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The Lost Days (COMPLETE)


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So, haha, funny story, about a year and a half ago I started working on something. It was going to have a plot, you see. A long one, with a ton of interlocking story arcs and some interesting character development. I've always been more of a 2,000 word fluff vignette kind of girl, so this was ambitious. It was a labor of love, and I filled a google document with 46 pages (!!!) of material, just under half of which were posted here as Predicaments. I intended to keep posting there as I connected the pieces I'd written, but, haha, don't you know it, I turned back into myself and, readers, I did not do that thing. 

BUT!! I have always wanted to revisit it!! Especially the very next arc, which I left ALL BUT COMPLETE, and which was a particular favorite of mine. (You can tell because it does very little to advance any kind of plot, hahaha.) I have been toying with the idea of dusting it off and sharing it. Ultimately, it seems like... I can still do that? Maybe? 

So, here you go. Here are the first two little sections I wrote of a long, involved illness hurt/comfort snz story over a year ago, when things in my life were very different. I hope it holds up. It's set ~6 weeks after the events of Predicaments, with Henry having moved into Dev's spare room (this was explained in something I never posted because I fell off the earth) and settled in somewhat, but the arrangement is still very new and they're still feeling each other out and on guard. In other words: this is exactly my kind of garbage.

Without further ado:


Henry awoke with a sneeze, which was not uncommon. He did, however, feel uncommonly dreadful, a throbbing pressure having taken up residence behind his cheekbones and over his eyes in the night. He’d need decongestants soon if he wanted to stave off an infection, which he very much did.

He sneezed again and sat up slowly, the deep fatigue in his bones all but eclipsed by the chesty coughs he broke into. He’d been getting coughs like that, mostly in the mornings, but they tended to fade by afternoon. An extra hit on his inhaler and it wasn’t anything to fret over, he reasoned. It was just that his allergies had been so bad since spring had truly begun on the island...

His third sneeze of the day set his head to aching in earnest, and he blinked vacantly in the direction of his pillow while wondering if it would really be so terrible to go back to bed. But, no; according to the clock it was nearly midday already, which meant he’d slept far longer than usual. Besides, Dev was coming home today from his rendezvous with the buyer, and Henry wanted to have a meal prepared when the weary traveler made his way home. It was the least he could do, in gratitude or apology he wasn't sure.

Wearily, he pulled himself from bed and tottered to the kitchen, where he made himself some tea before collapsing into a chair. That was the way, he thought. Start off slow, soothe his throat with some tea, and when the caffeine got to working he could see to everything that needed doing.

He barely had time to grab a napkin from the holder on the table before he needed it to catch a sudden sneeze. He grimaced. It was a gross one. He blew his nose but it didn't help much; he was so congested that even his ears hurt. He'd been stuffy and non-stop sneezing for close to a week, since just after Dev had gone and the first flowers had started to paint spring upon the island in reds, oranges, and pinks.

He forced himself up-- it wasn't even a comfortable chair but somehow he didn't want to leave it--and washed his hands.

Time to get to work.



“In here,” Henry called-- or tried to. It came out sort of strangled and the sound didn't carry too far. His attempt to clear his throat turned into a few choking coughs, which luckily Dev was too far away to hear. “Kitchen!” He said, now that his voice was a little clearer.

“This is quite a production.” Dev stopped in the door to the kitchen. “What smells so good in here?”

“Roasted chicken with homemade mango salsa, garlic mashed potatoes, honey ginger green beans, and an almond pound cake with blueberry compote for dessert.” Henry indicated each dish as he introduced it. “You're just in time, the last bit will be done in about twenty minutes.”

“Wow,” Dev said. It wasn't possible to tell if he was pleased or dismayed. “You didn't have to do all this. It must have taken all day.”

Henry shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Dev smiled at last. “Thank you. I usually just eat instant noodles when I'm by myself.”

“You're not by yourself,” Henry said, twisting his hands in the dishtowel. “I mean, don't thank me. I'm thanking you. Welcome home.”

“Can I help with anything?”

It was overwarm in the steamy kitchen, and Henry felt a cough coming on. “I've got it under control. All you need to do is go wash up and sit at the table.”

As soon as Dev was safely ensconced in the bathroom out of earshot, Henry gave in to the tickle in his chest and released a few hacking coughs. He pushed a hit of his inhaler-- his third of the day-- and steadied himself on the edge of the counter. It was past six o'clock, and his morning cough should be well and truly dissipated by now, but it and the headache had both only grown as he'd worked.

