Early Saturday afternoon, 5 September 1942, en route to and from and at St Mungo's Hospital...

[woundedorpheus]

By the time they were in Tintagel, Dracaena Malfoy was feeling desperately ill, and was even a little feverish. Nicodemo Zabini was looking ashen himself, and Melina Ducas was glad that her fiancé, Marco, couldn’t see her, because she knew he’d only blame himself for not driving the horses fast enough, for all that he wasn’t a coachman and the horses were strange and high-tempered to boot. There was a wizarding health services office in Tintagel that was mostly disused except for the portal to Mungo’s, and Dracaena couldn’t get out of the carriage under her own power. Nicodemo had to carry her, but she was trying valiantly to hide her discomfort, and that at least Melina had to admire.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Dracaena murmured, “but you do the worrying, Nico. I’ll just concentrate on staying well, and you can be the overprotective bastard I need right now, and it’ll all work out.” She let her head fall back against his shoulder a little, and Melina wondered if she didn’t have a point. Dracaena hadn’t been well at the Manor, but once they’d come out of the Bois des Malfées, her condition had begun to deteriorate visibly.

The healer on duty took one look at Dracaena and opened the portal. Melina didn’t even catch his name.

“I am totally justified in my overprotective bastardly ways today, thank you,” Nicodemo murmured, kissing Dracaena’s forehead as he carried her through. He’d carried far too many people into the hospital lately and he hoped sincerely that this was the last time.

Dracaena was conscious enough to be amazed as the path cleared before them, and even more so when the mistress of the place came down to meet them herself. Dracaena looked up at her warily; the last communication she’d had from Priscilla Chattox-Kyteler had been unpleasant in tone, and she’d left it unanswered. “Good day, Magistra Doctora,” she said in a soft voice. “I seem to have had a bit of a misadventure.”

Priscilla snorted. “So it seems, Lady Malfoy. Good afternoon, Mr Zabini; I think we can take care of her from here.”

“I’d be just as happy to see her to where she needs to be,” Nicodemo said, his most congenial and commanding smile on his face and strained at the edges: it made him look like a shark, and he knew it.

Priscilla Chattox-Kyteler looked him right in the eye. “Don’t you think we should send for her husband?”

“No,” Nicodemo said smoothly, and he felt the flint in his eyes. “No, that’s the last thing we ought to do.”

Dracaena smiled at him gratefully.

Priscilla took a deep breath, taking all of this in, and shook her head, then turned briskly on her heel, noticing that there were in fact people watching. “Follow me. Under the circumstances, I’ve pulled Wilkes and Yang away from your brother to tend to Lady Malfoy for the moment.”

“Understandably,” Nicodemo agreed, following behind her, trying to keep his stride steady so he wouldn’t jostle Dracaena much in his arms.

Priscilla said nothing. She could imagine a dozen scenarios, but none of them made any sense. It was Nicodemo’s wife, not Dracaena’s husband, who had so clearly been deceived; but they were both afraid of him, and she couldn’t imagine why, given all of the stories she’d heard. She wouldn’t know what had happened until they told her. And maybe not even then. Because there was no guarantee they would tell her the truth.

Dracaena clung to Nicodemo with all her fading strength. “Don’t you dare leave me,” she whispered under her breath once they were in a fairly empty corridor.

“I’m not, I’m not,” Nicodemo murmured reassuringly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Dracaena nodded. She hated the sounds and smells of the hospital; she knew, in her head, that this was St Mungo’s, where she’d been treated before the war, and that this was Priscilla who had been Magister-Sir’s wife; but she couldn’t ever fully shake the feeling, in a hospital, that maybe this time she wouldn’t get out alive. Not since the one at the camp. “I want to see Alessio,” she whispered, a little more loudly. It would help, she thought, if she could see Alessio and tell herself that nothing bad would happen here, that nothing bad had happened to him.

