Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Thanks to all who read, and those few who reviewed.

Special thanks to Jilliane for her commification fixes. Any mistakes that remain are mine alone.

Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Chapter 12: The first three steps were hard, but that fourth one confused me


Two bloody awful days, seven agonising hours, twenty-eight pain-filled minutes and some rather horrifying seconds: that was the amount of time that Lucius had been without alcohol. He had followed the progression of the time with his jerking detoxification, aided in truly sadistic form by Mona Lisa in her capacity as a physician and helped along by the bloody celibate. The priest seemed to understand Lucius’ distress as the alcohol left his system and the detoxification process ravaged him. Mona Lisa just offered Muggle poison tablets and an injection of something called Valium during the worst of what she called DT’s.

Lucius had been an alcoholic a very long time.

It had started while he was still in Hogwarts, the more than occasional drunken binge accompanied by the rather fervent, yet pointless vows of abstinence. Lucius had neither the disposition nor the constitution for teetotalling. It had progressed during his first days as a Death Eater so that he might take the edge off after a particularly nasty duty. During the intervening years, after the Dark Lord’s downfall and before his rise, Lucius had used the excuse of boredom do drink, nostalgically reminiscing about the Bad Old Days when a little Muggle-baiting might help him sleep at night (A lie. He had rarely enjoyed Muggle-baiting; it seemed a little pointless to terrify the creatures without breaking the Statute of Secrecy.)

His tippling had become a raging problem after the Dark Lord’s resurrection. Narcissa covered for him, and Draco too, but he could no longer go without alcohol. He had to have it to function. One might think the inconvenience of Azkaban would solve the problem, but addicts have a bad habit of always finding a way to get their poison, and there had been plenty of suppliers of a certain type of home-brewed, highly toxic wine. Lucius had many things to offer in trade to those vintners. He had continued his long association with alcohol.

Even as he served in Ian’s little hellhole, he had kept a flask handy, always hidden in deference to the priest’s addiction, and always full. His consumption had ramped up during his first days of true freedom to the point at which he found himself now.

Lucius groaned, wishing there were something for the screaming ache of his muscles and the pounding in his head. Mona Lisa poked her head into his room. “I see you’re awake.”

Lucius groaned. He had attempted, on several occasions, to get the doctor to leave his household. She was on holiday, for Merlin’s sake. She had merely given that irritating, professional smile and continued emptying his vomit from the bin beside the bed and cleaning his sheets when they became sweat-soaked. He hated her and loved her at once. He paused... Loved her... a ridiculous notion probably brought on by alcohol-induced dementia.

Lucius sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the futon and easing his head off the pillow. He knew he looked a fright, his hands shook and he had vomited so much he could smell the acid on his breath. Mona Lisa sat on the bed next to him. “I’m proud of you, Lucius. It’s been two days and you haven't asked for alcohol once.”

“I should be over this illness by now, shouldn’t I?” He heard the tremulous query and cursed himself. “Please, darling, would you take yourself off with that young Prudish fellow? You deserve to have better than a working holiday.”

His Mona Lisa scowled. It had been worth another stab to rid himself of the unwanted encumbrance of his guilt at stealing the woman’s holiday. She ran her cool hand over his heated brow. “I know what you’re doing, and you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

She kissed his forehead. “Now up. We’re taking an outing today, and you need to bathe.”

&*&*&

Exploding Snap played with Gay Porn Playing cards, the only kind Tomas owned, was becoming excruciatingly painful. Tomas tried to cover his growing state of desire with the cards, but the damned things went off when Seamus made a play. Every time. The smirking bastard had the much vaunted Luck of the Irish, or he was cheating.

The Auror, for his part, kept his mobile face stiff as he played so Tomas never knew exactly when the stinging explosion would occur over his todger, bringing a mildly painful snap to his crotch and drawing a smirk from Finnigan. The Auror played his hand once more and Tomas cringed, waiting for the explosion to occur. Finnigan licked his lips, an expression of pure joy as he took the suit and the cards went off.

