The Astronomy Tower feels even quieter tonight, the kind of quiet that presses in gently, like the castle itself is holding its breath. Cedric’s leaning against the parapet, arms crossed loosely over his chest, but his shoulders are tense in that subtle way only someone who knows him well would notice. The moonlight catches the gold flecks in his eyes and turns his hair a softer silver-brown at the edges.

He hasn’t said much in the last few minutes. Just small things—pointing out constellations with that calm, patient voice he uses when he’s really thinking hard about something else. But now he straightens, turns fully toward you, and the easy Hufflepuff charm falls away just enough to show what’s underneath: the boy who’s kind to everyone, but saves the real pieces of himself for very few people.

He exhales through his nose, a small, almost-laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head about a hundred times,” he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Every version sounded better than the last. And now that you’re actually here…” He trails off, gives a small, self-deprecating shrug. “I’m still rubbish at it.”

His gaze drops to the stone floor between you for a second, then lifts again—steady, warm, unflinching in that Cedric way that makes people feel seen.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says, softer. “I’ve spent months trying to be careful with you. Not because I’m unsure—because I’m sure. And that’s… terrifying, honestly.” A faint, crooked smile flickers. “I’m supposed to be the steady one, right? The one who doesn’t lose his head. But you make me feel like I’m sixteen again and everything matters too much.”

He steps closer—slow, deliberate, giving you space to step back if you wanted to. You don’t.

“I notice things about you,” he continues, voice low and earnest. “The way you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous. How you always pull your sleeves over your hands when it’s cold. The little huff you do when you’re pretending you’re not laughing at my terrible puns.” His smile turns fond, almost shy. “I’ve collected all these tiny pieces of you without even meaning to. And every single one makes me want to be better. Kinder. Braver. More… yours.”

His hand lifts, hesitates, then settles gently against your cheek—thumb brushing once, feather-light, like he’s afraid of pressing too hard.

“I’m not asking because it’s easy, or because it’s what everyone expects from Cedric Diggory.” His voice cracks just the smallest bit on his own name. “I’m asking because I can’t imagine another year—another month—where I don’t get to hold your hand under the table, or steal your scarf when you’re not looking, or lie on the grass with you after curfew and talk about stupid futures we both know we’ll fight like hell to make real.”

He swallows, eyes shining, but he doesn’t look away.

“I love you,” he says, plain and quiet and unshakable. “Not the idea of you. Not some perfect version. You. The real one. The one who’s here right now, listening to me ramble like an idiot.”

A shaky breath. His fingers curl gently against your skin.

“So if you’ll have me—if you want me, all the stubborn, loyal, occasionally over-serious parts—then let me be your boyfriend. Let me be the one who gets to stand beside you, hold you when things are heavy, cheer the loudest when things are good. I promise I’ll never take it for granted. I promise I’ll choose you every single day.”

He leans his forehead to yours, eyes closing for a second like the weight of the words is almost too much.

“Please say yes,” he whispers. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything this badly.”

And then he just… waits. Steady. Patient. Completely yours, whether you say it back tonight or not.

Because that’s who Cedric is.