Nicodemo frowned. “What? Alessio? He’s doing all right now, they wouldn’t have pulled the Healers from him if he wasn’t.”

“I know,” Dracaena said, “but…he’s your brother, he’ll worry.” She shrugged, because she didn’t want to explain in front of Priscilla, whom she did not trust. “Am I wrong to want to see him?”

Nico shook his head; her instincts could be strange, but he’d learned in the heat of war not to question them much. “No, not wrong, I don’t think.”

“The last time Lady Malfoy was here,” Priscilla said off-handedly, “she wouldn’t let her husband and daughter out of her sight, and she didn’t want us to close the door of the treatment room. I don’t know what they’re doing overseas, but no-one who comes out of Eastern Europe is sanguine about being a patient, Mr Zabini.”

Dracaena was grateful at having been spared the necessity of explaining, and at the same time furious, especially since Melina and Marco were just a few paces behind. And maybe the staff were too busy to listen to snatches of casual conversation, but maybe they weren’t, and people whose loyalties she didn’t know did not need to know what she feared.

“If she wants to see my brother, then it ought to be done, if at all possible. She knows what she needs,” said Nicodemo, and while it was couched as a suggestion when it came to word choices, his tone made it clear that it was no such thing.

“I want all of you with me,” Dracaena said in a nearly petulant tone. “You, Alessio, Valeria if she’s still here…” She didn’t want to let go of him and get into bed, and could not be induced to let go of his hand.

“But you don’t want your husband.” Priscilla gave her a curious look.

“He’s not my husband,” Dracaena said sharply. “Not any more.” She breathed out slowly. “He said so, three times.”

Priscilla gave Nico a steely look. “Did he do this to her?”

Dracaena winced inwardly, but managed-just barely-to school her face. No-one outside the Bois needed hear about this. If her enemies learned of it…she knew who Wilkes was, he was the Ozzer’s man, but she had no idea where Yang’s loyalties lay, and as for the others, the common folk who worked as nurses and servants, who knew?

Nicodemo glanced down at Dracaena, biting his lip, and Dracaena sighed, because even if he didn’t say anything, his hesitation said enough. “He…my cousin is sometimes prone to fits of temper that have nothing to do with his natural character.”

“What did he do to her?” Priscilla demanded.

Dracaena sighed heavily. “He didn’t mean to do anything-”

Priscilla frowned. “You have no idea how many times I have heard that-”

“This time is different,” Nicodemo said forcefully. “He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“You are aware that in attacking her he is attacking our country,” Priscilla said in a humourless tone, already glancing at Dracaena through her various coloured lenses, shaking her head and frowning as though she did not like what she saw.

“Supremely. He wasn’t in his right mind. And that can be argued in the courts, if it must be,” Nicodemo replied.

“This is why I didn’t want to do this,” Dracaena said through her teeth. They’d talk about it later. Nicodemo had never been an Unspeakable, she reminded herself, and had no idea how terrible the security was around here.

“I know,” Nico murmured soothingly, reaching up to tenderly stroke her hair back from her face, and Dracaena smiled, although he didn’t. “But better this than anything happen to you.”

Priscilla gritted her teeth. It never failed to infuriate her when women were accessories to their own mistreatment. And these readings were horrifying. “If she weren’t linked to her land, she’d be dead. We need to stabilise her as soon as possible and then get her back on it. She’s still in very early pregnancy, and it’s entirely possible that she’ll miscarry if we don’t get her properly grounded.” She bit her lip, thinking hard. “Normally we use cold iron to absorb this sort of thing. In this case that seems inappropriate; maybe we can ground her with hematite, or leaded glass. Good lord, but I wish Maddy Proctor were here.”

“Cold iron will definitely decompensate her,” said Wilkes as he came through the door.

“Cold iron will kill her, let’s not even suggest it any more,” Nicodemo said testily.

Wilkes smiled at him. Clearly Priscilla had been channelling Laurens. “Cold iron would only kill her if she were struck a mortal blow with it, but we won’t be using it to treat her, don’t worry.”