ISSH-CHT! ISSH-CHT! Ugh, and the sneezes were more miserable by the minute. He sniffed wetly and grabbed a napkin from the rapidly-diminishing stock in the napkin holder.

The last timer went off, and Henry looked at the mass of dishes he had to transport to the table in the next room. Luckily, he had magic for that. With one pull of his hand, the dishes all rose into the air and trailed behind him as he walked into the dining room.

Dev, bless him, now and then looked a bit surprised by this kind of display. Henry forgot sometimes that not everyone had grown up surrounded by powerful sorcerers.

Nn’t. This sneeze was more easily subdued than the ones that had preceded it in the kitchen, and Henry’s head only bobbed a little, though he heard some serving spoons rattle in the dishes behind him.

“Bless,” Dev said distractedly, but Henry waved him off as he lowered the dishes to the table.

“This looks delicious,” Dev said, serving himself a large helping of potatoes. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“I had a lot of free time when I was locked in my father’s house. Used to take every second to study spellcraft, but that got boring quick when I didn’t have any power to practice with.” Henry pushed a curl off his sticky forehead. “Read enough books, you pick things up. And I had to feed myself all that time, too.”

Henry served himself small cuts of everything. Other than a few blueberries off the top of the batch, he hadn’t really eaten today, but he wasn’t all that hungry either. He was sure his appetite would be kickstarted by the first few bites.

Dev occupied himself between shoveling food in his mouth with a rambling, intricate story about some seagull that had followed him the whole time he was away. Henry did his best to pay attention, but his hearing was funny and he was too worn out to grasp the thread of it. His mind kept wandering and his head ached terribly.

The story hit an abrupt pause when Henry brought his napkin to his face to cover a set of five drawn-out, itchy sneezes. The silence was all the more unbearable because the sneezing fit took its sweet time with him,  receding tantalizingly just when he was ready and then teasing back forward until he finally sneezed, and he knew Dev was watching intently the whole time.

“You alright there, love?” Dev asked, his voice too soft for the taunting pet name he appended to the question.

Henry wiped his nose and eyes to buy himself time but he still had to clear his throat before responding. “My allergies have been driving me half-mad,” he admitted. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You look a little peaky.”

“I’m fine.” He forced his mouth into a smile he didn’t feel much like making. He couldn’t see it, but he could tell it didn’t look convincing.

Dev let it drop anyway, returning to his meal. He didn’t return to his story, leaving it half-finished-- or else it might have ended, Henry wasn’t entirely sure. Henry’s attention dropped to his own plate with morose determination. The appetite he’d predicted had failed to materialize. He speared a green bean, nibbled on the end of it, and put it back on the plate. The tea he'd poured down his throat all day hadn't done anything to touch the soreness there, which made eating uncomfortable and inconvenient. Besides which he couldn’t much taste anything.

The only sounds were silverware on china and the occasional stifled cough from Henry. His chest was starting to feel sore and tight from holding them in, and he rubbed at his sternum with one hand.

“Need your inhaler?” Dev asked.

Henry dropped his hand as though burned. “No.”

“Humor me,” Dev said, pushing the inhaler across the table. Huh. Henry must’ve laid it somewhere and forgotten. That or Dev picked his pockets for it.

Henry weighed the risks of telling Dev he’d already used the inhaler three times today to no effect versus using it a fourth time; he shook the canister, held it to his mouth, and puffed.

Dev nodded grimly. His mouth was a thin line as he watched Henry breathe slowly and deliberately. Henry wished he would go back to raving about the food.

Or just finish it. Once the dinner dishes were cleared, Henry could curl up in bed, which was, if he were honest, the only thing he had wanted to do all day. His head was heavy and even keeping his eyes open felt like work.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Dev finished his second helpings of everything and turned his eyes on the cake. “I don't suppose you want any?” He asked, eyeing Henry’s barely picked-at plate.

“You suppose correctly,” Henry said, sniffling against his napkin. Truth to tell, he felt a bit queasy. A particularly harsh sneeze pried a soft groan from his lips as the pressure in his head escalated.

Dev bit his lip. “Are you sure this is just allergies? You seem exhausted.”

Henry sighed. It caught in his throat and it was by grace alone that he didn't devolve entirely into coughing.

