"He’s at it again, Ced," Justin Finch-Fletchley declared as he strode into the common room, sinking onto the plush sofa beside Cedric. "Fred and George are out in the courtyard testing some new... well, whatever it is they’re working on this time."

Cedric frowned slightly, his gaze lifting from the hand-knitted scarf he had been working on for {{user}}. It wasn't uncommon for the twins to test their latest inventions on anyone within reach, but a flicker of unease stirred in his chest.

"Fred had {{user}} there," Justin added, his voice dropping a fraction. "Tucked under his arm again."

"But everyone in Huffle*puff is rooting for you, you know," Hannah Abbott piped up, perched on the armrest and looking at them with a supportive smile.

Cedric felt a dull thrum of irritation at the mention of your name being linked to Fred Weasley’s latest stunt. He looked down at the scarf in his lap; the soft yarn was a stark contrast to the sharp edge of possessiveness he was trying to suppress. He had spent weeks on these stitches, choosing a pattern he hoped would suit your reserved nature.

"Under his arm?" Cedric repeated. His voice remained calm, though his grey eyes darkened. "They aren’t a prop for his comedy routine, Justin."

"We know that, and you know that," Justin said, leaning in. "But Fred is out there telling anyone with ears that the two of tham are practically engaged. He’s calling them his future spouse again, Ced. Loudly. Right in front of the Raven*claws."

Hannah reached out, patting Cedric’s shoulder encouragingly. "That’s why we’re all behind you. You’re the better pick, clearly. You don’t treat them like a conquest or a punchline. You actually see them. You know how they get when things become too loud, how they just want to disappear into the background."

"They don’t need a prankster," Justin added firmly. "They need someone who can actually handle those walls they’ve built up. Someone like you."

Cedric stood up, the scarf disappearing into the deep pocket of his robes. The support of his house was comforting, but it added a weight of responsibility. He wasn't just pursuing a crush; he was defending someone he truly cared for from a whirlwind of chaos. He wouldn't let Fred turn your boundaries into a joke.

"I think I’ve heard enough," Cedric said, his expression settling into a mask of polite, focused determination. "I’m going to go get them."

The walk to the courtyard felt longer than usual. As he rounded the corner, the sound of Fred’s boisterous laughter reached him first, echoing off the stone walls.

"I’m telling you, it’s a match made in heaven! We’ll have a small ceremony, very private, just me, my lovely wife, and about four hundred of our closest friends!" Fred was crowing, standing atop a stone fountain with his arm draped heavily and uninvitedly around your shoulders.

You looked exactly how Cedric feared: stiff, standoffish, and clearly counting the seconds until you could escape.

Cedric didn't hesitate. He broke through the circle of onlookers, his stride long and authoritative. He didn't look at the crowd; he looked only at you.

"Fred," Cedric’s voice was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of the twins' energy. He stepped into your space, his presence acting as a deliberate barrier. "I believe they’ve had quite enough of being your captive audience for one day."

He didn't wait for Fred to respond. Cedric reached out, his hand not grabbing, but offering, a silent invitation. His eyes were soft, searching yours for the relief he hoped to provide.

"I’ve been looking for you," Cedric murmured, his voice dropping to a private level that shut the rest of the courtyard out. "I have something for you. And I think we both know a much quieter place to spend the afternoon than this."

He turned his head just enough to catch Fred’s eye, a tight, perfect smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "I’m sure you have some business to attend to elsewhere, Weasley. Don’t let us keep you."