Priscilla was placing orbs of dark glass around her, shaking her head at Yang.

Nicodemo softened slightly. Wilkes, he liked, although he did not quite approve of some of the things his brother and Wilkes had got up to. “It’s a little late for not worrying, but the sentiment’s appreciated.”

Wilkes shrugged. “This is…very similar to the syndrome your brother was experiencing,” he said with a puzzled frown. “I suspect she’ll be fine. We just have to get the residual energy grounded and out of her system before she absorbs it. Is there any reason to suspect that the person who did this might have been possessed or fighting off a possession?”

“Yes,” Dracaena said fervently. “You can shut the door this time, for fuck’s sake, Magistra; there are enough people in here that I won’t feel alone, and we’re discussing matters of national security.”

Marco shut the door before anyone else could say anything. Priscilla looked like she was thinking about snapping back, but then shrugged it off. “The person who did this is another one. Just like that girl and the brothers and Dashwood. He’s got that same chakra anomaly, only it’s primarily affecting two and three, not one and two. Difficult to say how that changes things.”

Wilkes raised an eyebrow. He didn’t understand how any of that worked yet, but he wanted to.

“I told you we should have talked to Patil,” Stephen Yang murmured under his breath.

“Ned said not to,” Priscilla snapped, “and yes, I know he’s not a scientist.”

Nicodemo felt more than a little lost, which was alarmingly becoming almost familiar; all he could do was to stroke Dracaena’s hair. The things they were setting around her weren’t cold iron, but they unsettled her all the same and he couldn’t see how this was any help at all. “Did you ground him like this, Alessio, with iron and all?” he asked, frowning. He hadn’t remembered that at all, but maybe he’d slept through it.

“He grounded himself,” said Wilkes, “as most patients do-but he wasn’t pregnant.”

“Hematite,” said Yang. “It’s an iron ore but it’s not cold iron, it won’t do her or the babies any harm.” He began to drape what looked like ten feet of black pearls around Dracaena, but black pearls would have been more lustrous and not made her twitch.

“I hate this,” Dracaena muttered, and refused to let go of Nico’s hand.

“I know,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and soothing. “I know you do, but it’ll be all right, it will be.”

“If she maintains contact with you,” Yang suggested gently, “she might ground through you.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on letting go, then,” Nicodemo said with a wan little smile.

Dracaena dropped his hand at once, but didn’t look even a little bit happy about it. “Darling,” she said, “it could hurt you.”

Valeria slipped into the room just then, wide-eyed. “Donna Zabini?” she whispered. “Donna Zabini…” Her first instinct was to ask if the Lady was all right but that was stupid, it was patently obvious that she wasn’t all right, otherwise what would she be doing there? But she had no idea what to say, and the presence of so many people trying to work made her unusually hesitant.

Dracaena waved to her, scowling because of the hematite but trying for all she was worth not to scowl at her. It helped, a little, and she hated admitting that, because all that was left when the power surge and the irritation of iron combined was a horrible drained feeling, as though she could sleep for a year.

Alessio struggled with his crutches, but Valeria held the door for him, and when he saw Dracaena, he sniffed the air, then made a determined bee-line for her side, nudging his brother out of the way none too gracefully. He reached out for her hand without any hesitation at all.

Nicodemo moved to grab him, to pull him back and tell him the same thing he’d been told, that it could hurt him, but he paused at the look on his brother’s face. It was positively ecstatic.

Dracaena blinked and tried to pull away herself, but when Alessio didn’t let her, she looked up at him, blinking. “He’s taking it,” she said, “I can feel it, what is he doing?”

Yang just stood there, shaking his head. “Well,” he said. “It’s a pity I can’t record this.”