Dev shook his head and cut himself a slice of cake.

Henry sat across from him, every cell focused on remaining upright.

“This is wonderful,” Dev sighed. “You sure you don't want any?”

Henry was sure.

When Dev sat back, satisfied, after a second slice of cake, Henry pulled himself to his feet. The dishes rose into the air and followed him on his retreat to the kitchen.

Into the sink we go, he thought, feeling mildly cheered. So close now to being finished. The kitchen was still stifling from when the oven had been on, and a trickle of sweat worked its way under Henry’s collar. Maybe he'd have a cool bath before he put himself to bed. Maybe.

He froze the first plate in midair when he felt a sneeze coming on. Hn’cht! Hn’CHT! Humph-AH! By the final sneeze, the trio had built in intensity such that his entire body jerked, and he lost his grip on the magic holding the plate in the air. The resulting crash of broken china brought Dev skidding into the kitchen.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He looked wild and frantic, eyes wide and hand on the knife in his belt.

Henry looked up at him with eyes he couldn't quite will the tears out of. “It's nothing. I dropped a plate. I'm sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Dev frowned. “I'll clean it up. You should have a rest after making that delicious meal.”

“You just got home. You're tired.” Henry forced the warble out of his voice, but it was a near thing.

“You're unwell.” Dev took a step closer. “You scarcely ate a bite, you've hardly said twenty words together since I got here, you look wretched. You ought to be lying down. I can take care of the dishes.”

Henry felt a strong objection to this course of action, but he felt a fatigue that was even stronger, and he allowed himself to be shepherded to his bedroom. He collapsed on top of the bed, too spent to even pull the covers back first or take his glasses off.

“Rest.” Dev said, voice inexplicably tender. “I'll come check on you in a little while.”

Too weary to fight it any longer, Henry faded out of consciousness.

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Awww... I hoped so much, Dev would check Henry's forehead for a fever. But anyway - this was really nice. Poor Henry...

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Thank you for posting this after all that time! Magic and sneezyness is such a good combination :-) I really like Henry and would love to read more of his story.

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Just a little part today, but great news for @Hedgehog in this one. Thanks always to @helyzelle for being a top-notch cheerleader.



“Hey,” Dev whispered. “You awake?”

He hadn’t been, but as he blinked up at Dev he wasn’t sure he had been entirely asleep either. He felt he had occupied that drifty, in-between state of dreaming without resting. “‘M awake.”

Dev’s lips curled up on the right side. “You don’t look terribly awake.”

Henry’s only answer to that was to sneeze thickly into a tissue he pulled to himself using a summoning spell.

“You don’t seem to be feeling any less like you’re being choked to death by your own body,” Dev teased, sitting on the edge of the bed as Henry hacked into the tissue.

“I’m fine, I told you,” Henry said, levitating the tissue into the garbage. “I get bad sometimes with hay fever. Just need some decongestants and antihistamines and I’ll be set.”

Dev looked skeptical, possibly because Henry’s voice was a croaky whisper and he followed this assurance with a paroxysm of coughing.

Henry struggled to sit up but regretted it instantly when the pressure escalated in his head.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dev crooned, clasping Henry's shoulder in one strong hand. “Don't pass out on me.” He eased Henry back to a horizontal position.

“Not gonna,” Henry slurred, eyes pressed closed and breath coming in uneven pants.

“You went really pale, just then.” Dev’s thumb stroked a comforting rhythm on Henry's neck. “You're feverish.”

“‘S the magic. Makes me run hot.”

“I think I know what your usual temperature feels like,” Dev said, voice hardening. “Lest you forget, I carried you from your father’s house to Cursebreaker in my own arms.”

Henry covered his face in his hands, mostly out of mortification but with the convenient excuse of a pair of sneezes.

Dev stroked Henry's curls, nudging them off his face. “You just need medicine?”

“Yes,” Henry said, relieved Dev understood the situation. A concluding kssh punctuated the statement.

“Then you'll feel better?”

“Yes,” Henry sighed, closing his eyes. It felt really nice for Dev to be petting his head like this. Good for his headache.

Those were the last thoughts that formed with any coherence before sleep claimed Henry once more.

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I might have squeed a little at the end of the last part... :inlove: The two of them are so adorable, and I love Henry's stubbornness!

