Warning: Implied/Referenced Torture
He lurched in, his entire body is convulsing. He stumbled and collapsed onto the carpet, spitting out blood.
She shook herself awake and hurried to his side. Her wand was already in her hand, as was a pain-numbing potion.
He took the flask in his trembling hands and swallowed it in long gulps.
"How many times?" she whimpered.
His steele-grey eyes matched hers, and she knew what form his response would take. He lost count—
"—after eight," he grunted hoarsely.
She helped him to the bed, his lean frame leaning on her wearily, and she undresseed him for bed carefully, softly, his thumb smoothing away each tear at the sight of every wound.
She delicately moulded herself against him and run her fingers through his silk-soft hair. He wounded her curls around his fingers.
"When?" she whispered.
"Soon," he breathed.