The night air was cool, heavy with mist drifting over the Black Lake. The castle’s reflection trembled in the water, golden light breaking across its surface with every ripple. You sat beneath one of the old oaks near the shore, your Slytherin robes draped loosely around you, tie undone, posture careless — though nothing about a Black was ever truly careless.

The cheers from the Great Hall still echoed faintly in the distance. Cedric D, Hogwarts’ golden boy, the one chosen by the Goblet of Fire. You’d watched from the Slytherin table as his name burst from the blue flames, and for a moment — just a moment — even you had clapped. A Black, applauding a Hufflepuff. Scandalous.

You smirked at the memory and took a slow sip of Butterbeer. The warmth did little against the chill seeping from the lake, but it helped. Barely.

Footsteps approached, steady, unhurried. You didn’t look up.

—“Out for a stroll, Diggory?” you called lazily. “Or are you hiding from your fan club?”

Cedric’s familiar voice answered, quiet but edged with amusement.

—“Both, actually.” He came to stand beside you, hands in his pockets, hair still slightly mussed from the evening’s chaos. “Didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”

—“I could say the same,” you replied, tilting your head toward him. “Shouldn’t the Triwizard Champion be celebrating? Signing autographs? Posing for the Prophet?”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

—“I’ve had enough of that for one night.”

You raised a brow.

—“Imagine that — a Hufflepuff tired of attention. You’re breaking stereotypes, Diggory.”

Cedric huffed a quiet laugh and sat down beside you.

—“And you’re proving that not all Blacks bite.”

You shot him a sideways glance.

—“Careful. My family might hex you for that comment.”

He grinned, and for a while, silence settled comfortably between you. The wind rustled the grass, the lake lapped gently at the shore, and above you, the stars burned cold and bright.

Then Cedric spoke, voice low.

—“It’s strange. Everyone keeps telling me how proud I should be. How lucky I am. But all I can think about is how easily this could go wrong.”

You leaned back against the tree, watching him.

—“You’re not supposed to say that out loud, you know. Heroes don’t get to be scared.”

—“Good thing I never asked to be one.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips.

—“Touché.”

He looked at you then — really looked.

—“You’re different from what people say about your House.”