Thank you for sharing your story with us, I'm already looking forward to the next part :happysmiley:

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17 hours ago, queenie said:

Henry’s only answer to that was to sneeze thickly into a tissue he pulled to himself using a summoning spell.

I really love this little detail! 

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Wow, everyone, I'm kind of blown away by the responses! It feels great and I love it. @M214186, @Selene, @helyzelle, @Privatedancer, @Hedgehog: this is for you.



There was a cool cloth on his head. He wasn't sure if he liked it-- it helped the pain but also made him feel sort of chilled all over.

ESsch! The sneeze scraped in his chest and pounded in his head. He felt sore all over, which seemed wrong. Maybe a new position. He tried turning over to curl in a ball, but the blankets on him were heavy-- when had he gotten under the covers?-- and he succeeded only in making the cloth slide off his forehead and onto the mattress below.

“Hey, now,” a familiar voice admonished. A gentle hand smoothed the cloth back into place. “We've talked about this.”

“Clare?” Henry asked. Tried to ask. He started coughing partway through.

“Yes, Henry.” Clare’s voice was coming from very close up, where there was a dip in the mattress.

He blinked his eyes open and frowned. Clare wasn't the type to sit on the edge of beds. Or to speak so gently. Something terrible must have happened.

“What happened?”

“You're very ill.” Her voice had the patient, even air of a nursery school teacher giving an instruction for the seventh consecutive time. He couldn't see her clearly without his glasses. It reminded him of another fuzzy face looking down on his bed.

“Dev,” he murmured.

“He's gone to fetch a healer,” Clare said.

That was wrong. “No.”

“We've worked with Maeve before,” Clare soothed. “We can trust her.”

“No healer,” he said, and sneezed harshly.

“You've got a temperature of forty-one. It isn't an option at this point. A healer is necessary.” Clare’s voice was taut and clipped.

“No healer,” he insisted. Henry coughed. It was a terrible thing, that crackled under his ribs and went on and on. Worse than he'd been at dinner. How long had he been in bed? “Just need my medication and this will clear up on its own.”

“Stars, Henry, we tried that, remember?”

Henry couldn't remember much. Hushed voices, shivering, glasses of water held to his mouth.

“It didn't work,” Clare reminded him. “So Dev’s gone to get the healer. He’ll be back by nightfall.”

Henry sneezed, another hard one that jerked his aching head forward. He kept his eyes shut after, partly to help with the dizziness and partly to give himself time to think.

“Rest, now. They’ll be here soon.”

Henry didn’t want to follow Clare’s instruction, but he found himself sucked from wakefulness almost before she’d finished speaking, lightly aware of her hand in his.

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On 7.2.2018 at 3:15 AM, queenie said:

It reminded him of another fuzzy face looking down on his bed.

On 7.2.2018 at 3:15 AM, queenie said:

Henry couldn't remember much. Hushed voices, shivering, glasses of water held to his mouth.

Ok, so these two passages up there are AMAZING. They have so much power, omg. They capture the hazy, dizzy feeling of delirium so, SO WELL! Short and simple, but every little word adds so much to the atmosphere in this scene <3 :wub:

And I loved how Henry is all confused and then suddenly remembers Dev and is asking for him *happysigh* Thanks again, I'll gladly return for more :happysmiley:

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@Chiller, a sneezy skeleton, @M214186, @Selene: Thank you all soooooooo much for the kind words. Here is another piece:



Henry was ill and his mother was singing a lullaby as she stroked his hair.

Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

This was a dream, he realized. He was twenty-four and his mother had been dead fifteen years. But it was a nice dream, and he didn’t want to leave it. And it had felt so real…

He opened his eyes. Callisto sat beside his bed, in one of the kitchen chairs that must have been relocated for this purpose. Her high, lilting voice was the one singing, not the deep, clear alto of his mother.

“My mother used to sing this song,” he mumbled.

Callisto stopped singing and broke into a wide smile. “Yes, that’s why I’m singing it.” Her fingers didn’t pause their soft touches on his head. “How’re you feeling, then?”

He didn’t suppose protestations of health would do much good at this point. “A bit like I’m trying to breathe and hear from underwater, if I’m honest.”

“Well, you’ve stopped trying to lie, so that can only be a good sign.” She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. “I’m under strict orders to record your temperature every hour. Then, if we’re feeling ambitious, I’m to feed you.”

Henry closed his eyes as she stuck the thermometer in his ear.

