CURSED [D.M]

-(76) what she needs, he provides

DRACO hates this. He hates having to repeatedly see her like this- her skin white and cold, not a finger moving. It's disturbingly opposed to the warmth that she carries within her and he absolutely detests the fact that something or the other is always stirring up her powers and completely wearing her down to the point where she can handle it no more. "Zilliah", he calls out to her in vain, holding her unconscious body in his arms as he sits on the ground.

In his head, he plays back the moment she had snapped her head at him for anything that could tell him why she passed out the next second. It was as if her limbs had turned to molten wax, her breath hitching as she collapsed like a tower, headed straight for the floor. But she was not going to crash. She would never ever crash- not when he was there to catch her.

"Zilliah", he calls again in desperation, feeling her magic hissing at him, starting to form waves all around. But he doesn't let it faze him, not even when it invades his head and creates this instant turmoil inside it, making him feel like his brain is being absolutely splintered. Instead, he holds her tight in his arms, clutching onto her with every bit of strength that remains in him, like she'll be reduced to ashes if he even slackens his grip just a little bit. Even the thought of that threatens to bring forth an ocean of tears into his heavily fortified eyes. So he attempts to cast it away and just when he starts to think that he is succeeding at it, horror strikes him again, seeing how she had begun to tremble in his arms, coughing and spitting blood.

"Do something!", his voice pounds, directed at Layla and Theseus who stand right where they are despite everything, as if they're blind and deaf, like this is not something that concerns them. Scared to even take his eyes off her for a single second, he resorts to his voice to project the anger that is rising within him. "Why the fuck aren't you guys doing something?!"

"Because we don't know what the fuck to do, Malfoy", Theseus snaps back, his tone cold and uncaring. But he comes up to Draco at last and kneels by his side even though his heart is not in it, almost like he is not doing this because he wants to but because he has to, contradictory to all his former appeals and advances. He takes her left hand in his and inspects it with uninterested eyes. "It's not the curse", he says, his voice equally bland as his emotions.

"How'd you know?", Draco asks, feeling himself grow nauseous.

"I can feel them", he mumbles, dropping her hand and getting away from her as soon as possible, probably because her magic had started to invade him. "They're dormant. Quiet. I'm sure of it.:

Zilliah writhes in Draco's arms and the panic in him only increases. "Then what is it?!", he demands, his heart aching at the pain she is being put through.

"I have no idea, Malfoy, trust me."

The coughing seizes. The writhing stops. Her lips move as if she is mumbling something but no voice comes out of them. Draco brushes the hair on her face away and caresses her cheeks, rocking her to and fro like a mother would to her child, for his nerves start to get the better of him and he fails to keep himself still. The air around him seems to thin out and he can feel his breaths getting harder.

"You're hyperventilating, Draco", Theo states the obvious.

But Draco's attention is at once wholely fixed upon his girl as her eyes slightly open in pain. "Finally, Zilliah", he breathes out, hardly being able to get his words across through the strain in his throat.

Her eyelids seem to battle against all odds to stay open but it's as if there is nothing left in her for her body to allow that. "Lucifer", she croaks out, her voice carrying a sort of joy that is mingled with grief. But before he gets to even ponder on it, she passes out again, dissipating all his momentary relief.