Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Thanks for all the kind words for the last chapter.

La Bib: No, they were just playin Exploding Snap with gay porn cards. Tomas is excited completely by Seamus. Poor boy.

Jilliane: Thanks for the kindnesses. I hope you like the new chapter.

Zareenyn: That was an interesting question about Lucius, whether he thinks he deserves forgiveness or not. I think he would think he neither deserved it nor would he accept it if given. He knows what he is and has had to face that with his twelve year stint in Azkaban. Thanks for the thought provoking review.


This chapter was beta'ed by Jilliane. Thanks for all your work. Any mistakes that remain are my own, and not her fault at all.

Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Chapter 13: Letters

Padma Darling,

It's been a fortnight since you left and not so much as a postcard from you. I was intrigued when the International Owl Carrier Service returned my first letter, saying you were no longer at that horrid little hostel you chose to inflict upon yourself. (Please, darling, tell me, didn't you take a Knut of Daddy's money to make this trip? Can we spell martyr?) So, I am directing this owl to find you rather than go to where you said you would be. Does this mean you're having a grand time with some shipping magnate's son? Do tell!

Things have happened here that might surprise you. I won't go into details now, but let's just say that my knight in shining armour has finally arrived, rescued me, and swept me off my feet, and all in one fell swoop. He's also insisting that we take it slowly, so no shagging until we know each other better. What a change for me, the shaggingest queen in East London! He's an Auror and what a body. I didn't say I hadn't peeked! A girl can only take so much before she must satisfy her curiosity, whether it kills her or not.

So, darling, I must make this short. It's my first day back to work after a short, forced holiday. I hope you are shagging your brains out with some hot young thing with limpid brown eyes and a magnificent tan. Oh, and straight white teeth. See? I know your type.

Oh, and one other thing. I heard through the gossip network that a certain doctor to whom you have an aversion has been absent from his post at St. Mungo's. I hope he's not giving you problems. Really, sweetie, if the prat shows up, you should let him see you shagging your current paramour (or is it more than one? How delish if you are having a threesome like in that film we saw before you left. All I ask is for DETAILS, even if it is hetero a vanilla compared to my wild and varied past.) It might put the prat off of you, although I have my doubts. Pradesh has stalker written all over him.

Okay, more dishing when you return.

Ta love,

Tomas

~{@}~

Tomas you ungrateful wretch,

You are impossible. Who are you seeing? When did this happen? And why have you been off work? You just took a holiday after that German threw you over for the little drag queen and you were so depressed. Your letters are horribly uninformative for someone who likes to share too much most times.

I am staying at a villa with a friend. He is handsome, not all that young, fabulously wealthy, and is getting a nice tan. That is all you get since you have been so closed mouth about your own affaires de couers (for once, anyway.)

I know Pradesh is here. I was forced to spend dinner between him and my companion one evening. It was an atrocious affair, and I think he finally took the message that I am not interested in him to heart. I have not seen him since.

I will be back in London on the 29th. Write me back and let me know what you want from Greece. I picked up a nice boy for you in the gift shop, but since you are in love, I had to send him back with apologies. Thank the gods they had a refund policy. I never would have used him. He was too gay.

Ta to you love,

Padma

~{@}~

Dear Lucius,

I do apologise for the way we parted. I have regrets. I shall be in Italy on Saturday at the little villa where our families finalised our marriage contracts. Please Lucius, let me know if we can meet. I have many things I wish to say to you.

Cissy

~{@}~

Narcissa,

Unfortunately, I am unable to leave Delos for at least a fortnight. Please feel free to contact me at my father's villa. I shall do my best to clear time for a meeting at the Grand. If that is acceptable, Floo or write with the date and time you wish to meet.

