Saturday afternoon, 12 September 1942, at Malfoy Manor in Tintagel...
When Dracaena Malfoy saw Laurens van Rensselaer addressing Lucius, she covered the floor in about four strides. “If you’re here to gloat at my son, don’t bother; he got what he wanted, and you’re not to bother Valeria, either. She’s been through enough.”
Lucius wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not to be rescued. He hadn’t liked being teased, but he didn’t need his mother to defend him from it. But then he realised that he was not the son Dracaena was talking about; Yvon was. This had to be Magister Doctor van Rensselaer, the man who had been Yvon’s Guildmaster for so very long. Everyone said he was very difficult. Lucius only hoped he hadn’t got Yvon in trouble-but of course, van Rensselaer had to know that he wasn’t really Yvon.
“Gloat? Me?” Laurens fixed Draco-his childhood roommate-with a critical eye. It was the first time he had seen him-her, he supposed, now-in years; he saw her chart from time to time, but she was always Proctor’s patient. Seeing her like this, he understood why her identity was in question in some quarters. She looked just enough like the ‘Dracaena’ who’d been made out of Marcus Aurelius Malfoy’s male body to be recognisable as herself, but she was clearly female, not just feminine.
Of course, it was possible for something which was male at the germinal level to appear no less lushly female than Dracaena Malfoy appeared to be now-he’d seen that before-but Priscilla had said she was pregnant. There were a dozen questions he might have liked to ask about that, but all of them were rude, even for him, since she wasn’t a patient.
“We were roommates for four years when we were both school boys,” Dracaena said firmly. “That look didn’t work on me then either. We didn’t invite you to this wedding, and I know perfectly well who Magistra Allison came here to be with-but we could use your help with Nicodemo’s Miss Parkinson. She’s in bed. Yvon says he removed at least two layers of compulsions, and there was at least one potion involved.”
Lucius glanced back over his shoulder. Fiammetta and Dory and Silvia had wandered away. He stepped a little closer to his mother, looking up at Laurens curiously. Dracaena slipped her hand behind his shoulders and patted him lightly.
“So you lifted a compulsion or two from the Parkinson girl and she’s suffering the usual after-effects,” said Laurens, considering the array of fruit and cheese on his plate. “You’ve got enough of my people running around, surely you can find one of them who’s competent enough to deal with it.” He was interested, but only a little. Yvon had got what he wanted, Alessio wasn’t about to do something incredibly stupid, and if he had had any sense, he reflected, he would have gone out to bet on the races.
There were some people who would have said that it wasn’t fair for a horary astrologer to bet on the races. But Laurens never listened to people like that. Especially not when his salary at St Mungo’s wasn’t near enough to keep him in the style to which he’d long ago become accustomed.
“You’re absolutely right,” Dracaena said smoothly, despite the unusually righteous way she carried herself. “Pardon me for thinking you might be interested in a tertiary curse that would have killed my son if he had not been on Malfoy land.”
Lucius was impressed. His mother didn’t usually manage to sound so sweet when she was secretly furious.
That got Laurens’ attention, though he was loath to admit it. “The only way that could have happened is if it was specifically targeted at him. Or if he was too distracted to notice it, but none of his unclaimed relations have died recently, and he’s getting the sex he wants from the person he wants, you just said so. Which means this was set up, oh, when was it your boyfriend got married?”
“August fifth, 1939,” Dracaena said sourly.
“About that time,” said Laurens, nodding. “You know, I never have had accurate birth data for your boy.”
“Neither have I,” said Dracaena. “Understandably, he doesn’t recall it himself; Alphonse never gave me a straight answer, and I’ve never been on asking terms with Gloriana.”
Laurens frowned. “I would have thought Alphonse Malfoy-”
Dracaena just looked at him. “If I live to be as old as Greatest-Grandmother I’ll never understand my cousin. Or his reasons for marrying that woman. Moving forward,” she said briskly, and headed out as though she expected him to follow her.
Laurens scowled, because he couldn’t fault her reasoning there. “Who’s taking care of him?” It was just a little hard for him to keep up with Dracaena, and she didn’t slow her pace a bit.
“Steren,” Dracaena said quietly.
“Steren who? Or is that a surname?”
“It’s the only name she’ll give you,” Dracaena said with a wry smile. “Steren is not a magister; she’s my cousin from beyond the mists, and she did her apprenticeship there. We have Yvon well in hand. As I told you before, it’s Nico’s Miss Parkinson we’re all worried about.”
