The library of Hogwarts was a place of wonder and if you were a bibliophile a place where all your dreams came true. With time to spare in the evening, Ailill headed to the land of books to find more on healing magic, Tom tagged along prepared to sit and do some of his homework that was assigned that day. The two boys' snagged a round table near the more secluded section of the library and geared down for hours of learning. Once making sure Tom was settled, Ailill left to hunt down relevant tombs. He found a few that seemed decent beginnings to start with.

Ailill took the books to his shared table and sat down. He cracked open one of the books, settled in his chair, and started to read.

The branch of healing magic is complex and needs many years to study for one must not only have extensive control over their own magic but must also have an extensive detailed understanding of the human body. Such things as blood pressure, oxygen intake, and cell manipulation are a must to even think about entering this field and pursuing a career. One wrong move in Healing magic can lead to the ripping beyond repair of a human body or even the poisoning of the heart to which leaves the blood turning acidic and pumped around the body in agonizing pain.

The turning of the blood acidic is unfortunately very common yet no cure is found. Many refer to it as magic poisoning instead for it is when the magic of another invades the body but in a manner not correct leaving a hostile environment to fester. The foreign magic seeps into the walls of the heart and with every pump of blood it becomes tainted and the poison is spread around the body at a rapid rate one far too quick to control.

The putrid bastardisation of blood now eats away at anything it comes into contact with, veins shrivel and burn like the fiery pits of lava while arteries tingle until they continue up into a crescendo where in a flurry of excruciating pain they burst. Capillaries are constantly on fire and they blacken and crack breaking off from one another and essentially floating dead.

In just about 60 seconds the once full of life person is reduced to a husk of pain slowly transitioning to a corpse. It is said to be on par with the cretaceous curse only if it leaves the victim dead. People who are pursuing medical healing are to practice on animals until perfection before they are even allowed near a human patient.

People who practice extensive unlicensed healing and are caught are often given ultimatums of either working in St Mungo's for a minimum of twenty years or face a sentence of eight years in Azkaban.

Ailill thought that the poisoning of the heart must be one of the most brutal ways to die. And that ultimatum must be a way for the government to ensure any healers with an inking of potential are forced into service to make up for the lack of advanced practitioners.

Healing magic is best suited to be performed around a licensed professional who once confident in your abilities may put you forward for apprenticeships which can lead to exams and later on a license of your own. The best place to start for medical magic would be the anatomy of the human body, page 15.

Ailill spent three hours in the library reading medical magic but did not once fall upon an act of taking the pain from another. He was frustrated, his attempts at removing memories could be the reason Tom is in pain. Maybe it's more of an intuition thing? Just like magic he used to wield before learning about Hogwarts, the kind without incantations or wand waving. The raw kind that has been his companion for so long, always willing to bend to his will. He will have to try tonight when he is alone with Tom.

Ailill was away in his head and didn't hear Tom call for him until the third call of his name was said.

"Hmm?" Ailill turned his more focused eyes to Tom who looked back with thinly veiled worry.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked.

"Oh yeah, sorry I was just thinking about what I read. Anyways, you need something?"

"Ah well," Tom blushed faintly. "I was just thinking you have a nickname for me but I have none for you."

"Tom, you've had your nickname for three years now, and never once have you insinuated that you want to give me one. What brought this on?"

Tom refused to tell Ailill about the biting jealousy that brewed in his chest threatening to suffocate him under the waves of vinegar that sting his tongue and make him gag. He refuses to tell his friend that he may feel slightly threatened by these new people that they're constantly surrounded by, unlike the isolated duo they used to be. He refuses to be seen as insecure.

He has Ailill's love, his attention. He is Ailill's number one priority so why does that dark voice in his head sprout out scenarios about his loved leaving him. Finding others more interesting and worthy of holding his recognition. It's something he can't stand for.

"I just felt like it was time, you know? We've known each other for so long that I felt like this could bring us closer." Tom gave a sweet smile.

"Right," Ailill nodded unconvinced. "Just don't pick anything stupid."

With permission now in his hands Tom plots what to call Ailill, he needs a name that screams 'unavailable' so no one else may get any idea when they hear Tom address him. Maybe in Irish like his love's namesake? Would that be endearing to Ailill? Would it show how much thought went into it from Tom? Would he be impressed?

