stxrz

she/her

[1nslov]

guys I think I’m going crazy, I’m reading so many fics of the same character that my memory’s getting all mixed up and now I can’t remember if a specific thing I remembered happened to the fic I’m reading right now or a fic I read before omg omg omg😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

[omegarodstewart]

[1nslov]

doomed yuri

[gentlesleaze]

Thank you, Rue. Let her memory be a blessing. Amen.

[1nslov]

fucking hell, so no app is gonna let me forget about this finale huh🥹

[klrsrf]

rue bennet and eleven jane hopper i’m so sorry i wasn’t your writer

[1nslov]

cut the show I’m done

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

poor timing

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Word Count: 14k

Summary: How is Cedric meant to ask you out on a date when he keeps getting interrupted by your tornado of siblings?

A/N: This was way longer than I expected it to be

Growing up a Weasley meant you always had someone looking out for you.

It also meant you always had to look out for your family.

When you were very little, you didn’t remember being spoiled the way your brothers claimed you had been. That must have happened when you were still a baby—when your mother finally held her long-awaited daughter in her arms after three boys.

But only a year later, she was blessed again with twins. And suddenly, there were two more mouths to feed, two more babies to soothe, two more crying voices in a house that already never seemed to quiet down.

It wasn’t surprising that somewhere in all that chaos, you slipped through the cracks.

Not completely. Never completely.

Your parents loved you—of course they did. You never doubted that. But love, you would come to learn, didn’t always mean attention. And attention was something that had to be divided carefully in a family as large as yours.

But you didn’t grow up alone.

Not really.

Because where your parents were stretched thin, your brothers filled in the gaps.

Bill. Charlie. Percy.

But especially Charlie.

Charlie had been the one to carry you around the Burrow as if you weighed nothing, settling you on his hip while he did chores, letting you tug at his hair as he laughed and pretended to complain. He was the one who taught you how to climb trees, who patched up your scraped knees, who tied your shoelaces, who read to you when your mother was too tired to finish the story herself.

He liked to joke that you were more his child than your parents’, considering how much he had done to raise you.

So when Charlie first left for Hogwarts, leaving you home with Percy as the only older sibling, you cried.

And cried.

And cried.

For weeks.

Both Charlie and Bill had to send you letters almost every day just to soothe you, but even then you still missed them terribly.

And then the day came when you were old enough to join them.

The platform was loud in the way only Platform Nine and Three-Quarters could be, full of overlapping voices and rushing footsteps and the sharp whistle of the train cutting through it all. Trunks rattled over uneven stone, owls hooted impatiently from their cages, and somewhere behind you, your mother was still fussing over whether you had packed enough socks.

It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way—not yet. Not when you were surrounded on all sides by your family, by the familiar press of bodies and voices that had always meant safety. You stayed close to your brothers, close enough that your sleeve brushed Charlie’s every few steps, just in case.

“Alright,” Bill said at last, sliding open the door to an empty compartment with an ease that made it seem like he’d done it a hundred times before, “In you go.”

Before you could protest, Percy was already lifting your trunk onto the rack with careful precision, muttering something under his breath about proper placement and weight distribution, while Bill adjusted your smaller bags so they sat neatly in the corner.

Charlie nudged your shoulder gently, guiding you inside, but you lingered near the doorway for a moment instead of sitting, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself now that everything had become real.

You watched as Bill brushed his hands together in satisfaction and Percy gave a small, approving nod, as though everything was exactly as it should be.

You hovered in the doorway instead.

“…Can’t I just come with you?” You asked, quieter than you meant to, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the compartment door.

Bill glanced at Percy, then back at you, and something in his expression softened immediately. He reached out without hesitation, ruffling your hair in a way that was more fond than teasing, even if it left a few strands sticking up at odd angles.

“If you stick with us like that,” He said gently, “you’ll never make your own friends.”

You frowned faintly, not quite convinced, your gaze dropping for a second before flicking back up.

“It’s only for the ride,” Percy added, adjusting his sleeves as he straightened, already half-turned toward the corridor, “We'll meet you back at the castle.”

They lingered only a moment longer before stepping back into the corridor, already being pulled away by the movement of students and the rising noise as departure drew closer. You moved to follow them instinctively, your body shifting forward before you caught yourself at the doorway, fingers curling slightly against the frame as their voices faded into the general hum.

Charlie hadn’t left.

He stood just outside the compartment, watching you in that quiet, knowing way of his, like he could see straight through the brave face you were trying to hold together. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and then something in his expression shifted—something softer, more certain—as he stepped back inside and slid the door shut behind him, shutting out the corridor noise just enough to make the space feel smaller, steadier.

“I’ll be right down the train,” He said, nodding toward the direction Bill and Percy had gone, “Third compartment on the left, I think.”

“If you get lonely,” He continued, crouching slightly so he was closer to your eye level, his voice lowering just enough to feel like it was meant only for you, “or if anything happens—anything at all—you come find me. Yeah?”

You nodded, the tight feeling in your chest easing just a little.

“Alright.” You murmured.

Charlie smiled then, softer than before, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the top of your head. It was such a familiar gesture that it grounded you instantly, made everything feel just a little less uncertain, a little less overwhelming.

“See you in a bit.” He said.

And then he was gone too.

The door slid shut behind him with a soft click, and just like that, the noise of the corridor dulled into something distant, muffled by the glass and wood of the compartment. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the empty seat across from you, listening to the low rumble of the train as it finally began to move.

It felt strange, suddenly.

Too quiet.

You sat down slowly, smoothing your hands over your skirt more out of habit than anything else, your gaze drifting toward the window as the platform began to slip away. Families waved from outside, figures blurring together as the train picked up speed, and for a brief second, you caught sight of your mother’s bright hair among the crowd before it disappeared entirely.

Students passed by in groups, laughing and talking, already settled into friendships you hadn’t had the chance to form yet, their voices carrying faintly through the compartment door. Every now and then, someone would glance in, hesitate, and then move on.

For a moment, you considered getting up.

Going after Charlie.

He said you could.

But Bill’s words lingered, stubborn and unshakable.

You’ll never make your own friends.

You were still turning that thought over in your mind when the compartment door slid open.

You looked up quickly, your attention snapping toward the sound as a boy about your age stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the handle as he glanced around the compartment.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked.

You shook your head almost immediately. “No—no, it’s not.”

“Good,” He said with a small, easy smile, stepping inside and sliding the door shut behind him before taking the seat across from you, “Every other compartment seems to be full already.”

You nodded, your fingers curling slightly in your lap as you tried to think of something else to say, aware of that familiar flicker of uncertainty beginning to creep in at the edges. For a moment, the silence stretched just a little too long—

Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms against his knees, closing the distance just enough to make it feel less awkward instead of more.

“I’m Cedric." He offered.

You gave your name in return, a little quieter at first, but steadier than you expected, and something in his expression brightened slightly, like he was pleased you’d said it.

“First year?” He asked.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, “You too?”

“Yeah.” He glanced out the window briefly before looking back at you, “Do you know what house you want to be in?”

You hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “My brothers are all in Gryffindor,” You said, as if that explained anything at all, “So… maybe that one.”

Cedric huffed a quiet laugh at that, not unkind, just amused. “My dad was in Hufflepuff,” He said, “So I think I’ll probably end up there. Though—” his mouth tilted slightly as he glanced at you again, “—Gryffindor doesn’t sound too bad now.”

Whether he meant anything by it or not didn’t really matter.

You felt warmth creep up your face anyway.

The conversation came easier after that, settling into something simple and steady. You talked about classes you thought might be interesting—Transfiguration, maybe, or Charms—and the ones you were a little nervous about.

He admitted he wasn’t sure how he felt about Potions, and you told him you thought it sounded exciting, though your brothers had warned you about the professor being a troll. You weren’t entirely sure if they meant that literally or not, and the way Cedric laughed at that—genuine and a little surprised—made something in your chest loosen.

At some point, he excused himself briefly, returning a few minutes later with snacks in hand, setting a Chocolate Frog carefully on the seat between you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“For you.” He said simply.

You blinked at it, a little startled, “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” He replied with a small shrug, “I wanted to.”

There wasn’t anything grand about it, no expectation behind the gesture, and somehow that made it easier to accept.

“Thank you.” You said, a small smile forming as you picked it up.

You opened the box carefully, peeling back the flap and catching the chocolate frog just before it could leap free, your attention shifting to the card tucked inside. Cedric leaned forward slightly, curiosity lighting his expression.

“Who’d you get?” He asked.

You glanced down at it, then back up at him, “Merlin.”

You looked back at the card, then held it out toward him without much thought, “Do you want it?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, “What? No—are you sure? You should keep it.”

You shrugged lightly, a small, easy motion, “You seem way more interested in it than I am.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, before slowly reaching out and taking the card, something softer settling into his expression.

“Thanks.” He said, quieter this time.

By the time the train finally slowed, the sky had already begun to darken, the last traces of daylight fading into something softer, quieter, as students poured out onto the platform in a rush of movement and chatter. You stayed close to Cedric as you stepped down, not quite thinking about it, just following the steady presence beside you as a large voice called out for first years to gather.

The boat ride felt like something out of a story.

Lantern light flickered against the dark surface of the lake, reflecting in ripples as the small boats carried you across the water, the castle rising ahead of you in a way that made your breath catch without meaning to. It was enormous—far bigger than anything your brothers had ever managed to describe properly—and for a moment, everything else fell away.

You barely noticed how close you and Cedric were sitting until your shoulder brushed his again, the same way it had with Charlie earlier, only this time it didn’t feel like something you needed for reassurance.

Neither of you said much, but you didn’t really need to.

By the time you reached the castle, the noise returned all at once—footsteps echoing through stone corridors, voices bouncing off high ceilings, the shuffle of robes and the occasional nervous laugh breaking through the tension. You followed the line of students into the Great Hall, your gaze lifting almost immediately to the enchanted ceiling above, stars scattered across it like something impossibly real.

It was beautiful.

And overwhelming.

You barely had time to take it all in before the sorting began.

Names were called one by one, each student stepping forward to sit on the stool as the hat decided their place, the hall erupting into cheers with every announcement.

You stood among them, hands clasped tightly together, your attention flickering between the sorting stool and the tables, searching instinctively for familiar faces. It didn’t take long to find them—Bill sitting tall and relaxed, Percy already watching with keen focus, and Charlie leaning forward slightly, his attention fixed on you, giving you a little wave and a thumbs up when you caught his gaze.

You found yourself watching more than listening, your attention drifting until—

"Cedric Diggory."

Cedric stepped forward, looking just a little more serious than he had on the train, though there was still something steady about him, something calm as he sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. For a brief second, the hall went quiet.

Then—

“Hufflepuff!”

The table to your right erupted into applause, loud and warm, and you felt yourself smiling without thinking, clapping along as Cedric pulled the hat off and stood. He glanced toward the crowd as he stepped down, scanning faces quickly—

And then he found you.

He smiled, bright and easy, lifting his hand in a small wave in your direction, like it was the most natural thing in the world to look for you in a room full of people.

You smiled back, returning the gesture without hesitation, something light settling in your chest.

Then he turned, heading toward his table, swallowed up by the group that welcomed him in.

The ceremony continued.

Until—

Your name.

It rang out across the hall, louder than you expected, and for a second, everything inside you seemed to go very, very still.

The walk to the stool felt longer than it should have, your footsteps echoing faintly in your ears as you climbed up and sat down, your hands curling slightly into the fabric of your robes. The hat was placed over your head, slipping down just enough to shadow your vision, and for a second, there was nothing but darkness and the sound of your own heartbeat.

It didn’t take long.

“Gryffindor!”

The word echoed, followed immediately by a burst of cheers from the table to your left, loud and familiar and impossible to mistake.

Relief hit you first.

Then something warmer.

You barely had time to take the hat off before you were being pulled forward, laughter and voices overlapping as you reached the table.

“There she is!”

“About time!”

“Another one for Gryffindor—brilliant!”

Percy clapped for you as you joined the table, patting your shoulder with pride, Bill ruffled your hair before pressing a quick peck to the top of your head and Charlie enveloped you into a tight hug. You laughed, a little breathless, the sound spilling out of you before you could stop it as they crowded around you, hands on your shoulders, your back, your hair—solid, familiar, overwhelming in the best way.

You settled into your seat, still adjusting to the new rhythm of the hall. Plates of food appeared with little fanfare, but everything seemed bigger, brighter, and somehow both familiar and completely new at the same time.

You barely noticed when a familiar blond head turned toward the Gryffindor table again—Cedric, scanning for a glimpse of you before diving into his own group. You caught his eye just long enough to exchange a quick, almost shy smile.

You were just leaving the Great Hall on your way to class when you heard your name.

You slowed slightly, glancing over your shoulder just as someone stepped out of the stream of students moving past you.

Cedric Diggory.

You recognized him immediately, of course. You always did. Not because you sought him out, but because he was noticeable. There was hardly a girl in Hogwarts that didn't know of the Golden Boy Cedric Diggory.

You knew him, in the way that came from shared moments rather than shared time—train rides years ago, the occasional passing conversation, a familiarity that never quite developed into friendship but lingered comfortably in between.

He offered you a small, polite smile when you stopped.

“Hi.” He said when he reached you, slowing his pace to match yours as the two of you fell into step almost without thinking.

“Hi,” You returned, a small flicker of curiosity settling in as you glanced at him, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah—yeah, I just…” He huffed a quiet breath, one hand lifting briefly to the back of his neck in a gesture that almost looked like nerves, though it didn’t quite fit him.

“I was wondering if you’d—well, if you needed a partner for Herbology. Professor Sprout mentioned we’d be pairing up for the next assignment, and I thought…” He trailed off slightly, then smiled, a little more certain this time, “I thought I’d ask before it got chaotic.”

For a second, you just looked at him.

Not because the question was strange—it wasn’t—but because it caught you slightly off guard. You weren’t usually the person people sought out first, not for things like that, and there was something about the way he asked—straightforward, but careful—that made it difficult to respond immediately.

“I—um,” You started, the beginning of an answer forming—

And then you heard it.

Your name.

Again.

This time, it was not calm or measured or easy to miss.

It was strained, uneven, pulled tight with something dangerously close to panic.

You turned instinctively, your attention snapping toward the sound just in time to see Ron pushing his way through the corridor toward you, his face red, eyes glassy, shoulders tense like he was barely holding himself together.

He didn’t even slow down when he reached you—didn’t say anything at all, really—just collided into you with enough force to make you take a half-step back as his arms wrapped around you, his face burying itself into your shoulder.

And then he broke.

Not quietly, not subtly—full, shaking sobs that made his grip tighten as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Any trace of hesitation vanished instantly.

Your entire focus shifted without a second thought, your arms coming up around him automatically as you steadied him, one hand moving to the back of his head in a familiar, grounding gesture.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, your voice dropping into something calmer, gentler, the kind of tone you’d used a hundred times before without even realizing it.

He tried to answer.

“I—she—she sent—” He tried, his voice thick and uneven.

Your brow furrowed slightly, “Slow down, I can’t understand you.”

“A—Howler—” He finally managed, the word coming out in a miserable wail.

And then it clicked.

Of course.

Despite yourself, you glanced up briefly, meeting Cedric’s gaze for just a second, and there was something shared there—understanding, a flicker of quiet amusement that neither of you voiced but both clearly felt.

You looked back down at Ron, your expression softening again as you reached up to wipe at his cheeks, brushing away tears that didn’t seem to stop coming.

