Chapter Text
Cedric sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by his friends, the soft glow of a laptop screen casting flickering light across the dormitory. A half-finished game of Mario Kart was abandoned on the monitor, controllers forgotten, as the conversation had shifted into easy laughter and teasing.
“Alright, but listen,” Elliot said, lazily tossing a pillow at Cedric. “If I had a soulmark, I’d want it to say ‘E.T.C’—get it? Etcetera. Because I’m a man of endless possibilities.”
“More like endless bullshit,” Malcolm scoffed, sprawled on Cedric’s floor with his back against the bed. “Watch, Diggory’s gonna get something dumb, like ‘J.K.L’—Just Kidding, Loser.”
Cedric rolled his eyes, tugging his sleeve down over his forearm, though the newly etched initials burned against his skin. H.J.P. With a small, delicate fawn resting beneath it, curled as if it had been running and finally found a place to rest.
He exhaled sharply. “I got one.”
Silence. Then—
“What?”
“You’re joking.”
“Show us.”
Reluctantly, Cedric pushed up his sleeve, revealing the fresh, dark ink against his skin. The initials stood stark against his tanned forearm, the fawn smaller than his thumbprint but perfectly detailed.
“Alright,” Malcolm said, squinting at it. “Someone’s gonna have to Google ‘H.J.P’ and make sure it’s not, like, the CEO of a failing company.”
“It’s a person, obviously,” Elliot countered. “It has to be.”
“Maybe it’s a historical figure. Wouldn’t it be funny if your soulmate was already dead?”
Cedric groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected this. He’d always imagined the moment would feel… monumental. A rush of something. A certainty. But all he felt was overwhelmed.
And then—
Harry James Potter.
The realization hit like a Bludger to the chest.
Cedric’s stomach flipped as he scrambled for his phone, unlocking it with slightly shaking hands. The contact had been saved since the Triwizard Tournament, barely touched.
Harry Potter.
He hesitated for all of five seconds before hitting the FaceTime button.
His friends made various sounds of disbelief as the call connected, ringing once, twice—
And then, after about fifteen seconds, the screen filled with a messy head of dark hair and the groggy, confused face of Harry Potter.
Harry blinked blearily, squinting at the camera, voice rough with sleep. “What—who—why are you FaceTiming me?”
His glasses were askew, his hair sticking up even worse than usual, and he looked half a second away from throwing his phone across the room.
Cedric swallowed. “Uh. Hey.”
Harry blinked again. “…Hey?”
Cedric stared at him. His friends were staring at him. Harry was staring back, clearly waiting for an explanation.
“Okay,” Cedric said, voice coming out slightly strangled. “So, this is gonna sound really weird, but I think you might be my soulmate?”
A pause.
Harry blinked at him. Then slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes narrowed.
“Did Fred and George put you up to this?”
“Wha—no!” Cedric ran a hand through his hair, shifting awkwardly. “I swear. I just—” He lifted his phone, angling the camera to show the mark. “I got my soulmark tonight. It says H.J.P. And there’s a little fawn. I, uh. I figured I’d call you.”
Harry stared.
His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
A beat passed.
Then—
“You woke me up at—” Harry squinted at something off-screen, probably a clock. “—one in the morning because of this?”
Cedric winced. “…Yeah?”
Harry was quiet for a long moment. His brows furrowed, and then—softer, still raspy with sleep—
“…What kind of fawn?”
Cedric glanced at his friends, who were all watching the screen with barely restrained excitement, then turned back to his phone. He shifted, holding it closer to his face as if that would somehow make this conversation less surreal.
“…What do you mean, what kind of fawn?”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse. He still looked half-asleep, squinting at the screen like he wasn’t convinced Cedric was real. “Is it, like, a proper fawn? Speckled and all that? Or is it, like, a baby stag?”
Cedric blinked. He glanced down at his arm, at the tiny curled-up fawn beneath the initials. “I—uh. It’s a fawn. It’s small, speckled. Like, a baby deer.”