LAM

~{@}~

Lucius sat in the library, newly restored with a second-hand desk and an imposing leather chair. He sat at said desk, running his hands nervously through his hair, creating rills in the normally board-straight blond mass. A gull called raucously outside, and he was distracted from the parchment before him. He watched the bird's progression through the shells washed up from last evening's storm. It bounced from mollusc to mollusc pecking at the tightly shut creatures. Lucius thought about going outside and pitching the mussels back into the still cloudy water, but could not be moved by their plight. The bloody things were, after all, simply rocks that shat and tasted nice with lemon. Who could really care about such creatures?

The gull pounced on a shell and gave another ear-piercing cry as it pulled mussel carrion from a barely open shell. Lucius watched until the chiming of the clock interrupted his procrastination. He scowled, and like the student he had been, diligent when he could find no one else to do the work, he turned his attention to the blank parchment.

He sat his ink-filled quill to the surface and drew the first word:

Dear

He peered thoughtfully at the word and then put aside the quill. It was cut in an inferior manner. He carefully emptied the tip of ink and retrieved his pen-knife from the interior of the desk. He tested the blade against his finger, thinking it could be sharper, but cut the tip of the quill expertly with it.

He refilled the quill and wrote the next word:

Mrs.

The tone was all wrong for the type of document he wished to write. He cast an erasure charm and began again.

To whom it may concern:

No, that would not do. He sounded like an irate consumer wishing to report a defective product. He had never written this type of letter before and was at a loss. His mind simply would not supply the correct words for what he needed to express. He cast the erasure charm again and leaned back in his chair after carefully placing his newly sharpened quill on the table at just the right angle. Lucius did not like disorder.

He closed his eyes, trying to visualise the sentiments he wished to convey. Ian swore by the Muggle technique. Lucius saw the woman reading the letter, saw her brows drawn down in anger, saw her hatred and revulsion at his name on the parchment, and then finally saw her cast the same letter in the fireplace as she let loose a bit of Fiendfyre. Yes, this letter certainly was an exercise in futility.

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, causing bits of light and dark to coalesce into a random pattern, quite pretty, really. He must remember to ask Mona Lisa why eyes did that when they were under pressure. He also wondered if perhaps his brain was doing the same thing as he began the arduous process of living without liquor.

The gull called again, this time farther up the beach. Lucius strode to the terrace and down the steps leading to the beach. The mussels needed saving.

~{@}~

Dear Father,

I was surprised to hear that you had gone to Delos. I never remember that being a favourite spot of yours. Perhaps things have changed though.

I am writing to tell you that we have found Severus. We have located him in a small town in the wilds of Oklahoma, called Newalla. We shall be heading there tomorrow to see him.

I spoke with him briefly over the telephone yesterday. He sounds well and much less Snapeish, if you know what I mean. He actually laughed when I told him of our misadventures in finding him in such a large land.

American wizards are much more relaxed about certain attitudes that we held sacrosanct. They drive rather than Apparate, they have creatures called Brownies that are like free house-elves with a certain amount of Yank attitude. Their views on blood are generally rather amorphous. Race seems to be a larger issue in this nation.

Potter has been a godsend in this situation. His Muggle background has allowed us to explore more of American culture than just the wizarding portion. I have become a fan of Professional Wrestling even though Potter informs me it is all a show.

I shall inform you of Severus' condition after we meet tomorrow.

On a different note, Ian tells me he has joined you. Thank you for giving Ian a break from his duties. The man could give Snape a lesson on self-sacrifice. Perhaps he did, though. You did know that they are first cousins on his father's side, didn't you?

Take care of yourself, father. I should like to have a long discussion with you when I return to England. I suppose you will be at the Manor?

Your son,

Draco

PS: Liz, Scorpius and Toby send their love. Why did you leave London so quickly?

Draco

PPS: I now own an authentic Cowboy Hat from an authentic Cowboy shop called Teners. This part of America is certainly interesting. Would you care for one?

~{@}~

Lucius,

I shall meet you. I will be arriving on Delos on Saturday. Please do not bring your paramour with you. I shall not bring mine. I shall be in room 225. Shall we say noon?