“Well,” You said gently, not unkindly, “you did steal and then wreck our car. I don’t think you could’ve expected to get off with only a warning.”

That did not help.

If anything, it made him cling tighter, his voice muffled as he groaned into your shoulder, mortified all over again.

“She didn’t have to do it in front of everyone,” He mumbled, the words thick and miserable, “It was so humiliating—everyone was looking at me—”

“I know,” You murmured, softer this time, shifting slightly so you could look at him properly, your hands steady as you wiped the rest of his tears away with your thumbs. “I know. That part wasn’t very nice.”

He sniffed, shoulders still trembling, but the worst of it seemed to be passing now, the sharp edge of it dulling into something more manageable under the familiarity of your voice, your presence.

You hesitated for half a second, then smiled just a little.

“Come on,” You said, tilting your head toward the corridor, “Let’s go to the kitchens. I think you deserve something after that.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, still blotchy and miserable, but already softening at the suggestion.

“Okay.” He muttered, nodding slightly.

You gave his shoulder a small squeeze before straightening, your hand lingering briefly at the back of his arm. Then, as you turned to leave with him, you glanced back at Cedric, your expression apologetic as you mouthed a silent sorry.

He just shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement, like he had expected something along these lines from the moment your brother appeared.

“It’s fine,” He said lightly, though you were already half-turned away, “We’ll figure it out later.”

Professor Sprout, in the end, did assign partners.

Efficiently, without hesitation, and with absolutely no regard for any quiet arrangements that might have been attempted beforehand. By the time you arrived for the lesson, names were already being called, pairs already being formed, and whatever Cedric had been hoping for dissolved into something unspoken and irrelevant before either of you had the chance to bring it up again.

You ended up with someone from your house—pleasant enough, focused, not particularly talkative—and the lesson passed without incident.

Still, you noticed.

Not in any obvious way, not in a way that lingered too long, but just enough to register the brief glance Cedric gave you from across the greenhouse when the pairings were announced, the small, almost amused exhale that followed before he turned his attention back to his own partner.

It wasn’t disappointment, exactly.

Just something that could have been something else.

And then it passed.

Or at least, it should have.

A few days later, you found yourself alone again—or as alone as one could be in a castle like Hogwarts—standing just outside one of the quieter corridors near the courtyard, adjusting the strap of your bag as you mentally sorted through the next part of your day.

The air was cooler there, the noise of passing students softened by distance, and for a moment, it felt like a pause between everything else.

“Hey.”

Cedric stood a few steps away, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, his expression easy but just slightly more deliberate than usual, like he had made the decision to be there rather than simply ending up there by chance.

“Hi.” You said, a hint of recognition slipping into your tone now, something warmer than before.

He stepped a little closer, glancing briefly down the corridor before looking back at you. “I was going to ask—” He started, then paused, as if reconsidering his wording, “Did you understand the last bit of the Transfiguration homework? The part about switching incantations mid-cast. I was looking over it earlier and—”

It was a better excuse this time.

Though you were questioning why Golden Boy was asking you instead of literally anyone else. It wasn't like he had a shortage of people who were willing to give an arm and a leg to help him.

You opened your mouth to answer, already shifting into the conversation—

And then—

"(Y/N)!"

The voice was sharp, urgent, and far too familiar.

You turned immediately, your attention snapping toward the sound just as Ginny appeared at the end of the corridor, her steps quick and uneven, her expression caught somewhere between panic and embarrassment in a way that made your stomach drop before she even reached you.

With her bright red hair half-falling loose from its tie, her Gryffindor robes swaying around her, and the deep flush spreading across her face, she looked—rather unhelpfully—like a blur of red rushing straight toward you.

She didn’t slow down.

“Can I talk to you?” She blurted the second she was close enough, her voice lowered but no less frantic for it, her hands hovering awkwardly at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them.

You didn’t even think about it.

“Of course,” You said instantly, your tone shifting the same way it always did, steady and grounding as you stepped toward her, your focus narrowing completely, “What’s wrong?”

Ginny glanced briefly past you—just enough to notice Cedric standing there—before leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that still carried urgency, "In private."

Your eyes racked over her body before they landed on the jacket that she had tied around her waist.

“Oh.” You said softly, not startled, not alarmed—just calm. Understanding. Immediate.

Ginny’s hands clenched slightly at the fabric of her sleeves. “I didn’t know—it just—I don’t know what to do.” She rushed out, her words tumbling over each other now that she’d started, the embarrassment catching up with her all at once.

“It’s okay,” You said quickly, reaching out to steady her, your voice lowering just enough to keep it between the two of you, “It’s alright, Gin. It happens.”

She shook her head, mortified, "A boy from Ravenclaw saw—I'm so embarrassed."

“I’ve got you,” You interrupted gently, already guiding her to turn slightly, positioning yourself just enough to shield her from the open corridor without making it obvious, “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll fix it.”

Behind you, Cedric hadn’t moved.

Hadn’t interrupted.

But you were aware of him in that distant way you became aware of anything you had to leave unfinished, the conversation that had barely begun already slipping out of reach.

You glanced back at him briefly, just enough to catch his eye, your expression apologetic in a way that felt almost familiar now.

He didn’t even look surprised.

If anything, there was something faintly amused in the way he exhaled, the smallest shake of his head following like he’d already accepted how this was going to go.

“Go,” He said lightly, one corner of his mouth lifting, “I think this might be more important than Transfiguration.”

You let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh under different circumstances, nodding once in thanks before turning your attention fully back to Ginny, your hand settling at her arm in a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” you murmured, already guiding her down the corridor, your voice soft but certain. “We’ll go to the dormitories first, alright? I’ll help you.”

She nodded quickly, still flustered but clearly relieved, her steps falling into place beside yours as you led her away.

You gave one last glance to Cedric, "I can ask Percy to share some of his notes with you?"

He nodded, a smile on his face.

He didn't really have the heart to tell you that the homework was already complete.

By the time the castle began to settle again, you didn’t feel like celebrating.

Everyone else did.

The relief had come quickly, spreading through the corridors like wildfire the moment the truth was out—Ginny was safe, Ron was safe, the attacks were over, and whatever had been lurking in the shadows of Hogwarts had finally been dealt with.

There was laughter again, louder than before, conversations filled with retellings and exaggerations and a kind of excitement that only came from surviving something no one had fully understood in the first place.

You couldn’t quite bring yourself to join in.

Because every time someone said her name—every time someone mentioned what had happened, what she had gone through, what she had almost—

All you could think was:

You hadn’t known.

Not once.

Not when she was quieter than usual, not when she seemed distracted, not when something in her felt… off. You had been there. Right there. Watching, talking, helping with everything that didn’t matter—

And somehow you missed the one thing that did.

So instead of staying in the common room, instead of letting yourself be pulled into the relief of it all, you slipped away.

Down familiar corridors, past the places you knew wouldn’t be crowded, until you reached the kitchens. It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting at the long wooden table with a mug of hot chocolate cradled between your hands, the warmth of it seeping into your skin in a way that should have been comforting.

It wasn’t.

You stared down into it instead, watching the faint swirl of steam rise and disappear, your grip tightening slightly around the ceramic as everything you’d been holding back finally began to surface.

It was stupid, really.

Your siblings were safe.

That was all that should have mattered.

And it did—of course it did—but it didn’t erase the rest of it, didn’t quiet the heavy, twisting feeling sitting in your chest, the one that kept circling back to the same thought over and over again.

You should've noticed. You should've known.

Your vision blurred before you realized you were crying, the first tear slipping down before you had the chance to stop it, followed by another, and then another until it became harder to pretend you were in control of it.

You ducked your head slightly, one hand coming up to press against your eyes as if that might be enough to hold it back.

You were her older sister.

That was supposed to mean something.

It was supposed to mean you noticed when things were wrong.

It was supposed to mean she came to you.

Like how you would go to your older brothers.

The sound of the door opening barely registered at first, slipping into the background of everything else, until the faint shift in the room—the subtle change in movement, in presence—pulled your attention up just enough to break through your thoughts.

You didn’t look up immediately.

Not until they stopped near your table.

“Hey.”

The voice was familiar.

You blinked, the world coming back into focus in slow pieces as you lifted your head, your eyes landing on Cedric where he stood a few steps away, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it, something careful in the way he looked at you like he already knew he’d found you at a bad moment.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then you let out a quiet breath that didn’t quite steady, your gaze dropping back down to your mug as your fingers tightened slightly around it.

“Hi.” You managed, your voice quieter than usual, roughened at the edges in a way you didn’t bother trying to hide.

He didn’t ask to sit.

He just did, pulling out the chair across from you with a quiet scrape and lowering himself into it like he intended to stay this time, like he wasn’t going to be interrupted or pulled away or left with half a conversation again.

“I didn’t see you at dinner.” He said after a moment, not accusing, not even questioning—just stating it gently, like an opening rather than a demand.

You huffed a soft, humorless breath at that, your lips pressing together briefly as you shook your head.

“I wasn’t hungry.” You said, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Cedric didn’t rush to fill it, didn’t push, didn’t try to steer you anywhere you weren’t ready to go. He just sat there, patient in a way that made it easier to exist in the quiet rather than feel like you had to escape it.

And somehow, that made it harder to hold everything in.

“I just—” you started, then stopped, your grip tightening slightly around the mug as your gaze fixed somewhere just past it. “I feel like such a bad older sister.”

The words came out quieter than you expected, but once they were there, they didn’t stop.

“I had no idea,” You continued, your voice wavering just enough to give you away, “I didn’t know she was struggling like that, I didn’t know she wasn’t talking to anyone, I didn’t—”

You swallowed, blinking quickly as the pressure behind your eyes built again, “She had to turn to some stupid, sentient journal with the conscience of the bloody dark lord to talk about things. About feelings. About boys.”

"Your her sister. Not a mind reader. Ginny knows how much you love her. No one expects you to know what's going on with your siblings all the time."

You didn’t respond right away.

Your gaze dropped again, your thoughts shifting, not gone—not fixed—but nudged, just slightly, out of the spiral they’d been stuck in.

After a moment, your shoulders sank just a fraction, some of the tension easing in a way you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I still should’ve been better.” You murmured.

“She’s okay now,” He added after a moment, "That's all that matters."

The hospital wing smelled faintly of disinfectant and something sweet, probably from Madam Pomfrey’s constant efforts to make it more welcoming. The low hum of worry and whispered conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clatter of a tray or the soft footfalls of nurses.

Harry lay in bed, pale and bruised, one arm still in a sling and a bandage running along the back of his head. His eyes were closed when you entered with Ron and Hermione, though you could see the tightness around his jaw even from a distance, the way his body refused to fully relax.

Cedric was already there, standing near the foot of the bed, hands loosely clasped in front of him. His expression was a mixture of concern and that quiet, composed kindness that seemed to follow him everywhere. The rest of the Quidditch team lingered nearby, some leaning against walls, others sitting on chairs, their chatter subdued in the presence of the hospital wing’s calm authority.

You made your way forward, letting your eyes meet Cedric’s briefly. There was an unspoken acknowledgment there, a quiet thread of familiarity that had been building for years—the kind that didn’t need words. He smiled softly, and you returned it with one of your own, both of you sharing a moment of warmth amidst the tension.

“I—uh—how are you feeling?” Cedric asked, stepping slightly closer to Harry’s bedside. His voice was gentle, careful, like he was trying to tread without adding any more worry.

Harry groaned softly, opening one eye, but his voice came out a little hoarse, “I fell off my broom. I think that says it all.”

Cedric’s expression tightened just a little, a flicker of guilt crossing his features, though he quickly masked it with his usual calm demeanor. He glanced at Oliver, who was hovering nearby, arms crossed, and then back at Harry.

"The dementors clearly interfered with the game, Hufflepuff has agreed to a rematch."

“No,” Oliver said flatly, “Hufflepuff won fair and square, we refuse.”

Cedric’s shoulders slumped fractionally, but he kept his gaze on Harry. When his eyes flicked toward you, though, there was a quiet softness there, a flicker of amusement and admiration all at once. You smiled at him, a small, fond curve of your lips. He looked so earnest, so sweet, offering a rematch even though he’d been the one to win.

“Don’t worry about it.” You murmured under your breath, letting the warmth in your smile reach him.

Then, inevitably, the calm shattered.

Fred and George, never ones to miss an opportunity, had clearly been lingering nearby, and their grins were impossible to miss even from across the room. “Oi, Harry,” George called softly, leaning against the wall, “you saw the Grim in Divination, didn’t you? That’s never good…”

“Yeah!” George added, elbowing him lightly, “Better start making friends in the afterlife! Any last words, mate?”

Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. Ron’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t speak. Harry’s eyes were already narrowing, more in irritation than fear, though there was a small twitch in his shoulder that betrayed his nerves.

You didn’t even pause. “Forge!” You snapped, your voice cutting through the murmurs like a whip. Both twins froze mid-smirk, turning toward you, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Fred and George exchanged a glance, then slowly sank back, their amusement dampened under your gaze. They muttered under their breath but said nothing more, clearly smart enough to know the game was up—for now.

Cedric blinked at you, clearly caught off guard, and then tilted his head slightly, one brow raised in curiosity.

“Forge?” He asked quietly, amusement lacing his tone.

“With the amount of trouble these two get into,” You sighed, “it’s easier just to call them by one name.”

The courtyard was quieter than usual.

Not empty—Hogwarts was never truly empty—but quieter in the way it always was toward the end of the year. Most students were either shut away in their common rooms or the library, scrambling to finish the assignments they had put off for far too long, or sprawled outside, taking advantage of the rare stretch of warm sunlight.

Students lingered in smaller groups, scattered across benches and steps, their voices softer, their conversations unhurried. The air had finally warmed, sunlight spilling over the stone and settling into something almost comfortable.

You sat on the low wall near the fountain, one leg tucked slightly beneath you, your bag resting at your side as you absently traced your finger along the edge of your sleeve.

Cedric stood nearby at first, lingering just long enough to make it seem unintentional before—after a moment’s hesitation—he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.

“Done with everything?” He asked, glancing over at you.

“Mostly,” You said, exhaling softly, “I think I’ve got one more essay left for Transfiguration, but I’m pretending it doesn’t exist for now.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at that, his head dipping slightly, “That’s probably for the best.”

A small silence followed and you tilted your head slightly, glancing at him, “What about you?”

“Finished.” He said, though there was a faint hesitation behind it, like his attention wasn’t fully on the answer. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, once, twice—restless in a way you didn’t usually see from him.

“…Everything alright?” You asked, softer now, your gaze lingering on him just a second longer.

Cedric let out a breath, something shifting in his expression—something more uncertain than you were used to. He glanced at you, then away again, like he was trying to find the right words.

“Yeah, I just—” He started, then stopped, his hand lifting briefly to the back of his neck.

“I was wondering if you—” He tried again, his voice quieter now, more deliberate, “if you might want to—”

“Miss Weasley.”

The voice cut cleanly through the moment.

You both turned immediately.

Professor McGonagall stood a few steps away, her posture as straight as ever, her expression composed—but there was something in her eyes, something that made your stomach drop before she even spoke again.

You were already on your feet before you realized it.

“Yes, Professor?”

“One of your brothers has been taken to the hospital wing.”

The words landed all at once.

Your breath caught. “What—?” You took a step forward instinctively, your mind already racing ahead of you, “Which one?”

“Ronald.”

You stared at her for half a second.

Then—despite everything, despite the concern already tightening in your chest—your shoulders dropped just slightly, disbelief slipping in around the edges.