Laurens didn’t believe this for a minute. While he was quite sure Dracaena Malfoy was concerned for her rival’s health-after all, she could hardly afford to be blamed for the woman’s death, and blamed she would certainly be, if the woman died in her household or in her care, or after Yvon’s ministrations-he doubted that a threat to Miss Parkinson’s health would put such a spark in her eye, and he was certain that the little boy would not be following so closely out of concern for her, either. The child looked so much like Draco had looked, and now he wondered if Yvon had looked like that, too, if they all looked the same.
Lucius walked along beside them quietly, listening to his mother’s voice. “Will you and Magistra Allison take Miss Parkinson back to St Mungo’s with you? She must be kept securely; Yvon thinks her mother has done it.”
Laurens stopped in his tracks. She was walking too fast and he knew it would get her attention. “Doesn’t that sound like an Yvon sort of thing to think?”
Dracaena looked up at him. “He does have an unerring instinct for situations like the one he grew up in, don’t you think? As most of us do. He’s known Miss Parkinson since they were fifteen; he knows perfectly well what her mother is like, and if he says she’s no better than his, I believe him.”
Laurens considered saying that if you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail, but that was the sort of thing that Yvon would have said, too. And Draco-Dracaena, it was easier to remember now that he could see her standing in front of him-had a point.
“If Miss Parkinson needs to be at Mungo’s I will certainly arrange for her transport,” said Laurens finally. “Although her name is actually Mrs Zabini, you know.”
Dracaena rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not going to matter what her name is if she dies in my house. My name will be mud. And when I tell people that you were here…”
Laurens rolled his eyes right back at her. “You just haven’t forgiven me for blackballing Lavinia Scalara out of the Astrologers’ Guild three years in a row.”
Dracaena snorted. “That’s one reason.”
Lucius wondered what the actual purpose of this exchange was, but he didn’t say anything. When adults were busy establishing their pecking order, there was no interrupting them unless the building they were in was being bombed.
“I want to see my journeyman,” Laurens said, after a few moments’ thought.
It was all that Lucius could do to hold his tongue and not correct the title, even though he knew he would likely be sent back downstairs if he did, but then his mother did it for him. “My son is a magister doctor,” Dracaena said briskly, “and quite likely unconscious.”
“Good,” said Laurens. “If he’s unconscious, he won’t try to tell me how to do my job.”
“As long as you don’t try and tell Steren how to do hers,” said Dracaena. “I need you to look at Nicodemo’s Portia; Magistra Gallinaro is utterly at sea with her. If you do try to do anything to my son, and Steren thinks it endangers his life in any way, I really can’t be responsible for what she does. She will interpret any violation of his person on anyone’s part as an attempted assault and a violation of our laws of hospitality. I know her very well.”
“Are you telling me you can’t order her not to?” Laurens raised an eyebrow.
“She’s my cousin, not my servant,” said Dracaena. “And she doesn’t have much use for wizards from Outside. Her sworn and chosen duty, when she is not with me, is to protect my children and our lineage, and she still hasn’t forgiven me for letting Nico drag me off to Mungo’s last week and not letting Keresek take care of Ercole.”
“But we took care of you…?” Laurens glanced at her sidewise. “Well. Actually, I suppose Alessio did.” He’d heard about the debacle from Maddie Proctor, who’d been incensed. It hadn’t put Mungo’s in the best of lights. “And I take it you didn’t want your former lover taken care of in quite that way.”
“At least we were able to take Alessio home.” Dracaena shrugged. “Nico hadn’t moved in yet, he wasn’t used to what we do here, and Steren…well, I’m not sure she was even in the house, I think she may have been hunting, so. Nothing really to argue about but the point is, whatever you think about her methods, she thinks the same about yours.”
“So why aren’t you asking her to look after Miss Parkinson?” Laurens shot back at her, irritated.
“Because she won’t,” Dracaena said, in a softer voice, looking down at her shoes. “In fact, if she hadn’t been afraid she was going to lose Yvon within seconds, she would have killed her for bringing that curse here.”
“Well, if you want me to help, you’re going to have to let me see this curse you hooked me in with,” said Laurens, and patted her, abruptly, on the shoulder.
Lucius stiffened and took a step forward. Dracaena tousled his hair absent-mindedly, which was not quite the response he had expected, at least not consciously. Still, he smiled when she looked down at him and didn’t send him away.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t see him,” said Dracaena. “In fact I said quite the opposite. I just told you to stay out of Steren’s sights; she’s cocked and loaded.”
“Gun metaphors, in the Bronze Age.” Laurens shook his head. “Your family is always such an interesting mixture of mediaevalism and modernity,” he said. “Please tell me she’s not using leeches.”
Dracaena laughed. “On a patient with lower chakra exhaustion? I have an OWL in Healing myself, you know.” It didn’t even qualify her as an apprentice, really-the only person she’d ever known to have a master choose her before earning her OWL was her niece, Arianwen-but it was enough to know what a ridiculous notion that was.