“Alessio,” said Wilkes in a quiet voice. “Remember what I told you. If you’re going to do that, you can’t take it into yourself; you have to vent it. Otherwise you’ll end up someday with something you can’t get rid of.” He glanced at Nico. “I’ve seen him do that before. It’s a rare talent, but it’s not as rare as say, his girl’s.”

“I’m unique,” Valeria said with a little grin.

Alessio glared at Wilkes through the lank of his hair that had fallen across his eyes. “I know to vent it. I’m fine.”

“He’s just worried about you,” Dracaena said gently, letting Alessio take it. “Two days ago you were in bed, and I was out there fretting with your brother. You’re not allowed to get hurt again. It’s too hard on Nico.”

“My turn to return the favour,” Alessio said, smiling contritely. “Just let go, it feels good.”

“Usually it’s your older brother saying that to me,” Dracaena said wickedly, but she closed her eyes and tried to relax, even though the beads draped over her made her feel itchy and nervous.

Alessio laughed and Nicodemo rolled his eyes, but he kept quiet. If she was telling dirty jokes, things were definitely improving.

Priscilla reached over and removed the beads. Lady Malfoy’s inappropriate remarks were likely a positive sign, given past experience, but that didn’t mean Priscilla had to like them. “You never really change, Dracaena, no matter how different you look.”

“No, she really doesn’t,” Nicodemo said, smiling a little.

Dracaena smiled up at him, then glanced up at Alessio. “There-was that it?”

“Yes,” said Yang, who’d been watching the whole thing through the screens, and still couldn’t figure out what Wilkes’ former journeyman had done. It was as though he was the negative version of whatever the girl and Zabini and all of the others had been. Opposite poles of a magnetic polarity. Alessio had performed empathic healings before, and that was an uncommon talent, but not a unique one. He’d never seen anything quite like that. No wonder Wilkes thought the boy didn’t vent. He’d absorbed the charge-and transmuted it into something altogether harmless.

Alessio nodded a little, squeezing her hand before letting go of it, and tried to vent what he’d taken but it was already gone. “So,” said Wilkes. “You can still do that. I wasn’t sure, after.”

Alessio smiled at him when he opened his eyes. “Guess I’m somewhat special.”

“You’ve always been special,” said Wilkes. “You’re not the queen of anything, but you’re the best trainee I’ve ever had.”

Alessio grinned, pleased with that answer, his face flushed from the rush of absorbing and transmuting so much energy so quickly. He needed to know what had happened to Dracaena, but that could wait, so long as it never happened again.

“I hate to cut the bonding short, but is she out of the woods, here?” Nicodemo asked, looking down at Dracaena with a raised eyebrow.

“She’ll be fine,” said Priscilla, “but she needs to be under observation in a safe location until the person who’s done this is located and restrained.”

“It won’t happen again,” Dracaena protested.

“You’re not restraining him,” Nicodemo said at almost exactly the same time.

“Of course not,” said Priscilla. “I’m a Healer. I had it in mind to ask Mr Delgardie to do it, but if he is perhaps possessed and almost certainly suffering the ill effects of his former confinement, he should be brought in for treatment, surely you must agree.” Her voice was just as implacable as Nicodemo’s.

“Julian’s an Auror,” Dracaena said, frowning. “You want to have him arrested? I don’t have any intention of pressing charges against him.”

Priscilla sucked air through her teeth. “Lady Malfoy, am I to understand that you want Marcus Weasley dead because he called you names, but you don’t want Ercole Zabini arrested for assaulting you, even for his own good-even though you believe him to be under demonic influence?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t see the difference at all between those situations?” Nicodemo asked, one eyebrow arched.

Priscilla looked at him sidewise. “Oh, yes, I do. Both men have been in captivity and have refused debriefing and treatment subsequent to that captivity, and neither may be presumed to be in their right mind. But you see, she dislikes one of them personally, and the other one has actually caused her objectively verifiable physical damage.”

“Perhaps that’s because the other one never assaulted me before he went crazy,” Dracaena said icily.