“…Again?” You said, the word coming out before you could stop it.

McGonagall’s lips pressed together, though whether she was suppressing a sigh or a comment, you couldn’t quite tell.

You ran a hand over your face briefly, already turning on your heel.

“Why is it always those three?” You muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone else, exasperation bleeding into the worry, “Honestly, I leave them alone for five minutes...”

Cedric immediately fell into step beside you, his usual composure giving way to concern, though his hands stayed in his pockets, tight against himself as if holding on to some semblance of control.

“You—do you need me to come with you?” He asked quietly, looking at you with that soft, careful gaze he always reserved for moments like this.

You shook your head. “No… no, I’ve got this.” But your pace quickened, Cedric matching you effortlessly.

As you hurried down the familiar corridors, the casual moment that had been building—the one where Cedric was clearly about to ask you to Hogsmeade—slipped just out of reach. Instead, the urgency of the hospital wing, the thought of Ron writhing in pain, took over.

“You were going to ask me something...” You said quietly, almost to yourself, stealing a glance at Cedric. His lips twitched, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah…” He murmured, the words trailing off as his gaze flicked toward you, “We’ll have to… save that for another day.”

The doors to the Hospital Wing swung open with more force than strictly necessary, your steps quick and purposeful as your eyes immediately scanned the room.

It didn’t take long to find him.

Ron was propped up in one of the beds, his leg elevated and wrapped, hair a mess, freckles standing out starkly against skin that was just a little too pale—but he was awake. Talking. Complaining, probably.

Alive.

Your shoulders dropped slightly, relief hitting first, sharp and immediate.

And then—

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!”

Ron startled so hard he nearly knocked his own pillow over. His eyes went wide the second he saw you, pure instinct kicking in before anything else.

“It wasn’t my fault!” He blurted immediately, sitting up straighter despite the clear pain it caused, “Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew and he framed Sirius Black!”

You stopped mid-step.

“…what?”

The path had long since stopped resembling anything civilized.

What had started as something that could vaguely pass as a trail had quickly dissolved into uneven ground, overgrown roots, and branches that seemed determined to catch on your sleeves at every opportunity.

You stepped over yet another fallen log with a quiet huff, brushing leaves from your skirt as you glanced ahead.

“Dad,” Ron called from somewhere behind you, already sounding tired, “where exactly are we going?”

“Somewhere in this direction.” Your father replied cheerfully, not slowing in the slightest.

“That’s not very reassuring.” Hermione muttered.

Fred snorted, “He hasn’t the faintest clue, has he?”

“I heard that,” Your father said mildly, “And I’d like to remind you that I am leading us to the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Eventually.” George added.

You huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped over a particularly stubborn root, your shoulder brushing lightly against Ginny’s.

“Do you actually know where the portkey is?” You asked, glancing at your father.

“Haven’t the foggiest!” He admitted, cheerfully.

A chorus of groans followed immediately.

Fred and George exchanged a look, Ron muttered something under his breath about typical, and Ginny let out a dramatic sigh as she trudged forward.

Harry and Hermione, walking just behind you, shared a glance that was somewhere between amusement and mild concern.

The group pressed on, the forest thick around you, the sound of footsteps and rustling leaves filling the space between conversations. Just as you were beginning to think your earlier comment might actually be correct—

“Ah! There we are!”

Your father’s voice lit up with sudden triumph, and you looked up just in time to see him veering slightly off the path toward a large tree.

A man stood beneath it, broad and sturdy, holding onto several bags that looked far too heavy to be carried comfortably.

“Amos!” Your father greeted warmly, striding forward, “Good to see you!”

“Arthur!” The man—Amos—returned just as enthusiastically, shifting the bags in his grip as the two men shook hands.

The rest of you filtered in behind, and introductions began almost immediately.

“This is my family!”

Names were exchanged, greetings offered, and you stepped forward when it was your turn, offering a polite smile.

You offered a polite smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you, my dear.” He said warmly.

Your gaze flicked briefly to the bags near his feet, and before you could think twice about it, you stepped forward slightly.

“Can I help you with any of those?” You asked.

Amos blinked at you, clearly charmed. “Aren’t you sweet, love? No, no—it’s quite alright.” He waved a hand dismissively before adding, with a touch of amused exasperation, “My son should be carrying them anyway.”

There was a beat.

Then—

A sudden rustle overhead.

Before you could even react, something dropped from the tree above with a solid thud, landing just a few feet away.

You startled sharply, stepping back on instinct, your heart jumping into your throat—

Only to be met with a very familiar face.

Cedric Diggory straightened from where he’d landed, brushing a bit of dirt from his sleeves like this was a completely normal entrance.

“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.

Your father lit up immediately, “And this strapping young lad must be Cedric!”

Cedric smiled, polite and composed as ever, “Yes, sir.”

But then his eyes flicked to you. There was a glint of amusement there, a teasing curve to his mouth as he clearly clocked the way you’d jumped.

You told yourself the increase heartrate was because of the fright.

The world snapped back into place all at once.

Your feet hit solid ground, though not gracefully, and for a moment everything spun—wind in your ears, the taste of dust in your mouth, your grip still locked tight around the portkey like letting go might send you flying again.

And then—

Stillness.

Grass beneath your boots. Voices. The distant roar of something massive in the distance.

You let go.

Around you, everyone else was doing the same—stumbling, coughing, untangling themselves from one another in various states of disarray.

“Ugh—” Ron groaned somewhere to your left.

“I hate portkeys.” Hermione muttered, pushing her hair out of her face.

Harry, however, was glaring at you.

“You didn’t have to push my face into the manky old boot.” He whined, wiping at his cheek.

You turned your head, already narrowing your eyes as he pushed himself up from the ground, brushing at his glasses in mild offense.

“I told you to grab the boot,” You shot back without missing a beat, “Twice.”

“I was going to grab it!”

“You weren’t.” You said flatly.

“I was—!”

“Would you rather we’d just left you there?”

He opened his mouth, then paused, “…okay, but you still didn’t have to shove me.”

Behind you, Cedric chuckled, falling into step with you quite easily as your joint families began the trek towards the tents.

“Never a day off, huh?” He said lightly, amusement warm in his voice.

You blinked at him for a second, slightly puzzled by the comment, like you hadn’t quite realized what you’d just done.

“What?” You asked.

He gestured vaguely between you and Harry, his smile widening just a fraction. “You,” He said simply, “And your tornado of siblings.”

You huffed a quiet breath, glancing away for a second as your father’s voice called out ahead, already moving everyone along toward the tents, "They're a circus."

Cedric laughed softly under his breath, falling into step beside you as the group began moving forward, the field stretching out ahead, dotted with tents that grew more and more elaborate the further you walked.

For a moment, things settled—just walking, the distant buzz of the World Cup crowd building in the background, the aftermath of the portkey fading into something almost normal.

Cedric glanced at you again. “So—” He started, clearly picking up a conversation he’d been trying to have earlier, “about—”

“—Charlie! Bill!”

You didn’t even realize you’d cut him off until it was too late.

The second you spotted them—two familiar figures standing just outside one of the tents—you were already moving.

Charlie barely had time to react before you collided into him, your arms wrapping tightly around him as he laughed, catching you easily and lifting you slightly off the ground.

“There she is!” He said, his voice full of warmth.

“Hi!” You breathed, grinning as you pulled back just enough to look at him properly before immediately leaning into Bill next, who didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Missed us that much?” Bill teased.

“Not at all.” You shot back, though your smile gave you away.

“Well, well, well,” Fred began, spinning around to step in front of you, hands on his hips like the self-appointed announcer of the world, “look at this! Some would think you don’t like the rest of your siblings at all!”

“I don’t.” You said, perfectly deadpan.

Behind you, the rest of your family caught up quickly, voices overlapping, greetings loud and chaotic as always.

Cedric slowed a few steps back, watching the scene unfold with a small smile on his face.

The tents were set, your parents occupied somewhere deeper in the campsite, and your siblings had already scattered—some exploring, some arguing, some undoubtedly causing problems.

You were just stepping out from your family’s tent when you spotted him again.

Cedric.

He was making his way over, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, posture relaxed but purposeful—like he knew exactly where he was going.

Your stomach did that annoying little flip it had started doing around him lately.

You ignored it.

“Well then,” Bill said, straightening slightly as Cedric came to a stop beside you. His tone was light, but there was something amused behind it, “Who’s this?”

You opened your mouth to answer—

But of course, he wasn’t finished.

“We’ve got a lot of siblings,” Bill continued thoughtfully, glancing Cedric up and down as if assessing him, “but I think I’d remember if Mum had another one.”

You rolled your eyes immediately, “Oh, shut up.”

Charlie snorted beside him, arms loosely crossed, watching the interaction with easy curiosity.

You gestured between them. “Cedric, this is Bill,” You nodded toward your older brother, “And that’s Charlie.”

Cedric straightened slightly, recognition settling in almost instantly.

“You need no introduction,” He said, a small, genuine smile forming, “You’re a legend. Best Seeker Gryffindor’s had in years.”

Charlie blinked once—

Then broke into a grin.

“Oh, I like you,” He said immediately, stepping forward and clapping Cedric firmly on the shoulder, jostling him slightly, “Diggory, right?”

Cedric laughed under his breath, steadying himself, “Yeah.”

“Knew I did,” Charlie nodded, as if this confirmed everything, “Bloke with a good head on his shoulders.”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going, “Flattery will get you everywhere with him.”

Cedric’s laugh softened as he glanced at you briefly, something warm flickering there before he looked back at Charlie, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only the good things, I hope.” Charlie grinned.

“Debatable.” You cut in dryly.

Bill let out a low chuckle at that, clearly enjoying himself as the four of you fell into easy conversation. It wasn’t anything particularly serious—just small talk, Quidditch, the World Cup. There was laughter and teasing, but nothing too serious—just the kind of light, easy back-and-forth that made Cedric’s presence feel completely natural, like he’d always belonged in these small moments with your family.

And every now and then, you caught him glancing at you.

Then—

“(Y/N)!”

Ginny’s voice rang out across the campsite.

You closed your eyes briefly.

"Can you braid my hair?! I want Dutch braids!"

You let out a long, suffering sigh, already pushing yourself to your feet, “Duty calls.”

Charlie laughed immediately, loud and unhelpful.

“Laugh it up,” You said over your shoulder, glancing back at him, “It’ll be you next.”

He scoffed, completely unbothered, “Please. I already did my time with you.”

Cedric, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, tilted his head slightly, “Did you?”

That was all it took.

“Oh, yes,” Charlie said eagerly, clearly delighted to have the chance to embarrass you in front of someone else for once, “You have no idea—she used to cling to me all the time when she was little. Every time I tried to go out with the lads, there she’d be, bawling her eyes out on the doorstep because she didn’t want me to go.”

You winced, covering your face for a moment, but Charlie wasn’t done.

“And there was this rule,” He continued, voice full of mock seriousness, “if I wanted to play Quidditch, I had to put her down for a nap first. Otherwise she would cry the entire game, thinking I’d get hurt on my broom. Every. Single. Time.”

Cedric laughed, genuinely this time, leaning slightly forward like he was savoring every embarrassing detail, “That’s actually kind of adorable.”

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Well excuse me,” You said sharply, “for loving my older brother! I shall never do such an unsavory thing again.”

With that, you stormed off toward Ginny, leaving Charlie and Bill doubled over in laughter behind you.

The Great Hall was far more somber than usual. The tables had been cleared, and the usual magical sky that lit up the room with sparkling stars was gone, leaving the Goblet of Fire in the center of the hall as the sole source of light, bathing everything in a delicate, almost eerie blue glow.

You inwardly wished you had gotten to the hall before your brothers had downed the aging potion—if you had, you would have smacked them so hard they might think twice before attempting something so dimwitted.

Unfortunately, it seemed you had arrived just a few minutes too late. Fred and George had ignored Hermione’s warnings entirely and were now rolling on the floor, bickering like children—or rather, old men, considering they looked every bit their great-grandfathers, complete with wrinkles, grey hair, and a beard to match.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a long sigh, stepping forward, “Forge! Seriously?!”

They barely noticed, bickering and rolling against each other as if you weren’t even there. You crouched quickly, yanking their ears in opposite directions to separate them.

“Ow! Hey!” Fred yelped, squirming.

“Oi! That’s cheating!” George shouted, flailing.

“I don’t care!” You snapped, straightening and glaring at them both, “Stop it. Right now.”

They froze, glancing up at you with sheepish grins, like they might actually apologize. But, of course, it didn’t last.

“You could sign up,” Fred said casually, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you’re seventeen. You could—”

“Absolutely not.” You interrupted firmly. “I am not going to do something as moronic as sign up for a death wish.”

“Harsh.” Came the teasing voice beside you.

You turned, and there he was: Cedric Diggory, hands tucked casually into his pockets, looking absolutely soaked to the bone like he had just gotten caught in the rain.

“You wound me, Weasley.” He said, voice light but carrying that teasing edge you’d learned to expect from him.

You frowned, concern quickly replacing your irritation, “You’d better hope your name doesn’t get pulled, Cedric. The tasks are dangerous. This whole thing is imbecilic.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” He said softly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, “I’d say you were worried about me.”

“Worried the Yule Ball is going to get canceled on account of a funeral, more like it.” You muttered, rolling your eyes.

“Such little faith,” He said, voice lowering in a way that made your pulse skip, “But—uh, speaking of the Yule Ball—I was wondering… maybe you’d like to—”

Before he could finish, the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a dramatic crash, drawing every eye in the room. The tallest, broadest figure you’d ever seen strode in: Viktor Krum.

All conversation ceased instantly. Every student froze, eyes widening, as the Bulgarian Quidditch star made his way confidently to the center of the hall, robes sweeping the floor with every step.

He passed the line, reached the Goblet of Fire, and placed his name inside, sparing only a brief glance at Hermione as he did. You tilted your head, watching the interaction between them with quiet curiosity.

He withdrew his hand, and the hall erupted into cheers, the excitement and tension washing over the room. Just like that, Cedric’s question—and the small, promising moment between you—was swept away.

The stands were packed.

The noise was overwhelming—cheering, shouting, the low hum of anticipation vibrating through the air—but it all felt distant to you, muffled behind the rapid thud of your own heartbeat.

Because down below—

Cedric was stepping into the arena.

You didn’t realize your hands had clenched until your nails bit into your palms, your breath catching as the gates opened and the dragon came into view.

It was massive.

Far bigger than you’d imagined, scales glinting in the light, smoke curling from its nostrils as it shifted, wings twitching with barely-contained power. You brought your hands up almost immediately, fingers splaying just enough so you could barely see through them.

“I’m not watching,” You said, even as your eyes stayed fixed between the gaps, “I’m not watching—”

The dragon roared.

You flinched.

“—I’m watching.”

Around you, people were shouting, gasping, reacting to every movement—but you were locked in on him. Every dodge, every spell, every second he got just a little too close—

Your stomach dropped.

“Cedric—” You whispered under your breath, like he could somehow hear you.

And then—

It was over.

The egg was in his hands.

The stands erupted.

You didn’t even realize you were moving until you were already pushing through the crowd, down the steps, heart still racing as the adrenaline hadn’t quite faded yet. By the time you reached him, he was being ushered toward the edge of the arena, healers already moving in.

You waited until he was back in the privacy of his tent to approach, lest that cow Skeeter see you and decide to write some longwinded lie about how Cedric was madly in love with you.