Tomas howled, trying to cover his painful erection with his hand of cards even as they whipped him mercilessly. Finnigan snorted, “I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” Tomas asked, wishing the idea involved some sort of French crème and tongues.

Finnigan moved Tomas’ hand of cards from his lap to a position closer to his chest. “I’ve been winning because I can see your cards.”

"Oh." Tomas frowned.

Finnigan looked at his own cards, smiling broadly as he apparently noticed one of the wizards in the photo waving at him, and not with his hand. Tomas knew they never waved with their hands. Seamus asked, “Why are you so concerned about... you know, your little problem."

"It's not a little problem," Tomas answered in a state of pique and then realised Finnigan was not looking at his excited state, but at his pyjamas, which were buttoned to the top button to cover his wound.

"I think scars on a bloke, especially battle scars, are..." Finnigan flushed. "Sexy."

Tomas gasped as the Auror shifted from his position in the chair beside the bed to a more cosy position next to him. "I-I thought... that is, Officer Bulstrode said..."

"That I hadn't come out?" Seamus gave his little slanted smile. "I came out in seventh year. I just haven't dated much since my partner died."

"I thought you were partners with Harry Potter." Tomas said. He was being deliberately obtuse to prove a point about teasing him.

Finnigan rested his head on his knuckles as he stretched out on the bed beside Tomas. "Yeah, Harry's my work partner, but I meant my life-partner and you know it."

Tomas relaxed into the curve of Finnigan's thigh, letting his leg drift closer the man's firm body. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's ancient history, really." Finnigan sighed. "We became close during the year under the Carrows. I tutored him while he waited in the Room of Requirement, and he tended me after they tortured me. You know, match made in hell and all... I told him he should've stayed away, but he had this real Gryffindor ethic when it came to Harry Potter."

"What was his name?" Tomas asked, not really wanting to hear more about the man who took Seamus' heart, but thinking he should ask anyway.

"Colin Creevey," Finnigan answered, his voice softly reverent. "He was an irritating little mite when he first got to Hogwarts. Muggle-born and already in awe of Harry Potter. I never gave him a second thought until he turned up in Hogwarts that last year. He shouldn't have. If the Carrows had found him... Padma and Bulstrode kept him hidden. He was always a brave lad."

Tomas had spent the war doing much the same thing, hiding in Muggle establishments, not doing magic. He could understand the need to do something. Tomas had done what he could. He healed the various refugees he came across, some of them brought to him by shadowy figures he was sure were high-ranking Death Eaters, even worked with the WHO doctors and Healers that had come from different parts of the globe to render aid. He broke from his reverie as Finnigan spoke again. "I hadn't considered myself homosexual until Colin kissed me the first time. I mean, I thought some blokes looked good to me, but... anyway, he kissed me because I was injured. I think the Muggles call it the Florence Nightingale effect... I don't think he meant to do it, but when he did, I liked it. I made sure I always had time to come see him after that..."

As Seamus took a deep breath, Tomas ran his hand over the man's wavy hair, letting his nails scrape his scalp softly. The Auror said, "That feels good."

"You haven't been with anyone since him?" Tomas asked, feeling decidedly tawdry with all his sexual exploits.

Finnigan gave a puff of laughter, blowing on the thin sheet that covered Tomas' leg, raising goose bumps. "I'm not a monk, man. I've had other men, just none I wanted to settle with."

"Oh." Tomas said, his voice small. The man of his dreams was once again unobtainable. "Well, I'm hungry. Perhaps we could have some soup and salad today from the...Mmmph."

Finnigan lunged forward, catching Tomas' lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading the older man's mouth hungrily. Tomas' heart crashed against his ribs, beating in rhythm to Finnigan's rough thrusts, his desire evident in the way he ran his hands over Tomas' aching body. Silva had not been snogged like this since... forever.

Seamus drew away, and with that half-smile of his said, "It's been a while since anyone has made me want to be with them for more time than it takes to get my nut. Now, shut it about the food. I can think of better things to do with me mouth."

