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Chapter Text

“Is it really necessary for me to be here?”

“Of course it is, Ronald!” Hermione told him again , brushing down the lapels of his suit. “You and Harry have done the Ministry a great service over the past year! You deserve this award and you should be here to receive it.”

“Yeah, plus it’s nice to see you take your annual bath a little early this year,” Ginny quipped and Harry sniggered.

“You’re bloody hilarious, Ginny, has anyone ever told you that?” Ron said in the most deadpan voice he could muster.

“All the time, Ronniekins,” she purred. Ron threw her a glare and she grinned in return, her teeth white gleaming between painted red lips.

Ron had to admit, she cleaned up good. He looked around his companions; they all did. Ginny’s red hair was slicked back and fell poker straight down her back, meeting the strapless navy gown she sported tonight. Paired with Harry in his gunmetal grey robes, they looked every bit the wizarding power couple that Witch Weekly made them out to be.

Hermione was positively glowing in a sparkling golden dress that hugged every curve and was extremely flattering. They may not be together anymore but Ron wasn’t petty enough to deny that she was still incredibly attractive. So much so that she was even able to turn even the coldest of hearts if the scowling, blonde wizard on her arm was anything to go by. 

Draco looked almost as pissed to be here as Ron felt. It was bizarre to have anything in common with a Malfoy but they seemed to have the same taste in women so there had to be good taste under that platinum mop somewhere.

“It’s a bit much, is it not?” Draco grumbled, looking at the Ministry atrium, done up with glittering baubles and trinkets, snow sprinkling from the ceiling and thousands of candles twinkling all around. The Christmas tree seemed twice as large as last year’s, which was baffling considering last year’s tree somehow managed to bump the atrium ceiling.

“Shush Draco, it’s beautiful. As always,” Hermione scolded with a light slap on his arm.

“It’s tacky, is what it is,” he said.

“It’s festive and you’ll like it!” she snapped and gave him a haughty glare. Draco looked at her, judging just how close to a hex he was before plastering a faux smile across his face. “That’s better,” she purred and pecked him lightly on the lips. His insincere smile quickly turned warmer.

Between the two couples, Ron found it difficult to not feel out of place. Effortlessly stunning each one of them and extremely high profile, Ron felt like some imposter tagalong with the foursome. He shuffled around inside his suit, which suddenly felt two sizes too small.

The crowd milled around, everyone dressed to the high nines, in gowns, robes, suits and bow ties all looking their best for the annual Witch Weekly’s Best Dressed at the Ministry’s Christmas Gala list. Ron had certainly never been included on that list but he’d never been on the worst dressed list either so he counted that as a win.

“I need a drink,” Ron declared.

“It pains me to say it but excellent idea, Weasley,” Draco said, following Ron towards the well-stocked bar. 

The others followed and soon they all had an ostentatious drink in their hand. Ginny’s actually seemed to be sparking. Ron didn’t care for the bells and whistles that accompanied his drink, he gulped it down all the same and placed the empty tumbler back on the bar. A warm buzz swept over his skin and already he felt the tension in his bones slipping away. A couple more of these and this night might actually be tolerable.

The couples on either side of them murmured between themselves, pointing out friends and colleagues, either greeting them warmly or bitching quietly behind their backs. Ron scanned the crowd too, unable to find anyone else he’d actually want to speak to so he ordered himself another drink. 

Groups of Aurors gathered chatting, probably pissed that they weren’t getting some stupid award tonight. Neville hung around them awkwardly, silly drink perched in his hand as Pansy straightened his bow tie. Ron couldn’t hear what they were talking about but whatever it was made Pansy roll her eyes aggressively at them. She tried hard for Neville’s sake but at the end of the day, she was still Pansy Parkinson. Ron silenced a chuckle.

He continued his investigation of the party guests. Percy headed up the Magical Transportation department, a crowd of incredibly boring chatter heads that all seemed to be hung on some story that Percy was telling without a ghost of an expression on his face. The Magical Games and Sports department darted giddy, unapologetic glances at Ginny and Arnold Peasegood’s son appeared to be stealing a crystal bauble from the ginormous tree.

The whole scene was rather amusing and Ron found himself smiling warmly as he swallowed down his second drink. He sighed, relaxing into the warm burn of firewhiskey in his chest.

The low rumble of the crowd grew ever so slightly and they seemed to swarm, moving en masse to congregate by the entrance doors. Ron craned his neck to see what the commotion was, straining to see through the bobbing heads of witches and wizards all trying to do the same thing he was.

