to the stars who listen

He’d woken in the night.

This was Cedric’s first sign that all wasn’t well. He slept through, usually. He slept like a log. The moment he put his head on his pillow, he would be out like a light, only surfacing when his alarm went off with an ungodly blare in the morning.

However, this time, he’d woken up in the night with a sore throat and a snuffle in his nose.

By the time a respectable hour rolled around, Cedric’s head felt full of cotton wool, and he was either too hot or too cold.

You’d been awake with him. Worried from the moment you felt him leave the bed in the night, his cough sounding far too loud in the silence of the night.

It wasn’t often that Cedric was ill. He made sure it very rarely happened; he exercised, he ate right, he took vitamins. In spite of the many precautions he took, Cedric wasn’t wholly protected so when he did fall ill, it hit him like a tonne of bricks.

The whistle of the kettle brings you out of your reverie. Focusing on pouring the hot water, you ensure the cup of tea is to Cedric’s liking - 2 sugars and a dash of milk.

Holding the hot drink carefully, you take the mug through to him. “Sweetheart,” You say softly, stirring Cedric from a brief nap. “I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

Cedric hums, pushing himself into a sitting position in the bed. A sharp cough rocks his body, and he gasps as he tries to catch his breath. He takes the cup of tea from your gratefully, taking a small sip before placing it on the bedside table. “Thank you,” He croaks; cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“I don’t like the sound of this cough,” You worry, chewing your bottom lip. “I still think we should call for a healer to check you over.”

Cedric shakes his head, feeling dizzy with the motion. “No need,” He reassures, “I just need rest, cups of tea and you.”

“This isn’t the time to be flirting, Mr Diggory,” You berate tenderly, no malice in your voice whatsoever. “I’ll let you off this time, but if you are no better tomorrow, then I am sending a message to St. Mungo’s.”

“Alright,” He acquiesces, wanting to staunch your worry and nerves.

 “Now, do you need anything else whilst I’m up?”

“Will you stay with me for a bit?” Cedric asks quietly, patting your side of the bed in invitation. “I’m feeling very lonely.”

“Lonely? I’ve been in and out of here all day,” You tease, placing your hands on your hips and fixing the love of your life with a false stern stare.

“But you haven’t stayed…” Cedric whines, patting your side of the bed again. “Just for a little while? We could start that TV show you’ve been telling me to start.”

“The Darling Buds of May?”

Cedric nods, needing a little break from talking.

“Okay,” You yield. “Let me get some more drinks and something for your throat and we can begin.”

Cedric settles against his pillow, a satisfied smile stretching across his face before another coughing fit racks his chest and pains his muscles. He’s just finding a comfier position when you come back into the room, arms laden with drinks and treats – everything that could be needed to help heal the sick and wounded.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Cedric whispers, voice hoarse from the latest coughing fit.

“Yes, I did,” You state plainly, propping yourself up against the pillows before reaching for the television remote. “You would do the same for me.”

“I believe I have done the same,” Cedric defends, thinking back to the time when the flu had weakened you to the point where going to the bathroom was a chore in itself.

“Exactly.”

The rest of the day is spent switching between episodes of The Darling Buds of May and napping, wrapped up in each other. More often than not, it’s Cedric laid with his head on your lap as you run your hand through his hair, tracing lazy patterns into his scalp with your fingernails, lulling him to a soft sleep.

There was a log fire in Anthony’s office for two thirds of the day. His office wasn’t overly large, just the right size for his dark stained oak desk, a couple of bookshelves and a couch by the fireplace. For most of the morning, if you couldn’t find your husband, he could be found in his office, pouring over ledgers and accounts of the farmers that held tenancy on his land.

Truthfully, Anthony wasn’t financially minded. But upon the death of his beloved father, Anthony had to come to terms with the accounting of the estate. It was his responsibility; something he shouldered alone, and it bored him immensely.  

He’d just rubbed his eyes for the fourth time when there was a light knock at his door. A groan was his acceptance of entry, but his mood significantly lifts at the sight of you stood at the door.

“Darling,” He smiles; warmth flooding his veins as a smile graces his face. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you that,” You murmur approaching Anthony’s desk. “You look exhausted my love.”

Anthony settles back against his chair, accepting defeat for now against the blasted mathematics and calculations that taunted him from the pages of the leather-bound ledgers. “I hate this part of it all,” He complains, his voice close to a whine. “I panic I’m doing it all wrong, that I’m overcharging or undercharging or just messing everything up.”

“Oh love,” You murmur, wandering around the back of his chair, placing your hands to his shoulders and beginning to massage the tense muscles there.

Anthony’s muscles immediately give in to the pressure and relax. He melts further into the chair, his eyes closing in a brief reprieve. He brings a hand up to cover yours, bringing it to his lips to kiss it quickly before settling back onto his shoulder.

Silence descends momentarily before you speak softly. “You worry too much, my darling. The accounts always balance in the end, but if you’re overly concerned this year, have you considered asking for help from the accountants in the village? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind sending an apprentice to help.”

Anthony stares at the fire roaring in the fireplace. He considers your idea, mulling it over in his head before stating, “I think that’s a fine idea. I’ll send a missive to them in tomorrow. For now, I am done with business and ledgers and calculations.”

“Oh?”

Anthony nods, standing from his chair and gathering you into his arms. You melt into his touch; revelling in his warmth and the feel of his toned body pressed against you. Your beloved husband presses kiss after kiss to your hair, silently thanking you for your help with today’s problem.

“What, pray tell, are you to do with the rest of your day?” You question, curiosity getting the better of you.

A slow, relaxed smile spreads across your husband’s face. He leads you to the couch by the fire where he situates you both. Anthony hands you a book from the side table before settling himself with his head on your lap. You grab the blanket from the back of the couch, covering the both of you as best as you can.

Anthony looks up at you with happy eyes and a bright grin. “Satisfied?” You tease, brushing a hand through his soft, brown hair.

“Very,” Anthony states plainly, wiggling a little to prove his point.

A giggle leaves your lips. You lift the book in question. “Am I to read this to you, my lord?”

Anthony winks and blushes slightly at the sound of his title leaving your lips. “Please. I love your voice, it’s soothing.”

Your expression softens and your heart skips a beat. “Well, with that compliment, how could I refuse?”

Anthony’s eyes slip close as you turn to the first page in the book.

“No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her…”

As the log fire continues to burn, you both continue to sit. The words of the novel wash over Anthony, sending his worries somewhere else for a fleeting moment. His body sinks into the couch as he feels the warmth of the fire and your voice start to send him to sleep. Your hand takes hold of his, fingers tangling together and resting on his stomach. You continue to read; moving through the paragraphs and pages as the minutes and hours of the day slip by in some heavenly passage of time.