Nicodemo sighed. Dion Fortune and Edward Kyteler had every right to charge his cousin for attacking the sacred queen of wizarding Britannia-and they might, if Priscilla argued loudly enough. Fortune already distrusted Ercole, and was angry with them both for what she saw as debauching Dracaena. Priscilla could make them a lot of trouble.

“Give me twenty-four hours, Dottora,” Nicodemo said quietly, hoping Priscilla would at least negotiate. “Twenty-four hours to get him to either come in himself for evaluation and treatment, or to be brought in peaceably without having to press charges. If the deadline’s missed, you’re certainly free to do as your professional discretion demands, to whatever extent that may be. But surely you can see the benefits in allowing him to come in more or less of his own volition, given his history?”

Priscilla considered this. “I’m not an alienist,” she said, “but I have some little understanding of human relationships and it seems quite apparent to me that this has got something to do with the affair you’re having with her, particularly the part where she says he’s no longer her husband because he said so, three times, which makes no sense to me at all. I find it highly unlikely that he’ll listen to either of you, so who do you propose to send to negotiate with him? Alessio? One of the children, perhaps? Please don’t do that to the children.”

“St John Saunders. He’s always been a confidante and close friend,” Nicodemo said, without hesitating. “And I would not do that to a child, for the record.”

“Clearly she thinks we’re debauched,” Dracaena said bitterly. “Like Fortune, in that horrible owl she sent you.”

“I think you should let me handle this,” Wilkes said gently, giving Priscilla the same look he used on Laurens in situations like this. “Demonic possession and intractable curses do fall under my purview, Magistra.” He turned to Nicodemo. “If he’s possessed, he won’t come in. Saunders has the authority to bring him in, if it comes to that, so I think that’s almost certainly the best idea.”

Nicodemo nodded. “Then we’re agreed.”

“We’re agreed that Saunders should go,” Wilkes clarified. “If your cousin’s possessed or cursed, and he finds out that we intend to do something about it, he’ll have to be brought in at once, no grace period. If he’s merely distraught at the disintegration of his marriage, then I’m perfectly amenable to giving him time to think it over.” It wasn’t as though he had no idea what that was like.

Again, Nicodemo nodded. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“Then we’re agreed,” said Wilkes. “I’ll draw up the writs that Saunders will need to bring him in if that becomes necessary. Neither one of you can sign them, because she actually isn’t married to him and you’re only his cousin. Who is his legal next of kin?”

“I am,” Marco said, finally piping up for the first time. Melina squeezed his arm.

“Will you sign these papers?” Wilkes asked gently. “You must know that we won’t hurt your father. No matter how much it may look like Priscilla would like to. If he is a danger to himself or to others, he needs to be helped, and if he is a danger to your stepmother, he is a danger to all of us.”

Marco paused, resisting the urge to glance at anyone for confirmation, just thinking it over for a long moment. Then, coming to a decision, he nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’ll sign.”

“Thank you,” said Wilkes, with a told-you-so look at Priscilla, whom he personally thought needed a holiday even more than Laurens did.

“Very well,” said Priscilla. “Lady Malfoy, I think you should stay a while longer for observation, although I hate to keep you far from your land-”

“If I’m well, I belong on my land,” said Dracaena. “Alessio knows what to do now, and Wilkes was thinking of releasing him to us yesterday.”

Alessio nodded. “I can handle it,” he said with a reassuring little smile.

“You can,” said Wilkes. “She can go home with you. If Yang thinks she’s safe. He’s the one who’s been taking her readings.”

Stephen Yang frowned. “I’d like to say she needs to stay, because I’ve never seen anything like that-but her readings are close to her baselines, so we really can’t keep her here if she’s determined to go home. Not even on the grounds that her life is entwined with the land, because she’s right: in that event, she should be treated on her land.” He shrugged. “Alessio did more for her than I did, so…go. Take her home. But the man who did this mustn’t be allowed to so much as catch sight of her. Is he still on the property?”

