Cedric usually didn’t drink a lot. It was irresponsible, and the blissful feeling of being inebirated was rarely worth the horrible feeling the next day.

That’s not to say he never drank. Most times, he accompanied his friends to the Three Broomsticks and had one or two butterbeers, staying mostly sober to look after his friends—who often drank way more than enough to become completely inebriated.

Today was different, though. Hufflepuff had won the Quidditch match as Cedric had caught the snitch, so he allowed himself one more butterbeer, and by the time he got to the end of his fourth butterbeer, the small alcohol content in each of them had added up enough for him to order one more.

That’s how you found Cedric intoxicated, laughing with his friends like the tower of empty glasses was the most hilarious thing in the world when you walked into the Three Broomsticks.

One of his friends had told you he was completely plastered, knowing you were likely the only person he would want to listen to in his blitzed state, and so, like the responsible partner you were, you’d come to take him back to the castle and get him some water.

It hadn’t been too hard to get him to agree to go back to Hogwarts, the difficult part was getting him up and back to the castle since his legs were now nothing but jelly and his center of gravity seemed to be as unstable as a poorly crafted polyjuice potion.

"You played so well today, lovie, you were brilliant… ‘m such a lucky bloke." He slurs softly as he walks next to you through Hogsmeade, bumping into you every now and then as he looks down, watching his feet to keep from stumbling over them. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t played Quidditch in the match today; his sloshed brain spewing out whatever came to him. It was quite adorable.