You should’ve known something was up when Cedric met you outside the Great Hall with a grin just a little too smug.

“Come with me,” he said, lacing his fingers through yours. “Trust me.”

And of course you did. You always did.

He led you out across the lawn, weaving between groups of students lingering after lunch, heading down a sloping path toward the Black Lake. It was quiet there this time of day — just the soft breeze off the water and the distant hum of castle life behind you.

“Are you kidnapping me?” you asked, mock suspicious, as he glanced back at you with a grin.

Cedric laughed, the sound warm and easy. “Relax. Kidnapping usually doesn’t involve pastries.”

You squinted. “Pastries?”

“I brought your favorite,” he said, smug again.

That’s when you saw it

There, laid out by the edge of the Black Lake beneath a tall, leafy tree, was a soft checkered blanket. A small basket sat in the middle, slightly tilted from the slope, and inside you could already see the corner of a chocolate-dipped croissant peeking out.

Your heart swelled so hard it almost hurt.

He watched your reaction, the corner of his mouth lifting the way it always did when he was proud of himself but pretending not to be. “I know you’ve been stressed lately,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “and I thought maybe—just a quiet moment. You and me. No school, no noise.”

You crossed the grass and flopped down onto the blanket without hesitation. Cedric followed, sitting beside you with a soft thud and pulling the basket closer.

The next hour passed in lazy sunlight and sweet bites of pastry. You fed him a piece of apple tart, and he pretended to dramatically choke when you gave him too big a bite. He read aloud from a book he’d brought, doing terrible voices for the characters just to make you laugh. He reached up to brush a piece of grass from your hair and left his hand there a moment too long, fingertips soft against your skin.

When the wind picked up a little, you curled into his side, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, thumb tracing small circles on your back.

“You know,” he murmured eventually, voice barely above the sound of the water, “I think this might be my favorite view in all of Hogwarts.”*

You smiled, gazing out over the rippling lake.

But then you felt him nudge your chin gently toward him.

“Not that,” he said. “You.”

And before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—soft, slow, warm. You melted into him like he was the safest place in the world.