For once, Tomas did as he was told.

&*&*&

Dibby was watching the Blood-god's priest with growing anger. Since the non-bonded man had come to the villa, Master Lucius and Mistress Doctor Patil had not done wizardy-bonding one time.

Master Lucius had been ill since the Blood-god's priest had come. Dibby had checked Master Lucius for all the common poisons, and upon finding none in his system, had checked him for the less common ones. Dibby went through the Blood-priest’s luggage and found a strange set of tablets and he tested those, but they had only been sleeping draught tablets, and not very strong ones.

Dibby righted everything and made his way out of the room. He would need to act to get rid of the priest and he knew what he must do...

&*&*&

Padma tried not to listen to the soft voices coming from the library. Lucius needed to understand the programme he would be undertaking, now that he was sober. She knew the concepts that the priest would introduce to the pure-blood would be utterly foreign to him. He did not seem the most spiritually inclined man. She heard her name mentioned and tried to appear as if she had not been eavesdropping, even if the action had been nominal at the very most.

Ian opened the library door. "Padma, Lucius has requested you be in here for this portion, if you would."

The priest looked chagrined at the thought of a non-participant entering the sacrosanct world of the addicted, but she followed him into the room. She wondered when she had become so important to Lucius, and questioned his place in her life. She thought she might be a little in love with him, even in his bleary-eyed, quaking state. Perhaps his illness brought out the nurturing mother in her. She would examine her feelings once this holiday was over and she was safely away from his magnetic pull.

Lucius stood at the window, his back to her. He appeared to be gazing sternly out at the rocky beach, but Padma was getting used to watching the little gestures he made that betrayed his state of mind. He was tapping a rhythm on the window pane. He heard her enter and without turning said, "It is good of you to join us, Mona Lisa. Ian and I were just discussing an interesting proposition."

Padma crossed to him, touching his back and noting the taut muscles. He turned to her, his expression bleak. "He has explained to me that I will have to apologise for my past misdeeds, and I was wondering how you might think I could accomplish that. You know our world better than he does."

His lips twisted in a sneer as he regarded the priest. He continued, "Should I start with the many Muggle victims, or perhaps the families of the rape victims I could not save. I could lead them to the cave where Severus and I entombed them after their untimely demise... Perhaps, Draco and Narcissa should be first, or Mrs. Potter. I was the one who introduced her to the Dark Lord, albeit unknowingly. Or perhaps Mr. Potter for the death of his parents, not done by my hand, but I did bring the instrument of their death into the Dark Lord's fold."

"Lucius..." Ian began as Lucius jerked away from Padma's grasp.

Malfoy laughed, a bitter and cold sound in the heat of the day. "Do not presume to think that I am as pure in motive or deed as my son, Ian. I have lived a lifetime of murder, mayhem, and destruction. I was weaned on pain from the time my mother died by my father's hand."

Lucius turned to Padma. "Did I tell you that I saw him beat her to death? I was eight. Of course, his money and position covered the facts and I was left with him as a role model."

Padma returned his gaze, unflinching in her regard. "You are better than he was, Lucius. You know that."

He answered her with a derisive snort and then turned back to the scene outside, his face once again covered by the cool aristocratic facade he projected so well. "I shall think on what you say, Ian. Do not expect my answer to be a positive one."

Ian bowed his head, his pate gleaming in the weak sunlight spilling through the open window. "I am sorry, Lucius. I can't imagine having to face the demons that greet you everyday. You remind me so much of... It's no matter, Lucius, the principle is sound, but let your conscience guide you."

Lucius merely raised a contemptuous brow and scowled. "A Malfoy's conscience is seated in his sense of self-preservation, Ian. If you rely on that, you might be waiting a very long time."

Padma laughed, the sound breaking like a sheet of glass over the silence. "You might think that, Lucius, but I think you'll surprise yourself. Now, I think we had an outing planned. Ian, have you got your swim trunks?"