“There is no telling,” Dracaena said after a moment. “If Keresek heard what he said…” She shook her head, unwilling to go there even in her imagination. She didn’t want to marry Ercole, not any more, but she certainly didn’t want him to die at her cousin’s hands. “He’s probably gone to the Goyle house.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t see you,” Nicodemo promised her. “You’ll be safe.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Dracaena said firmly. “I still don’t think he wanted to hurt me. I think something else does, something inside him, but I think he can master it now that he knows that it’s there, and he must, I’m sure that was why he walked out, and I think…well, I refuse to think the worst of him, I lived with him twelve years and raised a family with him, so.”

“All the same,” Nicodemo said gently, “we’ll make sure you’re all right.” He didn’t want to believe the worst of Ercole, either, but he’d never believed he was capable of anything like this.

“I know, and I love you for that,” Dracaena murmured.

Priscilla glanced away. Were there any good marriages left in the world?

Nicodemo smiled a little. “We’ll get everyone home and settled. It’s the best we can do now.”

“You want me to send someone with you, Alessio?” Wilkes asked, looking up from his paperwork. “Are you up to looking in on her off and on all night?”

Alessio nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’s like riding a broom, you never really forget the pattern, I’ll fall right back into it.”

Wilkes smiled broadly. “We need you here, once she’s all right and you’re settled into the rhythm of your own treatments. We get soldiers back from the front and refugees in from Europe every day, the apprentices have all gone back to school, and we really can’t spare anyone, especially not now that you know what they’ve been through.”

Alessio glanced at Valeria, who smiled encouragingly, and then his brother, who was engrossed in Dracaena, then nodded. “I’d like to be back. I just need to see how things go with the leg, then I can say for sure.”

“Good,” said Wilkes. He handed the parchments to Marco. “I’m genuinely sorry about this,” he said. “Do you have accurate birth data for your father? Does anyone?”

“Nobody has accurate birth data for Ercole,” said Dracaena. “His mother died when he was a baby, and his father didn’t keep accurate records.”

“It’s epidemic in the family,” Nicodemo said; Dracaena nodded.

“Great,” said Wilkes. “Well, is the date at least accurate?”

“He thinks so,” Dracaena said with a shrug. “But nobody’s ever been able to rectify the chart, so I have my doubts.”

“How badly will that impact things?” Nicodemo asked, concerned.

Wilkes shrugged. “If it’s a possession, not at all. If his behaviour’s the result of combined stresses the chart would be helpful, but if there’s an organic cause of insanity, we’ll need as exact a chart as possible if we’re to effect more than palliative treatment.”

Nicodemo sighed. “I can’t give you what none of us have. I would if I could.”

“I know that,” said Wilkes. “And if anyone can rectify the chart, Laurens can; it’s just that he will be around all the time, asking questions, and you’ll hate that. Is there anyone who’s older than you, who’s known him longer than her? Someone who’s known him since he was a child would be best.”

“Santino,” said Dracaena. “They’ve been friends since they were ten.”

“Yes, Santino, he’d be best,” Nicodemo agreed with a nod.

Wilkes glanced at Marco. “I really am sorry about this.”

Marco glanced back and nodded, handing him the signed paperwork wordlessly. “It’s all right. It’s what’s best,” he replied, his voice rather flat.

“Doesn’t make it easy,” said Wilkes, but then Melina took his hand, and Valeria smiled at him uncertainly from over behind Alessio.

Wilkes took a deep breath and turned to face Nicodemo. “You understand, I’m only letting her go because she can draw strength from her land that she can’t, here? She probably wouldn’t have survived this if it had happened anywhere else, and so that’s where she needs to be, particularly if Alessio can help her. But I’m putting him in charge of her for at least the next three days. She doesn’t travel or work unless he thinks she can handle it, and she stops when he says she’s had enough. And you don’t go anywhere away from her, either. She needs you, you stabilise her heart centre. The war…I know the war can’t wait, but we can’t win it without her either, so…”

Nicodemo looked at his younger brother, then at Wilkes, resisting the urge to rub his face. “If you think he’s ready for it. She does need to be home, though, no question.”