Harry hummed, barely awake, rubbing at his face. Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he muttered, “That makes sense, I guess.”
Cedric’s heart did something weird in his chest. “Wait, what?”
Harry yawned, tipping his phone as he flopped onto his back, the camera angle now showing nothing but the ceiling and a blurry mess of dark hair. His voice was muffled. “I mean, yeah. That tracks. My Patronus is a stag, so. Makes sense.”
Cedric just stared at the screen.
Elliot punched his arm. “Mate.”
Malcolm muttered, “No fucking way.”
Cedric barely heard them. His brain was still catching up.
“Wait,” he said, struggling to make words happen, “you—you’re just accepting this? Just like that?”
Harry made a vague noise, still lying flat. “M’too tired to have an existential crisis about it right now.”
Cedric opened his mouth. Closed it. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this was not it.
There was a shuffling noise as Harry shifted, finally angling the camera back toward himself. His green eyes were sharper now, more focused, though his expression remained unreadable.
“You freaking out yet?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Yes?” Cedric said, because obviously.
Harry considered him for a moment, then said, “Want me to freak out with you?”
“I mean—”
“Alright. Give me a sec.”
Harry took a deep breath. His face scrunched up. Then, in the most monotone, exhausted voice Cedric had ever heard, he went:
“Oh no. My soulmate is Cedric Diggory. This is terrible. My life is over. Woe is me.”
Silence.
Malcolm made a choked noise like he was physically holding in a laugh.
Elliot whispered, “I think I’m in love with him.”
Cedric dragged a hand down his face. “Harry.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “That help?”
“No.”
Harry shrugged, barely suppressing a smirk. “You called me at one in the morning. I get to cope however I want.”
Cedric groaned, flopping onto his back, letting his phone rest on his chest. “This is—”
“Wild? Weird? A total headache?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Harry said, shifting again, “I dunno what you wanna do about it, but I vote we sleep on it and panic later.”
Cedric exhaled. “…Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
There was a beat of quiet. Then, Harry’s voice, softer now:
“Hey, Cedric?”
Cedric blinked, tilting his phone slightly. “…Yeah?”
Harry looked at him, gaze unreadable, but something about it made Cedric’s stomach flip.
“…You gonna call me again tomorrow?”
Cedric swallowed.
Slowly, he nodded.
Harry grinned, lazy and lopsided. “Good. Night, soulmate.”
And with that, he ended the call.
Cedric stared at his phone.
His friends erupted.
---
The next morning, Cedric woke up to a barrage of unread messages.
Harry Potter (1:47 AM): You better not be one of those soulmates that takes forever to text back.
Harry Potter (1:48 AM): I’m serious.
Harry Potter (1:52 AM): Also, do I call you ‘soulmate’ now? ‘Future husband’? ‘Cedric Diggory, legally bound to me by fate’??
Harry Potter (1:56 AM): Wake up, I’m bored.
Harry Potter (2:01 AM): I just remembered that I technically died in your arms last year. How’s that for an icebreaker?
Harry Potter (2:07 AM): Okay, fine. You’re probably sleeping
Harry Potter (2:09 AM): But just so you know, I have no idea what to do about this either. So. Yeah. Sleep well, soulmate.
Cedric stared at his phone, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His dorm was still quiet—his friends either asleep or pretending to be so they could interrogate him later. He exhaled, rereading the messages, feeling something warm settle in his chest.
Cedric Diggory (7:32 AM): Good morning, Potter.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.
Harry Potter (7:33 AM): Took you long enough. I was starting to think fate had ghosted me.
Cedric shook his head, smiling despite himself. He hesitated for half a second before typing:
Cedric Diggory (7:34 AM): Meet me for breakfast?
The response was immediate.
Harry Potter (7:34 AM): Thought you’d never ask.
