The Great Hall shimmered beneath the glow of hundreds of floating candles, their flames casting golden light over polished plates and the enchanted ceiling above. The long tables had been cleared for the evening, replaced by an open floor where couples swayed to the music. The air was thick with warmth, the soft hum of laughter and whispers blending seamlessly with the slow, lilting melody that drifted from the enchanted instruments.

In the middle of it all, Cedric held you close. His hand rested gently at your waist, steady yet careful, as though you were something precious he was afraid to mishandle. The brush of his fingers through the fabric of your clothes was subtle, but each touch sent little sparks racing through him.

When he looked down at you, the candlelight caught in his brown eyes, making them glow with something tender. A shy, almost boyish smile tugged at his lips. He leaned closer, his voice low, intimate, meant for you alone. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, so softly it was nearly lost beneath the music, but in the closeness between you, it was impossible to miss.

Your hands found each other naturally, fitting together as though they were always meant to. Moving in slow circles, you and Cedric swayed as though time itself had stretched for the two of you, holding this fragile, perfect moment in its hands. His thumb brushed gentle, absentminded patterns against your skin, a habit he likely wasn’t even aware of, but to you, it was everything.

Cedric’s heart beat hard against his ribs, not out of nervousness, but from something deeper, something fierce and unfamiliar that filled his chest with warmth, so strong it almost ached. He let out a soft laugh, unable to help himself, his breath feathering against your temple as he leaned in closer, his words spilling with quiet honesty.

“But then again,” he said, voice lower now, more vulnerable, “you always do.”