Time for research.

Another hour passes with Tom now more invested in a dictionary, as dinner starts to approach the rest of the Slytherin first-year boys dawdling their way into the library in order to drag their friends out. They succeeded and soon the group was strolling their way down to the great hall chattering about what they were planning to eat that evening.

The hall as usual was packed to the brim with squeals and shouts echoing about. The Slytherin's seated themselves and picked out bits and pieces of food. They ate in silence not really wanting to show what would be considered bad manners. The appearance of an owl however caught everyone's attention. It was a foreign owl one no one has seen before, unassuming in colour and common in breed the only reason it brought so much attention is because mail is usually delivered during breakfast.

It was even a bigger shock to see the owl swoop down and land right in front of Ailill who stared at the creature blankly. Ailill hesitantly reached out and took the tied letter from a talon then offered some bread to the owl who accepted then gave a chirp and took to the air leaving.

Tom eyed the letter curiously, he thought it might have been from Gringotts but there was no official seal indicating so. Tom waited for Ailill to open the letter but he only tucked it into his robes and continued to eat his dinner ignoring the questioning looks he got. Now Tom was really curious, he stayed quiet but frequently glanced at the boy beside him.

As dinner drew to a close and people left to head back to their dorms Tom linked arms with Ailill and hauled him back to Slytherin. He deposited the Peverell on his bed then sat right next to him with expectant eyes. Ailill huffed amused before obliging Tom and retrieving the letter he had stuffed into his inner pocket.

It was white parchment with elegant scrawl on the front 'Ailill Peverell'

"Dear my love," Ailill read aloud.

Tom already hates this person, who dares to think they are so familiar with Ailill to call him that.

"It took time indeed but I have at last found your place of residence for the time being. This shall hopefully be the first of many letters between us for correspondence of courtship. I was unsuccessful in finding the name of the little one you have entered a courtship with. I would be most appreciative of their name if you will as I've said before I am fully prepared to enter an already established relationship (they're not so uncommon in my people you know!)

I am unsure if you are versed in the ways of my people so I've made it my mission to help you with that!

First of all, if it is the efile pursuing someone which is usually the case they must be the ones to offer gifts and outing in a dance of courting. You, my love, will not have to gift me one thing for I wish to show my ability to provide for you in hopes that you see the great mate I can be.

Secondly, rejection is absolutely prohibited! I've claimed you as a prospective mate and I intend to hold to my intentions. Should someone wish to fight me for your hand it must be officially set up and public.

Third, once married you are to move to my settlement where we will live and produce the next generation. You must follow me to my living for you are a wizard and I efile, my population is far more sparse than yours so a compromise will have to be made.

I'm sure we will have a prosperous life together my love and have the finest of children! I eagerly await your response and dawdle time here alone cold without you nearby.

Yours,

Fe Hae"

Tom was bubbling with indescribable rage while Ailill stared at the paper with undiluted disgust. Him a person having children? Un-fucking-likely. He is not a children's person, he quite honestly thinks of them as crotch goblins and never plans to have one. Kudos to those that go through that pain though.

Also, just who did Fe Hae think he was ordering him around like that thinking he had a claim on Ailill. He was so glad the bastard never found out Tom's name, he might just have to kill him for thinking he could ever control Tom. No one is ever allowed to do that. No one.

Tom was once trembling in rage but was not stock still, don't mistake that for peace for he was raging inside as he goes through various ways to kill and torture this disgusting creature for even thinking of his AIlill.

Perhaps he will kidnap the beast and place his torso in a box, limbs exposed to the air before releasing a swarm of hungry Necrophilas and letting them feast upon his flesh while he remains consciously present to witness the agony he will be subjected to, or maybe Tom will find a rat and sow it into their mouth by hand making sure every stick is incorrect and crafted to offer the most unpleasant experience for they seem to love acting like a rotten rodent so why not become one with one. Tom could remove his kneecaps and force him to drink urine excreted from the efile. Tom could be merciful and force the efile to cook and eat his own flesh. He could crush his fingers and toes before physically removing them from his body. Yes, Tom is very merciful. Tom is kind but shall this 'Fe Hae' even insinuate that he is worthy of Ailill, to ever think he stands a chance with his beloved Tom will show them the true meaning of no mercy. Lady of Magic this goddamn headache is driving him mad.