“Which is apparently more than your Healer can say,” Laurens grumbled.
Dracaena just chuckled. She had too many things on her mind to continue the argument; if Laurens wanted the last word, he could have it and with her blessing.
Lucius was glad when they were quiet for a while. Dracaena opened the door to Yvon’s suite; Yvon was lying in the bed, which had been moved so that the sun shone right on him. Lucius frowned, because he knew Yvon didn’t like to get the sun in his eyes when he woke in the mornings.
Yvon was awake; Alessio was asleep, with his head on Yvon’s chest and his arm thrown across him. Lucius wanted to run to the bed and throw his arms around them both, but he’d already drawn enough attention to himself. Yvon didn’t look pleased to see Laurens, although his tone was pleasant enough. “Hello, Dr van Rensselaer. It’s good of you to visit me.”
Laurens frowned; they had night-clothes on, but it still felt as though he’d interrupted something, and even though no-one had introduced them, he was acutely aware of the faerie woman who was staring at him intently. “Well, I see you’ve managed to render yourself unfit for duty. Did you want to go on honeymoon so desperately? I’m sure Priscilla would have given you the leave-it’s not as though you ever really take it.”
Yvon shrugged. “Thank you for all your good wishes,” he said politely, and then turned to Dracaena. “I’m tired, Maman. I don’t know how long I’m up to socialising, and Alessio’s finally resting.”
“I see that, dear; we all do,” said Dracaena. “But you will say hello to Lucius? He’s been absolutely terrified.”
Yvon’s expression softened and he nodded to the boy. Lucius didn’t run; he was conscious of being watched and he didn’t want to wake Alessio. But he wanted to. “You’re not allowed to die,” he said as he neared the bed. “You’re not allowed to leave again like that!”
Yvon’s face pinked a little, but it was a sour-looking pink that said he had wanted to blush and could not quite manage to. Laurens frowned at that. “I won’t leave angry again,” said Yvon. “I promise. It was wrong of me to frighten you so, even though I was angry with everyone else here. I wasn’t with you.”
Lucius nodded. “I knew that. But I…”
“I know,” said Yvon, and reached to touch his cheek but didn’t quite make it. Alessio felt his arm fall, and opened his eyes just long enough to smile, though whether it was at Lucius or just at being held, no-one could say.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to let Alessio lie on top of him when he’s in this condition?” Laurens snapped, at no-one in particular.
“I want him here,” said Yvon, looking up at him. “Maddie would tell you he’s good for me.”
“This isn’t like what happened to Lady Malfoy-” Laurens began, but he was cut off.
“You’re finally calling her Lady!” Yvon exclaimed; he couldn’t make his voice as loud as he meant it to be, but he was grinning.
“Well, she actually is one, now,” Laurens grumbled back at him. “And this isn’t like what happened to her. Alessio absorbed the excess energy Don Ercole had forced into her system-you don’t have anything to spare!”
Lucius’ eyes went wide, and he stared at Dracaena. She patted his head. “I’m perfectly fine, now,” she said, in the faerie speech, and soothed him with a honey scent.
“Not for anything the humans tried to do for you,” Steren grumbled at her.
Dracaena shrugged. “If you and Keresek had been here-?”
Steren winced, and glanced away. After a minute she said, “Don’t think I’m letting that man, whoever he is, touch the prince.”
Dracaena groaned. “Try not to fight with him? He means no harm, you’re not to get between them unless he’s about to hurt Yvon, and then you’re just to stop him, not to kill him unless he makes you. He’s an old friend of mine. I have actually known him longer than I have known you, believe it or not.”
Steren snorted. “I don’t like most of your friends!”
Dracaena sighed. “Well, I do.”
Yvon looked up at Laurens. “Alessio knows I have no energy to spare. Alessio knows I am utterly and completely depleted. For fuck’s sake, he’s lying half naked on top of me and I’m limp as a dishrag. Even if he weren’t a journeyman healer himself, don’t you think that’s a clue?”
Lucius’ eyes went wide, and Yvon realised what he had said in front of him. “Sorry, Luce.”
Laurens rolled his eyes at them both. “He’s eleven, not five. I’m sure at some point in his life he’s had an erection, even if he didn’t know what it was for!”
Lucius started to protest, but Yvon glared at him. “Do you have to talk like that in front of Maman, then?”
“I know she’s had them,” Laurens said wryly. “The evidence is standing right in front of us.”
“Enough,” said Dracaena. “I’m beginning to understand why the two of you had such a very conflicted working relationship.”
“He sacked me!” Yvon sputtered, his voice breaking halfway through. Alessio finally did sit up and he glared at Laurens.