Wilkes stared at him in disbelief. “He’s done more for her than anyone else here has,” he said, and then stopped short, because this wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to take Nicodemo Zabini down a peg or five over something he’d said to or about Alessio, but doing it now wouldn’t help anyone.

“You needn’t speak of me as though I weren’t here,” Dracaena said wryly. “I trust Alessio, and I’ll listen to him, I promise. For the babies’ sake. It’s not just me in this, and I’ve a bad habit of forgetting that.” She sighed. It wasn’t even just the babies. It was the country, the whole damn country. She’d wanted this. Take what you want, and then pay for it…

“I can handle it, Nico,” Alessio said indignantly, glaring at him. “I’m not a kid, I can do my job.”

“You just got out of a hospital bed, I’d like you to stay out of one,” Nicodemo shot back.

“I’m fine,” Alessio insisted. “Fine enough to do this, that’s for certain.”

“Don’t worry,” Valeria said cheerfully. “If he needs to be sat on, I’ll do it. You worry about La Donna, since you were the one who got her in trouble, not Alessio.”

“She has a point,” Dracaena said, although the girl’s assumption took her slightly aback. Everyone was going to think that Nico was the father-they’d assume that was part of what caused the separation. Well, that could be turned to their advantage… “How much effort can watching over me be, especially with you helping?”

“Damn straight I’ll be helping. Don’t think I’ll leave your side if it’s not a national emergency,” Nicodemo said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Dracaena grinned at him. “Come on, let’s go, before you antagonise any more of your constituency, Nico.”

“He can’t help it, it’s his natural charm,” Alessio said with a crooked grin.

Valeria chuckled. “It’s Marco’s birthday,” she pronounced. “I understand there’s cake at home. Not here.”

“There is a cake, yes,” said Melina, patting Marco’s arm. Marco, for once, looked like he rather wanted to melt into the background, and she was quite sure cake was the least of his concerns after signing his father’s commitment papers. She liked Valeria, but the girl could be tactless!

“We’re being nudged, can you tell?” Nicodemo said, laughing a little as he shook his head and he bent down to scoop Dracaena back up into his arms. “Let’s get you home.”

Dracaena nestled happily into his arms, clinging to his neck, grateful to be free of the hematite beads. “Thank you, for all that you’ve done, all of you.” Although she was feeling less than charitable toward Priscilla at the moment, she quite liked Dr Wilkes.

Alessio smiled at Wilkes. “I’ll update you on how she’s doing tomorrow,” he offered. “I’m sure she’ll be all right, but I’ll let you know anyway.”

Dracaena had planned to go to Hogwarts later that day, and tell the children what she and Nico intended before Ercole could-but she expected she’d best not discuss that within earshot of Priscilla Chattox-Kyteler. Alessio would never allow it anyway, and she supposed he had cause. Maybe tomorrow. They’d been seen coming into the hospital. Doubtless the Prophet would have a picture of her in Nicodemo’s arms in the Sunday morning edition, if not that evening’s. She didn’t want them to find out that she and their father were breaking it off from the Prophet…

“Please,” said Wilkes, who knew that Dracaena was physically going to be fine-but he had just that little bit more sympathy for her disintegrating marriage than Priscilla did.

Valeria slipped up under Alessio’s arm. “Come on,” she said softly, “I’ll be right here.”

“You always are,” Alessio murmured fondly, and kissed the top of her head. He was just grateful they weren’t going to make him sit in a wheelchair until they reached the portal in Tintagel.

Once they reached the carriage, which Alessio hadn’t seen before, Valeria helped him in, then curled up with him in a corner, making room for Melina if she chose to sit inside while Marco drove.