The Slytherin Heir was so consumed with his rage he didn't even notice the line within the letter specifically talking about the other Ailill was supposedly already in a courtship with. Ailill's whole plan could have gone up in smoke for who else would have he known but Tom when they first encountered the efile.

This one letter from Fe Hae could have opened up a whole path of fate that Ailill has been desperately trying to barricade since it became a possibility. And unfortunately for the boy, this letter is going to be the first of many to come. How is he to hide the truth from Tom when the catalyst keeps trying to activate.

That's how the rest of the first-year boys found them, Ailill soaking in the bathtub trying to melt away the stress that clung to his skin like wet clothes and Tom was pacing the room muttering words of violence on his tongue some so dark it had the Lestrange and Avery boy edging away. How terrifying it must be to see someone so composed tear at the seams and unravel the beast that hides behind the pretty face, of course they knew Marvolo Slytherin was no angel but to see the monster for the first time was incredibly frightening.

They didn't know what that letter could have contained but knew it was bad enough that it had the ever so put together Marvolo tearing like a wild beast and had the constantly laxed Ailill making an effort to drown himself in sudsy bubbles and vanilla smelling bath oil.

Curiosity getting the better of him Abraxas made his way into the bathroom where Ailill was bathing. It's not weird at this point for they boarded together and everyone has seen each other naked at some point. The boy was just a head above water, eyes closed and breathing softly. You would nearly think he was asleep if it weren't for the hushed whispers of a tune bypassing his lips and floating in the air.

Abraxas quietly grabbed the stool that was placed near the sink and brought it closer to the tub.

"Marvolo is working quite the hole into the floor with all his pacing," the blond murmured gently as if not to disturb the peace.

The music stopped abruptly.

"He worries too much for his own good," Ailill replied, never opening his eyes.

"And is the letter you received nothing to worry about?"

"Have I ever given you a reason to doubt my word Abraxas?"

A pause hung in the air.

"That doesn't mean we can't worry for you, you're my friend just as much as you are Mavolo's now Ailill."

"How lucky of me," Ailill whispered no harder than a breeze upon unblemished skin. "Tell me, friend, would you die for me?"

"To die physically or spiritually?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, mind whirling at the questions of the Peverell boy. "For one of these options let me still be near you."

Ailill didn't reply as he mulled over the words of this young child beside him. How far must one be pushed in life to be able to develop a response like that, one where they prefer the spirit broken to the flesh for they wish to stay by another's side. Ailill wonders what a will to live is like, he wants to crawl into Abraxas bones and make a base in his mind to see what they find so appealing about life. To see what drives him. This boy holds strong in the battle of the mind and Ailill pleads desperately to experience the beauty of such a person.

"Your mind is beautiful," Ailill muttered, voice tender and full of awe.

The praise burned right through the Malfoy heir for when were such words given without underlying intentions when was it ever so pure without manipulations. When was it ever said so warmly? His parents 'friends' nothing more than blittering sycophants with overused worship and oily handshakes and his distant mother and father far more concerned with a fleeting image were ever so conveniently never around at milestones to hand out empty words of applause.

When was praise said with Genuity and fondness?

Ailill was like a doll which is rather ironic considering he names his closest held that affectionate nickname. He is beautiful and poised perfectly mouldable to your imagination but he is shattered and split beneath the hardened porcelain containing his soul who was a flicker at most so unlike the raging infernos of people who fanned the spark in their eyes.

Abraxas thinks Ailill is beautiful but too broken to truly love, how can one after all offer their whole heart when it isn't even full. When it is chipped and splintered, pieces spread out and washed away with the tides of tears fallen from unreciprocated victims. Abraxas thinks Ailill is the doll you fawn over but never touch in fear of it falling apart under delicate fingertips. He is sublime but heart-aching.

"You should finish up," the blond boy murmured, getting to his feet. "The water will run cold and you will fall sick."

"Will you take care of me, friend?" Ailill looked up into blue eyes unasked questions and hidden burdens lurking behind.

"Till I die, friend."