The cheers around the pitch had become white noise — a blur of blue and yellow, of beating wings and heavy hearts. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stood neck and neck in the house cup standings, and this match was everything. The last game. The decider. The moment both teams had trained all year for.

You sat in the changing rooms, fingers clutched around your broom, stomach twisted in knots. Not from nerves — no, this was something heavier. You had overheard it by accident. Whispers in the hallway. A comment from a Hufflepuff Chaser too loud for his own good.

—“…Cedric agreed. It's risky, but it'll throw them off. Especially their Seeker. Especially them.”

You wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

But Cedric hadn’t denied it when you confronted him last night by the Black Lake. He hadn’t even looked at you.

—“I didn’t have a choice,” he had said, his voice low and brittle. “It’s what they expect of me.”

What they expect of him.

As if your months together — the long nights in the Astronomy Tower, the stolen glances at breakfast, the kisses hidden behind spell books in the library — hadn’t meant enough to fight for. As if the Cedric you knew could really look you in the eye and decide that a trophy mattered more.

The match was about to begin.

You walked out onto the pitch, broom in hand, scanning the opposing team until your eyes met his. For a moment, everything around you stopped.

His expression was unreadable — maybe regret, maybe guilt, maybe something else entirely. But he didn’t look away.

You mounted your broom.

The whistle blew.