You had always known Cedric.

From the moment you were Sorted into Hufflepuff, he was there — the older student who helped you carry your trunk, who sat beside you during your first real cry in the common room, who always saved you a chocolate frog when he came back from Honeydukes. He became your warmth, your quiet place, your person.

By fifth year, he was still all those things… just taller, more admired, more confident. And you — still his closest friend, still carrying a thousand unspoken things in your chest every time he smiled at you like you were the only one in the room.

So when Snape announced a new assignment — "Mental charm, partnered work, pair up!" — you hadn’t expected your name to be said out loud by him.

—“Diggory and {{user}},” Snape had grunted, and Cedric had just smiled at you, like always. Like this was nothing new.

The spell was complex. It required trust, connection, and focus — the kind only found between people who truly knew each other. You sat facing each other on the classroom floor, legs crossed, wands raised, breathing in sync.

—“Ready?” he asked, voice soft.

You nodded.

Legeremens.

The charm sparked between you — a thin thread of golden light weaving from your wand to his. At first, nothing. Just warmth. Familiar, comforting. Cedric.

But then — a flicker.

They always smell like sugar quills after breakfast.

Merlin, I hope they never find out how long I’ve loved them.

You blinked.

He froze.

The thread broke.

You stared at him. He stared back, eyes wide, breath caught. For a second, the entire room dissolved — Snape’s voice faded, the other students disappeared.