Winter ball at Hogwarts.

You were standing next to the side tables, a glass of pumpkin juice in your hand, smiling politely at Avery while he tried - without much success - to have a lively conversation. The witch orchestra began to play a slow waltz, and many couples took the center of the hall.

You tried not to look with your eyes. But it was useless.

And then he showed up.

Cedrico Diggory, in an impeccable tuxedo, messy hair than usual, as if he had come running - or if he had been debating against some doubt until the last second. His eyes met you in the crowd as if there was a spell that guided him straight to you.

He walked with purpose, crossing the hall as if no one else existed.

Avery was saying something - you didn’t even hear. He only felt Cedrico’s presence behind you.

“Excuse me,” he said, polite but direct.

Avery hesitated, surprised, but when he saw Cedrico’s firm look, he retreated with a quick and embarrassed nod. Cedrico reached out to you without looking away.

“You promised me a dance, Potter.”

You looked at his hand, then at his face. “Promised?”

“In the library. That night.” He smiled sideways. “You just didn’t know yet.”

You put your hand on his, feeling the firm, warm touch. He pulled you to the center of the hall, one hand on your waist, the other holding yours lightly. The music began to envelop them like an invisible cape.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, your voice low.

“Why?”

“Because it’s going to be a problem.”

Cedrico brought his face closer, the hot whisper close to his ear. “You’re the most addictive problem I’ve ever had.”

You danced as if you were the only ones in the hall. His eyes didn’t leave yours even for a second, and with each turn, every synchronized step, the space between you decreased.

At the end of the song, he stopped, pulling you closer. The hands were now firmly on his waist, and the world around him seemed distant.

“You say you don’t want that,” he challenged, his face glued to his.

You hesitated. Just for pride. But deep down, it had already fallen a long time ago.

“I don’t want to try not to want that,” you whispered back.

Cedrico smiled.

“So we stop trying.”

And he kissed you in the middle of the hall, without fear, without hiding, without hesitation - sealing there something that was already written between the lines of the provocations, the crossed looks, the dances that were still to come.