Cedric blinked, slightly breathless, a little flushed from the heat and effort—but when he saw you, something in his expression softened instantly.

“Well, hello to you too.” He said, voice light despite the situation.

“You’re burned,” You said panicked, ignoring him completely as your fingers brushed carefully along his jaw, already assessing the damage, the skin under your touch began to get remarkably redder and you felt your heart clench, "I told you this was a horrible idea, Cedric."

He huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t stop you as you continued to check him over. The burn wasn’t terrible—but it was enough. Enough to make your chest tighten just looking at it.

“You could’ve been seriously hurt.” You muttered, quieter now, more to yourself than him.

Cedric’s gaze flickered over your face, something softer settling there.

“But I wasn’t.” He said gently.

You didn’t respond right away, finishing what you were doing before stepping back slightly, your shoulders relaxing just a fraction now that he was—relatively—fine.

“…You did well." You said finally, meeting his eyes.

A small smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, “I mean, it was still a completely idiotic thing to sign up for—but you did well.”

He laughed softly, “I’ll take that as high praise, coming from you.”

There was a beat.

The noise of the crowd carried on around you, distant again, like the two of you had been momentarily carved out of it.

Cedric shifted slightly, like he was working up to something again.

"So—about the ball—" He started, a little more confident this time, a little more certain now that he had your full attention.

But before he actually got the words out—

A roar of cheers erupted behind you.

Louder than before.

You turned instinctively, just in time to see Harry enter the arena.

“Oh—”

Your attention snapped away immediately, your head turning fully now, your focus shifting as the crowd surged with excitement again.

“Harry!” You called, already stepping forward slightly, completely pulled into the moment.

Cedric blinked.

Then looked between you and the arena.

Then back at you.

And laughed.

“Well,” He said, shaking his head slightly, a grin pulling at his lips, “way to make a guy feel jealous.”

You glanced back at him, only half-processing what he’d said, still caught up in the adrenaline of it all, “What?”

But he just smiled, stepping back slightly, giving you space as your attention stayed fixed on Harry now.

“Nothing,” He said easily, “Go on.”

The noise from the arena hadn’t quite faded yet.

Students were still talking over each other, replaying every moment of the task like they’d all personally been down there facing dragons instead of watching safely from the stands. The air felt charged, buzzing with adrenaline that hadn’t settled, and even as you stepped away from it all, your heart still hadn’t quite slowed.

You barely made it past the outer edge of the enclosure before a familiar voice cut through the chaos—

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?”

You froze.

Your head snapped up so fast it almost hurt.

No—

There was no way—

But there he was.

Leaning casually against one of the wooden barriers, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Charlie?”

The word left you half in disbelief, half in something brighter—something immediate.

His grin widened.

And that was all it took.

You didn’t think—you just moved.

“Charlie!”

You practically launched yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle as he laughed, already bracing for the impact, catching you easily like he always did.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” You said, pulling back just enough to look at him properly, hands still gripping his sleeves like he might disappear if you let go, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

"I couldn't tell you because I'm here for work, love. Someone’s got to handle the dragons.”

You blinked.

“…You brought them?”

Charlie grinned, clearly proud of that, “Course I did.”

"Couldn't you have brought slightly friendlier ones?"

He laughed, "These are the friendlier ones."

The corridors between classes were always busy, but there was a different kind of chaos that came with a castle full of students anticipating something like the Yule Ball.

Voices echoed off the stone walls, laughter bouncing between groups, whispers slipping through in quick bursts—who was going with who, who had already been asked, who was still waiting. Last you heard, Harry was going with Cho, Fred had somehow managed to land Angelina without even properly asking her, and Ron had spectacularly failed every attempt he’d made, growing more miserable by the hour.

You were halfway to your next class, books tucked under your arm, your mind only half on where you were going, when you felt it—that familiar presence falling into step beside you.

You didn’t need to look.

“You really shouldn’t be all alone in these halls,” Cedric’s voice came, light and easy, threaded with amusement, “Who knows what kind of danger could be lurking?”

You glanced over anyway, already fighting the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re right,” You said, nodding thoughtfully, “Who knows when Professor Moody will jump out and turn me into a ferret. I was hoping someone would come rescue me.”

“Lucky day, then.” He said, matching your pace effortlessly, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly as the two of you navigated the crowd.

For a moment, it was easy—just walking, just talking, the noise of the corridor fading into something distant.

Cedric cleared his throat quietly.

“So—about the Yule Ball.” He started, and there was something different this time. Something less certain, less practiced.

You raised a brow, glancing at him, “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking—” He began, and for once, Cedric Diggory actually sounded unsure of himself. His hand lifted slightly, like he meant to gesture, then dropped again, “I was wondering if maybe you’d—”

“(Y/N)!”

Ginny’s voice cut through everything like a blade.

You barely had time to react before she came rushing toward you, slightly out of breath, clutching a bundle of fabric in her arms like it had personally offended her.

“Look at this,” She said urgently, shoving the material up between you and Cedric without warning, “Look at it!”

You blinked, instinctively taking a step back as she held up what could only be described as… a dress.

A very old dress.

“Ginny—”

“It’s ghastly!” She insisted, shaking it for emphasis, lace and sleeves flopping dramatically, “How am I supposed to wear something that looks like it came from the 1700s and not die of embarrassment?”

Cedric, who had been mid-sentence only seconds ago, paused—but to his credit, he recovered quickly.

He leaned in slightly, examining the dress with surprising seriousness, like this was now his responsibility. “It’s… not too bad.” He offered carefully.

Ginny stared at him like he’d just committed a personal betrayal.

“They’re ghastly!” She repeated, louder this time, as if volume alone would prove her point.

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, reaching out to steady the fabric before she accidentally smacked someone with it. “Alright, alright,” You said, amused, “What exactly do you want me to do about it?”

Ginny lowered the dress slightly, her expression changing from panic to pleading, “Ron told me you’re altering his dress robes,” She said quickly, “Can you do mine too?”

You hesitated, glancing down at the dress, already mentally deconstructing it—too much fabric, outdated cut, sleeves that needed saving or removing entirely. “I mean… I’m not a professional,” You admitted, “But I’ve gotten pretty good over the years.”

Ginny perked up instantly, “Really?”

You nodded, shifting your books slightly under your arm. “Mum used to buy me these ridiculously long skirts,” You said, rolling your eyes faintly, “The kind that made me look like a complete prude. So I started hemming them myself—just a bit shorter, just enough to make them… wearable.”

As you spoke, you gestured to your own skirt, showing the subtle difference.

Cedric noticed.

Of course he did.

“They are quite lovely.” He said, almost absentmindedly—but his gaze lingered on your legs just a fraction too long, something warmer slipping into his tone.

You blinked.

And then immediately felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your composure slipping just slightly as you let out a small, flustered laugh. “Right—well—I can try.” You said, suddenly very aware of him standing so close, “I’m still altering my own dress to fit properly though.”

Ginny, blissfully oblivious to all of it, grabbed your sleeve and looked up at you with wide, hopeful eyes, “But you’ll do it?”

You exhaled, already giving in. “Come on, then,” You said, turning, “I’ll need your measurements.”

Ginny beamed, instantly tugging you along with her.

Cedric opened his mouth—again.

“Wait—”

But you were already moving, Ginny pulling you down the corridor, dress in hand, talking a mile a minute about sleeves, lace, colors, and everything she hated about it.

And just like that, you were gone again—dragged up the stairs toward your dorm, already mentally mapping out every alteration you’d need to make to salvage the disaster in her hands.

Behind you, Cedric slowed to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

His hand, which had lifted slightly to stop you, fell back to his side.

For a second, he just stood there, watching the space where you’d disappeared, the noise of the corridor rushing back in around him.

Then he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head, a soft laugh slipping out despite himself.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, though there was no real frustration in it—just something fond.

The Gryffindor common room had never looked like this before.

It wasn’t its usual warm, slightly chaotic mess of scattered books and half-finished homework—tonight, it was alive in a completely different way. Gold and candlelight flickered against polished shoes and pressed robes, laughter spilling from every corner as people adjusted ties, smoothed hair, and whispered last-minute nerves about the night ahead.

And at the center of it all—

You.

Because somehow, despite not even being ready yourself until ten minutes ago, you had managed to get everyone else sorted first.

Ginny had been first. She’d started knocking on your door in tears, having made a complete mess of the little makeup she’d attempted and having no idea what to do with her hair. You sat her down, ignoring the dramatics, and got to work.

Now, she was practically glowing—her dress, which you had managed to salvage into something far more wearable than its original state, actually suited her. You styled her hair neatly and applied a modest amount of makeup, firmly refusing when she tried to convince you to add more.

Then came Hermione. She’d only meant to ask your opinion on her dress and hair, but the moment you noticed how uncomfortable she was with all the bobby pins, you sat her down without a second thought.

Swapping them out for sticking charms—a solution she hadn’t even considered—you adjusted everything with careful precision, touching up her makeup just enough to settle it perfectly into place.

“You look beautiful.” You told her simply.

And you meant it.

Then came Ron.

Which, quite frankly, had been your last nerve.

You forcibly sat him down, ignoring his loud complaints—really, anyone would think you were attempting to torture him rather than make him look even remotely presentable. You fixed his hair, adjusted his robes as much as they could be saved, and sent him off with a firm warning to behave like a human being for once in his life.

Last was Harry—quiet, slightly overwhelmed, but cooperative enough as you smoothed his hair into something vaguely acceptable.

And only then—finally—did you get yourself ready.

By the time you were done, the common room was already beginning to empty, students drifting toward the Great Hall in clusters of excitement and nerves.

You barely spared yourself more than a glance before grabbing your things and heading for the door.

You were late.

Of course you were. At this rate, you’d be lucky to arrive in time to see the champions’ dance.

You pushed through the last cluster of students, adjusting your sleeve as you moved quickly toward the exit when you saw him.

Cedric.

He stood just off to the side, like he’d been waiting—hands flexing slightly at his sides, posture just a little too stiff to be casual. Like he’d been working himself up to something.

Your steps faltered.

Just slightly.

Your stomach flipped.

Again.

He looked up the second he noticed you—and for a moment, just a moment, he forgot whatever he’d been about to say.

Because he was staring.

And for once, Cedric Diggory—confident, composed, effortlessly charming—looked completely, utterly thrown.

You blinked, suddenly very aware of yourself under that look.

“You look beautiful, (Y/N).”

Heat rushed to your face almost instantly. You lowered your gaze, half to hide it, reaching out instinctively to smooth the lapels of his dress robes, the fine material warm beneath your fingers.

“You look quite beautiful yourself.” You murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“I—uh—”

But before he could get another word out—

Ron passed behind you, grumbling loudly, “I can’t believe Hermione is going with the enemy.”

Your expression dropped immediately.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Cedric blinked, “What—?”

“I need to fix that.” You muttered, already turning, fully prepared to march over and set your brother straight.

Because no one—no one—was going to talk about Hermione like that. Not tonight. Not when she finally looked at herself and saw what everyone else already did. And certainly not your little brother.

You barely made it two steps—

Before—

“Oh, Helga—(Y/N) Weasley!”

The room went quiet.

Completely quiet.

You froze mid-step.

Slowly—very slowly—you turned back.

Cedric was standing where you’d left him.

Except now he looked… different.

Still nervous, still unsure—but there was something steadier beneath it now. Like he’d finally decided he wasn’t letting the moment slip away again.

Every eye in the room was on him.

On you.

And he didn’t look away.

“Will you,” He said, voice carrying across the room—firm, but softened at the edges by something unmistakably earnest, “be my date to the Yule Ball?”

For a second—

You didn’t move.

Then your brain caught up.

Heat rushed to your face so quickly it was almost embarrassing, a smile breaking through before you could stop it—bright, relieved, a little breathless.

“Of course.” You said, like it had always been obvious.

Your head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction in playful disbelief.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask me.” You added, a soft laugh slipping through.

“What took you so long?”

You really hated the hospital wing.

In the last four years, you had been there more times than you could count, and not once had it actually been for you. That was the unfortunate reality of having younger siblings who seemed determined to land themselves in trouble in increasingly creative ways, and you had grown used to it—the scolding, the hovering, the quiet irritation that came with it all.

But this time felt different.

The worry sitting in your chest wasn’t familiar. It didn’t feel like the usual exasperated concern you carried for your brothers—it was heavier, sharper, lingering in a way that made it hard to breathe properly. It crawled up your throat and stayed there, refusing to settle, and no matter how many times you tried to reason with yourself, it didn’t go away.

You didn’t really understand it.

Or maybe you did.

There was a difference between platonic worry and something else. Something deeper. Something that made your hands feel restless and your chest feel too tight all at once.

And the stakes had never been this high before.

When Harry had reappeared from the maze, Cedric’s body unmoving beside him as he spoke of Lord Voldemort, something inside you had dropped so suddenly it left you standing there, unable to think, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare.

Like the ground had given out beneath your feet.

You and Cedric hadn’t even been together that long.

After the Yule Ball—after he had finally managed to ask you—you had slipped into something easy, something familiar, something that hadn’t quite had the time to settle into anything fully real yet. Which was exactly why you hadn’t run to him on the grounds like you’d wanted to.

You had stayed back, forcing yourself to let the professors handle it, to let his father reach him first, telling yourself that it wasn’t your place—that whatever this was between you, it wasn’t enough to justify pushing through that kind of moment.

But then the hours had turned into days, and the waiting had become unbearable. Days of not knowing, days of hearing fragments and whispers but nothing certain, days of that quiet, suffocating fear settling deeper into your chest with nowhere to go.

So the moment you heard he was awake—that he had asked for you—you didn’t hesitate.

You ran.

The heavy doors of the hospital wing swung open under your hands, and you stepped inside quickly, your eyes scanning the room before immediately landing on him.

It was easy enough, considering he was the only one in here that began grinning like a fool at the sight of you.

Relief hit you so suddenly it almost made your knees give out.

You forced yourself forward, one step at a time, until you reached his bed, stopping just close enough to touch but not quite letting yourself yet.

“Hi.”

The word came out softer than you intended.

Cedric’s smile shifted, something warmer settling into it, “Well, hello to you too.”

Your eyes moved over him instinctively, taking in the bandaged burns along his arm, the healing cut near his brow, the faint exhaustion he wasn’t quite hiding as well as he thought he was.

“Are you alright?”

“Right as rain now that I’ve seen you.”

A quiet breath of laughter slipped from you, your head shaking faintly, “Only you would say that after facing bloody Voldemort.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he reached for you.

His hand found yours easily, fingers wrapping around it before gently tugging you closer, closing the distance you had been holding onto without even realizing it. You let yourself be pulled in, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed beside him, your heart already beginning to beat a little too fast.

Cedric was looking at you—properly looking—but every time you tried to meet his gaze, yours betrayed you, flickering instead to the marks on his skin, the evidence of just how wrong everything could have gone.

Your frown deepened.

“I’m alright." He said gently.

You scoffed, though there was no real bite to it, “You’re in the hospital wing.”

“Which is better than the alternative.”

Your breath caught slightly at that, the words settling heavier than he seemed to intend.

“Cedric—”

“I’m okay.” He repeated, more firmly this time, his gaze steady enough to pull yours back to his.

And then it softened.

His eyes dropped briefly to your hand, still held between both of his, his thumb brushing slowly along your knuckles as though grounding himself in the simple contact. The movement was absentminded, almost, but there was something careful in it too—something that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

Before you could think too much about it, he lifted your hand slightly and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles.

