Chapter 87:

Aging Exhaustion

Ariella woke to another day, not feeling anything special; not that she expected to. As she dressed, she noticed a note upon the bed side table. Picking up the small piece of parchment, she noted that it was written in her master's handwriting.

Report to the Room once you're ready for the day and have eaten.

Ariella felt a rush of gratitude at his phrasing. He was getting better at understanding the bond – though neither of them were anywhere near to fully understanding the complexity of the curse.

It was chilly and she was grateful that Draco had recently given her an old, warmer cloak of his. She pulled it tight around herself as she grabbed her bag. It still felt odd…wrong almost, to be wearing his clothing, but she also knew if she didn't wear them, she wouldn't have anything warm enough, loose enough. And she was grateful that he chose to help her like this, that he was still keeping an eye out for her needs, even with all that was going on. It made things just a bit easier.

In under a half an hour, the servant was making her way towards the Room of Requirement. She entered the hidden room and Draco turned sharply, wand raised, body tensed, confusion playing across his face as he saw her slide to her knees.

"Ariella? Why are you kneeling? We're at school, I don't need this from you; certainly not here," he said, his voice low and hoarse, as he lowered her wand, knowing she wasn't a threat.

"I don't know. The bond told me to kneel when I entered your presence, so I did."

"I don't have an answer. There's nothing different. Just get up."

She obeyed, but kept her head down. "Ariella?"

"I don't know. Sir. Honestly."

"Come here," he instructed, turning back to the cabinet. "Have you found anything that might help?"

"I've tried, but I haven't, nothing more at least. I'm sorry. Sir," she replied, adding the honorific as the bond stung her.

He just sighed, but nodded. "It's alright; just keep looking. Don't push yourself though."

"I will – I can try to get into the Restricted Section, but I would need a professor's notice. I – I could perhaps ask for Professor Binns' approval? For a pass into the section, I mean. I could claim to want to research the history of the bond. Or the troll wars – it's all he ever talks of."

"Do you want to? Research the history of the bond, I mean?"

"Eventually, yes, but that's not what's important right now," she replied simply.

"Understood. I appreciate you prioritizing this."

"You're at risk, your family is at risk – of course this is a priority."

He simply nodded once at her, before returning to silence, simply muttering spells at the cabinet, wishing it would work.

Hours passed and Draco had his eyes closed as he leant his head against the cabinet. Ariella was seated nearby on an old, ornate chair she had found weeks earlier. His thoughts were racing and he still wasn't any closer to solving the problem that lay in front of him.

Suddenly, he realized something else – something tugging at him slightly. He turned to his servant, noting that she was rubbing at her bond through her shirt sleeve.

"Ariella," he stated, startling her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

She looked up, puzzled as she took her head. "I'm not hiding anything, I swear. I can't – you know that."

"I do – which is why I don't understand what's happening right now. You haven't done anything wrong recently and if you aren't hiding information, then why would the bond be reacting so strongly?"

Her eyes widened, and he saw her swallow hard, beginning to look panicked. "You're not in trouble, I just want to know why," he continued, trying to calm her, sitting down on the couch near her seat, making them at eye–level. It wouldn't do either of them any good to overreact or assume right now.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, but I –" but suddenly she trailed off.

"Ariella?"

"I think I know why," she whispered, and he was shocked to see fear creep into her gaze.

"Well?"

"I'm of age," she replied, her voice still small.

Realization and understanding crossed over her master's face and he nodded slowly, leaning back. "That would do it."

"What do I have to do? I didn't – I'm not going to change my service to you. I – I'm bound to you, I can't…unless I now have to?"

"No – Ariella, you're fine. It shouldn't demand too much more for you, at least not right now. It might change once I become of age, but for the moment, don't worry about it. Unless, do you need…?"

"No, I – I don't think so right now, sir. I – I swear, I'll let you know."

"I know you will. And Happy Birthday."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you."

She paused for a moment as she adjusted her position. "Dra – Sir?"

"We're alone; my name is perfectly acceptable. What is it?" he replied, staring up at the ceiling, knowing, at least in this case, he had to remind her for the bond's sake rather than because of forgetfulness or fear.

"Could you…I don't mean to detract from your task any longer, but – "

"Ariella, just ask."

"Will you reapply the balm and glamour charms to my scars?"

