Summary: Their wedding plans are well on their way, but could certain events prolong everything?

Cantil: Second chapter. Woo! I hope you guys enjoy.

I Wont Give Up

Chapter 2

The next morning, Oliver and Voldemort sat patiently, waiting for the healer to arrive. Oliver hadn't gotten sick that morning, but the day was still young. He didn't want to take any chances, no matter how much he despised healers. Voldemort spoke comforting words to Oliver quietly, trying to calm him. He knew Oliver was nervous, and didn't want to add to that tension with his own worry's.

It was ten minutes later that the healer showed up. Healer Joe, was his name. Names didn't matter to Oliver though. All healers were the same to him.

The healer went through many procedures. By the end of the diagnostics, Joe was looking at Oliver strangely. Oliver paled slightly, his grip tightening on Voldemort's hand that he had grabbed when Joe arrived.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Oliver asked, looking at Joe nervously. Voldemort put his arms around Oliver, effectively calming him.

"Mr. Wood, have you been practicing excessive amounts of dark magic lately?" Joe asked carefully. Oliver thought on it. He didn't think he had used too much dark magic. After all, he knew what excessively using dark magic could do to you, and Oliver was always careful.

"No, I don't think so." Oliver said slowly. "Why?" He asked.

"There seems to be a high amount of dark magic in your system. That would explain the sickness. If dark magical users don't get rid of some access magic you will become sick. Your body is trying to get rid of some of it, by any means possible. In other words, Mr. Wood, you have become addicted to your dark magic." Joe explained. Oliver sighed.

Great. Just what he needed so close to his wedding. To be addicted to his magic. "So, what does this mean?" Oliver asked with a heavy sigh. Joe pulled out a vial with dark purple liquid in it.

"This," Joe handed the vial to Voldemort, who had been silent the whole time. "Is to help with the sickness. Take that for a week. The other part of treatment is to practice your magic daily for one hour. No longer, or you will cause your addiction to get worse." Joe warned. Oliver nodded. Joe started packing up his things.

"So," Oliver started casually, "When will this go away?" He asked. At Joe's confused look, he elaborated. "The addiction."

"Oh. Hmm. If a person does it right," He paused thoughtfully. "It should be gone within three weeks, give or take a few." He shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. To Oliver it was. He didn't want to deal with an addiction when their wedding was so close. Oliver was angry at himself, for not noticing the signs of addiction.

"THREE WEEKS?!" Oliver cried.

"Yes. Give or take. " Joe confirmed.

"But...But-"

"Look Mr. Wood, I don't make the rules, I just handle treatment, and your treatment will take up to three weeks. I'm sorry, but that's how it is." Joe walked towards the door. "Good day, My Lords." He bowed low, and was gone.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. He looked up when he felt Voldemort tighten his hold around him. "What are we gonna do?" Oliver asked quietly. Voldemort thought intently before speaking.

"Well, we could postpone the wedding an extra week to give you time." Voldemort mused slowly.

Oliver sighed angrily. "Fine." He muttered. Voldemort nodded, and gave Oliver an encouraging smile.

"In the mean time," Voldemort pulled the cork off the potion and handed it to Oliver,"Take this, then we can go practice for an hour." Oliver gazed warily at the potion.

"Just a sip, right?" Oliver asked for conformation. Voldemort nodded. Oliver silently took the potion, grimacing at the sour taste. Voldemort laughed at the face Oliver made. Oliver glared at him.

"Come on, let's go practice. Maybe even use some low rank Death Eaters as target practice. Now that would be interesting." Voldemort said in amusement. Oliver had to smile at that. He knew Voldemort was only trying to make him feel better about their wedding, and Oliver was grateful for that.

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Oliver and Voldemort were facing each other. Oliver was sending spells in quick succession, but Voldemort easily blocked them. Oliver grit his teeth, and continued. After Voldemort won, he called in some Death Eaters, and told them to line up. Oliver practiced on them for the rest of the hour, laughing as he tortured them mercilessly.

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Oliver plopped himself on their bed happily. "Ah, I could get used to this." He watched hungrily as Voldemort changed into his night robe. Voldemort turned towards Oliver slightly, and smirked a when he saw Oliver ogling him. Voldemort walked up to Oliver slowly, and sensually. Oliver licked his dry lips.

"I take it you had fun then?" Voldemort asked, face inches from Oliver's.

"Yes." Oliver breathed.

"Good." Voldemort said huskily. He took Oliver's face in his hands, and smashed their lips together passionately. Oliver moaned in pleasure, smiling into the kiss. Looks like I'm getting lucky tonight. Oliver lost himself to the pleasurable touches of Voldemort. The two made love that night, as the moon shined down on them brightly through the open window.

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The next three weeks were brutal for Oliver. He would wake up in the morning, take his potion, and practice his magic. It was very hard for him to stop practicing because of the addiction, he would snap at people in anger, and yell constantly, but Voldemort stuck with him through it all. Oliver felt the strain it put on their relationship though.

He knew Voldemort wasn't used to being yelled at constantly, and knew that it took Voldemort a lot to not yell back. This was the reason Oliver decided that he had to make it up to him. To apologize for being such an asshole to his lover, and thank him for staying with him through it all.

Oliver sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had an idea. He just hoped it would be enough.

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