Callisto chatted merrily as the thermometer took its reading, primarily an ambling story Henry couldn’t quite follow about the provenance of this thermometer, which seemed to have been acquired specifically for Henry. She kept up patting his curls, though, so it was hard to care too much.

“You’re under forty!” Callisto cheered. “That’s the first time in days and days. Dev will be awfully sorry he missed it.”

“Where is he?”

“Er, Manila, I think,” she said. “Left this morning. He didn’t want to go with you so ill, but it was unavoidable. It seemed a bit urgent, and the contact won’t trust anyone else.”

Henry lifted a hand to his face. He could feel his heartbeat in the bridge of his nose. He stifled four quick sneezes before flopping back down exhaustedly. “I wish he’d said goodbye.”

“He did say goodbye. You’ve been out of your head with fever, though; I’m not surprised you’re confused.” Callisto swatted his hand when he tried to magic a tissue to him and instead passed him one. “The healer said total rest, and that means letting other people do things for you.”

“Oh.” Henry said. He didn’t remember seeing a healer, but not much else was making sense at the moment, either, so it was more than possible. “Could you pass me my glasses and my inhaler, please?”

She did, but when her face came into focus through his glasses, he saw that she was frowning. “You shouldn’t need your inhaler again so soon,” she said, although she did not elaborate what that meant and he was too tired to ask very many questions. She helped him to a half-sitting position-- dragged him, really, despite her size, for he was weak as one of those rubber bands that have been in the back of a desk drawer for a decade-- and danced her way out of the room as he took his first puff.

As he coughed out the last of the medicine, Callisto brought him a cup of very hot, very clear broth. “Bull made all manner of soup and left specific instructions for which ones to eat at which stage of recovery,” she said brightly. “I think he’s slightly miffed he had to jet off to Manila and won’t get to supervise.”

“He’s with Dev, then?” Henry’s eyes had that dry, grainy feel of when he was very, very tired, which was ridiculous, as he had been conscious maybe half an hour.

“Dev never goes anywhere alone.”

Henry drew a gasping breath in preparation for a monster sneeze; only one this time, but a big one, which set his head to aching terribly. He moaned softly.

“Poor baby Henry,” Callisto cooed, sounding not at all mocking in only the way she could when saying those words. She put the broth into his hands. “Drink up, and then you can lie back down.”

The broth was surprisingly good. It didn’t taste of much, but it was warm and it sated a thirst he hadn’t been aware of until he started drinking.

“It’s good, right?” Callisto smiled slyly. “Bull’s not the kind of cook you are, I hear, but he gets the job done.”

Henry felt heat in his face that had very little to do with his fever. “Dev told you about that?”

“I think he felt guilty about the condition you were in when you served it.”

“But whyy would he feeel guilty for that?”

Callisto only blessed him for the sneeze he was starting on.

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"Poor baby Henry", indeed (but I'm loving it ^^ Sorry, Henry :whistle:)

And I also feel really sorry for Dev... Even though it's not his fault, I get why he'd feel guilty about Henry wearing himself out in order to prepare this meal for him.

I'm really looking forward to where the story will go next :)

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This is wonderful and addicting! I went back and read your first story, and now this. I love it! The characters are wonderfully adorable!

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2 hours ago, AngelEyes said:


This is wonderful and addicting! I went back and read your first story, and now this. I love it! The characters are wonderfully adorable!


^ I second this! :doublethumbsup:


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@M214186 @helyzelle @Selene @AngelEyes @WolfPack @Privatedancer: thank you all so much for every word. Particular light of my life comes from those of you are are new, and it's very encouraging to see you enjoying this!



“I’m really feeling ever so much better,” Henry pleaded. “I don’t need a nursemaid anymore, if you lot would only let me fetch my own tea.”

“Sorry, mate,” Dante said, sounding not sorry at all. “The healer said at least a week or you risk relapse.” He fiddled with one of the gears in the toy he was repairing. Or “repairing,” as he didn’t so much seem to be trying to fix it as using it to occupy his hands. “Hand me that screwdriver, will you?”

Henry levitated the screwdriver from the bedside table and passed it to Dante.


“If I can pass you a screwdriver, why can’t I pass myself things? It’s magic, I’m not going to take up jogging.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “You get tired, right, using your magic?”

Henry bit his lip. “That’s a massive oversimplification.”