By the time Cedric made it to the Great Hall, his heart was beating way too fast for something as simple as breakfast. He’d seen Harry in the halls, in class, at Quidditch matches—but this was different.
This was knowing.
When he spotted Harry, the other boy was already sitting at the Gryffindor table, a slice of toast halfway to his mouth, scrolling through his phone. His hair was even messier than usual, like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided “good enough.”
The moment Harry glanced up and saw Cedric, he grinned, waving him over like they’d been doing this forever.
Cedric swallowed hard and crossed the hall.
“Morning, soulmate,” Harry said, grinning.
Cedric groaned. “You’re really going with that, huh?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Harry took a bite of his toast, speaking around it. “It’s either that or ‘Cedric Diggory, Legally Bound to Me by Fate.’”
“Please, no.”
Harry smirked. “We’ll see.”
Cedric rolled his eyes but sat down beside him, suddenly very aware of how close they were sitting. He reached for a piece of toast, trying to play it cool. “So. Now that we’re…this, I guess, what’s the plan?”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Be friends first?”
Cedric glanced at him, expecting a joke, but Harry just looked…calm. Open. Like this really didn’t scare him at all.
Something in Cedric eased.
“Friends, then,” he agreed, and Harry smiled at him like he’d just won something.
And maybe, Cedric thought, they both had.
The day passed in a blur, but Cedric was hyperaware of every time he and Harry crossed paths. It was different now. Before, they were acquaintances, friendly but distant, their interactions mostly limited to Quidditch and the Triwizard Tournament. Now, Harry made a point to find him.
It was small things—Harry would catch his eye across the courtyard and smirk, or he’d pass by Cedric’s table in the library and drop a single sugar quill next to his books without a word. Once, in the hallway between classes, their shoulders brushed, and instead of stepping away, Harry turned his head, met Cedric’s gaze, and grinned like he had a secret.
By dinner, Cedric had fully given up on pretending he wasn’t affected.
He was sitting with his friends at the Hufflepuff table, halfway through a conversation about a Charms essay, when his phone buzzed. He grabbed it without thinking.
Harry Potter (7:12 PM): You free?
Cedric straightened a little, already reaching for his drink.
Cedric Diggory (7:13 PM): Depends. Are you about to make me do something ridiculous?
Harry Potter (7:13 PM): Possibly. Meet me by the lake?
Cedric Diggory (7:14 PM): …Fine. If this is a prank, I’m hexing you.
Harry Potter (7:14 PM): Would never. :)
Cedric sighed, setting down his drink. Malcolm, who had been watching him closely, raised an eyebrow.
“Let me guess. Your beloved?”
“Shut up.”
Elliot grinned. “You’re ditching us for him, aren’t you?”
“I—” Cedric hesitated. Then, because there was no point in lying, he sighed. “Yeah.”
They all made dramatic, scandalized noises, but Cedric just rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat.
The lake was quiet at this hour, the sky dusky with the last remnants of sunset. Cedric spotted Harry easily—he was sitting on one of the flat rocks near the shore, phone in hand, kicking at the pebbles by his feet.
When Cedric approached, Harry glanced up and smirked. “Wow. You actually came.”
Cedric huffed, hands in his pockets. “I figured if I didn’t, you’d just keep texting me until I did.”
“Very true.” Harry patted the spot beside him. “Sit.”
Cedric did, glancing out at the water. “So. What’s this about?”
Harry tilted his head, watching the ripples in the lake. “I dunno. Just wanted to talk.”
Cedric waited, sensing there was more. After a moment, Harry sighed.
“This whole soulmate thing,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s… weird, isn’t it?”
Cedric looked at him. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I barely know you, but now I’m supposed to be, what? Destined to you forever?”
Cedric hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
Harry gave him a side glance. “That doesn’t freak you out?”
Cedric thought about it. “It does. But…” He exhaled, looking at Harry properly. “If it had to be someone, I’m glad it’s you.”
Harry blinked.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into something softer than a smirk but warmer than a smile.
