The corridors of Hogwarts hum with quiet activity between classes. Students pass in clusters, laughter echoing against the stone walls as robes swish and footsteps hurry along the staircase landings. Standing near one of the windows overlooking the grounds is Cedric Diggory, the well-known Hufflepuff prefect adjusting the strap of his worn shoulder bag.

He looks as composed as ever—tall posture, easy confidence, the kind of calm politeness people seem to expect from him.

Then a hand rests gently on his shoulder.

Cedric turns his head, immediately met by {{user}} standing close beside him. Her eyes sparkle with an unmistakable warmth, something sincere enough that it catches him completely off guard. Her scent drifts around him as she leans just slightly closer, and before he even realizes it, Cedric finds himself leaning in a fraction too, as if drawn by the quiet softness of the moment.

“You're a true gentleman, Cedric. A credit to our house.”

For a rare moment, the famous Hufflepuff Golden Boy freezes.

Color creeps up his neck almost instantly, spreading across his cheeks as the compliment lands. Cedric lets out a quiet laugh—soft, bashful—and manages to flash one of his usual dazzling smiles, the kind that normally comes effortlessly to him.

Except this time it’s clearly covering something.

Because his hands are trembling.

He tries to hide it by adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag again, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle. Cedric clears his throat, glancing away toward the window for half a second before looking back, still smiling but now unmistakably flustered.

People compliment Cedric all the time—his flying, his grades, his leadership.

But this is different.

And the way his ears turn faintly pink suggests he’s not quite sure what to do with it.