“I think I can walk,” Dracaena said softly, but didn’t protest too much.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m disinclined to put you down,” Nicodemo told her, settling her carefully before he sat down beside her.

“I don’t mind,” Dracaena murmured. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I know. Maybe I like carrying you, hmm? I think I’ll do it more often,” Nicodemo said, smiling a little, trying for playful.

“It’s nice,” Dracaena said agreeably, and snuggled up closer to him in the seat.

Valeria giggled a little, then sighed. “I saw this coming,” she said to Dracaena, “but I’m sorry he hurt you. If he tries it again I’ll pound him but good.” She slammed her fist into her palm to punctuate.

“He’s not going to do it again,” Nicodemo said firmly.

“All the same,” said Valeria, “good she should know that we’re here to protect her? I can’t heal anyone but myself, but pounding heads is rather a talent of mine.”

“I feel loved,” said Dracaena with much amusement, hugging Nicodemo’s neck and shoulders.

“You’re so very loved, darling,” said Nico, kissing the top of her head. “So very, very loved.”

“Love you too,” Dracaena murmured back, then glanced across at Alessio. “Oh, I am so glad you came in there, Alessio. So glad. Thank you so much, I think I would have been sitting there under all those beads for the next three days, and the itch would have driven me mad.”

“I didn’t know if it would work,” Alessio admitted. “I just…did it.”

“Wilkes trusts you, he knows that your instincts are good,” said Dracaena. “Stick with this, Alessio. I don’t think the things that really are our destinies are always obvious, at least not to us. Sometimes it takes us a good long while to figure it out, even if the evidence is sent to us by owl.” She looked up at Nico with a little sidewise smile. “Took me a while.”

Nico smiled back at her, because really, it was okay, as long as she knew it now, and then glanced at his brother. “She’s right, you were good in there.”

“I told him, when you’re better and we know what’s happening with my leg, then I’ll go back,” Alessio said, ducking his head, pleased at the praise.

“Good,” said Valeria. “I want you to do what you’re good at. It makes you so happy to help. I think that’s a lot more important than anything anyone else thinks.”

“We’re getting married,” said Dracaena quietly, as soon as the girl was quiet. “Nicodemo and I.”

Alessio’s jaw dropped. “But…?”

Nicodemo arched his brow and shrugged with one shoulder. “We’ll solve the Portia problem. And Ercole has…rather solved himself.”

Dracaena sighed, tucking her head under Nico’s chin. “It’s a good thing,” she said. “Not Ercole, but the marriage.”

It took Alessio a minute, but the surprised expression on his face resolved into a smile. “Good. Good. I’m glad. You should be happy for once, Nico. You both should.”

“I am happy. Very happy,” Nico said with a smile that finally reached his eyes, making them turn to slits, like a contented cat. “Once we get it all sorted, we’ll be disgustingly happy, I’m sure.”

“You. Me. Babies.” Dracaena smiled fondly. “Nothing disgusting about it.”

Valeria giggled. “I knew it,” she said. “I did.”

“It’s like the end of an opera, everyone gets married,” Alessio said with a laugh, kissing Valeria’s cheek.

Except Ercole, Dracaena thought, and sighed for a moment, because she didn’t want to be married to him any more, but she hadn’t wanted it to end like this. Not like this. And it wasn’t his fault, what he’d been through, and who would take care of him now? Why did their happiness have to come at the price of his misery? She tucked her head under Nico’s chin and closed her eyes. He’d have to learn to take care of himself; she had learnt to.

“I hope so,” said Melina very quietly. “They’d better not have forgot about Marco’s cake.” It wouldn’t make anything better, that cake, but Marco always seemed to get forgotten in the midst of things…and he always let it happen. Later, they’d talk about that. Not tonight.

balm_of_gilead, fata_dracaena, inimperioesse, magister_yang, potted_james, puella_virtutis, tactician_raven, thanatopsist and woundedorpheus