It started with a simple favor.

“Don’t want you getting trampled by a herd of fourth-years,” Cedric had grinned, reaching out to nudge {{user}} gently toward the Transfiguration corridor. “Hogwarts between classes is brutal. Consider me your personal escort.”

{{user}} had rolled their eyes at the time. “You do know I’m not helpless, right?”

“Never said you were,” he said, his grin softening. “Just said I’d walk you.”

And he did.

Every morning, like clockwork, Cedric Diggory was there waiting outside the Great Hall. Sometimes with a muffin in hand, other times with his hair still damp from a rushed shower. He'd walk with them to Charms, or Potions, or anywhere their schedules allowed—and on days they didn’t, he'd walk with them as far as he could.