𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

Chapter 19

Edward's first fear—that the venom hadn't taken—faded by the time they got back to the cabin. Draco's heartbeat became stronger, erratic in the way that signaled the change. He moaned softly while Edward arranged the bed as comfortably as possible, aware that nothing he could do would assuage the fire that had begun to rage through Draco's entire body.

Draco whimpered and gasped, eyelids fluttering as Edward removed his ruined clothes and washed away the blood from his skin. For the first time, he felt no arousal at the sight of Draco's nakedness—his only desire was to make Draco whole again. Of course, that was the one thing he couldn't do. Draco was lost in that space just below consciousness; he'd suffered too great a trauma to be fully awake, and for that, at least, Edward was grateful. The wound at his neck was already healing.

Working quickly, Edward dressed Draco in some of his own clothes, marveling at the almost precise fit. A faint sheen of sweat had broken out on Draco's brow, his pulse racing now, the heartbeat louder and more insistent.

It was only once he'd finished the preparations that Edward realized he could still hear Draco's thoughts. They were delirious, a mixture of dream vision and pure sensation, but pain predominated all.

"I'm so sorry. I know it hurts," Edward whispered close to Draco's ear, brushing back the blond fringe. It was more for his own sanity than for Draco's, since the wizard didn't seem to register his presence.

Burning. Burning. Burning.

Draco lurched off the bed, his body locked in a struggle against the poison that was ending his life and beginning it anew. He screamed and Edward recoiled, not against the sound, which was more animal than human, but against the thoughts that accompanied it.

Die. Let me die.

"No," Edward whispered, curling around Draco in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "It'll all be over soon. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He paused and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead. "I'm sorry, but I'll never let you die."

On the second day Edward heard familiar steps approaching the cabin. Draco was quieter now, but occasionally he'd scream and thrash and Edward would have to hold him still until it was over. His heartbeat was astonishingly rapid, as if the organ understood its imminent demise and was working hard to eke out a last moment's resistance.

"Snape's here," Edward told Draco, smoothing down the fresh sheet around the wizard's inert body. It was the second time he'd had to change them since they'd returned. "And from the sound of it, he's not too pleased with me."

The older wizard didn't bother to knock.

"What have you done?" he growled, approaching the bed. The angry thoughts that had accompanied his approach were already concealed. He addressed the question to Edward, his eyes focused on Draco, who had become restless again, fisting the sheet and whining in a pained, high-pitched tone.

"I had no choice," Edward said. "He was dying."

"You should have come to find me." Without another word, Snape hovered over Draco and felt for his pulse, his mouth set in a thin line. He performed a cursory examination while Edward stood by, trying to control his unease at having anyone else touch his mate.

"He's far along," Snape said, replacing the sheet and smoothing it with a surprisingly loving touch. "It's done."

"Yes. There was no other way. No one would help us. Draco asked . . ."

Edward trailed off as Draco's eyes opened, his body snapping upwards in a seizure. Snape forgotten, Edward rushed to Draco's side and held on as the convulsing eased, peering down into unseeing, cloudy eyes.