“…Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”
---
The Great Hall was already bustling with students when Cedric walked in, the scent of toast and pumpkin juice thick in the air. He took his usual seat at the Hufflepuff table, idly stirring his tea as he half-listened to Malcolm and Elliot debating the finer points of last night’s Wizard Chess game.
And then Harry walked in.
Or, more accurately, Harry shuffled in, looking like he’d barely escaped the clutches of sleep. His hair was even messier than usual—if that was possible—and his tie was hanging loose around his neck like he’d given up halfway through putting it on. His robes were slightly wrinkled, and he blinked sluggishly at his surroundings like he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there.
Cedric bit his lip, fighting back a laugh.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Fred Weasley immediately perked up.
“Ah, my love!” he declared, grinning as Harry sank down onto the bench across from him. “Come, sit with me. Let me shower you with affection and adoration on this fine morning—”
Harry made a small, unintelligible noise and folded his arms onto the table, promptly burying his head into them.
The entire Gryffindor table paused.
Fred blinked. “Wow. Shot down before I even got to the good part.”
George snorted. “Think that means you’re losing your touch, mate.”
“Oh, absolutely not.” Fred leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Hey, Harry. You know, I’ve read somewhere that breakfast tastes better when hand-fed by a devastatingly handsome man. Lucky for you, I happen to be both devastating and handsome—”
Harry made another sound, this one even more incoherent, and weakly shoved his arm out, blindly patting at Fred’s shoulder in what might have been a half-hearted attempt at getting him to shut up.
Cedric, watching from the Hufflepuff table, was openly grinning now.
Fred dramatically clutched his chest. “You wound me,” he said. “Truly, I don’t know how I’ll recover.”
“Maybe with a full meal in your mouth so you stop talking,” George suggested.
Ron, who had been buttering his toast, muttered, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”
Harry groaned into his arms. “Shut up,” he mumbled, voice muffled but still somehow fond.
Cedric shook his head, taking a sip of his tea. He was still watching when Harry, without lifting his head, blindly reached out toward the nearest plate. His hand flopped onto a slice of toast, missed, and then, with great effort, dragged it toward himself.
Cedric’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Harry Potter (7:51 AM): If you laugh at me I’m breaking up with you before we even start dating.
Cedric bit back a chuckle and quickly typed back.
Cedric Diggory (7:52 AM): Too late. Already laughing.
Harry made a soft huffing noise, still half-buried in his arms, and Cedric had the distinct feeling that if he were sitting next to him, Harry would have smacked his arm in retaliation.
Instead, Harry just groaned and typed back.
Harry Potter (7:53 AM): You’re lucky I like you.
Cedric smiled at his phone, shaking his head.
Cedric Diggory (7:53 AM): I know.
Cedric had just finished his tea when his phone buzzed again.
Harry Potter (8:04 AM): Save me.
Cedric smirked, glancing up.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry had finally lifted his head, though he still looked like he’d rather be asleep. Fred had taken full advantage of this, dramatically leaning his chin onto his palm and gazing at Harry like a lovesick fool.
“Oh, Harry,” Fred sighed. “I can’t help but notice how radiant you look this morning. A vision of beauty, truly.”
Harry stared at him, face completely blank.
George nudged his twin. “I don’t think it counts as beauty sleep if he clearly didn’t get enough of it.”
Ron snorted.
Harry, instead of answering, grabbed a muffin from the table and, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Fred, took the slowest, most deliberate bite possible.
Fred gasped. “Merlin’s beard. He’s playing hard to get.”
Cedric chuckled and sent another text.
Cedric Diggory (8:05 AM): Looks like you’re handling it well.
Harry picked up his phone, read the message, then—without breaking eye contact with Cedric—very purposefully flipped him off.
Cedric laughed, shaking his head.
Fred, catching this exchange, turned in his seat. “Oi, Diggory! Stop stealing my boyfriend before we’ve even had our dramatic love affair.”