“Priscilla hired you right back,” said Laurens with a shrug. “Okay, I told her not to. But you were being an utter cock-up, and a couple of months in the countryside would have done you some good. You’re fortunate Miranda’s on your side.” He fixed Alessio with a baleful look. “I told her not to hire you back, either. The only Magister Doctor who’ll still be your master is lying right under you.”
“I know that’s not true,” said Alessio. “Wilkes begged me to come back.”
“Enough,” Dracaena repeated. “Good God, it’s enough to make me pity Priscilla.”
Lucius was only barely able not to erupt into sniggers and giggles himself.
“She’s right. I’m here to find out what’s wrong with you,” said Laurens. “Other than your utter self-involvement and your insistence that the frailties of your kindred are responsible for everything that’s wrong not just with you but with the world.”
Yvon glared at him. “Laurens, we know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be put through half a dozen courses of unpleasant and dangerous treatments when there isn’t any need for it, we know what’s wrong with me and how it happened!” He sighed. “Portia is the one who needs your help. Much more than I do. I got it off her, but I’m damned if I know how the thing was put on or what it was all meant to do.”
“Surely you must have a theory,” said Laurens.
Yvon frowned. “You won’t like it,” he said.
“Try me,” said Laurens. Lucius thought he looked rather like he was setting a trap, and that Yvon looked like he knew it.
“The underlying structure was similar to an imperial ring,” said Yvon, breathing out slowly. “But it wasn’t a single structure, like the Imperius Curse. It was layered. As if each layer was a smaller ring, and the ring was made of rings…” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be possible…”
Alessio’s breath caught in his throat. Lucius wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but he did know the characteristic etheric thought-form of the Imperius Curse was annular, and that it was thought to be fairly unique.
“I’ve seen geasa that functioned similarly,” Dracaena said, scowling. “But Lalage is not capable of producing a geas. She’s not a reigning queen of any mist-side lineage, she’s from one of those bloody New Pureblood lines that’s disgustingly proud of their pure human blood.”
“Then maybe Lalage didn’t cast it,” Laurens suggested acidly.
Alessio glared at him. “Because there are so very many people in the world whom Portia trusts, who want to kill Yvon. And so many of them are faerie queens.”
“I’m sure Dracaena has enemies among her father’s people,” said Laurens. “She’s certainly got them here. Why, she’s almost as good at making enemies as I am! And the ones she makes are bigger.”
Dracaena snorted. “If Yvon says Lalage did it-”
“Why? Did he see her?”
Lucius shrugged. “Mamma has a lot of enemies mist-side,” he said, “but I can’t think of too many of them who’d have access to the person in question.”
Laurens frowned. He wasn’t sure how much he liked having an eleven-year-old take part in the argument.
“I can’t think of any,” said Dracaena. “All of my enemies mist-side support Grindelwald. Leaving aside the question of exactly how popular Lalage would be mist-side if anyone mist-side knew she existed, which is to say not at all, given what a raging bigot she is, Lalage does not support Grindelwald. It’s practically her sole redeeming quality, but there it is.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “Charteris is her ally, but I doubt he does either. He likes making money, and he’s war profiteering hand over fist, I’m quite sure. But ultimately the Nazis are not going to be good for any business but their own, and even that’s debatable.”
“Oh,” said Laurens, “and faeries never trick their enemies into attacking one another. You never did anything like that, did you? In Italy?”
Dracaena glared at him. “Maybe.” She liked the sound of this less and less the more she heard it. “Is the structure characteristic of faerie magick, Yvon?”
Yvon shrugged. “I don’t know. The curse that hit me was bound in cold iron. Steren and Ximena said so. Name one of your mist-side enemies who could manage that, Maman.”
Dracaena threw up her hands. “I’ll consider all this. I have to tend to my guests; I’ll be back. Meanwhile, Dr van Rensselaer wants to take a look at you, to see if he can read the caster’s signature out of the curse effects.” She turned to Laurens. “Don’t agitate my son,” she said, enunciating clearly for Steren’s benefit. “He needs his rest. If you do anything that endangers my son’s health, Steren and my heir have my permission to remove you from the property. Nothing is more important to me than that. And Magistra Allison, I’m sure, is competent enough to move Miss Parkinson to Mungo’s. Where you can study her all you like without my being responsible for her.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
Laurens glanced down at Lucius. “You wouldn’t have me thrown out of here, would you?”
Lucius considered this, and appeared to consider it longer than necessary, then finally shrugged. “Only if my brother tells me to.”
fata_dracaena, hidden_unseelie, luxserpentis, voci_umbrarum (Steren), woundedorpheus and drschadenfreude