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Chapter 105

The next morning, you awaken to the familiar warmth of Severus's arms around you, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm against your back. But something feels wrong. As you slowly blink yourself awake, the world around you begins to tilt, the room spinning in slow, nauseating circles.

A dreadful, gnawing sensation settles in your stomach, spreading rapidly through your entire body. Your mouth waters as you feel the inevitable coming.

You carefully pull yourself out of Severus's grasp, trying not to wake him, but each movement sends a wave of dizziness crashing over you.

Your legs feel weak, barely able to support you as you make your way toward the bathroom. The moment you reach it, the sickness overtakes you, and you collapse to your knees in front of the toilet, retching violently.

The force of it leaves you trembling, your skin slick with sweat as you clutch the edge of the porcelain, trying to steady yourself. But the room continues to spin, and the sickening sensation only grows worse. Your head pounds, and your thoughts are scattered, struggling to form a coherent line as the fever begins to take hold.

Moments later, you feel Severus's presence behind you, his hands gentle yet firm as he pulls your hair away from your face. "Violet," he murmurs, his voice filled with concern, though you can barely process his words. "What's happening? You're burning up."

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat, your body too weak to form them. Instead, you manage a faint groan, your hands shaking as you grip the edge of the toilet bowl.

Without another word, Severus helps you to your feet, his strong arms supporting you as he guides you back into the bedroom. The world is a blur around you, your vision clouded by the fever that rages through your body.

The edges of your consciousness seem to fray, and it's all you can do to stay upright, relying entirely on Severus to keep you from collapsing.

He eases you onto the bed for just a moment, long enough to fill the tub in the bathroom. The sound of running water echoes in your mind, distant and distorted, like a sound heard underwater.

When he returns, he carefully lifts you, carrying you into the bathroom and lowering you into the warm bath. The water envelopes you, the heat almost too much against your fevered skin, but Severus doesn't let go, his hands steadying you as he tries to soothe your trembling form.

But even the bath does little to bring your fever down. Your skin remains hot to the touch, your breaths shallow and uneven. Severus's face, usually so composed, is etched with worry as he watches you struggle to stay conscious. The cool cloth he presses to your forehead is a fleeting relief, the chill quickly evaporating against your overheated skin.

"Violet, stay with me," Severus urges, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. He's never seen you like this—so helpless, so fragile. It terrifies him to see you slipping away, to see the life draining from you as the fever rages unchecked.

He quickly dries you off and wraps you in a thick towel before carrying you back to the bed. He's moving swiftly, methodically, trying to keep his own rising panic at bay as he reaches for the collection of potions he keeps in the bedside cabinet.

"Here," he says, uncorking a vial filled with a shimmering, amber liquid. "This will help. It's a healing potion—focus on drinking it, Violet."

He lifts your head gently, bringing the vial to your lips, but your hands are too weak to grip it, your mind too clouded to focus. He has to support your head, tipping the vial carefully, trying to get you to swallow the potion without choking.

You manage to take a few sips, but even as the potion slides down your throat, the world around you remains a blur. Your skin, once flushed with fever, is now turning ashen, the color draining from your face as the sickness deepens its hold on you.