Cedric raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he already rejected you, mate.”
Fred clutched his chest. “Not officially! There’s still hope.”
Harry, still exhausted, muttered, “Fred, if I marry Cedric, will you finally let this go?”
The entire Gryffindor table went dead silent.
Fred’s mouth fell open. George nearly choked on his juice. Ron slowly turned to stare at Harry like he’d just grown another head.
Harry blinked, suddenly more awake, like he’d only just processed what he’d said.
“Oh,” he said. Then, in a much smaller voice, “…Wait.”
Cedric nearly choked on his tea.
Fred, after a moment, grinned. “So you’re saying there’s still a chance?”
Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table again.
Cedric, shaking his head and still grinning, typed another message.
Cedric Diggory (8:06 AM): So are we announcing our engagement now, or should we wait?
Harry’s phone buzzed, and he lifted it just enough to read Cedric’s text. Then, slowly, he turned his head, gave Cedric the deadliest glare he could manage in his sleep-deprived state, and typed back.
Harry Potter (8:06 AM): I hate you.
Cedric just smirked.
Cedric Diggory (8:07 AM): No, you don’t.
Harry sighed, closing his eyes, and dropped his phone onto the table.
Fred, still grinning, nudged him. “So… can I be the best man, or—”
Harry threw the muffin at him.
The morning passed in a blur of classes, and before Cedric knew it, lunchtime rolled around. He had barely stepped into the Great Hall when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Harry Potter (12:03 PM): Where are you?
Cedric glanced up and easily spotted Harry at the Gryffindor table, sitting with Ron and Hermione. Harry was hunched over his phone, poking at a plate of chips with one hand while the other was obviously occupied texting.
Smirking, Cedric typed back.
Cedric Diggory (12:04 PM): I literally just walked in. Calm down.
Harry’s reply was instant.
Harry Potter (12:04 PM): No. I’m starving and suffering.
Cedric shook his head, making his way to his usual spot at the Hufflepuff table. He had just reached for a sandwich when his phone buzzed again.
Harry Potter (12:05 PM): Actually, new plan. Come sit with me.
Cedric blinked.
He looked up, catching Harry already staring at him from across the hall. Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting.
From beside him, Malcolm let out a low whistle. “Damn. You got the Gryffindor Golden Boy inviting you over? Big moves, Diggory.”
Cedric ignored him.
Cedric Diggory (12:05 PM): You do realize I have a whole house that expects me to sit here, right?
Harry Potter (12:06 PM): So? I think they’ll live.
Cedric exhaled through his nose.
Elliot, watching this unfold, leaned in. “You’re actually considering it.”
“I—” Cedric started, then scowled. “Shut up.”
Malcolm grinned. “You’ve been a taken man for, what, twenty-four hours? Pathetic.”
Cedric rolled his eyes and sent one last message.
Cedric Diggory (12:06 PM): Fine. But if I get heckled for this, I’m blaming you.
Across the hall, Harry’s lips curled into a victorious smirk.
Cedric barely made it five steps toward the Gryffindor table before his friends started hollering dramatically behind him.
“Diggory, no!”
“Traitor!”
“Tell Potter he has to pay the bride price before stealing you away!”
Cedric groaned but didn’t turn back.
When he reached the Gryffindor table, he expected at least a little pushback—maybe some confused looks, a comment or two. But Hermione barely glanced up from her book, Ron just made a noise of greeting around a mouthful of food, and Harry simply scooted over to make space.
Cedric hesitated. “…That’s it?”
Harry blinked up at him. “What?”
“I don’t know,” Cedric admitted, sliding onto the bench, “I was expecting more of a scene.”
Harry smirked. “Would you like me to announce your arrival with fanfare?”
“I mean, you are supposed to be my fiancé,” Cedric said dryly.
Ron immediately choked on his drink.
Hermione sighed and passed him a napkin without even looking up.
