The sky outside the castle windows bled orange into violet, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The hour between classes and curfew, when most students were at dinner, was your favorite time in the library—quiet, hushed, almost holy.

You had your spot. Back corner. One creaky chair, a slanted window, and a stack of half-read books charmed to stay open. You liked it that way: unnoticed, uninterrupted.

Which is why the sudden clearing of a throat across the table made your wand hand twitch.

You looked up, startled—and there he was.

Cedric Diggory.

Not golden and grinning like he was in the Great Hall, not surrounded by admirers, but alone. A little rain in his hair. A worn leather-bound book in one hand. The other…holding out a sugar quill.

“Peace offering." He said, almost sheepish.

“I didn’t know this was your spot.”

You blinked at him, then at the sugar quill.

He looked too big for the corner, like he didn’t quite belong in the dimness. But he didn’t move.

”I thought Hufflepuffs didn’t invade territory.” You said dryly.

His smile twitched—off-center, real.

“Desperate times. All the tables by the windows are full of Ravenclaws snogging.”

You took the sugar quill, trying not to smile back as you told him to sit and don’t talk.

“I can do that.”

He sat down, flipped open his book. The silence resumed, soft and companionable. But every now and then, you caught him glancing up—like he was trying to memorize the quiet, too.

And from that day on…he kept coming back.