The castle was humming with anticipation. Music drifted faintly from the Great Hall, distant and muffled, like it didn’t want to intrude too early. Students in dress robes passed by in twos and threes, laughing too loudly, perfume trailing behind them in the corridors like smoke.

You stood near the arched window outside your common room, fingers clenched inside your sleeves. You hadn’t gone down yet. You were waiting. Even though you weren’t supposed to be.

He arrived five minutes late. Hair still damp from the prefects’ bathroom, tie slightly crooked. Cedric Diggory — charming, polished, magnetic — and yet somehow softer when he saw you. He slowed, adjusting his pace like he didn’t want to rush the moment.

“You look…” he stopped, eyes flicking over you like a whispered secret. “Great. Really great.”

You gave him a faint smile. “So do you. Cho’s going to lose her mind.”

That earned a crooked grin, the one he only gave you when no one else was around. “Yeah, well. I’m not really thinking about Cho right now.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. You didn’t need to.

There were rules, even if they weren’t written. No one had said it outright, but there were whispers — boys were supposed to bring girls. It was “just tradition.” And even if no one stopped you from showing up with each other, the looks would be enough. The stares. The quiet questions.

Still, he stood in front of you now. Dress robes slightly wrinkled at the sleeves. Heart in his throat.

“I wanted to ask you,” Cedric said, voice low. “Weeks ago. I really did.”

“I know,” you said.

You both looked down for a moment. Somewhere far below, the music changed — the opening waltz starting. Doors would be opening. The other champions would be stepping forward.

“You should go,” you murmured. “You’ve got to lead the dance.”

Cedric took a step closer. Close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, and you could feel the warmth of him in the cold corridor.

“Will you meet me later?” he asked. “After the dance. After the noise.”

You nodded once. “Yeah. I’ll wait.”

And with that, he gave you the smallest smile — not the one the school saw, but the one meant just for you — and turned to leave. Not holding your hand. Not kissing your cheek. Just a look over his shoulder before he disappeared down the hall, toward the light and the music and the girl on his arm.

And you stood in the shadows. Waiting.