It was his hair he saw first. That warm chestnut colour that Ron remembered catching summer sunshine as they ran around the field behind the Burrow. Ron’s heart stopped, the grip on his glass tightening as he desperately tried to confirm his growing suspicions of who exactly the crowd was fawning over. 

The crowd moved, the tall man at the centre moving with them and through a break the sea of admirers, Ron saw him.

As beautiful as ever, his smile as bright as Ron remembered - not that he could ever forget that smile. He had it for everyone, rich or poor, he would smile warmly and mean it. It stole Ron’s heart from the first moment.

“Bloody hell,” Ron groaned, quickly turning towards the bar, his fingers dancing anxiously on the mahogany top.

“Bloody hell? Bloody hell what?” Harry asked, his head darting around.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Ron hissed, sipping at the sparkling bubbles in his drink.

“Oooh, I bet I can take a guess ,” Ginny chimed in, in the most irritating sing-song voice she could conjure up.

“Shut up Ginny.”

“It’s Cedric Diggory,” she not so quietly whispered.

“The Minister’s golden boy?” Hermione asked.

“Ron’s dream boy, more like,” Ginny scoffed.

“Ginny, so help me God, I will strangle you with Harry’s bow tie.”

“Cedric’s the son of one of dad’s colleagues. They played together a lot when we were kids,” she explained.

“And Ron likes him?” Hermione asked gleefully.

“That’s a massive understatement.”

“Oh my God, will you stop?” Ron groaned, causing the four of them to laugh.

“Why don’t you go talk to him, Ronald?” Hermione said.

“Uhh, yeah right. I’m gonna just walk up to Cedric bloody Diggory, looking like that in those robes and just say words to him, shall I?”

“Interesting middle name,” Harry quipped.

“Well, yes Ronald, that’s generally the idea,” Hermione said, laughing.

“No way.”

“Uh, I don’t think you’re getting the choice, Ron,” Ginny said. “He appears coming over.”

“What?” Ron’s head whipped around, catching the ever-so-handsome Cedric Diggory politely avoiding conversations with Ministry officials and fawning guests alike to come straight towards him . Ron poured the remainder of his drink down his throat quickly, wincing at the burn in his chest and slamming the glass back on the bar.

“Ron Weasley?” 

Ron’s breathing hitched. His voice was just as perfect as the rest of him, lilting and sweet. Ron turned, overwhelmed by firstly, the sheer height of him. Ron wasn’t exactly on the short side himself and Cedric seemed to be a couple of inches taller still. His suit jacket was exquisitely embroidered in gold thread and had an intricate metal fastening at his stomach. It fitted him perfectly and he completely embodied his Golden Boy moniker. His warm eyes sparkled in his angular face and were accompanied by the warmest smile. “I thought that was you.”

“Cedric!” Ron feigned surprise, his voice coming out far squawkier than he’d planned. He coughed lightly to clear his throat, hoping his next words weren’t disastrous. “Having a good night?”

“It’s definitely looking up,” he said warmly and Ron felt the heat grow in his cheeks. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I, uhh…”

Ron looked at the eavesdropping couples on either side of him for help. He met Hermione’s eyes first, her eagerness to overhear a little less subtle than his other companions. She started, turning quickly to a disinterested, drink sipping Draco.

“Uh, Draco, darling, dance with me,” she said hastily. Draco murmured the beginnings of a complaint but Hermione was already taking the drink from his hand and placing it on the bar. “It wasn’t a question, Draco,” she hissed at him quietly before dragging him onto the dance floor.

Ron turned to Harry and Ginny, who had been openly watching the interaction and grew wide-eyed upon being caught.

“Oh, Harry! There’s uhm, you know… from that thing?” Ginny stammered, refusing flatly to meet the thunderous glare that Ron was shooting in her direction.

“Yes!” Harry agreed, a little too enthusiastically. “I have to speak to him about … uh, stuff.”

Harry finished with a grimace and Ginny rolled her eyes at him as she pulled him away, leaving Ron squirming at the bar with beautiful Cedric Diggory chuckling beside him.

“Subtle as a wand, that lot,” he remarked and Ron gave him a pained smile.

“Yeah, some friends.”

Cedric laughed lightly and turned to the bar, the serving elf’s attention on him from the get-go.

“Two of what Mr Weasley is having, thank you.”