Harry, meanwhile, just smirked wider. “Oh, so you’re accepting the engagement now?”
Cedric grabbed a roll from Harry’s plate without permission. “No, I’m just playing along with your delusions.”
“Sure, sure.” Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, still grinning. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, darling.”
Cedric nearly choked on the roll.
Ron groaned. “You two are unbearable.”
“Get used to it,” Hermione said absently, flipping a page. “I doubt this is going to stop anytime soon.”
Cedric exhaled, shaking his head, but—when he glanced at Harry again, he found the other boy already watching him, green eyes glinting with mischief.
And, well.
Maybe Hermione was right.
---
The Hufflepuff table was lively as usual, but Cedric had long since tuned out the conversation around him. His focus, whether he liked it or not, kept drifting to the Gryffindor table. Specifically, to Harry.
He wasn’t watching him. Not really. He was just aware of him. That was all.
It was hard not to be aware when, from the corner of his eye, he could see Fred Weasley leaning dramatically against Harry’s shoulder, an expression of pure longing plastered across his face.
“You wound me, Potter,” Fred was saying, voice carrying easily over the din of the Great Hall. “Truly. Every day, I bare my heart to you, and every day, you trample on it with your cruel, cruel indifference.”
Harry, who had been methodically stabbing his potatoes with a fork, barely spared him a glance. “You’re fine, Fred.”
“I’m not fine!” Fred clutched at his chest, looking scandalized. “Look at me! I’m a broken man! A hollow shell of the vibrant, dashing figure I once was, all because of your heartless rejection.”
Across from Cedric, Malcolm snorted into his goblet. “Oh, this is gold.”
Elliot grinned. “Bet you ten Galleons Fred doesn’t let up until Harry hexes him.”
Cedric rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t entertained.
Back at the Gryffindor table, Fred was still laying it on thick. “Harry, dearest, love of my life, please—I ask for only a sliver of your affection.”
“Fred, I have a fork, and I will use it,” Harry said, still not looking up.
“You hear that?” Elliot whispered. “That’s the voice of a man at the end of his rope.”
George, clearly enjoying the spectacle, leaned in. “Come on, Harry, just say the word and I’ll start planning the wedding.”
Harry finally looked up at Fred, unimpressed. “You’re relentless.”
Fred grinned. “And handsome.”
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples.
Fred smirked, taking this as an opening. “You know, if Diggory isn’t treating you right, my arms are always open—”
“Cedric’s treating me fine,” Harry said flatly.
The Hufflepuff table went dead silent.
Cedric froze mid-bite.
Malcolm immediately turned to him, grinning. “Oh, really?”
Elliot nearly fell out of his seat laughing.
Back at the Gryffindor table, Fred looked scandalized. “You wound me twice in one day.”
“I will hex you,” Harry muttered, stabbing his potatoes a little too aggressively.
Cedric exhaled, shaking his head. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Harry Potter (6:47 PM): Don’t. Say. Anything.
Cedric smirked, typing back.
Cedric Diggory (6:48 PM): I don’t have to. You just told the entire Great Hall I’m treating you fine.
Harry’s response was immediate.
Harry Potter (6:48 PM): I hate you.
Cedric Diggory (6:49 PM): No, you don’t.
Across the hall, Harry met his gaze, narrowed his eyes, and very deliberately flipped him off under the table.
Cedric just grinned.
Fred, undeterred by Harry’s blatant disinterest, dramatically flopped onto the Gryffindor table, one arm outstretched like he was on the verge of death.
“He can’t exactly treat you fine if you aren’t even dating yet, Harry, my love,” Fred said, voice filled with exaggerated sorrow.
Harry, still stabbing his potatoes with increasing aggression, muttered, “Don’t care.”
Fred gasped as if personally betrayed. “You should care! You deserve passion, romance, a partner who sweeps you off your feet—”
“Fred,” Harry cut in, voice utterly monotone, “I am this close to sweeping you off the bench instead.”
