✧.* : C.D x Male! Reader
✎ : Amid soil, teasing, and stolen glances in the greenhouse, an unexpected interruption pushes playful tension into something undeniably real—just in time for the Yule Ball.
𖦹 1.2k
A/N: so cute!!! thank you so much for this request
[masterlist]
Much Love, Saige
ϟ taglist ϟ : @littlemadamred
The greenhouse was warm and earthy, sun filtering through the foggy glass panes and casting a golden haze over everything. You were elbow-deep in soil, trying to coax a stubborn Shrivelfig into its pot, when you felt a shadow fall across your work. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“You always look so serious when you garden,” Cedric’s voice drawled, the edge of a smirk unmistakable. “Like the plant’s life depends on it.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “That’s because it does. Unlike you, some of us actually care about passing Herbology.”
He crouched beside you, close enough that your knees bumped. You swore he did that on purpose.
“Oh, come on,” Cedric said, brushing dirt off your cheek with the back of his knuckle. “You know I’m brilliant at Herbology. I just like watching you work.”
You ignored the warmth rushing to your ears and tried to focus on tucking moss around the plant’s base.
Cedric leaned in a little closer. “You’re gonna get a sunburn at this angle, shortstack.”
You dropped your trowel with a clink. “Did you just call me shortstack?”
He shrugged innocently. “What, would you prefer ‘pocket-sized’? ‘Travel-sized’? I’ve got options.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Only for you.”
You were glad your face was already flushed from the heat. He always did this—hovered near, said things that made your stomach twist, teased you like he had all the time in the world. And Merlin, did he know how to use his height to his advantage. He could lean over you just enough to make it intimate, just enough to throw you off balance.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, sitting back on your heels and wiping your hands on your trousers.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, and stood. “Right here.”
You followed his gaze as he looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching with something unreadable. “You like looking down on me, don’t you?”
Cedric tilted his head. “Only when it gets me a better view.”
That one got you. You flinched like he’d cast a tickling charm, and Cedric laughed, rich and unrestrained.
“You’re awful,” you muttered, standing and brushing yourself off. You barely came up to his shoulder. He definitely noticed.
“Look on the bright side,” he said, casually slinging an arm over your shoulders. “You’re the perfect height to tuck under my arm.”
Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t move. “You saying I’m like a dog now?”
“A very charming, sarcastic, and mildly aggressive puppy.”
“Cedric.”
“Yes, dear?”
You didn’t know whether to shove him or kiss him.
Instead, you muttered, “One day I’m going to grow another three inches and you’ll regret everything.”
He laughed again, the sound crackling like kindling in your chest. “I highly doubt that. You’d still be shorter than me.”
There was a beat of silence, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. His arm stayed right where it was—warm, steady. Not just teasing. Not just friendly. His thumb was rubbing slow, thoughtful circles into your shoulder.
“I like you like this,” he said, softer now. Less bravado. “Close.”
You looked up at him, surprised, but Cedric wasn’t smiling anymore. Not smugly, at least. He was looking at you like he meant it. And somehow that was worse—because it was easier when it was just jokes.
“You mean that?” you asked, voice small.
He nodded. “I don’t flirt with everyone, you know.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I only flirt with people who make me nervous,” he said with a grin. “You do that, you know. Make me nervous.”
You swallowed. “Why?”
“Because I keep waiting for the moment when you finally realize I’m not joking. That I mean it. Every time I lean in, every time I call you cute names, every time I stay behind after class just to walk with you.”
Your breath caught. “Cedric…”
He leaned down, just a little—eyes locked on yours.
“Still want to grow taller?” he whispered.
“No,” you breathed, heart pounding. “Not if it means I’d miss this.”
He smiled, really smiled, and for once he didn’t tease you. He just leaned in that final inch, closing the gap with a kiss that was gentle, unhurried—and left you wondering how many more near-misses you’d endured before this moment.
Maybe height wasn’t everything. But being this close to him?
That felt huge.
——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——
The kiss ended far too soon—but the look Cedric gave you afterward kept your heart racing. His forehead brushed yours, and for once, neither of you said anything. You were both just there, leaning into the space between you like you finally understood what had been brewing for weeks.
“Your lips are dirty,” he murmured, brushing a smudge of soil from the corner of your mouth. “And I still liked kissing you.”
You snorted. “That’s disgusting. Romantic, but disgusting.”
He grinned and was about to lean in again—eyes flickering down to your mouth—when the creaky door of Greenhouse Three banged open.
“Oi—oh bloody hell, sorry!”
You both jumped apart like you’d been hit with a Stunning Spell. Cedric’s hand dropped from your shoulder. You instinctively took a step back, cheeks flaming, already knowing exactly who it was.
Ernie Macmillan stood frozen in the doorway, arms full of puffapods and gaping like he’d just caught Professor Sprout snogging Dumbledore.
“Well, well, well,” Ernie said, eyes wide and obnoxiously gleeful. “Didn’t mean to interrupt something intimate.”
Cedric, to his credit, was only a little pink in the cheeks. He cleared his throat and casually reached down to pick up his gloves like he hadn’t just had his tongue in your mouth. “Need something, Ernie?”
“Not really,” Ernie said, still smirking. “Just collecting puffapods for Professor Sprout—but now that I’m here…”
You groaned. “Please don’t.”
“Just wondering,” Ernie said, eyes flicking between you two. “Are you going to the Yule Ball together or should I pretend I didn’t just see Cedric almost kiss your face off?”
Cedric raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. “Almost?”
“Okay, actually kissed your face off.”
You groaned again and looked at Cedric, hoping he’d say something to shut Ernie up.
Instead, Cedric turned to you, smirking. “Well? Are we?”
You blinked. “Are we what?”
“Going to the ball together.”
You stared at him. “Are you asking me now? In front of Ernie?”
“I’m making efficient use of a dramatic interruption.”
“Efficient?!”
Cedric shrugged. “I could’ve asked later, but this seems more memorable.”
Ernie grinned. “This is the best Herbology class I’ve ever walked in on. Please say yes. For the romance.”
You looked at Cedric again—his arms crossed, one brow raised, but his expression soft. Hopeful.
“You’re serious?” you asked.
He nodded once. “I don’t joke about dances. Or people I kiss.”
Your chest squeezed, and you found yourself smiling before you could help it. “Then yeah. I guess I’ll go to the ball with you.”
Ernie whooped like England had just won the World Cup.
Cedric’s smile bloomed across his face—bright, beautiful, dangerous.
“Perfect,” he said, stepping just close enough that you felt the warmth of him again. “But fair warning—at the ball, I’m going to hold you close and look down at you the entire night.”
You narrowed your eyes. “If you say the word ‘shortstack’ I’m hexing your shoelaces together.”
Ernie was already halfway out the door again, muttering something about needing to tell everyone.
Cedric only laughed, eyes still on you. “Go ahead. But I’ll still get the last word.”
You tilted your chin defiantly. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
He leaned in close, just enough for your noses to touch, and whispered, “Mine.”