The elf nodded and briskly summoned two crystal glasses and poured in some whiskey. A final flourish of his hand added two sparklers to the drinks that began to spark and fizz.

“How has your evening been so far?” Cedric asked, handing Ron a drink and clinking his own glass against it.

“Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m even here,” Ron grumbled.

“You’re joking, surely?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I’ve been following yours and Harry’s missions eagerly! Very exciting stuff,” Cedric told him, taking a sip of his drink. His tongue darted out quickly to lick the whiskey from his bottom lip and Ron found himself unable to look at anything else. “Your closure rate far exceeds any other Auror team in the Ministry, it deserves to be rewarded.”

Ron felt heat rise up his neck and took a hearty swig of his drink hoping to distract from the look that Cedric pinned him with. It was completely unsuccessful.

“Thanks,” Ron croaked, awkwardly. “To be honest though, these parties are not really my thing. Too busy, too many people.”

“That’s understandable, they can be a little much,” he agreed. “Although, I’ve found that good company can definitely enhance the experience.”

“Let me know if you find some,” Ron retorted quickly and then grimaced at his terrible attempt at a joke.

Cedric laughed, a warm, sultry sound, his eyes shining, focused solely on Ron.

“I already have,” he said.

“Cedric?” 

A strange voice cut through the moment and Cedric’s father put a hand on his son’s shoulder. Cedric sighed and turned to him, offering him one of his poster boy smiles. 

“The Minister’s asking for you.”

“I... okay, I’ll be right there.” Ron could have sworn he almost seemed disappointed. “Unfortunately, it seems that I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Duty calls,” Ron said. Cedric nodded softly before a soft smile played on his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said, actually sounding genuine. “I was hoping to catch up with you a little longer. Tell you what, how about drinks?” 

“Drinks?”

“Yeah. Say, Friday night? Seven? My place?”

“Your place?”

“Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say?” he said with a chuckle and Ron blushed.

“No, I… drinks sounds great.”

“Great,” Cedric said with a smile.

He pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it at the napkin under Ron’s glass. Ron watched as Cedric’s address burned itself into the thin tissue paper. 

“See you then … then,” Ron said, groaning at the stupidity of himself and Cedric grinned warmly and he placed the napkin in Ron’s hand.

“See you then, then,” Cedric repeated with a wink before disappearing into the admiring crowd.

Ron exhaled loudly, completely unaware that Cedric had him holding his breath the entire time. He’d always had that effect on him. Since they were kids, there was something about Cedric Diggory that excited Ron, made his heart beat a little louder, made his breath come a little faster, made his day a little brighter. He still managed it now. 

Ron watched him leave, a head and shoulders taller than the rest of the crowd, his perfectly coiffed head dipping to smile and greet and kiss people as he passed.

He certainly knew how to work a crowd, they loved him. Even Minister Kingsley greeted him with a jovial clap on the shoulder and a burly hug.

“What happened?”

Ron jumped as Ginny appeared over his right shoulder with a suggestive grin.

“Jesus, Gin, give me a bloody heart attack why don’t you?”

“I would but I’m afraid of upsetting Mr Diggory,” she purred.

“What are you on about?” Ron asked briskly, determined not to let Ginny see him watching the man in the golden tuxedo from the corner of his eye.

“Come on!” she scoffed. “It was so obvious!”

“Clearly it wasn’t,” Ron told her.

“He’s into you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Look at him, he’s that nice to everyone. He just wanted to catch up,” he told her, folding the precious inscribed tissue paper into a small square and tucking it into his inside jacket pocket.

“Mhmm,” she hummed. “And what’s that you just squirrelled away in your jacket then?”

“None of your bloody business, that’s what,” Ron snapped and Ginny grinned widely. Ron tried to ignore the smug look on her face but Ginny had grown up being right all the time and she’d mastered that infuriating all-knowing smirk.

“Good evening welcome guests!” Cedric melodic voice cut over the crowd’s low murmur and immediately everyone’s attention was turned to him.

“Mr Diggory commands our attention, Gin,” Ron told her.

“I bet he does,” she said with a drawl and a wink.

“Don’t be rude,” Ron said, holding a silencing finger to his lips.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic’s 293rd Annual Christmas Gala!”

A subdued cheer rippled through the atrium as two fireworks popped behind Cedric, squealing noisily up to the high ceiling and bursting into stars of sparkling silver. The crowd below ooh-ed and ahh-ed and Cedric watched them with a happy smile and Ron watched Cedric with complete fascination. 