This caused Draco to sit up, looking at her directly. He was tired, he was frustrated, he was hurting…and now he had to once again make sure his servant, his property knew she wasn't a distraction, that this was important too. It wasn't that he didn't agree – of course her safety and health was important, but really, this was getting ridiculous. Yet…the fact that she thought it was showed him once again what his father, what the Dark Lord, what this stupid bond had done to her.

"Yes. Of course I will. Do you have the balm on you?"

"No, Sir. It wasn't on my mind when I left this morning."

"Fair enough. Luckily for both of us, I store some in here, just in case."

The witch stayed silent as he went to fetch it, and began to strip off his old clothing. The cloak, then the shirt. She was still uncomfortable with this…with all of this. But she knew to ask for help. She knew that, even if it was an awkward situation all around.

"You have permission to hold a shirt up to cover yourself if you want to."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you," noting she gratefully took the latter suggestion, that red was coating her cheeks…embarrassment, most likely. He knew she hated to have him help her, like this especially.

Then he paused. "Do you wear a bra?"

She shook her head, flushing further. "I don't have one. Most of the clothing that actually fits me…or isn't too tight at least…is your old clothing. Robes and shirts and the like."

"I didn't know. I'll try to see if I can get you one. And some clothing that fits you."

"It's – your clothing is fine, Draco. Besides, if your father finds out – "

" – he's locked up right now, in case you've forgotten. I'll take care of it. Just – if I forget, remind me."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

Draco just nodded and gestured for her to join him on the couch. Taking the small cloth, he began to apply the balm to her scars, being especially careful around the newer ones. He noted, but didn't comment, on the little flinches she would make as he touched a particularly sore spot; he knew it had to hurt.

"You aren't weak. These scars aren't a weakness, just as you've told me it isn't weakness to need assistance coming back from my Aunt's lessons."

"It's different and you know it. Sir. But thank you for trying. And for assisting me…again."

"Of course. This is my job, Ariella, in case you've forgotten that. I won't see you hurting more than is avoidable if I can help. I don't want you afraid of coming to me, especially with everything going on. I want to know what's going on," he insisted, forcing his voice calm, for her sake…for his too, if he were being honest.

After a moment of silence, Draco muttered the modified glamour charm; Ariella flinched. "Turn towards me; do you want me to retreat those, too?" he asked, gesturing to her shirt–hidden chest, where he knew a few scars lay. After a moment's pause, she shook her head. "They're not as bad. Besides, I can reach those."

He nodded, capping the balm and rising to put it away, therefore turning his back to his servant. He could hear the rustling of clothing before he heard a hiss of pain. He had to stop himself from turning around, trying to give her the privacy she so rarely received.

"Sir? I can't – "

" – bloody hell, yes you can dress, Ariella," he cursed. He hated this – the task, the bond, what was happening to them…all of it.

He heard the continued rustling of clothing. "Thank you," he heard her whisper. He turned to her finally. "Please, I don't know what you want from me, what the bond actually wants from me."

"I'll take care of it. I'll let you know, just as you'll do for me if something acts up."

She nodded, staying silent, backing up a few paces to give him space.

"Are you doing anything?"

"For today? I'm helping you, that's…it."

"Go; I'm not making any progress at the moment anyway."

"I'm sorry?"

"Go. Rest, spend time with your friends…whatever you want to do, within reason."

"Are – "

" – yes, I'm sure. I'll catch you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay. Thank you," she said, rising, stunned. Carefully, she placed her notes aside, leaving them behind for him to use. Looking up one more time, he nodded to her. She needed this…and he needed time alone.

Returning the nod, Ariella left the room. Draco stared at the door as it closed behind her. He knew what was going to change. The bond had already hinted at it and he knew it would continue to do so, especially now that she was of age. It was odd – for such a brutal curse, it seemed to care an awful lot about the slave being of age. Then again, if he or his father had done what it was asking at any age…the bond wouldn't object. That much he knew. And it sickened him.

Ariella was still shocked that he had let her go for the day. She was grateful that he did so, that he had been so…willing to still learn about the bond, about taking care of the bond even though she knew he was stressed and frustrated and concerned over his task. She knew him well enough to know he had been carefully controlling himself earlier – something she appreciated. But she also knew she'd rather have him yell at her…punish her even, if it would mean he would be more level–headed and able to cope with everything.