Your breath hitched.

Your heart stumbled, uneven and sudden, and when his eyes met yours again, something in them had changed—quieter now, a little uncertain, like he wasn’t entirely sure how far he was allowed to go.

“Can I—” He started, his voice catching just slightly.

Your eyes flicked to his lips before you could stop yourself, the movement quick but impossible to hide.

You didn’t trust your voice.

So you nodded.

That was all he needed.

He leaned in slowly, carefully, like this moment might slip through his fingers if he moved too quickly. His hand tightened slightly around yours, the other hovering for a second before resting lightly against your arm, hesitant but certain enough to stay.

And then his lips brushed yours, capturing your upper lip between both of his.

Soft. Barely there.

It was so light it almost didn’t feel real at first, the kind of touch that made your head spin simply because it was happening at all. He lingered there, gentle and tentative, like he was waiting—like he was making sure you wanted this just as much as he did.

For a moment, you let it stay like that, suspended in something fragile and quiet.

Until it wasn’t enough.

You leaned in slightly, closing the space between you properly, and that small shift was all it took.

The kiss deepened—not rushed, not overwhelming, but certain. Your hand tightened in his, your other lifting instinctively to rest against the back of his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his hair as you held him there. He inhaled sharply, tilting his head as he deepened the kiss, devouring you—

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

You and Cedric sprang apart like you’d been hit with a Stunning Spell.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you whipped around—

Charlie.

Standing in the doorway.

Arms crossed.

Oh Good Godric.

“Charlie—”

“No,” He cut in immediately, pointing a finger at you like you were five again and had just been caught stealing biscuits from the kitchen, “No—don’t you ‘Charlie’ me.”

You blinked at him, “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to check on you and golden boy,” He snapped, before gesturing wildly between you and Cedric, “And I find this?!”

Cedric, to his credit, had the decency to look at least slightly guilty. Only slightly.

You, however, frowned, “It’s just a kiss—”

“JUST a—?!” Charlie looked personally offended. Then, without missing a beat: “You’re grounded.”

You stared at him.

“I’m what?”

“Grounded for,” He repeated firmly. Then, after a brief pause, as if deciding to make it worse: “Until you graduate.”

Your jaw dropped.

“For-Until I graduate?!”

“Yes!”

“Why?!”

He looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “For kissing that git!”

You turned, incredulous, gesturing toward Cedric, “You’re the one who said he was a nice boy! That he had a good head on his shoulders!”

“I take it back!” Charlie shot back immediately, “He’s a bloody cradle-robber!”

Your eyes widened, “We’re the same age!”

Charlie was already moving, grabbing your arm and hauling you off the bed before you could argue further.

“Charlie—Charlie, let go—!”

“Nope. Absolutely not. You’re coming with me.”

“This is ridiculous—!”

Behind you, Cedric shifted slightly on the bed, looking far too amused for someone who had just been publicly accused of being a menace to society.

And then—because he clearly had no sense of self-preservation—

“Bye, love.”

"I'm not your love." Charlie replied haughtily, tightening his grip on your arm as he started dragging you toward the door again, “You’re never leaving the house again. Ever.”

“Charlie!”

And just like that, you were being dragged out of the hospital wing, your protests echoing down the corridor.

And Cedric was left sitting alone on the bed, an amused smile on his face, "We have such poor timing."

bonus:

The morning had been quiet.

Suspiciously quiet, really.

Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, casting soft gold across the bed, the room still wrapped in that slow, peaceful warmth that only came with days off and nowhere to be. No rushing, no responsibilities pressing in—just stillness.

And Cedric.

You were half-curled into him, head resting against his chest, his arm draped loosely around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns along your arm. It was the kind of quiet you didn’t get often anymore—the kind you had learned to appreciate in small, fleeting moments.

For once, there were no interruptions.

No chaos.

Cedric let out a quiet breath above you, something content settling into it as his hand stilled briefly against your arm.

“I’m so glad,” He murmured, voice still rough with sleep, “to have you all to myself.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head just enough to glance up at him, "Truly, we haven't had a quiet moment like this since—”

“Mum!”

“Dad!”

Cedric froze.

You didn’t even try to hide your laugh.

There was a brief, heavy silence as the distant shouts echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of something—probably several things—being knocked over.

Cedric exhaled slowly.

Then dropped his head back against the pillows with a long-suffering sigh.

“These bloody Weasleys,” He muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “And their innate ability to know exactly when I’m trying to have a moment alone with my wife.”

You laughed properly at that, shifting slightly so you could look at him more fully, your hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest.

“Well,” You said sweetly, “they’re half Diggory.”

“So their complete lack of sense and tact probably comes from you.”

Cedric blinked.

Then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Excuse me?”

Before you could respond—

A loud crash echoed from somewhere down the hall.

Followed by—

“That wasn’t me!”

“Yes it was!”

Right outside the door this time.

You laughed, leaning up just enough to press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back.

He sighed, finally getting up, "Alright! What have we said about messing about in the kitchen without mum or dad?!"

A beat of silence.

"That we're not supposed to."

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[1nslov]

oh this is just too cuteeee

[ranpos-juice-box-supplier]

It is objectively hilarious that Euphoria spent all that time building Nate Jacobs into this terrifying psychological supervillain just to go “anyway. snake.” 🐍

[1nslov]

reallll, like I don’t feel bad for him but ugh his storyline is just wasted potential he just got insanely humbled this season😭😭🙏🙏 damn karma really is a bitch

[obsessedwithceleste]

Better a Broken Heart Than a Broken Neck

Cedric Diggory x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: In which Cedric Diggory helps you overcome your fear of heights via flying lessons. Luckily for you, the only falling you’ll be doing is for him.

word count: 4.1k

©️obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Honestly it was just embarrassing at this point. Plain and simple as that. You had accepted long ago that you just weren't meant to be a star quidditch player, and you didn't mind. Really! As long as you were nowhere near a broom, you were perfectly content watching others risk their necks on the quidditch pitch.

It just wasn’t for you. The very idea of hovering high above the ground with nothing but a couple of twigs to hold you up sent waves of panic coursing through your veins. You didn’t see the appeal at all.

Standing towering over the eleven years olds that surrounded you however, you were beginning to wonder if perhaps there had been a bit of a lack of foresight when it came to avoiding flying lessons with your life these past six years or so. Why learning to ride a broom was so important to your Hogwarts education, you had no idea, but at this point you just wanted to be able to graduate.

You can feel yourself begin to shake with anxiety as Professor Hooch presents the rack of dusty old brooms to the class. You're pretty sure you hear one of the first years snicker at you. We'll see who's laughing when they go splat on the ground, you think bitterly to yourself.

"All right then everyone, just place your hand out now, and up with your brooms now," Hooch shouts as the children around you easily command their brooms up and into their waiting hands.

"Come on now y/n, with your whole chest!" Hooch shouts again when your broom doesn't budge.

Heat rises to your face as eyes turn to look up at you, faces of pity and judgment staring at you. This was horrible. Just horrible.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Hannah sighs as she takes her seat across from you in the Great Hall.

The grimace she tries to hide betrays her though. Your feelings towards flying was no secret, especially not between the two of you.

“It was awful. Probably one of the most humbling experiences of my life. And that’s taking into consideration the Pygmy puff incident, and the Myrtle disaster,” you complain, poking at your food with distress.

Hannah visibly blanches as you remind her of the rather embarrassing experiences the both of you had shared over the years. She had been your best friend since first year after all, so she pretty much knew the worst of it when it came to your lowest moments.

“I thought we agreed never to speak of the Myrtle thing again,” she hisses, shooting you a withering glare as she glances about frantically, ensuring no one else had overheard.

You just grin back sheepishly. Before you can respond though, a book bag is dropped on the wooden bench beside you with a thump.

“You wouldn’t happen to be plotting against me now would you, love?” A voice asks from behind you as a plate is set down on the seat next to you. “Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to never trust that smile on y/n’s face.”

“Hi Cedric!” Hannah chirps cheerfully, immediately perking up as the pretty brunette boy takes his seat next to you.

Cedric had been your first real friend, even before Hannah, and the two of you were practically inseparable at this point. Your families were close and the two of you had practically grown up together, so he too knew well and good about some moments you weren't too proud of. He also knew of your distaste for flying. In fact he’d been trying to get you in the air ever since he got his first training broom at the wee age of seven, but you were having none of it.

“I had my first flying class today. Easily one of the worst experiences of my life,” you complain to the boy, falling dramatically against his shoulder.

Cedric laughs, rolling his eyes at you but not pushing you off.

“Flying's not all bad once you get the hang of it,” he replies.

That line was like a broken record. He’d told you that about a million times over the years, but you had yet to believe him.

“Not everyone was meant to be a star seeker,” Hannah teases, eyes flickering between the two of you gleefully.

Cedric had been worried that you were plotting against him when he sat down, but really it was Hannah he should’ve been worried about. She’d had it in her head for months now that you had begun to develop feelings for your best friend and was determined to play the part of the dutiful wing-woman. Now did her theory have any truth behind it? That was none of her business. But you could read that look on her face. She was plotting.

“Mmm. He’s lucky. The day I learn to fly, I’m coming for his spot on the team.” You joke back, trying to see where this was all going.

Cedric just laughs, shaking his head at your antics. Blissfully unaware, he was.

“Yeah? I’ll personally teach you to fly then, how bout that? Then you can deal with Malfoy at the next match eh?”

“What a wonderful idea Ced! I’m sure you’d be a great teacher for y/n! And when you do finally get them up in the air, you could get a weekend off from the pitch!” Hannah says gleefully. Too gleefully.

Your smile drops as you shudder in horror at the mere idea of playing in a quidditch match against the Slytherins. They were known to be particularly brutal on the pitch. It drops even further when you realize you’d fallen right into Hannah’s carefully laid trap. She did have a point though. You could use all the help you could get, even if it involved your too-attractive-for-his-own-good best friend.

“You can keep your position on the team I suppose. But I’ll take you up on those flying lessons. I’m decently sure the only reason Hooch didn’t immediately flunk me is because she felt bad that the first years were out-flying me.”

By all accounts it was the perfect day for flying. Slightly overcast so the sun wasn’t at risk of blinding you and barely a light breeze. Cedric stands next to you looking like his usual godly self, practically sparkling in the sunlight as he rambles on about some ancient broom riding technique that’s supposedly intended to help you feel more ‘grounded’ while in the air.

How you were supposed to feel secure when the only things standing between you and a broken neck were an old, rickety broom and your best friend’s moral support you’d never know, but here you were.

“Listen, the only real trick is to just trust your broom and let it do all the hard work for you,” Cedric is saying when you finally tune back in.

He hands you a broom and easily swings a leg over his own, hovering only a few inches over the grass. You try to do the same, he made it look so easy, but almost fall over the other side.

You can tell Cedric is trying really hard to suppress a laugh, but a small smile still peeks through.

"Yeah, yeah, I see you trying not to laugh over there. I don't wanna hear it," you say, not able to hold in your own laughter. This was going to be a disaster.

"I don't know what you mean, you're doing great," Cedric replies easily as you roll your eyes at him. Always the flatterer. "Now just don't look down and let the broom rise up."

You shakily do as he says, eyes widening as you try desperately to focus all of your concentration on your friend. It's a mistake. You instantly begin to feel your heart race, heat rising to your cheeks as you take in the sight of your best friend smiling down at you, the sun hitting him just right so he was literally glowing. Life was so unfair. Especially considering you'd been so focused on Cedric that you hadn't realized you were now hovering several meters up off the ground which was several meters more than you would have liked.

You feel your entire body tense, too afraid to move a muscle as Cedric appears next to you in the air. So close you can smell the familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne. He really was not helping.

"Fantastic!" he encourages, leaning forward slightly with that charming grin as he begins to move forward slowly, indicating for you to do the same.

You don't. You can't. It looks so effortless when he does it, but you just can't. So you sit there, frozen in fear as he gently circles back.

"Hey, we can stop now if it's really too much," he offers gently, sidling up next to you, concern clearly etched on his face as he realizes, perhaps for the first time, just how severe your fear really was.

All you can do is manage a small nod as your grip tightens on the broom handle and Cedric slowly, carefully lowers both of your brooms to the ground. When your feet finally touch the ground again you can feel your heart racing and you're not really sure if it's from your near death experience, or from the tenderness in which Cedric had always shown you. It wasn't just you though, you had to remind yourself, forcing your heart to calm itself. He was like this with everyone. Too kind and charming for his own good.

"It's alright you know. Lots of wizards and witches don't like heights much. Hooch has been around for ages, I'm sure she's seen it all," Cedric says, his warm hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder.

"Yeah. You're probably right Ced. I think I might just go lay down for a bit though. Get my head on straight, you know?"

Before he can open his mouth to reply though, you're off, beelining straight for the castle and your dormitory within. You'd had enough humbling for one day you thought miserably to yourself as you flee the scene. First in front of the first years, and now in front of Cedric? Perhaps it would be best if you just never left your bed ever again. Keep what little dignity you had left intact.

"Oh honestly y/n, I'm sure it couldn't possibly have been as bad as you're making it out to be," Hannah sighs, tugging once more on the pile of blankets that she thought you were hiding under.

"You weren't there Hannah. It was bad. I just froze. Like an idiot. And the worst part is I don't know if it was because I'm truly that afraid, or because Cedric just looked so damn fine up there that I got distracted," you lament, staring up at the bottom of your bed.

You hear Hannah freeze above you, finally realizing that you were not in fact buried under a mountain of blankets (please, you weren't that pathetic) before your admission really clicks into place.

"Ooohh, I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" she squeals as she hops around the room with glee. "So how long have you been in love with Cedric, hmm?" she asks, hair falling to the floor as her head peers under the bed at you, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"I'm not in love with him," you grumble, glaring at your friend whose prying eyes were really messing with your ability to mope in private.

"Oh I see how it's going to be," Hannah scoffs, forcing her way under the bed to lie next to you. "You aren't in love with him, you just stare at him all smitten like in the library when we're all studying together and you think he isn't looking. And the two of you have all your silly little inside jokes that you giggle about constantly. And you definitely don't turn redder than a Gryffindor sweater whenever Ced holds your hand whenever he leads you around Hogsmeade. And you of course would never go to every single one of his quidditch matches, even though we all know just what you think of flying."

Hannah continues her monologue despite your very pointed glare in her direction, listing off every so-called confirmation of your infatuation with your best friend. But what did she know? All this just sounded like being a good friend. Albeit a very good, close friend, but hey, treat others the way you want to be treated right? So what if you and Cedric had a solid friendship built on years and years of confiding all of your deepest and darkest most inner thoughts with each other? Of course you were bound to be close!

"I can see you actively ignoring everything that I'm saying," Hannah says dryly, drawing you back to reality.

"Sorry, what was that? I was ignoring you," you reply, already expecting the shove that Hannah sends your way.

"All I'm saying is it's pretty clear that you fancy Cedric, and he fancies you back. I mean really, have you even met the boy?" she asks.

You can feel the pang in your chest. A small bubble of hope that you're quick to pop before it becomes anything more. You shake your head.

"You're wrong Hannah. You're just wrong," you say simply.

You hear your friend groan at your stubbornness, but she lets it sit for a moment.

"Fine. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm not. But will you at least let him continue giving you flying lessons? You need all the help you can get and you saw how excited he was when you accepted, and we both know he's been itching to get you on a broom for years."