Cissy

~{@}~

Lucius folded the letter with shaking hands. The deed was done, at least for this one person. He had a thousand more letters of apology to write for his misdeeds.

Gods, he needed a drink.

He searched his desk and found what he looked for in the hidden compartment he had created just for that purpose. He pulled a bottle of clear amber liquid from it. It was an inexpensive Muggle brand, all he could get from his contact on the continent. His hands shook as he unscrewed the lid and then brought it to his lips.

His eyes slid to the address on the parchment, and he recapped the bottle without a taste of the oblivion it promised. He had done enough damage to himself, did he really need to commit more?

He slid the bottle back into the compartment and cast a freshening charm over his clothes, worse for wear after his attempts to save the molluscs. Who knew that when the animals were under stress they would send a stream of foul, piscine-tainted water from their extended siphons? Lucius certainly hadn't.

He took the long way to the village. Padma and Ian would not be back from Athens for hours. He had time.

Once there, he approached the Owl Post office and paced in front of it. Visualising the end that he wanted, he was still assailed by doubt and a growing sense of unfamiliar remorse. Perhaps he would wait until tomorrow, when Mona Lisa might drop the letter for him. It would certainly be easier that way.

Once again, he looked at the envelope and once again, his resolve strengthened. He strode through the door and chose his owl.

~{@}~

Dear Flea,

I hope this letter finds you well. Your mother and your sister are off buying things for the baby, so I took this quiet time to write to you.

I have heard disturbing things about your flatmate. It seems he was attacked a fortnight or so ago by a Muggle. The MLE officer, whom I spoke with, an Officer Bulstrode, seems to believe you might have been the target.

Flea, as you requested, I have not told your mother of your attack. I feel as if I have made a grave error. I am concerned for your safety.

I heard that Lucius Malfoy was seen on Delos not long after you arrived there. Do you think he might have been involved in this matter somehow? If you should see him, steer clear of him for my peace of mind. He may have reformed by the end of the war, but he is still a Death Eater, and in my book, still dangerous. I know you treated him during his incarceration, and I know you felt he needed a friend, but he has his family, at least his son, to support him. Do you really think he needs you, also?

I just want you to be safe, Flea. That is all I ever wanted.

Perhaps, if you are lonely when you return, you might consider going to the wizarding dating site your cousin, Devi, has started. She has had great success in placing several of her school chums with likely wizards. Just consider it, Flea, I want to see you happy.

Love,

Bapa

~{@}~

Darling,

Would the wizard you are seeing in Delos be a former Death Eater that captured your fancy only a few months ago? Oh, girl, if it is... I sit here shaking my head in consternation and diva-like concern. When will you learn that the upper classes just aren't for people like us? And a former Death Eater to boot! Does he know just how Indian wizarding families work? He might not like it. I can just see you scowling at me with that little wrinkle between your brows (how many times have I warned you that some expressions DO stay that way, like our mothers warned us?) Don't get me wrong. He's a great fling. If, before I met my special man, I thought he swung my way, I would have given him a ride, or at least a blow. Men just out of prison are so needy and explosive, I've heard.

But seriously, Padma, what would your family say if you brought him home for Dipwali or for a Sunday dinner? Your father was always staunchly (if a little quietly) against what the entire Death Eater business stood for. I'm just saying... be careful. You always fall, and hard. I don't want to have to pick you up after he leaves you for a pure-blood brood mare. It all smacks of Justin again.

I will give you a hint about my true love. He knows you from Hogwarts, he was in your year, and he is NOT Harry Potter.

Ta and kisses,

Tomas

~{@}~

Dear Mrs. Potter,

I write to you today to apologise for the great wrong I did to you. I make no excuses. As an adult, I should have known better than to thrust a Dark object in your cauldron. I should have considered the consequences of my actions on you.

