It was the worst possible pairing in Hufflepuff history: Cedric Diggory — head boy material, house Quidditch captain, walking school brochure. And you — the reckless, irreverent, don’t-give-a-damn firecracker who spent more time sneaking out with Fred and George Weasley than studying.

He was the school’s prince. You were the court jester with a superiority complex and glitter bombs in your robe pockets.

It didn’t help that you were also popular. For very different reasons. The kind of girl who turned heads when you walked into the common room with ink-stained fingers and a sarcastic smile. You had charm, you had chaos, and you had a personal goal to see how many points you could cost your house before Christmas break.

Cedric hated it.

Or at least, pretended to.

You knew he noticed you. Knew he hated that he noticed. Because every time you grinned too wide or flirted too casually with one of the Gryffindor boys — especially when Fred threw an arm over your shoulders — Cedric’s jaw clenched like he was trying not to say something. And he never said something… until he finally did.

It was after the Quidditch match. Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. You’d accidentally bewitched his broom to emit a trail of pink glitter mid-chase — a prank you and the twins had cooked up the night before. Fred even gave it a name: Operation Golden Sparkle.

Hufflepuff lost. Barely. And Cedric? He was not amused.

You found yourself being cornered in the corridor outside the changing rooms.

“You think it’s funny?” His voice was low, jaw tight, hair still damp from the game. Even angry, he looked infuriatingly good — flushed cheeks, messy hair, golden boy perfection in a state of complete unravel.

You shrugged, trying not to smile. “A little sparkle never hurt anyone, Diggory.”

He stepped closer. “You cost us the match.”

“Technically, I cost you the match. The team still played pretty well.”

That look in his eyes — merlin. Somewhere between frustration and fascination. You’d seen it before. Every time you pushed him. Every time you made him break that calm, composed persona of his.

“You act like there are no consequences,” he muttered, voice low. “You sneak out at night, you break curfew, you sabotage school events—”

“And yet here I am,” you said sweetly, tilting your head, “still very much a Hufflepuff.”

He shook his head, almost laughing. “You drive me crazy.”

You blinked, just once. “Good.”

And there it was.

The silence.

The beat too long. The way his eyes dropped to your mouth. The way neither of you moved, but the air shifted.

The thing about Cedric Diggory was — he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t distant. He cared too much. About rules. About loyalty. About people. And that was exactly why you got under his skin. You weren’t trying to ruin him. You just… made it impossible for him to stay neutral.

Especially when it came to you.

After that match, things got… more complicated.

He started showing up at the library when you were there. Sitting a few tables away at first. Then a few seats. Then across. Sometimes he’d glance at your work, raise a brow. “That’s not how you brew a Sleep Draught.” You’d smirk. “You’re welcome to tutor me, prefect.”

He pretended not to take the bait. He always did.

But you noticed how he’d watch you when you laughed with Fred. How he’d find reasons to walk you back to the common room after late Slug Club meetings.

And today, during warm july night you got caught in the Astronomy Tower past curfew — by him of course — instead of taking points like he was supposed to, he crossed his arms and said, “Explain.”

“I was stargazing,” you said innocently.

“With the Weasley twins?”

“Romantic, isn’t it?”

He gave you that look. The one that made your stomach flip and your mouth dry.

Then he said, “One more time, and I will give you detention.”