Miss Patil Takes a Holiday

Chapter 15: If Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Then Why Don't You Leave?

Padma watched her family from what seemed like a great distance. It was the normal Sunday afternoon dinner in mid-November, this time held at her flat in London, with all the incumbent irritation and dread. She wondered how such a little time between the events of her holiday and the current moment could change her perspective so much.

Tomas and Seamus had come home with her from Athens after the former Mrs. Malfoy had made her stunning appearance, belly big with child and glowingly beautiful. Padma had not waited for Lucius to awaken from the curse. What was the point? He had a child on the way and his fling with Padma was obviously at an end. Padma had spent the rest of her holiday in tearful solitude, alternately clinging to whatever gay male body presented himself to her, or pushing the same gay male away. She was more of a wreck than when she had discovered Justin and Parvati's perfidy. It didn't help that Seamus and Tomas were practically living together, with Seamus spending the bulk of his free time with Tomas, shagging rather loud and lustily. Finnigan was a dear, but their obvious love for each other didn't seem quite fair. Not when Padma no longer had that.

A month ago, Seamus had informed her that Panjit Pradesh had been arrested for the attack on Lucius after he showed up with a note pinned to his chest, written in an arcane elvish dialect, at the Athens Aurory. It had taken two days and three experts in language to decipher the missive. He was currently residing in the high security wing of St. Mungo's, unable to speak or communicate in any way, the act causing him to break out in suppurating blisters, as if he had been burned. He was also plagued with intermittent severe bruising about his head in the shape of a flat iron. The Healers at the hospital could find no counter curse and suspected strong Elemental magics were used to effect the curse. Padma just hoped it lasted a long time. Tomas' attacker had been caught by none other than Millicent Bulstrode after he had tried to break into Tomas' office, and had been handed over to the Muggle authorities after meeting with one Seamus Finnigan. There seemed to be a connection between Pradesh and the Muggle thug, but as yet, there was no proof.

Dibby, who had unaccountably attached himself to Padma's household in Athens, was currently beating himself senseless for scorching the rice for Sunday dinner. Padma did not know what to do about him. She had contacted Lucius through Ian, but had yet to hear from him about his wayward elf.

The acquisition of an elf served only to irritate Maa, who complained that Padma had even less reason now to marry.

If she only knew.

Now she sat in her parlour, watching Parvati and Justin go on about how wonderful it was to be a married, and a parent, and a responsible citizen, and all Padma wanted to do was puke, a thing she had done quite frequently for about a month.

Padma had supposed, when she returned from Athens, that the water she consumed or the food she ate had somehow not agreed with her. A few weeks later, after no abatement of the symptoms, she had administered both diagnostic spells and Muggle tests to finally ascertain what was wrong with her.

Sodding Lucius Malfoy was as potent as an elephant in must, and Padma was going to have his by-blow in seven months, give or take. She was a disgrace to her family and would soon reap the rewards of that state, probably today if she could work up enough nerve to tell them.

Tomas plopped gracelessly next to Padma on the couch, his arm snaking around her shoulders as he watched her mother extol the virtues of Parvati's married state. Bapa remained silent, reading the Potions text Padma had purchased for him in Greece.

"You have got to do something about that elf. He's sobbing into a tea towel about how he ruined dinner," Tomas said. He watched Parvati jiggle her winsomely vomiting infant in her lap while Maa cooed. He rolled his eyes. "When are you going to tell them?"

"Soon enough." Padma's queasy stomach plummeted with the thought. Bapa's eyes never left his book, but Padma suspected he heard more than he let on.

Seamus returned from the kitchen, samosas in both hands and handed one to Tomas. "These things're great. Can you have your elf cook them again sometime, love?"

The smell of spices and potatoes on his breath turned her stomach as Finnigan spoke. She swallowed convulsively before answering wanly, "He's not my elf."

Tomas smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead while he simultaneously shot Seamus an irritated look. "Of course not, dear. He's Lucius Malfoy's."

The comment brought the conversation between Parvati and Maa to a screeching halt and Padma flushed. The heat of the room became too much for her and she rose, running to the bathroom to empty her stomach of the little she had been able to eat at dinner.

&*&*&

Lucius currently hid in the west wing of the villa in Tuscany trying to keep from strangling his former wife for the second time in less than a year. He spent his hours occupied with his letters of penance, wishing most sincerely that he had not discovered his alcoholism in the face of his current blonde-haired problem, who was wreaking havoc in the rest of the villa. A drink would steady his nerves and make him not care as much as he did when he thought of Mona Lisa.

Draco was back in England with his gravid wife and had not contacted Lucius since he had owled a cowboy hat, ostrich skin boots and a letter from Severus. Lucius ran his hand over the letter, as yet unopened. It lay atop another letter he refused to read from Mrs. Ginevra Potter, 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Lucius cursed softly and covered the letters with his parchment, turning his attention once more to his ex-wife's reappearance.

