Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Thanks to all who read and reviewed.

This story was beta-read by Jilliane. I think I caught all the mistakes she pointed out, but don't blame her if I didn't. Special thanks to zareenyn for her help with the Hindi words in this chapter. I hope I got them right.

Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Chapter 14: Dibby’s Fate

Lucius struggled to take a breath as he felt Padma hovering over him. He coughed, a feeble sound against the rushing of blood in his ears. He tried to open his eyes, but the muscles would not respond. Panic lanced through him along with a large dose of pain. What the bloody hell had he been hit with?

He felt a spell wash over him and then a smooth lift-off from the rocky substrate. Mona Lisa was saying something to another figure, dimly backlit from the witch lights in the villa. The voice answered back and Lucius felt a sense of calm even as his love let loose a steady stream of curse words best reserved for Knockturn Alley. Lucius attempted to speak, but he was locked in his mind, just as he had been before in... the grey place with bars and sadness.

He heard a moan and felt a trickle of wet heat spreading from his crotch. Mona Lisa cursed again, as they reached the... house with the lights. Lucius wondered whose it was and why he was so ill...

It must be hers, this woman who had rescued him from the grey place. He loved her, but that was all he knew before darkness swallowed him.

&*&*&

"Healer Silva, you have a visitor." The stern-faced receptionist said as she popped her head around the doorway. It was Tomas' second day back and one day from Saturday, the day that he and Seamus were to start getting more familiar with one another. Tomas only hoped his new beau meant physically.

The Healer had never been around a man who caused such desire to flow through him. Of course, the years of meaningless shagging aside, when Tomas had fallen into slavish infatuation before, he had not felt the same rush of joy at seeing his new lover's face, and had not experienced the same aching tenderness under his lover's hands. It scared Tomas witless, as unflappable as he tried to appear around the Auror. What if, when they finally made love, he lost the hot rush of desire? Would that diminish his feelings for gentle, patient, perfectly rapturous Seamus? As much as he wanted them to enter into a more physical relationship, he balked at breaching that last barrier.

What if Seamus didn't feel the same way for him afterwards?

Tomas put aside the book he was consulting on a skin condition in a young Hag who had come to him for treatment. His was a strictly cash business, not covered by the Ministry's universal health-care, but often he took on particularly interesting cases for reduced rates. Hags were not known for their wealth. This Hag had approached him after a consultation with St. Mungo's had left her with no other options. Her penury was obvious as she wore a dress that had obviously been handed down for years. Her shoes were worn and scuffed and she had a hungry, envious way that she looked at the wealthy and idle witches who frequented his practice, that could not be faked. The Hag was poor, and Tomas took pity on her.

Tomas had never been particularly fond of Hags, they tended to see too much that one did not want known, and were just god awful hideous. This girl was one of the type of Hags termed a Queen, if he could tell by her looks. She was quite pretty without the distinctive pointed chin and hooked nose. She even had all her teeth. From what Tomas understood of the Hag's socio-biological make-up, the women fell into two categories; those who served the hive in whatever way they could, much like workers in an insect colony, and those who bred for the hive. The little Queen had presented in his office with a case of warts that had somehow run amok threatening to ruin the looks she would use to seduce unsuspecting Muggle or wizard into impregnating her. Somehow, her body would undergo fertilisation of all her eggs and she would store them in her body, keeping the zygotes in stasis until she could deliver them safely. Her life after impregnation would consist of a series of gestations. Not an enviable at Uni, and had been duly impressed by their biological adaptation to their very unappealing looks. Of course, this type of parthenogenic reproduction was not unknown in the animal kingdom, but was unique among mammals. It seemed the entire weight of her hive's existence rested on her luminously pale, now lumpy shoulders.

"Healer Silva?" the receptionist said again, irritation limning her pointed features. Tomas sometimes wondered if she possibly had some Hag in her background.

Shaking off the uncharitable thought, he stood, traversing the hall, nodding to his workmates who hovered over him as if he were made of glass. It made Tomas uncomfortable being reminded so often of the reason for his recent absence. He hoped things would be back to normal by the time Padma returned in a week. He would never be able to put the whole incident behind him if no one else cared to let him.