Cedric, watching from the Hufflepuff table, snorted into his goblet.
Elliot leaned in, grinning. “Mate, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Potter actually likes you.”
Malcolm smirked. “Yeah, he hasn’t hexed Fred yet, which means something.”
Cedric rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to admit how much the whole exchange wasn’t bothering him.
Back at the Gryffindor table, Fred was still going strong.
“Look,” Fred said, leaning closer, “all I’m saying is, if Diggory hasn’t made his move yet, then perhaps I should step in. For the good of the wizarding world, obviously.”
Harry didn’t even glance up. “If I agree, will you shut up?”
Fred grinned. “You’d agree to date me?”
Harry sighed, finally, finally looking up to give Fred the driest, most unimpressed look Cedric had ever seen.
“No,” Harry deadpanned, “but I’ll agree that you should shut up.”
The Gryffindor table erupted into laughter.
Fred clutched his chest. “Merlin, Potter, you wound me daily.”
George patted his twin’s back. “One day you’ll learn to love again.”
Harry, done with the entire conversation, slumped forward onto the table, burying his face in his arms.
Cedric, still grinning, pulled out his phone.
Cedric Diggory (6:52 PM): You sure you don’t secretly love the attention?
Across the hall, Harry didn’t lift his head, but Cedric saw the way his hand twitched as he checked his phone.
---
The Great Hall was already full of weekend chatter when Cedric sat down at the Hufflepuff table, lazily stirring honey into his tea. The morning was slow, peaceful—until the doors banged open.
Fred Weasley strode in like a man on a mission, dragging a very unwilling Harry Potter along with him.
Harry looked miserable.
His pajama bottoms were wrinkled, the edges of his too-long sleeves flopping over his hands. He was drowning in at least three sweaters—one of which was visibly slipping off his shoulder—and his hair was somehow messier than usual, which was impressive, all things considered.
He was also very clearly not walking willingly.
Fred had an arm hooked firmly around Harry’s middle, practically carrying him across the hall as Harry halfheartedly tried to dig his heels into the floor.
“C’mon, Potter, it’s breakfast! The most important meal of the day!” Fred announced, grinning. “You can’t just skip it.”
Harry groaned, voice muffled against his own sleeve. “I was sleeping.”
“Not anymore, you weren’t.”
Fred reached the Gryffindor table and forcibly plopped Harry down onto the bench. Harry, looking like he might actually melt into the wood, flopped forward onto the table and buried his face into his folded arms.
Cedric, watching this unfold from across the hall, took a sip of his tea to hide his grin.
George leaned around Fred to poke at Harry’s arm. “Oi. You alive in there?”
Harry made a noise that was not words, just pure suffering.
Fred patted his back. “He’s fine. Just tragically not a morning person.”
Ron, already halfway through a plate of eggs, snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
Hermione sighed and slid a mug of coffee toward Harry. “Drink this.”
Harry cracked one bleary eye open, saw the coffee, and groaned before reaching for it with both hands. He took one long sip, then sighed as if he’d just been revived from the brink of death.
Cedric chuckled to himself and pulled out his phone.
Cedric Diggory (8:10 AM): You look absolutely thrilled to be here.
Across the hall, Harry fumbled his phone out of his pocket, eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion. After a moment, his reply buzzed through.
Harry Potter (8:11 AM): If I die, I want you to know that it was Fred Weasley’s fault.
Cedric smirked.
Cedric Diggory (8:11 AM): Noted. But I’m pretty sure you’ll live.
Harry groaned and, very dramatically, slumped even further down onto the table.
Fred, still undeterred, grinned and ruffled his already-messy hair. “That’s the spirit, soulmate.”
Harry didn’t even lift his head. He just reached out and blindly smacked Fred’s arm, making a soft, exhausted noise that sounded suspiciously like shut up.
Cedric shook his head, grinning. This was going to be a fun morning.