent us back to Meda's time so that her health could be taken care of, do you?"

“No,” Narcissa hissed back, arms crossing across her breasts and she looked down at him in weary disapproval. How could she have managed to Apparate them into the same room only differently arranged? “And if that is the case, and we are now in 2020, I wish to be far away when my older self learns Meda is ill and wants someone to answer for it,” she said and though the words were said with a vague sort of self-amused air, her gaze did dart to the door. “Look at the walls, look how new they look, as they did moments ago, but everything is... brighter.”

Rabastan knew she was right, only he didn't WANT to accept it. He had so wanted her to be in a safe place to recover. "You're right..." He sighed, sinking into a chair near the bed. "Perhaps it's just your mother beautifying the place as she's been doing to everything recently. No doubt she did some spell thinking she wouldn't disturb us and would brighten the place up a bit and it backfired on accident."

“And rearranged the hospital wing from wherever she is,” Narcissa asked, truly incredulous. “She is very good at what she does, love, but even Maman would not be capable of that. I am not dismissing the idea we are no longer where we were a few minutes ago but I am uncertain as to what happened and how. To move forward or back in time so little for the castle to look newly built yet everything in here be completely different?” she shook her head, looking around for her journal only to find it lodged under a bed now where before there had been a chair for it to sit on. Flipping it open, she hoped to see some reaction to this, as surely others had felt it, only the journal's normal continuous flow of writing... had ceased. In some places, mid word!

Rabastan looked over her shoulder to see what inspired such a shocked look on his face, and what he saw drew a sharp gasp from him. Cut off? Why...how...was that possible? Suddenly he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head, feel the nerves getting to him. This wasn't right at all. "Cissa..." he lowered his voice. "What's going on, exactly?"

Narcissa looked up at him, exhaustion having been pressed back by anxiety and fear. They... they were no longer in the reality/past time they had occupied, she was nearly certain of it, but it gave them few answers about the truth of all of this. All they had were journals will now-stilled writing and a room that no longer looked the same... and gods knew what awaited them outside the door. “I have absolutely no idea.”