You let out a sigh at Hannah's thinly veiled, last-ditch effort to get you and Cedric alone together. You loved Hannah. Obviously. And one of the things you loved most about her was how she really was a true ride or die kind of friend. But this just wasn't one of those things that could be forced through her sheer determination and willpower. You turn to look at your friend.

"I don't know Hannah. I think at this point a broken heart might be better than a broken neck. I'm going to talk to Hooch tomorrow and see if there's any way I can pass her class without flying. Or accept a failing mark. It is what it is. But I can't face Cedric again. It's just not happening."

"So what? You're just never going to speak to him again?" Hannah scoffs.

"I didn't say that. I just- I don't know. Something has to give. I'm tired, and utterly mortified, I just don't even want to think about any of it right now," you reply.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Hannah open her mouth to respond before closing it just as quickly. Instead, she grasps onto your hand giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze before shuffling around a bit to get comfy. You don't know how long the two of you stay there staring up at the bottom of your mattress together in silence, but it's nice.

Eventually though, you know she has to go. She squirms her way out from under the bed, offering you a hand as you finally return to the world of the living, the shock of light momentarily blinding you.

"I'll see you later alright? Everything's gonna be fine. When has anything bad ever happened to us?" she teases, her familiar grin spread across her face as she gently gives your shoulder a shove.

Then she's gone, and you're alone with your thoughts.

The light knocking on your door comes as a surprise. The sun had gone down hours ago and when Hannah said she'd see you later, you didn't think she meant today. She did like to keep you on your toes you think to yourself as you roll off your bed to answer the door.

The moment the door opens you're hit with a wave of his cologne as none other than Cedric Diggory, the source of all of your problems, smiles down at you from where he stands leaning against the doorway. You have never slammed the door shut faster and, as you turn to once again throw yourself back onto your bed, you can hear his soft laughter on the other side of the door.

"Is now a bad time? Should I come back later?" His amusement is clear as his voice seeps under the door like honey, luring you back.

You let out a frustrated groan, head falling back before you stomp over to the door, swinging it open and fixing your friend with your most withering glare.

"I'm trying to brood in peace Cedric. What could you possibly need at this hour?" you huff, crossing your arms defensively as if it would stop the butterflies flitting about in your stomach.

Cedric laughs again as his gaze softens. He goes to reach for your hand, but you flinch away. Instead of looking hurt though he just continues to stare into your eyes in that way only he can before tilting his head and reaching out again as if daring you to move away a second time. Knowing it's already a lost cause you allow him to take your hand and lead you out of your common room and into the corridor where the pair of you quickly slip into one of the many secret passageways that were sprinkled throughout the castle.

"Where are we going?" you demand as the two of you wind through the dimly lit passage.

You can feel the air getting cooler now, so it was most likely somewhere outside. The Black Lake perhaps. The two of you had slipped out for a midnight stroll along the shore before, but you didn’t recognize this passage.

"It's a surprise. Mostly because you'll probably hate it, but it's with me so I like my chances," Cedric replies, shooting you his most charming grin that you knew for a fact was only used when he was trying to get his way.

It usually worked.

After another minute or so of walking, it becomes clear where the two of you are headed and you feel yourself tense up, your hand squeezing Cedric’s involuntarily.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright this time. Promise,” Cedric whispers, squeezing your hand back as he leads you to the edge of the pitch where his broom is waiting.

You glance around but don’t see a second broom, much to your relief and also slight confusion. Cedric must have seen the confusion etched on your face because he sends a lopsided smile your way, patting the spot in front of him as he sits on his broom expectantly. He must be out of his damn mind, you think to yourself.

“Ced, I don’t care how good of a flyer you think you are, I am not getting on that death contraption again today. I simply won’t do it.”

Famous last words, you think bitterly to yourself as you watch your knuckles turn white from gripping the broom handle too tightly. The fact that Cedric was insisting on whispering what he must’ve thought to be words of encouragement in your ear was also really not helping you feel at ease as the two of you soared over the pitch.

“This isn’t so bad, right?” Cedric murmurs, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he guides the broom up over the bleachers and towards the lake.

If you weren’t painfully aware of his arm wrapped securely around your waist and his chest flat up against your back, you certainly were now.

God, you hated how he always seemed to get his way. Prat.

You give a very unconvincing nod, hoping that the sooner you admit to being wrong about flying, the sooner you’d get to go back to the ground. Cedric has other plans though. He continues to fly slow, measured circles around the lake, careful not to fly too alarmingly high.

It takes a while, but you feel your grip on the broom begin to loosen ever so slightly as you really take in the way the moon reflects rather prettily on the water. And the way it seemed as if you could see for miles above the trees of the forest, all the way to the horizon. It was beautiful.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you allow yourself to relax a bit, slumping back and resting fully now on the wizard behind you. Alright, you tell yourself. This isn't that bad. Things could be so much worse.

“You know there is actually a reason I came to see you tonight," Cedric says once it becomes clear that you're a bit more at ease.

"Oh really? It wasn't just to kidnap me and traumatize me further?" You reply, though there's little real bite to your words.

Cedric ignores the dig.

"You hardly seem traumatized, love," he replies, pulling you closer to him—so close that you can practically feel him rolling his eyes from behind. "So when were you going to tell me you fancied me? Hm?"

Oh. So that's how the arse wanted to play this. Bring you up in the air above the bloody Black Lake so you couldn't escape. You saw how it was.

"Um, love? Mind me asking what you're looking at?" Cedric asks, concern now lacing his voice as he watches you examine the surface of the water.

"Oh nothing. Just contemplating the merits of throwing myself into the lake to drown," you reply haughtily.

Cedric laughs but it doesn't hide his already firm grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"Let's not go making any rash decisions now. Especially when I haven't gotten the chance to tell you that I fancy you as well," he says, a smile evident in his voice.

Your mouth opens, then closes in shock and you can tell it’s the reaction Cedric was expecting as he continues to laugh behind you.

“Me? You fancy me?” You ask incredulously, still not fully believing the words coming out of your best friend’s mouth.

“Mmhm.”

You force yourself to fight down the massive grin threatening to take over your face.

“Pity. I’m not sure I can fancy you anymore. A bloke with such poor judgment just doesn’t do it for me,” you sigh.

When Cedric breaks out into yet another fit of laughter, you can’t hold back any longer and a faint blush dusts your cheeks as you laugh along with him.

“Hey y/n?”

You turn to look at the boy behind you and before your brain has any time to process, his lips are on yours. They’re warm and sweet and soft, and so all encompassing that the fact that the two of you are hovering meters and meters up in the air simply melts from your mind. He leans in deepening the kiss, his tongue making a swipe at your bottom lip as you gasp for breath. He truly had you in the palm of his hand.

When your feet hit finally the ground once more it’s like a haze is lifted around you and the full gravity of everything hits you all at once. You liked Cedric, Cedric liked you, and the two of you had just spent lord knows how long flying over the school grounds snogging.

“Wait a moment,” you say, realization setting in, “how exactly did you know I fancied you? Did Hannah say something to you? Because-“

“Hannah said nothing,” Cedric assures you as he stows the broom away before grabbing onto your hands and pulling you back towards him. “Truthfully, I was worried about you after you ran off earlier so I went to check on you. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, love, but you weren’t exactly using an indoor voice I’m afraid,” he chuckles.

You feel your cheeks heat up once more as you press your face into Cedric’s chest in order to hide from the world.

“Ah come on now love, look at all the good that’s come of it,” Cedric says, trying to coax you out.

He was right, you supposed. As he leans down to make sure you’re alright, you make your move. This time it’s your turn to catch him off guard as your lips collide once more. He’s only thrown off for a moment though and before you know it, his hands have found their way properly to your waist while your fingers tangle themselves through his hair.

There was in fact no doubt in your mind that a lot of good had come from what had originally been a crippling fear of flying. But maybe it wasn’t so horrible after all.

NEVER say I don't complete my requests (even if they're from April, 2024)

[1nslov]

WHY AM I ONLY NOW SEEING THAT YOU HAVE A CEDRIC DIGGORY FIC OMG THIS IS SOOOOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GIRL 😩💕

[1nslov]

cedric diggory looks better than edward cullen and I will die on that hill

[1nslov]

I just saw someone on tiktok say they wished that the slytherin boys fandom made mirko trovato(the guy on the same show as theo nott’s fancast) a fanon slytherin boy character aswell and now I can’t stop thinking about it CHAT CAN WE MAKE THIS HAPPEN😳🙌

[1nslov]

reblogging cause I’m planning on writing a theodore nott fic and I wanna include mirko but Idk what character I should make him, guys help me out

details of the fic: it’s an x reader fic, and I’m kinda planning on making it a series and it’s gonna be set in the goblet of fire up to the battle of hogwarts🤗

[obsessedwithceleste]

Same Time Next Year?

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore Nott would NEVER forget to ask you to be his Valentine (he definitely would). Or the time you were officially the last one to know that you were dating Theodore Nott.

word count: 3.8k

©️obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

The month of February had always struck you as something like winter’s purgatory. By this time each year, all the glitz and glamor of the Christmas season and New Years had faded away, but it was still far too early for the giddy anticipation of summer holiday to properly set in. Still bitterly cold—hard, packed snow and ice replaced the once glittering, fluffy white drifts that made you feel as though you were in a winter wonderland rather than the barren tundra. Most students were just trying to make it through.

At least that’s how it felt as you were being tugged across the grey streets of Hogsmeade, you and your friends pulling your coats close, rushing through the doors of Honeydukes to escape the cold.

“Salazar’s frozen ball sack, if it gets any colder we’ll all be frozen solid before we even get the chance to cast a warming spell,” Mattheo mutters, shaking snow from his dark curls.

“You were the one who decided a couple chocolate cauldrons were worth braving this frozen hellscape,” Pansy retorts with a scowl, though her words lack any real bite.

You’re too cold to even think of a jab to send Mattheo’s way, instead you stand shivering to the side, trying to rub some warmth back into your fingertips.

“Warming charms do exist you know,” a deep voice chuckles beside you as a wand is pressed gently against you.

Instantly you feel a wave of heat ripples over you and your cheeks tinge pink. From the heat. Obviously.

“Come on, if we don’t escape now, we could be standing here for hours listening to those two going at it,” Theo adds, smirking as he takes you by the elbow and leads you through the maze of red hearts and pink glitter that now decorated every possible surface in Honeydukes.

Of course there was one holiday placed smack dab in the middle of the rather monotonous month of February. Wrapped in a permanently pinkish haze and oozing out candy coated hearts, Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was a minefield for rampant teenage hormones and questionably obtained love potions. Overall it was not exactly your idea of a good time. Usually.

Walking through Honeydukes arm in arm with Theodore as he pulled you close and leaned in closer to talk over all the bustling noise however, well, you were beginning to see the appeal. You and Theodore had been friends since first year which basically felt like forever and you would easily consider him one of your closest friends at Hogwarts. Lately though, you’d felt a slight shift between the two of you. Not in any bad way. But in the sense that you suddenly found yourself caring about how you looked when Theo was around, or how your ears perked up more than usual whenever you heard his name.

“Look, if they’re all out of your cauldron cakes, I’m sure I can have one of the elves mail some in the post,” Theo is saying as the two of you browse the seemingly endless shelves.

Your eyes rake over the various colored candy displays, each advertising a different tooth-rotting treat before you finally spot your prize.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about bothering your elves Theo. It looks like they just repackaged the normal cauldron cakes and made them heart shaped,” you say, reaching out to grab a few boxes off the shelf. You might as well stock up while you’re there.

The shimmering pink boxes barely make it to your arms however before Theo snatches them from your hands, silently insisting he carry them before adding several more boxes to your stack for himself. You hear him mutter something about how ‘no self respecting bloke lets their partner carry boxes around a shop’, but you brush it off without a second thought. Sometimes Theo got caught up in the old traditions his father had drilled into him so you try not to read so much into things.

“Oh look, they’re having a special on chocolates. Do you think we should get some for the others? And speaking of, how long do you think we can avoid them before they notice we’re gone?” You ask as Theo follows you dutifully through the aisles.

“Not sure. But I am glad I get to spend the afternoon with you. You’re the least exhausting out of everyone after all,” Theo teases, grasping your hand in his.

You roll your eyes at the boy’s flirtatious grin.

“Gee thanks, you really know how to lay the charm on thick,” you respond dryly.

“Don’t have to be charming, it’s just you.”

Despite his good natured smile, you can’t help the small clenching you feel in your chest at his words. Just you. When you reach the counter, you don’t bother fighting it when Theo places a small stack of galleons next to the till, too caught up in your thoughts.

“Come on, if we slip out now I bet we can make it to The Three Broomsticks without any of the others noticing,” Theo says, slipping his hand easily into yours once more and pulling you out of the crowded shop as if his words hadn’t just left your mind spinning down an endless rabbit hole.

You don’t know what to make of the truly massive bouquet of peonies that was currently overtaking the small desk that was shoved into the corner of your dormitory. Sweet, sweet Theodore had stopped by after classes were over for the day to hand deliver them to you. Something about how his mum would have had his head if she were alive and knew Theodore wasn’t spoiling you rotten. Whatever that meant.

On one hand, a lot of thought and effort had clearly gone into choosing the expensive blossoms. They’d always been your favorite and he knew that. And they were almost never in season—they certainly weren’t in season in the middle of February—so he’d clearly had them imported which was no small feat. On the other hand, he’d cited his deceased mother as the reason for the unexpected flowers and that didn’t exactly scream romantic gesture.

Trying to read Theodore was about as straightforward as reading a simple instruction manual except the instructions were upside down, a large chunk was randomly missing, and half the words were written in Italian. You did not speak Italian. And to make matters worse, the very subject of all your confusion was sat in front of you innocently thumbing through his potions homework as if his very existence wasn't sending you in a downwards spiral making you question your entire friendship.

Of course you knew your best friend was attractive. You'd always known that. And if you somehow hadn't noticed how prolifically handsome he was in the past six years, then the miles-long list of classmates who had asked you to put in a good word for them, probably would have keyed you in. Those kinds of requests always came around this time of year and heck, every year you obliged them, but now that you were really thinking about it, you couldn't remember a single time Theo had ever acted upon any of your classmates' advances. And furthermore, you hadn't had anyone approach you yet this year asking you to casually bring them up in conversation or help them slip Theo a love potion. You always turned those classmates away anyway though. Usually with a good hex to go along with them.

Yet here you were, walking through Hogsmeade and receiving flowers from Hogwarts' apparent 'most eligible bachelor' and if anyone asked you where the two of you stood, you'd have no clue how to respond.

"Did you finish your essay already, amore?" Theo asks as he continues to scratch away at the parchment in front of him, his eyes never leaving the page in front of him.

Which is lucky for you as you realize you've been staring at your best friend this entire time.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes!" You squeak out, embarrassed to have been so caught up in your thoughts.

Theo doesn't seem to notice your moment of panic though as he closes his book with a snap before gazing over at you with that lazy grin you knew far too well.

"Good. Then we're right on time to meet the others for dinner," he says, checking the time as his texts magically slot themselves back into his book bag.

Extending his hand, Theo pulls you to your feet, intertwining his fingers with yours and shrugging his bag onto his shoulder before leading you down to the Great Hall. On your way there, Theo talks as if nothing is out of the ordinary, commenting on your upcoming charms exam, the likelihood of Slytherin winning another quidditch cup, what time the two of you should meet for your daily study session tomorrow. The same painfully normal things the two of you always talked about. And why should you be surprised? It was just another normal day after all.