Seamus sat in the waiting room, looking dashing in his Auror's robes, his grey-blue eyes set off by the dark blue of his uniform. He stood as the receptionist took her seat behind her glass and steel fortress. She sniffed and began filing, as if a mere civil servant were beneath her notice. Once he saw Tomas, he bestowed that slow smile, the one that caused his eyes to sparkle outrageously, on Tomas and greeted him with a chaste kiss. Tomas noted, with some degree of irritation, the woman behind the desk clearing her throat. He pulled Seamus to his office, loving the way his hand felt against the rough texture of the Auror's. Once behind closed doors, he turned to Seamus and captured his lips in a heated kiss. He drew the embrace out into a full assault, causing Seamus to groan and grind his girth against Tomas.

Tomas sank to his knees as he began undoing the buttons of Seamus' trousers. Finnigan moaned, spurring Tomas' efforts to release his lover from the confines with even greater urgency. Seamus breathed, "Love, stop. Not this way, not here."

"But I want to," Tomas pouted, but with a glance up at Seamus' solemn face he desisted, even though he was shaking with need. Finnigan sank to his knees, taking Tomas in his arms, his breathing heavy.

"Love, when I take you, I want it to be special, not rushed and tawdry. We have time for that, but the first... I want you to know how special you are." He drew Tomas into the strong band of his muscular arms and up into his lap, soothing Silva with soft kisses to his brow, face and neck. "Damn me if I don't want you."

"I love you." Tomas felt the words slip from his mouth as if they had been pulled from his gut. He winced. "I know it sounds mad, but I do. I'm sorry."

Finnigan sighed gustily. "I don't know why you're sorry, or you think it's mad. I feel the same. If I didn't want somethin' special wi' you, I'd have already taken what I wanted and left, you daft prick."

"You are such a sweet-talking bastard, Seamus Finnigan." Tomas laughed shakily. "Will I see you tonight?"

Seamus looked away, his brow furrowed. "That's the thing, Love. I've been called away for an investigation. Lucius Malfoy's been attacked. The priest that he was given probation with called last night."

Tomas stilled. "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not." Seamus answered. "It's an official investigation, and dangerous."

"I have to." Tomas twisted in Seamus' arms, levering himself from the Auror's lap. "Padma has been seeing him. She'll need me there."

Seamus followed him to his feet, his expression thunderous. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know. A short while." Tomas retreated. "Does it matter?"

Finnigan rolled his shoulders forward. "Thought she had better taste, is all."

"I know her, and I know that she sees some good in him, or she wouldn't be with him." Tomas brushed Seamus' hand. "I won't be a bother, but I need to be there."

Finnigan sighed, "You can handle it? You've just gotten over your attack and all..."

"Don't worry about me, love. I'm tougher than you think." Tomas kissed him again, this time supplicating and sweet. "They're still on Delos, right?"

"They're in Athens," Finnigan answered with a rueful smile. "I should have known you would know everything about the situation. You do love a good gossip."

He gave Tomas a chaste kiss. "I must be off. Meet me at the Portkey office at four if you're intent on going. I don't want you traipsing off by yourself. I think you both might be in some danger."

&*&*&

Dibby hated.

He hated with such intensity that it took all the Elf Mother's will to restrain him from doing harm to the human that had harmed Master. That same human had cast a spell on Dibby that still made him ill. He was also sickened by thinking of how he had failed Master in his time of need. It was the last in a long line of shameful failures for Dibby, and once he had been revived by Mistress Dr. Patil, he had wept copious tears. It was only when he found out how badly Master was injured that he had felt the first flush of hatred. It had settled in his gut like a bunny on dust.

He paced the interior of the room he had been imprisoned in at the Temple, his magic crackling off of his body in lightning sheets. It did not help that the Temple elves had been sent to find the evil man, and that he would be tried and sentenced by elf magic before being turned over to the human Aurors that would descend on the island. It did not help that Mistress Doctor was, right now, working on Master as Dibby languished in the cell. He stamped his foot and the earth under Delos rumbled. He tried to Apparate away and the wards, though stretched to their limit, held. He stumbled back to the earth and screamed the tides in, early and high.