When she had announced her pregnancy in such a dramatic fashion, he had been overwhelmed with the prospect of being a father again. Joy mixed with dread, and he had accepted that once again, he was saddled with the responsibility of Narcissa Black. He had not offered marriage, even with her earlier broad hints and her more recent tantrums. Bella may have inherited the Black madness, but the dark haired sister had nothing on Narcissa when it came to temper. Lucius had suffered several rather expensive assaults on his wardrobe and heirloom furnishings thus far.

Those actions were no surprise. During the course of their marriage, Lucius had been pummelled, slapped, had dodged heavy objects (most of the time) and on one notable occasion, been knifed. He had endured no end of hexes, curses and poisons. It was the way of all Malfoys to experience such marital discontent, and Lucius accepted the state of his marriage as he had accepted the Dark Mark. It was expected. When Draco had come, he had hoped to find himself an ally in his son, but instead found that Narcissa spoilt the boy and played on his sympathies. Lucius did what he could, but Draco had been his mother's son from the moment he was laid in her arms. Lucius had always looked in from the outside on that relationship.

Certainly not all of Narcissa's anger had been unjustified. He had endangered their son. He had chosen to follow his father's demands and take the damned Mark, and he had been his own inimical, sarcastic, and supercilious self on more than one occasion. Most of the incidents between them had been precipitated by Lucius in some manner, if he were honest. Lucius was still himself when they married. He supposed, as with all the females of his acquaintance, she had hopes of changing him, softening him to her will.

All but one female... Lucius turned from the thought, a painful constriction beginning in his throat and radiating down to his chest. Narcissa, he must think of Narcissa...

Even as he knew he had disappointed Narcissa in their thirty-four years of marriage, he had loved her. She had been his first in many ways. He had fallen in love with her during their childhood, when he had sneaked into the hall from his nursery and had seen her glowing beauty in a party frock and nappies. His feelings had never wavered. He wondered why now when he saw Narcissa's patrician, icy beauty, that he longed for his cinnamon-skinned, exotic Mona Lisa. His feelings could not be that inconstant, even if Narcissa's had provent to be.

A resounding crash sounded down the hall, and then Narcissa's voice, magically amplified, reached his ears. He hastily grabbed a book, making sure that it was turned the right way. That had been his mistake when he had been stabbed-- pretending to be engrossed in a novel, a Muggle one left over, no doubt, from one of Severus' visits, only to discover that he had it turned upside down. Narcissa's ire had been expressed rather sharply. He still bore the scar, as he could not allow word to be spread about his inability to control his wife with the Dark Lord sleeping just down the hall.

The doors to his study flung open and Narcissa entered. Her voice whipped across the space between them. "I have been calling you, Lucius."

"Yes, darling?" He answered blandly. "How can I help you?"

Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the spine of the book he clasped before speaking, "I need to return to New York tomorrow."

Lucius made a show of marking his place with an antique, ivory bookmark, and closing the book fastidiously. He rose and greeted Narcissa with a kiss that did not quite meet her cheek. She had already applied her war paint that morning and he knew better than to disturb her efforts. "I see."

"Do you want to go?" Her bland expression covered an indefinable wrongness. Her body language was tense, as if she were waiting for him to find out something about her. He had seen the same pose a thousand times over the years. Mostly when she had purchased something he considered excessive, such as livery for the house elves. How in Merlin's name were they supposed to make them wear the Italian silk garments without freeing them? He supposed the bits of finery had been carted away by the Ministry, if they weren't still mouldering in some forgotten corner of the dungeon.

She continued rather too quickly, "Not that I think you'll have a good time. Really, you should just stay here and do as that dreary Muggle said, and write your boring letters."

Lucius inclined his head, betraying nothing of his sudden suspicion. "No, Cissy, I should feel horrible if you had any complications that might keep you overnight. The letters will wait, darling."


Anyone that did not know Narcissa as intimately as Lucius would have missed the slight drawing down of her pale brows, Narcissa's version of a scowl. "Lucius, I shall return to your side by tomorrow evening. The blood-priest's odd assignment is much more important, since it keeps you from consuming liquor."

"Very well, dear." Lucius sketched another kiss over his ex-wife's cheek and she left the room.

It seemed that Lucius had another project to occupy himself with tomorrow. Narcissa was hiding something, and he thought the answer just might lie in New York.

He returned to his desk and opened the letter from Mrs. Weasley.

Mr. Malfoy,

Apology accepted.

Ginevra Potter

P.S. Why did you write to me anyway?

&*&*&

Tomas was there when Padma's world fell apart for the third time. It had started with his thoughtless comment about Dibby, and escalated to a screaming match between Padma and Parvati, complete with hair pulling and a ripped frock, Padma's of course. When Mr. Patil had pulled the two apart, his wife rounded on him and the shouting began in various dialects of India. Seamus tried to play the hero as he pulled his wand, snatched the baby up from the floor, and cast a Sonorous charm to say, "Leave off, or I shall be forced to take you all in."

That had gone over well.

