For Cuba, who requested some Cedric.
"Here," Cho said softly, handing him a cup of warm brown liquid. "Coffee."
"Thanks," he said, wearily.
"When's the last…test?" she asked, sitting beside him.
He studied her perfect, defined features and couldn't suppress a sigh. "Tomorrow. But you know that."
"Yes," she admitted, and stood again, noting his mood, his wish to be alone.
"It just…it's so fucking hard. I never thought it would be like this—it's supposed to be honour, happiness, it's supposed to bring good things! But I'm always so goddamn tired, and I don't want to do stuff anymore. I'm listless, boring, and even though people support me, I'm all fucking alone in this!"
She sat down again, quickly, and grabbed his big hand. Tentatively, she pressed a soft kiss onto his palm. "But you'll make it through this. You'll win. You're amazing, Cedric, and soon it will all be over—but you'll stay amazing. Everyone loves you."
The forgotten coffee lay beside them, and the night just got darker, but somehow, the words comforted him. He was almost done.
He'd make it through this.