The door to the room opened and Elf Mother stepped in, her diaphanous clothing swinging on her thin body like cobwebs, her skin the colour of earth and wrinkled with age. She cast a calming spell over the room with a scowl as she said, "Your master's attacker has been found. Calm yourself and you may watch the proceedings. You are disturbing the elements too much and the humans are making noticing noises."

Dibby bowed, his ears and nose scraping the floor. "Dibby is ready, Elf Mother. Please forgive this elf the extremity of his emotions. Dibby has failed Master and will gladly accept any punishment..."

Dibby broke off, tears of disgrace and anger dripping from his eyes to the tip of his nose. Elf Mother said sternly, “Your punishment will be passed after the human's trial. You have disgraced elf-kind with your inability to protect your master and your meddling in his affairs."

"Yes, Mother." Dibby bowed, if possible, even lower. "Dibby accepts his fate. Dibby will do whatever the Elf Mother and her courts says. Dibby is a bad house-elf. Dibby wishes he were dead."

Elf Mother pulled him from the floor with an impatient flick of her forefinger. "If Dibby were dead, who would look after his Master and the little one Dibby made against our orders? Dibby has caused enough harm without adding more with his death wishes and bad thoughts."

The younger elf sobbed silently and followed the Elf Mother out of the room. His fate, and that of his Master's attacker, awaited the judgement of the Elvish High Court.

&*&*&

Padma was pouring over books in the Athenian Ministry Library. Her frantic search for any mention of a spell that caused rapid memory loss and metabolic degeneration had begun at dawn, after she had grabbed only a few hours of sleep. She had stabilised Lucius on the flight from Delos to Athens, aiding the paramedic Healers that had flown by charmed helicopter from the Greek capital.

She had spent the night alternating between the coffee machine and his bedside, monitoring his vitals, recording every change, and worrying. Several heavily accented mediwitches assumed she was his wife and she let them. It was easier than explaining the situation to them, and if she was really truthful with herself, it was comforting. He woke several times, his gaze unfocused, his mouth working with no sound issuing from his lips. She smoothed his brow, gave him ice chips, and spoke softly to him, all with a sense of déjà vu. She had been at his bedside before, after all.

She pushed the last book in the pile away from her, frustrated to the point of screaming. She ran through what she saw of the attack, the flash of strangely familiar sickly purple light, the shadowy attacker, the panic that caused her almost to fly to his side. She just wished she had been aware enough to hear even part of the incantation. The spell colour was so familiar, but she just could not place where she had seen it before.

She sighed, thanking the heavens for the Muggle priest's calm. Ian had been the one to Firecall InterAur, and Ian was the one, even now, dealing with the investigators on Delos and contacting Lucius' family. Padma merely sat and watched, sat and read, or sat and fretted. She was utterly useless.

She slammed the book closed, drawing a look of consternation from the only other occupant of the library at this late an hour, a young Turk by his clothes. He scowled and returned to his reading, his lips moving as he did. Oaf.

She looked at her watch; a silver circle with a mother of pearl face, her father had given it to her on her seventeenth birthday. It seemed so long ago.

She rose abruptly from her seat and cursed as the pile of books slid from the tabletop. The young man stood and strode to her as she bent to retrieve them, stifling sobs as she did.

He said in stilted English, "Miss, might I be able to help you?"

Padma shook her head mutely, willing the man to leave before she lost control of her emotions. How had a holiday fling come to mean so much?

A tear plopped onto the back of her hand and she shook herself mentally, berating herself for letting her emotions have free reign when someone one needed her.

"Miss?" the man asked again. "I am an assistant archivist, perhaps if I knew for what spell you looked..."

"I don't know. I'm sorry." Padma rose as gracefully as she could with tears swimming in her vision, an armful of books, and nothing but caffeine keeping her awake.

The man looked at the books before him. "Perhaps... These are all Western spell books. Have you considered looking in another region? The Mediterranean has many magical traditions that are used commonly. I assume from your reading that you are searching for a counter-curse for a loved one, and don’t know the spell?"