Except Valentine's Day was only a few days away and Theo had just shown up at your door with flowers and little to no explanation of where you stood with each other.

Unfortunately for you, you don't get any more time to stress yourself out as you walk into the Great Hall and over to the rather crowded Slytherin table where your friends were already waiting. The benches already seem to be filled far past their intended capacity, but without blinking an eye, Theo just tugs you down with him placing you squarely on his lap. His arms reach around you as he makes himself a plate and you sit frozen in place, feeling as though your brain was short circuiting.

Either Theo was downright daft or you had somehow managed to miss a chapter in the story or your and Theo's relationship.

"You going to eat mi amore?" Theo asks casually—too casually, as he shovels food into his mouth.

"You have to try the meat pies. They're to die for this year," Pansy says, passing you a plate of the savory pastries.

You can't do anything but blink, feeling like you'd entered a completely separate universe. What was going on? Why did absolutely nothing about today feel normal, yet still completely and utterly—ordinary.

The rest of dinner you try your best to act as if eating dinner while sat on Theo's lap was the most natural thing in the world, but you also can't help but notice that to everyone else, it does seem perfectly natural. Mattheo and Lorenzo are still their most obnoxious selves, Draco is still monologuing to the air in front of him as if people are actually listening, Pansy hasn't looked at you twice as she fills you in on the day's gossip, and Theo—Theo is rubbing circles on your thigh as he talks to Blaise across the table.

As soon as you're finished eating, you practically throw yourself off Theo's lap which earns you a worried look from the boy.

"Are you alright, y/n? You've seemed stressed all day," he says, eyebrows furrowing.

His voice is laced with so much concern you feel your stomach twist with guilt.

"No, I'm fine. Just super tired. And my head has been hurting," you reply quickly, satisfied with your response as it technically wasn't a lie.

Theo rises from his seat now too.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm then,” he says, taking your hand in his once more.

You want to protest, but the look on his face tells you it won’t do much good as his mind is already made up. After saying goodbye to your friends, the two of you head back the same way you came.

“Are you sure you’re alright, mi amore?” Theo asks once more as soon as the two of you turn into a deserted hall. “You seem distant lately.”

“I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind,” you sigh, wanting nothing more than to be back in your room with your thoughts to yourself.

But Theo keeps pushing. “Like what?”

“Penelope Clearwater wants to know what your plans are for the fourteenth of February,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

It was a lie. Penelope Clearwater had asked nothing of the sort. This year.

But Theo just blinks once before looking at you like you’d grown an extra head.

“Not spending it with her, that’s for sure,” he replies matter of factly. “I don’t know why you do this to yourself. Every year you let people treat you like a carrier pigeon, even though you and I both know I’m not going to give any of them a second glance. You need to stop working yourself up mi amore.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way in silence, though Theo squeezes onto your hand every so often as if to remind you that he’s there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when you finally reach your door.

You just nod as he pulls you into a hug, tucking your head under his chin as he holds you. As strange as your day had been, you can't help but melt into him, feeling at home in his arms. You almost want to tell him not to leave. But you don’t. You really needed to figure out where the two of you were at. And if he wasn’t going to tell you, you were going to have to work up the courage to ask.

"Well hello to you too," Pansy says with a huff as you plop down beside her on the sofa, causing several of the photo cards she had spread out to flutter to the floor.

"Whatcha doin?" you ask, intrigued by the little squares that Pansy seemed to have organized meticulously.

"Miss Parkinson is deciding which poor bloke will be her Valentine tomorrow," Lorenzo drawls from the other side of the table.

Pansy glares at the brunette sat across from her before snatching one of the cards and tearing it to shreds.

"Oh no. Don't do that," Enz monotones without an ounce remorse in his voice, his name fluttering to the ground.

"Ignore him," Pansy sniffs. “Look. I have a whole system see? Names, houses, amount of generational wealth, everything important is on these little cards here. Then I sort out the Gryffindors and anyone with a date already and keep filtering them all from there.”

You look at the piles of cards scattered across the table and can’t help but be a bit impressed.

“Can I see who you’ve got left?” You ask, genuinely curious to see who Pansy had whittled her choices down to.

Lorenzo scoffs.

“Why would you want to see what Pansy has cooked up? It’s pure madness I’ll tell you. And it’s not as if you need any of those silly cards yourself.”

Now it’s your turn to glare at the boy. Pansy had clearly been right to shred his card to pieces.

“Well why not?” You retort, sticking your chin out at him stubbornly.

Now though, even Pansy is looking at you confused.

“I mean, probably because you’ve got Nott wrapped around your finger. Any bloke would have to be downright stupid to encroach on his territory. Specially on Valentine’s Day and all that,” Enzo replies, looking rather bored.

“Wha- I’m not his territory!” You scoff belligerently, frown deepening as Enz picks at the sofa cushion.

“I’m quite certain Theodore would disagree.”

“It doesn’t matter if he agrees. He’s not my boyfriend!”

Pansy arches an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Am I sur- What do you mean am I sure? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure! I think I would remember if Theo had ever asked me out, he’s my best friend for Salazar’s sake.”

You watch as Pansy and Lorenzo make knowing eye contact before they both turn back to you.

"Awfully defensive for someone who's so sure-" Lorenzo remarks before Pansy cuts him off.

“You should talk to Theodore,” She states simply before turning back to her cards.

You want to argue more, but Enz turns away as well. Bugger. You let out a loud sigh to make your frustration with the two of them known before standing up and leaving them behind. You knew they were going to tell you to just go talk to Theo, but you had been sort of avoiding him the past few days for exactly this reason.

Maybe avoid was too strong a word. You weren't straight up avoiding the boy, but you definitely weren't as inseparable as you usually were. And if you'd pretended not to see or hear him a few times as he approached, instead opting to dart off down a different corridor, well, no one could prove it.

You just felt so annoyed. Everyone seemed to know more about your relationship with Theo than you did, and while the reasonable, mature part of you knew that you should just talk to him, your more stubborn side wanted to make Theo solve this mess on his own.

As you make your way down a seemingly empty corridor, just thinking about the boy seems to have magically conjured him out of thin air as he appears at the end of the hallway looking lost in thought. As soon as he spots you though, you see him visibly relax. Not having anywhere to run this time, you resign yourself to having this conversation much sooner than you would have preferred.

“There you are, mia bella. Where have you been all night?” He asks, striding towards you and making to pull you into a hug.

You take a step back, feeling rage bubble inside you. All your pent up agitation boiling just under the surface. When you don’t respond, Theo frowns and his eyes turn pleading.

“What’s wrong amore, are you mad at me?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. The tip toeing around one another, the side stepping around the real conversation that needed to be had, it was just too much.

“No! I just—Stop looking at me like that! And stop buying me chocolates and flowers. Stop calling me love, stop calling me beautiful, stop trying to constantly hold my hand. Just stop.” You blurt, words flowing out of your mouth with malice.

You expect Theo to be mad, or maybe hurt, but he just freezes—blinking at you for a moment.

“Why?”

You can’t help but scoff. He asks why?

“Because you’re not my boyfriend. And I don’t need you constantly reminding me of that by doing all the things a boyfriend would do.”

“I could be. Your boyfriend.”

You might hate him. He was your best friend and you loved him, but you might actually hate him. How was he so casual about this? How could he act like this whole conversation didn’t have the potential to ruin your entire friendship.

“No Theodore. You couldn’t be. Because that would require an actual conversation, which is something you seem to have forgotten.”

Theo tilts his head, considering.

“Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

Your heart can’t help but flutter at Theo’s words, at the idea, but at the same time he was just so damn frustrating.

“Will you stop over-simplifying everything?” You ask, exasperation clear in your voice.

“Will you stop over-complicating everything?” He teases back, having the nerve to look rather pleased with himself.

You hadn’t noticed until now, but he had also gotten significantly closer as the two of you argued, now only inches away as he smiled that stupid, charming grin down at you. The one he used whenever he was in trouble, but knew he would get away with it.

"It's not over complicated to want a little bit of clarity on whatever our relationship is," you grumble, realizing your back was against the wall.

"Well then let me be perfectly clear. I would like to be your boyfriend, and I would also very much like to kiss you now. Any opposition?"

Theo's words send a shiver down your spine. You weren't actually expecting such straightforwardness from him. And you certainly weren't expecting him to be looking down at you like he was ready to devour you. When sound fails to leave your lips, you watch as Theo leans forward ever so slowly as if daring you to pull back. He gets closer and closer until your noses are brushing and then—you had to be dreaming. Your eyes flutter shut and his lips on yours are soft and warm and you feel like you might be melting. It doesn't quite seem real when his hands grab hold of your waist, pulling you into him.

You're not sure how long the two of you would have stayed there, pressed against one another, but a loud, awkward cough pulls you back to reality. Glancing behind you, you see a very red and very scandalized portrait glaring daggers at you.

"Oh. Sorry," you mutter, turning a bit red yourself.

Theo does not look sorry. In fact he looks rather smug as he continues to hold you in his arms.

“Now that this is all sorted, am I allowed to take you out for Valentine’s or do I need your permission for that too?” He asks smugly, ignoring the indignant portrait all together.

You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove off of you, but he’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulder instead as the two of you make your way back to your common room.

“I’ll see if I can make time for you in my very busy schedule on the condition that you explain to me how I came to be the last person to know that we were apparently in a relationship,” you reply.

Theo now at least has the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

“It may have been a slight oversight on my part,” he mumbles, tugging you closer as you walk.

“A slight oversight?”

“We’ve basically been dating for the past two years amore.”

“That’s simply not true.”

Theo looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Who have you spent Valentine’s Day with the past two years again?”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Sure it doesn’t mia bella.”

[1nslov]

why am I only now seeing this😭😭🙏🙏🙏 but anyways THIS IS AMAZINGGGGG I disappeared from tumblr for a bit and ughh😩😩girl I missed reading your work😍😍🥰🥰

[1nslov]

guys I just really need to read angst rn someone recommend me good gut wrenching heart breaking gonna make me scream cry and throw up typa angst pls preferably slytherin boys🥺🙏

[anxeious]

[apocryphics]

yeah

[beatofmyheart]

[1nslov]

I need this song injected in my veins

[bitterswtdvll]

[1nslov]

I just saw someone on tiktok say they wished that the slytherin boys fandom made mirko trovato(the guy on the same show as theo nott’s fancast) a fanon slytherin boy character aswell and now I can’t stop thinking about it CHAT CAN WE MAKE THIS HAPPEN😳🙌

[glitterypinkconverse]

૭ the hospital wing  — ꒰ theodore nott x fem!reader ꒱ !

𓍯 summary you occasionally help madam pomfrey in the hospital wing, wanting to gain experience for the future. upon learning this, theo makes it his mission to go there every time you’re there.

𓍯 word count 4.5k

𓍯 warnings mentions of violences, bruises, injury, mentions of fevers

𓍯 author's note i may have self projected with this one wanting to be a nurse and all... but this was too cute i had to write it! my requests are now open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write! hope you all enjoy, likes and reblogs are appreciated as always ♡

Somehow, in some way, you had managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that she needed an assistant in the hospital wing. And that that assistant should be you.

Wanting to become a Healer at St. Mungo’s in the future, you decided that this experience was needed and would potentially boost you in the ranks. Having a good relationship with Madam Pomfrey prior to you asking helped eternally.

You could only help out on the weekends and some nights due to your classes, education always coming first. Madam Pomfrey would always give you the mundane tasks: replacing the sheets, making the beds, ordering refills, and giving food to the patients. While they were boring, you still gained valuable experience from it.

The first time she let you treat patients was when five boys came into the hospital wing, all bloodied and bruised. It was certainly a sight to see, something unusual for a plain Tuesday night. Three Slytherins and two Gryffindors.

You knew the two Gryffindors, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You were quite surprised they landed themselves in the hospital wing, but knowing their reputation of never leaving things alone, it also made sense.

However, you didn’t know two of the Slytherins. You knew Draco Malfoy because he constantly roamed the halls, terrorizing the first and second years. You learned upon some listening that the other two’s names were Mattheo Riddle and Blaise Zabini. Why they all got into a fight, you didn’t know.

Madam Pomfrey quickly called you over to tend to Mattheo who got the least of the bunch. You weren’t sure why he had a surprised look on his face as he heard your name and saw you walking over to him, but you brushed it off.

“We’ll go over here,” you pointed to a bed closest to the door, waiting for him to settle down on it. Once he did, you quickly walked off to the supply cabinet, excitement coursing through you. Finally, you got to heal someone.

You didn’t see Blaise and Draco’s surprised looks as you passed them.

Humming softly, you made your way back over to Mattheo. From rumors you heard that he was a flirt, flirting with anything that had legs. But surprisingly, he was quiet this whole time. You didn’t think much of it, grateful that you didn’t have to make much conversation with him apart from checking up on him.

“Are you normally here?” Mattheo asked out of the blue, his eyebrows raised and eyes squinted as you assessed him. You paused for a moment, caught off guard by that question.

“Only on the weekends and some nights when I don’t have a pile of schoolwork.” you answered easily, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Why?”

A smirk formed on Mattheo’s face, shaking his head as he responded. “No reason. It’s just that I’m commonly here and have never seen you here before.” You nodded your head slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. You quickly jumped back into your caretaking, giving him a potion to heal his cuts easily.

“You may still have the bruises for a couple of days, but they shouldn’t hurt that much. I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to check you over.” you explained, before leaving his bedside. He nodded, still suspiciously quiet for someone like him.

You didn’t catch the knowing look he sent to Draco and Blaise.

Theodore Nott was one that never wanted to get into fights, opting to stay in the back. A quiet and reserved boy he was, he didn’t want to get into much trouble and do things that would bring attention to him. Here and there he was roped into them by none other than Mattheo, which led to a detention he didn’t want on his record.

When Mattheo returned back to the common room that night he spotted Theo sitting at a table with Lorenzo, entirely focused on his homework. He quickly made his way over to them, sitting next to Theo with a mischievous look on his face. Theo hadn’t noticed him, too enamored over his Transfiguration homework.

Lorenzo kicked Theo’s leg from under the table when he realized that Theo didn’t spot the boy sitting next to him. He furrowed his brows, looking over Mattheo. When he didn’t say anything, Theo sighed, narrowing his eyes towards him. “What?” Theo asked, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

A cheeky smile formed on Mattheo’s face once he got his friend’s attention. “Oh nothing. I just returned from the hospital wing.” he spoke, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I’m aware.” Theo spoke slowly, trying to figure out what was going on in Mattheo’s mind. “I’m taking it the other two won’t be returning until later?”

“Correct. Malfoy’s got a broken nose and Zabini’s got a broken jaw. But that’s not the point!” Mattheo spoke quickly, adjusting himself in his seat. He cast Lorenzo a look, before looking back at Theo. “Your girl treated me. She works at the hospital wing some days.” he spoke with a grin, noticing Theo’s falter.

Theo knew exactly who they were talking about but didn’t want it to be known. He raised an eyebrow, feigning an expression of confusion. “My girl?”

Enzo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Oh come on, Nott, you know exactly who he’s talking about.” Enzo piped in, receiving a death glare from Theo.

Once Mattheo said your name Theo swore the universe was coming together. Now he finally had an excuse to talk to you, to see you, and to look at you without being teased.

The boys knew about Theo’s not-so-tiny infatuation with you. He was always staring at you during class, in the Great Hall, even during passing in the corridors. But would he ever talk to you? Merlin, no. You were always either with your group of friends or so enamored in your books that you didn’t notice anyone was around you.

