The Great Hall was its usual midday frenzy, with the enchanted ceiling showing a bright autumn sky. Golden light spilled across the long house tables, glinting off goblets of pumpkin juice and steam rising from silver platters. Laughter, chatter, and the scrape of cutlery filled the space.

You sat tucked in near the end of the Hufflepuff table, your books stacked at your side like a wall, quills and parchment peeking out of your satchel. Your plate was piled high — roast chicken legs, heaps of mashed potatoes dripping with gravy, and three pumpkin pasties waiting for their turn. You were lost in your food, eating happily while rereading notes you’d scrawled between bites.

Across the hall, Cedric Diggory entered with his usual group. He stood out effortlessly — tall, confident, prefect’s badge gleaming against his robes, that easy smile that seemed to follow him everywhere. His friends launched straight into talk of Quidditch practice and weekend plans, but Cedric wasn’t listening. His gaze had already drifted across the hall, and it landed on you.

For a moment, he just watched. You, absorbed in your own world, eating with an appetite that made most boys your age self-conscious, flipping through your notes like you actually enjoyed studying. Cedric’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Go on without me,” he told his mates, shrugging off their confused looks. He crossed the hall in a few long strides and slipped onto the bench right across from you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and inviting. “This spot taken?”

You looked up, startled, crumbs clinging to your fingertips. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal your food. Though… I’ve got to admit, you always know how to stack a plate. That pie looks incredible.”

He reached for a platter and served himself, but his eyes kept flicking back to you, studying you with quiet curiosity. Unlike the others who sometimes made sly comments about your size or your love for books, Cedric’s expression was different — amused, yes, but fond.

“You’ve probably heard this before,” he said after a moment, leaning forward slightly so only you could hear him over the chatter, “but you study more than anyone I know. You’re in here with notes at breakfast, in the library between classes, and still at it after dinner. And somehow…” His words faltered, and he looked down, tearing at his bread roll as if that would disguise the faint pink rising in his cheeks. “Somehow it makes you look… kind of cool. Like you actually know who you are.”

He laughed at himself, shaking his head. “Meanwhile, I spend half my life on a broom and hope Professor Sprout doesn’t notice I turned in my essay late again.”

Cedric’s eyes softened as he glanced at you again. “You know, I think I could learn a lot from you. Not just about school. About… everything.” He rested his chin in his hand for a moment, his golden-boy glow dimming just enough to make him look almost vulnerable.

Then, with a grin, he broke the tension: “So, what do you say? Think you can handle the distraction of having Hogwarts’ so-called ‘golden boy’ hanging around your study sessions? Or should I just keep sneaking over here at lunch until you get used to me?”