Padma stopped her progress to the table, struck again by the memory of the sickly light. She thought she might have seen it before during a duelling demonstration between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff who were showing non-English spells to younger students. Padma had rounded the corner as the spell was cast. The Hufflepuff, a cousin to Panjit Pradesh who had outstayed his welcome in an Indian school of magic and had transferred only that year, had generated it. He was bad news and had been sent to America before the end of the year for assaulting the younger female students.

She sat heavily, spilling the books once again. She may not know the spell, but she now had an inkling where to look. If it had been Pradesh that cast the spell she would make him pay when she found him.

It took two more hours, but at last, after going through the records for spells from India, Iran, and Iraq, she found the counter to the Sab Bhulo curse cast by that sneaking prat, Pradesh. It was a nasty curse that not only affected higher brain functions such as memory and motor skills, but also shut down the parasympathetic nervous system, causing systemic failure in less than a day. She had a few more hours to administer the counter curse before she lost Lucius. The prospect of not being around his sardonic and self-deprecatory wit and his angelic features caused her heart to break. She did not have time to examine the feeling, but it felt strangely close to love, for better and for worse.

She breathlessly thanked the young Turk and rushed to hospital.

&*&*&

Dibby watched as the wizard was brought before the Council, bound, bloody, and quite arrogant still. The hall was silent as house elves from all over Delos and several other islands watched his progress. The dark-haired wizard was brought to a halt before Elf Mother and pushed to his knees. The ancient elf spoke using a translation spell, her tone solemn, “Human, you have been brought before the Council because of crimes against one of our own, a misguided elf to be sure, but loyal to his master. What say you to these charges?"

The human spat, his brutish face twisted with hate. He ignored the Elf Mother and struggled to stand. Two sturdy guards bound the human more tightly using spells and touches of their fingers. Dibby itched to flick his own spells at the human, but was constrained by his own sturdy guard who watched his every move. Elf Mother continued as if the man had answered. "You English-trained wizards have little respect for our kind. If you will not speak to the highest of our kind, then that will be your sentence."

Elf Mother flicked her fingers and a loud clap of thunder shook the temple. The bad human opened his mouth and a loud wail issued, and then was cut off. The human tried to speak, but the only sounds that issued were snuffling grunts and loud wails. Elf Mother turned her gaze to the elven guards. "Release him to the human authorities."

Dibby watched as the squeaking, gibbering human was led out, and then it was his turn to be addressed. Elf Mother sighed. "It pains me, young one, to have to sentence you. You were faithful to your master when none other were. You kept his place in his house, even as he spent time in prison, and you stayed with him when he had few friends. Your interference, however, cannot go unpunished. You have brought a new soul into an already volatile situation. That was wrong. Your sentence will be severance from your Master. You and your progeny now serve the female you so wronged. Go to her."

Dibby sobbed into his hands as he thought on Mistress Doctor's location and Apparated away. He had failed his Master even worse than the traitorous Dobby had. He was disgraced.

&*&*&

Lucius woke to pain and was blinded by the probing light of a Healer's wand. He shoved against the bed clothes that bound him in one position. "Where is Mona... Dr. Patil?"

Narcissa answered him from beside the bed, her voice cool and cultured. "I sent your little paramour home. She should be in London right now. I told her you no longer needed her services or those of the Muggle you had living with you."

"Cissy," Lucius growled, the sound weak to his ears, "What happened?"

Narcissa dabbed at her dry eye with a Bruges lace handkerchief. She had just the right air of mocking sadness. Lucius had seen it many times before, and despised her for the paucity of true emotion. He wanted Mona Lisa and he would have her. Narcissa rose, and it was then that Lucius noticed her burgeoning waistline. He stared wordlessly at her belly, thick with child as she said, "I would like to come home, Darling, and take care of you. As you can see, I was so wrong to ask for a divorce."

She took his hand and placed it on her belly. Lucius groaned, unable to think beyond the black spots that were dancing before his eyes. It was the first time he had ever felt like fainting in his life.

Narcissa smiled as she plumped his pillows and began chatting airily, as if nothing had occurred between them.

Lucius cursed, realising just how fucked he was.


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