I have always been a proud man, some might call it arrogance. I don't know what my attitude truly is, just that it is native to me, instilled by a father who was more concerned for appearances than for his son. I do not impart this information to garner sympathy. As I write you, I can envision several scenarios, all of them ending with you tossing this letter in the fire and cursing my name. I shall tell you, I do deserve your anger, your scorn and your foulest curses.

As I said before, I do apologise. Had I known what I gave to you, whose soul I exposed you to, I would never have endangered you. What I did, though disgusting, was done, at least in part, in ignorance.

At the time, I was drinking rather immoderate amounts of alcohol and my thought processes were not clear. It does not excuse me. In fact, in my books it damns me even more that I could consider such a nefarious plan, under the influence of such a mind altering substance, that I willingly imbibed. And for what, you might ask?

I harmed you to do away with my son's rival, a person that spoke volumes about the flaw in the ideology I not only embraced, but also instilled in my son as well. I was never out to harm you, though I did. I wanted to harm Hermione Granger. I wanted to do away with the obstacle to my bigoted peace. Now that I write that, it sounds even more disgusting. I was and always will be a flawed man with certain prejudices. I, however, can learn from my mistakes and grow out of my assumptions.

Yours is the first letter I write because the harm I caused you was the greatest. Yes, I have committed murders, but most were done in the heat of battle. The harm I did you was done in cold-blood and with malice, though the malice was not directed toward you.

I spent two stints in Azkaban for my crimes and deserved both of them.

I do not ask for your forgiveness. It is not my place to ask, and even if you granted it, it is my nature to regard such sentiments as prompted by less than noble feelings. Perhaps I should not have written that, but again, I am my father's son, and he taught me to regard softer sentiments with some mistrust. I simply ask that before you destroy this letter, you think on my words. Should you have any questions or wish to make a reply, please do so. I shall neither fault you for any vituperation, nor shall I think less of you if you wish to remain silent.

Again, I am truly repentant for the pain and fear I caused you and your family. I owe you a great debt. If you should need anything, if it is my power to grant it, just tell me.

Sincerely,

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

~{@}~

Lucius took the same winding path back to the villa, anticipating another long evening spent in conversation with Ian, and then an even longer session of lovemaking with Mona Lisa.

His tread became lighter thinking of the woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. Spending time with her heated his blood and made him act foolishly. For once in his life, he didn't care. He enjoyed her laugh, her smile, her solemn moments, and the way she filled the empty spots in his mind, heart and soul. If he were a less pragmatic man, he might name the emotions she evoked love. He would not go that far. He was infatuated, intoxicated, and in lust with the little doctor. He loved the way his body filled hers and the way she welcomed him, as if she protected the small part of Lucius that was still the boy that he had been, rather than the monster he had become.

He stopped, as if struck dumb, blind and stupid on the spot.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

In his locked and warded heart, he felt a fluttering of hope. Surely if she evoked these feelings in him, she might possibly be induced to feel the same for Lucius. With all his flaws, his arrogance, and his newfound sense of guilt, he was still the same young man who all those years ago, harboured hopes of a love match with his future wife. It was ridiculous really, but hope he did. He began walking again, heading to a villa that had, in the last fortnight, become home to him.

As he reached the villa, he heard David Bowie crooning in his resounding baritone about a lonely alien named Ziggy Stardust. Lucius identified with the song for the first time. He smiled as he peered up from the ground, watching his new love dance to the song.

If he had been more attuned to his Death Eater self, he might have heard the soft scuffle of feet on rocks as a curse was cast that laid him out, near death, on the rocky beach with the mussels and the gulls. He might have seen his attacker approach for the killing blow, and he might have been gratified to hear his love's cry of despair as she saw his body and the retreating shadow of his attacker.

Lucius was a changed man, for better and for worse.




Thanks for reading. Please take the time and leave a review to let me know what you thought. I would love to hear from you.