Tomas had barely pulled Seamus out of the way of a flying hex from none other than Mrs. Patil when Dibby rushed in and pulled Padma away from her sister, who had her in a rather competent headlock. The family fell silent just as the elf said mournfully, "Mistress Doctor must take care. The baby of my former Master will get hurt."

As his American classmates used to say, that is when the shit hit the fan.

That is how Tomas ended up with the rest of the mad lot of Hindus, and one raging Irishman, in the Aurory, awaiting a hearing on their disturbance of the peace and use of proscribed curses. Tomas couldn't help himself. When the Parvati bint had called Padma a whore, it was just too much. He let loose a Slapping Hex, that was only slightly less painful than the Cruciatus Curse. He had learnt it in America, where it was not strictly illegal. Apparently Tomas needed to read up on the laws of his homeland. He smirked at the corner in which Parvati sat, noting her still reddened cheeks. It served her right.

The only persons in the flat not taken into custody were the baby and the elf. Shit Creek and Paddles abounded.

Seamus stood, leaning over Tomas with a sigh, and brushed back Padma's dishevelled hair. She had a shiner that was swelling. Tomorrow it would be black and ugly. Tomas itched to heal it so she would not have to bear the shame of her fight with her family, but since their wands had been confiscated, he could only commiserate with her pain.

Padma whispered, "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble."

"Don't worry about it lass," Seamus answered mildly. "We've all got families and know what they can be like."

Seamus' troubled expression was not reassuring to Tomas as he sat again on the hard wooden bench. Tomas took his hand and brushed his lips against his lover's cheek.

"Bloody shirt lifters and Death Eater whores." Finch-Fletchley hissed but after a poke in the ribs from his wife, he desisted, choosing to shoot dark looks instead.

Padma's father moved to the door, the area of the room closest to the realm of the poofs and pregnant tarts. He looked as if he were going to say something when the loud clang of a door from the end of the hall sounded, followed shortly by the figure of Harry Potter.

His expression was bemused as his eyes swept the group. He said, "You've been bailed out of here."

Mrs. Patil asked, "Who got us out so we can thank them?"

"Malfoy," Harry answered. Then over the hissed intakes of breath from both Mrs. Patil and Parvati, he added, "Draco Malfoy. His wife is in labour and having complications. You'll need to go directly to St. Mungo's, Padma. Liz is in MICU and she's asking for you."

&*&*&

Lucius stared at the letter from Severus, once again wishing for a sip of alcohol. He went as far as to open the seal and then stopped. He would have to face the recriminations of his one-time friend, but with his life in such turmoil, he just could not read the letter. It was too much for him.

He returned his attention to Mrs. Potter's letter.

Why did you write to me anyway?

He had thought his letter was self-explanatory, but one could never tell with a Weasley whether they had the ability to comprehend or not. Lucius picked up his quill.

Dear Mrs. Weasley,

I apologised because I needed to, I wrote because it was expedient. Would you rather have met me face to face? I think not. Our few meetings in the past were not pleasant for you.

Yours,

LAM

He folded the parchment and cursed as the Floo flared, shooting soot onto the floor. He had lost Dibby somehow, and was loathe to break in another elf, though he supposed he would have to since Narcissa was in residence.

"Father?" Draco's voice boomed from the Floo. "Father, it's Liz. She's having the baby ad she's asked you to come."


Lucius smiled and turned to his son's green visage. The boy looked scared, and for good reason. His first paramour had died after giving birth to his son. Elspeth, though still a Muggle, seemed much less inclined to succumb to something as common as child birth. No, she would probably live to be two hundred, if the rumours about what had happened at the Yule ball last year were true.

Lucius faced his son, placing his head in the flames without crouching. "I shall be there as soon as I can arrange a Portkey. Give her my best wishes."


As his son cut the connection, Narcissa entered, a look of distaste marring her face. "I suppose I should go."


"Why, darling, when you could not be bothered to go to the wedding?" Lucius used his most cutting tone. Narcissa had hurt Draco when she chose not to attend his nuptials. She had made it quite clear that she did not accept the choices their son had made. Draco would not be pleased if Narcissa showed up, especially in her condition. He knew at least that much about his son. "No, dear, you must rest for our trip tomorrow, and Elspeth doesn't need the added tension."

"Oh, Luc, at least let's make love before you leave," Narcissa said, her petulant whine grating on Lucius' nerves. "I do so miss what we had, dearest, and it has been months since we shared... it."


Narcissa sat in his lap, giving her best temptress pout. It would have worked a few months ago, had she given it then. Lucius had always found his ex-wife to be quite alluring when she tried to be. Now, however, he felt nothing. There was no flicker of desire as she squirmed against him. He felt nothing as she reached to untie his hair, scraping fingernails along his neck in the manner he liked. He did not rise to the occassion as she bared her meagrely endowed white breasts to his view.

He placed her firmly off his lap. "Not today, Cissy. I have a headache."

He left the room hastily and shut the door with a quick flick of his wrist as the first of many ceramics, some priceless no doubt, were shattered against the other side. Narcissa's screams of outrage echoed in the hallway.

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