“Okay, well, you’re not supposed to be doing anything. Maeve included magic specifically.” Dante smirked. “So you’re stuck with me.”

Henry rubbed his nose. He wasn’t lying about feeling better-- he could stay awake four or five hours at a stretch now, and his hearing was back to normal-- but the headache, sneezing, and coughing had not entirely lifted. The rubbing proved fruitless, and he pulled a tissue to sneeze into. “You’re going to get engine grease on the sheets,” he complained.

“You were less fastidious when you were delirious,” Dante replied good-naturedly. “I told the girls I knew you were going to live when you told me I should’ve wiped my boots before coming in.”


“You can magic the sheets clean, anyway, if I get them dirty,” Dante reasoned.

Henry rubbed at his temple. “Dante?”

Dante tightened a screw. “Hmm?”

“The other day, Callisto said--”

“Don’t let her trouble you. I love her, but she’s nutty as a pecan pie.”

Henry shook his head. “She said Dev felt guilty.”

Dante snorted. “Dev feels a lot of things.”

“About me, she said.”

“He was worried, is all, mate,” Dante murmured, wiping his hands on his trousers. “We all were. You gave us a monster of a fright. And Dev, he-- he’s a good chap. He feels responsible, ‘cause you fell ill on his watch, he feels like, and you didn’t trust him enough to tell him or let him help you or whatever, and he took you at your word that it was nothing and then you spiked this massive temperature and nearly died because it was too much for the pills he got you to do any good.”

Henry wiped his nose. “That’s not his fault.”

“Didn’t say it was. Just telling you how he feels, mate.”

Henry meant to reply, but instead he sneezed three times, which transitioned smoothly into a small fit of coughing.

Dante nodded to the line of medicines on the bedside table. “About time for a dose of those, isn’t it?”

Henry sneezed again into his handful of tissues and eyed the medicines resentfully. This really was getting out of hand. As if he couldn’t be counted on to follow the directions on the labels. “I said I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“Yeah, yeah, Grouchypants,” Dante said without malice. “I can’t wait until you’re well again and go back to being the mild-mannered sorcerer we all fell in love with. Take your medicine and I’ll bring you a book to read while I tinker with this.”

Henry was perfectly able to summon his own books, thank you very much, but the rest of them got a bit testy when he used magic to get things from other rooms. Still considered it too taxing for his fragile state, he supposed. He coughed into his fist. “All right.”

Except that when Dante brought the book-- a heavy tome of magical theory Dev had found somewhere and brought home as a gift-- Henry found he had difficulties even with the act of reading. His eyes couldn’t focus on the words for long without making his headache worse, and his arms tired quickly of holding it up. Soon, the book had found its way facedown on Henry’s chest while he drifted nearer and nearer to a nap.

The last thing he was fully aware of was Dante pulling his glasses from his face.

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OMG, he fell asleep with his glasses on? How adorable is that?! Just when I thought I couldn't love Henry any more than I already do, you include this little detail :wub:

Also,  let me praise the adorableness of this part:

11 minutes ago, queenie said:

Dante raised an eyebrow. “You get tired, right, using your magic?”

Henry bit his lip. “That’s a massive oversimplification.”

Maybe I should not write a comment right now when I'm still fangirling over what I've just read and am therefore unable to produce coherent sentences ^^ But I just HAD to comment right now, because I loved this section with Henry, starring as Mr. Grouchypants :D

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2 hours ago, queenie said:

“You were less fastidious when you were delirious,” Dante replied good-naturedly. “I told the girls I knew you were going to live when you told me I should’ve wiped my boots before coming in.”



2 hours ago, queenie said:

“Yeah, yeah, Grouchypants,” Dante said without malice. “I can’t wait until you’re well again and go back to being the mild-mannered sorcerer we all fell in love with. Take your medicine and I’ll bring you a book to read while I tinker with this.”

I love how they've all adopted him. So cute!

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14 hours ago, queenie said:

"I can’t wait until you’re well again and go back to being the mild-mannered sorcerer we all fell in love with. Take your medicine and I’ll bring you a book to read while I tinker with this.”

Henry was perfectly able to summon his own books, thank you very much, but the rest of them got a bit testy when he used magic to get things from other rooms.

This is just a perfect little exchange! Dante's comment is both funny and sweet, I love the term mild-mannered sorcerer. And I love that magic is such a natural thing to Henry and that it annoys him so much when he isn't allowed to use it as he wants.

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