The priest blushed. "I thought I might set this one out, Doctor. I shall join you for tea."

"Very well," Padma answered turning to Lucius. "You, go get in yours. I'll meet you out on the terrace."

&*&*&

Lucius picked his way across the rocky substrate, wishing for the sun to quit shining so brightly. He knew he had been a bastard to Ian, but could not help but justify his position. Giving up alcohol did not automatically make him a better person, and as long as Ian realised that, they might come to an understanding. His Mona Lisa walked beside him, her long black hair flowing in the streaming breeze. She smiled up at him, her sable eyes sparkling as if with some private joke.

She took his hand the act itself, a surprise. I the thirty or so years of marriage to Narcissa, she had only taken his hand once and that had been when she was giving birth to Draco. He had bitten back a scream as she ground his fingers together and told him in no uncertain terms that the act of birth, should it be repeated, would be carried out by him.

He found he liked his little doctor's fingers clasping his. Her palm fit nicely against his and the fingers caressed him. She drew him along to two beach chairs situated on an escarpment that had been cleared by some Malfoy in the dim and misty. Lucius sat on one and she eschewed hers to straddle his lap, positioning her moistening core over his lengthening desire. She kissed him, open mouthed and hungrily.

After a long and rather pleasant interlude in which Lucius somehow ended up over his temptress, grinding his length into her bikini-clad heat, she stroked his face and said, "I've missed you."

"You are the most irritating, exhilarating woman I have ever met." Lucius ground out as he supported himself over her. She moved slightly, leading his thoughts to more carnal pleasures. "Why did you choose to stay, when you could be having the holiday you so well deserve?"

She smoothed her hand over his fly-away hair and then down his neck and his shoulders, leaving a burning trail as she progressed. "This."

He felt a hand grasping his length and another pushing at his trunks frantically and all thoughts, noble or otherwise fled as he slid into her with a sigh. They strove against each other until she cried out in completion and he joined her. He thought she might have sighed words of love into his neck, but his own pounding rhythm occupied his total attention.

They dozed after a cursory Cleansing charm and the righting of various articles of clothing.

&*&*&

Dibby cast the necessary charms as Master and Mistress Doctor joined. He watched in rapidly growing joy as the silver and the blue of their essences combined to make a wholly new colour.

There would be a new generation of Malfoys for which to care.

&*&*&

Tomas woke in Finnigan's arms, fully clothed and completely frustrated. The man had insisted that Tomas was in no state to accept his rather heated advances and had brought the erotic explorations to a crashing halt as he turned over and fell to sleep. Tomas joined him. It had been years since he had allowed himself the luxury of falling asleep in a man's arms, and he had never done it without the shagging.

Finnigan stirred. "I go back to work tomorrow. Will you be able to shift for yerself, or should I get a nurse?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Tomas protested, even as his heart swelled with burgeoning infatuation.

Seamus opened his eyes with a beatific smile. "I trust that's a no."

"A definite no. I'm a Healer, I know how to care for myself," Tomas answered with at pout. Seamus leaned over and kissed it off his face until the definite rumble of his stomach caused them both to laugh.

Seamus slipped his hand to Tomas' bum, snugging him closer as he whispered, "Let's get you showered and dressed and I'll take you out. We'll call it our first date."

Tomas complied with his wishes without a thought, for the second time that day. That's when he knew he was in serious trouble. He was in love with the Auror.

&*&*&

Pradesh watched the two from his vantage. The fucking bitch was cheating on him. He summoned his owl. Since his Muggle thug's attack on the poof she lived with had brought no results, he would need to arrange for something a little more permanent.

Malfoy would have to be gotten out of the way, and soon.




Thanks for reading. The first four steps I am referring to in the title, are from the Twelve Step program laid out in the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Blue Book. The first three deal with acceptance of the addiction and the need to have help from a higher power. The fourth step talks about acceptance of guilt for misdeeds committed under the influence of alcohol.

Thanks for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.