How did he develop this little crush? He didn’t know. All he knew was that one day he saw you and immediately knew you weren’t like the rest. You weren’t loud, you weren’t cruel, and you most certainly weren’t outgoing. Your quietness drew him towards you, but it also led him to fear you. In the way he was too scared to approach you, of course.

“Alright. And what do you want me to do with this information?” Theo asked, as if he wasn’t planning ways to go to the hospital wing already.

Both of the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, spending the rest of the night convincing Theodore to just go to the hospital wing to see you. And finally make a move.

The first time Theo went down to the hospital wing was on a Thursday evening, hoping you were there.

It was a quite lame reason to be going to the hospital wing, to be honest. But what could he do? He just wanted to see you!

To his luck you were there tying on your apron, signaling that you had just gotten there as well. He smiled and then quickly wiped it away, knowing he had to act as if he was in some sort of pain.

You hadn't noticed him yet, too preoccupied with pinning up your hair and making sure you had all of your things for the evening. As he stared at you, Madam Pomfrey broke him out of his trance, making you turn your head towards him.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Madam Pomfrey asked him. He blinked and looked away from you, caught slightly off guard.

“I cut myself.” he spoke blankly, holding up his finger. “I was… er… cutting up some ingredients for potions and cut myself on accident.”

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, as did you. “Well, that’s an easy fix,” she called out your name. As you approached them you gave Theo a small smile, and he swore his stomach turned inside out. “She can help you. I have to tend to some other students.” she explained and then walked away.

Theo made eye contact with you finally, giving you a small smile he never gave anyone. He shocked himself with his own actions. You were saying something, lips moving, but he didn’t quite catch it. Then all of a sudden you were walking away, and he quickly rushed after you.

“You won’t have to stay here long because it’s just a little cut,” you explained softly, setting him down on a bed. You sat down next to him, grabbing his hand gently to examine the cut. “How much does it hurt?”

Too overwhelmed with the sensation of your hand on his and your perfume lingering in the air, he choked on his words. When you looked up at him because he didn’t respond, he managed to finally form some words. “Not… not bad, yeah.” he replied quietly, his heart leaping out of his chest at how close you were.

You smiled and nodded your head, letting go of his hand. “Some Murtlap Essence should treat that quickly. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” you spoke quickly, getting up and going to the back. He watched as you retreated to some cabinets, grabbing something out of it. But he wasn’t entirely focused on what you were getting.

Theo was deeply regretting this decision. He found himself unable to speak to you without stuttering, and he didn’t know how to act right near you. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and straightened up, resuming his plan. He just hoped that you didn’t send another smile at him, otherwise he feared that he would need a real reason to stay at the hospital wing that night. 

Once you came back with a tiny bowl of Murtlap Essence, you handed it to him. “Place this on your lap and just dip your finger into it. Your cut should be gone in no time.” you explained, watching him put his finger into the bowl. He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, and you nodded.

You moved away from the bed, grabbing a clipboard from the nightstand. You turned back towards Theo, a small smile creeping up on your face at his look of disgust towards the bowl. “Some people do find it gross, but I promise it works.” you reassured him, a little giggle escaping your lips. He looked up at you, feeling as if he could melt. But all he did was nod.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “Does feel a bit weird. How long do I have to do this for?” he asked, ignoring the way his heart was thumping rapidly.

“Ten minutes or so. Your cut wasn’t that deep, so you should be fine.” you answered, and he nodded his head. There was something in the air, a steadiness around the two of you. “I just need a bit of information from you,” you started and showed him the clipboard. “Just your name and house would do. Madam Pomfrey will fill the rest out.”

A small pang shot through Theo’s chest. Either you really didn’t know his name or you were just playing dumb. It’s not like he expected you to know his name, but he must have thought you would have at least heard something about him. He cleared his throat, straightening up a bit. “Theodore Nott. Slytherin.” he responded quietly.

You hummed, filling the clipboard out with a pen. “Theodore. Nice to meet you.” you smiled down at him and told him your name. For once a genuine smile appeared on his face, the way his name slipped from your lips felt almost perfect.

“Call me Theo.” he spoke back, his confidence growing again. Your smile widened slightly and you nodded your head.

“Theo.” you repeated, and you swore you saw his eyes light up.

It became somewhat of a ritual, Theo coming in at least three times a week just to see you. Whether it be because of a papercut or because he was dragging Mattheo in after a fight, he always found a way to come in. Madam Pomfrey caught on quickly, noticing how the boy came in for the littlest things. She always sent him to you, saying she had more important matters to tend to. Even though she didn’t.

You noticed that he came in on three specific days: Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. You had told him one day that those were the days you were always there, alternating between the other days based on how much schoolwork and studying you had to do. He remembered it all.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him endearing; it’s not like he was annoying, no. It was just a little silly to be constantly coming into the hospital wing. But who were you to complain, you loved seeing him there.

Today was another silly excuse to be here. It was a Saturday morning and you had just started, planning on only being there for two or three hours. It was a very slow morning, Madam Pomfrey once again giving you the mundane tasks. That was until Theo came in.

He came in with that signature smirk of his, strolling right up to you and past Madam Pomfrey. She simply raised her eyebrows and smiled, used to Theo coming in almost every time you were here now.

“What is it this time, Theo?” you asked, a gentle smile on your face as he walked up to you. He gave a small cough, the smirk still on his face.

“Sick.” he answered, though he looked far from it. You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face.

“Really? You look perfectly fine to me.” you replied, eyeing him. You made your way to the back, going to organize all the potions from a shipment that just came in. He just shrugged casually, practically chasing after you as you walked away from him. He pouted, stopping right in front of you.

“No, really. Feel my forehead,” he spoke with a pout, “make me feel better, infermiera. I’m burning up.” he teased, fighting the urge to smile at your expression.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reluctantly placing the back of your hand on his forehead. You raised your eyebrows, feeling nothing. “You feel and look perfectly fine, Theo.” you said, raising your eyebrows as that smirk crept on his face again.

“I guess being around you makes my temperature spike.” he said with an easy confidence, causing you to pause for a moment. He noticed your flustered state, and took it as a good sign. Before he could say anything you cleared your throat, a sarcastic smile on your face.

“Very funny Theo,” you started, shaking your head and walking away from him. “If that’s true, then I think you’re just here to see me.” you said sarcastically, laughing at your own words.

When you first met Theo you had no idea who he was. But after the first meeting and days of classes, his name was the only one you could hear. You heard rumors about him—that he’s unavailable, a major flirt, quiet, rude, kind—everything. You didn’t know what to think about him.

That was until he kept showing up at the hospital wing, changing your view of him. He was a flirt, and he did seem quiet, but something that surprised you was that he had a good heart.

He would come into the hospital wing to pick a Pepperup potion for students in the younger years when they needed one. He always brought his friends in after they got into fights and stayed with them until they were fixed up. He also always followed Madam Pomfrey’s rules, promptly leaving when he saw it got too busy or when she simply told him to leave.

So you may have developed a little crush on him. But you never thought he would think of you as anything more than Madam Pomfrey’s assistant that he could easily bother.

Too wrapped up in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Theo frozen in his spot at your words. Sure, he wasn’t being the most subtle when it came for his feelings about you. However, something about you knowing made it feel a little bit too real. He was trying to hide them but also make it known, see if you maybe felt the same way he did.

He cleared his throat, the smirk on his face once again. “Looks like you’ve got me all figured out.” he replied softly. You picked it up as a joke, rolling your eyes at him with a smile on your face. Oblivious to his real feelings, you convinced yourself that everything he did was for entertainment. But you secretly wished they weren’t.

Theo was actually hurt the next time he went to the hospital wing. During Quidditch practice one of the beaters accidentally sent the bludger flying towards him, knocking him off his broom. Luckily, it wasn’t that far of a fall. Unfortunately for him he had to spend a couple of nights in the hospital wing due to a broken arm.

Sunday afternoon you were just about wrapping up, when all of a sudden Theo was being hauled in by Mattheo. A flash of panic and confusion shot through you. Was this him just being silly again? No, if he was just stopping by he wouldn’t look extremely tired and he would be able to walk fine.

You were frozen in your spot until Madam Pomfrey rushed past you, going straight up to Theo. Mattheo dropped him off on a bed and you immediately stood beside him, looking down at Theo who was now lying down on the bed. “What happened?” you quickly asked Mattheo as Madam Pomfrey assessed Theo.

“Damn bludger hit him and he fell off his broom.” Mattheo explained, shaking his head. He looked over at you and saw your wide eyes and nervous expression and immediately tried to reassure you. “It wasn’t much of a fall, but it seems to have done some damage.” he muttered lowly, bringing his eyes back to Theo.

You gulped, your eyes shifting down to Theo. His eyes were unfocused and glazed, shifting around the room in search of you. When he saw you, a playful smile formed on his face. “Can’t kick me out now.” he teased, wincing slightly as Madam Pomfrey moved his arm. You rolled your eyes, a small but nervous smile on your face.

Madam Pomfrey had signaled you to get something, breaking eye contact with Theo. You rushed over to grab whatever potions she needed and brought it over, not catching the knowing smirk on Mattheo’s face. Madam Pomfrey had used a quick spell to repair his bones, but that didn’t mean he didn't feel pain from it.

Once Madam Pomfrey treated him to the best she could for now, Mattheo had left the hospital wing and it was just you two. You sat down on the chair near Theo’s bed, fiddling with your fingers. “How’re you feeling?” you asked softly, assessing him over a million times.

He could see the stress and nervousness in your eyes, and tried to reach out his arm towards you. Unfortunately he had forgotten which arm was broken and groaned at the sudden pain, immediately retracting it back. That only heightened your stress, about to say something before he spoke first. “Hurts just a tad bit. Nothing Pomfrey can’t fix. Plus, I have my favorite infermiera with me.” he tried to joke playfully, but you could clearly see the pain etched in his face.

“Well don’t you ever fall off a broom again, because you’ll stress this in-fare-me-era out!” you huffed, struggling slightly on the nickname Theo gave you. You crossed your arms as he let out a low laugh, his eyes on yours.

“Glad to know you care about me that much.” Theo teased, a sort of dopey smile on his face. You could feel heat rising through your body, narrowing your eyes at him. You tried to play nonchalant, but it obviously wasn’t working.

“Well, I happen to care about everybody who comes into the hospital wing.” you countered, picking at your sleeves. You weren’t letting him know you really did care about him in more than a friendly way. Not now, at least.

“Sure you do. But I just happen to be your favorite.” he spoke proudly, that stupid smile never leaving his face. You couldn’t help but smile at it, rolling your eyes once again.

“Right. I’ll let you think that because you're in a great state of pain right now.” You adjusted yourself in your seat, uncrossing your arms. “But I do prefer you visiting me when you’re faking an illness or injury, not when you’re actually injured.”

His smile softened, something leaping in his chest at your words. “Noted. I’ll make sure not to get hurt ever again.” he teased playfully, a small silence settling between you two.

It was as if you two were the only ones in the world, Theo’s pain fading away as he looked at you. He swore he could see something more than friendly in your gaze; an unexpected burst of confidence shot through him. “Hey,” he called out your name softly, bringing you back to reality.

“Hm?” you hummed, your eyes never leaving his. Your heart fluttered at his soft gaze on you, anticipating something you hoped he would do.

“How would you like to—,” he started, but was abruptly cut off by Madam Pomfrey calling your name. In your little daze, you didn’t notice another student had come into the hospital wing. You looked around, your eyes landing on a boy being ushered into a bed.

You widened your eyes, promptly getting up. “I’m sorry, Theo! I’ll be right back!” you promised, sending a strained smile his way. Before he could respond you were already off, leaving him all alone on his bed. He frowned, watching your retreating figure. Of course the first time he had grown the balls to ask you out, the universe had decided it was the perfect time for you to be away from him.

And to make matters worse, you didn’t return to him that night. Probably because he fell asleep the moment you left him.

Theo stayed in the hospital wing for two more days, mostly because Madam Pomfrey wanted to make sure everything was okay. You were busy with studying and homework, the looming pressure of exams coming up. Every day Theo was stuck in his bed he hoped you arrived, hoped that you would seek him out like he did you. 

It was silly, he thought, to have done all this hopeful wishing and thinking. He felt pathetic, something he’s never felt before. He didn’t know if you thought of them as friends—maybe you thought of him as the annoying boy who came in every day you were there. How he wished it wasn’t that.

The last night he was there Madam Pomfrey told him he had a visitor, all with a knowing smile on her face. Theo didn’t pick up on it, assuming it was either Mattheo or Lorenzo. They had probably snuck dessert for him. He surely wasn’t expecting you.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, a nervous smile on your face as you walked into his area. You had no idea what possessed you to come down here—you were supposed to be studying.

He looked up quickly at the sound of your voice, a bright smile forming on his face. He adjusted himself into a sitting position, his eyes locked on yours. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show.” he murmured, watching as you approached him.

“Of course I would. I even got you a little something.” You handed him a little box wrapped with a bow, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watched him nervously. You couldn’t sit down, too anxious about his response.

He seemed shocked at the gift, his eyes softening a fraction. He noticed your nervous habit, immediately opening the box to alleviate your mind. Inside the box was a Pepperup potion, Murtlap Essence in a bottle, an Essence of Dittany, and some bandages of all sizes. He laughed at the contents of the gift, looking up at you with a smile. “Is this you saying you want me to stop coming to bother you?” he teased.

You widened your eyes, shaking your head frantically and starting to ramble. “Oh, no! Just a little something in case I’m not in the hospital one day. You don’t bother me, in fact you—,”

“Relax, dolcezza,” Theo spoke gently, reaching his hand out to hold yours. You paused at his touch, freezing in your spot. He noticed it, a small smirk forming on his face as he pulled you closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “It’s good. I’ll make good use out of it.” he reassured you, noticing how your breathing became uneven.

For a moment you just stared at him, until you blinked away from him. You threw a smile on your face, wrapping your fingers with his. “Good,” you murmured, sitting down in the chair next to his, holding his hand. “I don’t want to scare you off or anything.” you confessed, looking down at your intertwined hands.

Theo smiled softly, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You could never. Plus, I’m taking you to Hogsmeade next Saturday, aren’t I?” he more so told you than asked, his smile widening at the shocked expression on your face. The courage came out of nowhere, both you and him not expecting the words to come out of his mouth.

“I—,” you stuttered, obviously caught off guard by his words. You shifted in your seat, making eye contact to make sure he wasn’t joking. “Are you asking me out, Theodore Nott?” you asked him skeptically, finding it so foreign that the boy who never took girls out was asking you out.

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes I am, and I can only hope my favorite infermiera will say yes to me.” he spoke softly, his hand squeezing yours. Despite his confident demeanor, he was actually terrified of you rejecting him. He would leave Hogwarts and never show his face again to you and the rest of the students just to hide from the embarrassment.

You sat there for a moment, just watching him, double checking that he wasn’t playing a prank on you. Finally, after his smile started fading away and a nervous expression rose on his face, you had answered. “I would love to go on a date with you next Saturday.” you grinned, bringing your chair closer to his bed.

He mirrored your grin, and for once he had let his guard down. He brought your hand to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. “A date it is. Tell Pomfrey you’re unavailable on Saturday. You’re only going to be with me.”

At that you snorted, rolling your eyes. You did tell Madam Pomfrey that you were unavailable on Saturday once you were on your way out, and she only gave you a small nod with a knowing smile.