The Hufflepuff common room is quiet in that late-evening way, the fire burning low. You don’t notice Cedric at first - not until he says your name, softly, like he’s afraid it might shatter something.

You turn. He’s standing a few steps away, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense despite the familiar warmth in his smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says. “Really talk to you.”

You fold your arms, unsure whether it’s for warmth or defence. Cedric notices. Of course he does. He always noticed things like that.

“I know I messed up,” he continues, taking a careful step closer. “I thought giving you space was the right thing. I thought… maybe you’d be better off without me complicating things.” He lets out a breathy laugh, more bitter than amused. “Turns out I was wrong.”

The fire pops behind him. Shadows flicker across his face, and for a moment, he looks less like Hogwarts’ golden boy and more like a boy your age who’s terrified of losing something important.

“I miss you,” Cedric says plainly. No grand speech. No charm. Just truth. “I miss the way you laugh when you’re trying not to. I miss studying with you and pretending we’re focused when we’re not. I miss us.”

He stops in front of you now, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the familiar steadiness you once leaned on without thinking.

“I’m not asking you to forget what happened,” he says gently. “I just- I’m asking if you’d consider trying again. With me. Properly this time.”