“The Ministry has seen an interesting year, this year! It’s certainly faced its numerous challenges in the past and this year was no exception save for the amazing work and dedication of its people. Yuletide is the season for reflection and celebration and it only makes sense that while we reflect on darkness, we celebrate the light and the good. So, without further ado, I would like to pass over the Minister Shacklebolt who can award those who truly made this year special.”

Cedric looked at Ron as he finished speaking, his smile feeling like it was meant only for him causing his stomach to drop and his heart to thrum and Ron started to wonder after which drink he turned into a 14-year-old girl.

Ron winced at the sound of a toddler screaming behind his sunglasses, the smashing around his hungover brain. He groaned at the large table they’d procured for brunch, big enough for the five of them to enjoy eggs and coffee, and in Ron’s case a little hair of the dog, quite comfortably. Except for the screaming muggle child that was running around loose to Ron’s left.

“It’s your own fault, Ronald,” Hermione scolded him. She poured a meagre amount of steaming coffee into his teeny, artisan cup which Ron topped up with the firewhiskey flask in his pocket. He didn’t usually drink before 11 am but last night’s bender left him feeling far too tender this morning to go without. “There was no need to drink as much as you did.”

“Uh, there was every need,” Ron grumbled. “Ginny was pissing me off.”

“Me?” she yelped on his other side, the sound sending a sharp pain straight between his eyes.

“Yes, you! With all your Cedric nonsense!” He snapped back at her. “Besides, by the end of the night, I was just trying to keep up with Neville!”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Neville! Pansy should have kept an eye on him.”

Beside her, Draco scoffed from behind his newspaper.

“Pansy was the one plying him with drinks! They were both as plastered as each other.”

“Definitely,” Ron agreed. “I sent them home when they started getting handsy.”

Draco chuckled.

“Been there.”

“Wait, wait, wait, how did we just sidestep the Cedric conversation?” Ginny yelped.

“There wasn’t a Cedric conversation,” Harry chimed in.

“Yes! Thank you, Harry,” Ron said.

“By that I mean, we were yet to start the Cedric conversation,” Harry added with a mischievous grin. Ron glared at him.

“What are you wearing for your date?” Ginny asked.

“Date? Who said it was a date?” Ron retorted a little too loudly, hurting his own head this time.

“It was implied.”

“I don’t date,” Ron stated flatly.

“Only cause you haven’t been on a date in years. You might not even know how to do it anymore,” Ginny snarked.

“You should have wrote Theo, he had a thing for you after we left school,” Draco piped up.

“Oh, I know,” Ron replied, pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to shoot Draco a feeble wink.

“What?! That’s amazing! I love that!” Ginny squealed. “I thought you said you didn’t date though?”

“I said I don’t date. I never said I was celibate.”

“You are going to go on this date though, aren’t you Ronald?” Hermione asked.

“Jesus, it’s not a date! It’s just old friends catching up.”

“Not according to the Daily Prophet,” Draco said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Draco shook out his newspaper and folded it open, clearing his throat before reading aloud the article that had captured his attention for the past twenty minutes.

“Ministry golden boy has sparkling eyes for decorated Auror Weasley,” Draco said in a clear voice, Ron grimaced at the headline. “Minister for Magic’s right hand Cedric Diggory was front and centre in golden embroidery at last night’s annual Ministry Christmas Gala. Despite catching the eye of everyone in the room, he only seemed to have eyes for Auror Ronald Weasley who was receiving commendation from the Minister, along with school friend and fellow Auror Harry Potter, for excellent service to the Ministry this year.”

“Hey! I got a mention!” Harry piped up with a grin and Draco rolled his eyes at him before continuing.

“Diggory has long since been a notorious singleton, never seen with a partner on his arm, but could it be that’s all about to change? Several people spotted them talking closely at the bar, and the pair seemed in high spirits.”

“Oh, God forbid!” Ron groaned. “I’ll just fetch my veil and a vicar, shall I? Bloody hell.”

“We’re not the only ones who noticed it,” Hermione said softly. “I know we tease you sometimes-”

“Sometimes?”

“But we wouldn’t lie to you!” she finished, placing a hand over his on the table.

“There’s something there, Ron,” Ginny added. “Don’t let this whole I don’t date nonsense stop you from seeing something great right in front of you.”

“Uh, fine,” Ron groaned. “I still don’t think it’s a date though.”

“That’s fine, you’ll probably be more relaxed that way anyway,” Hermione said and Draco agreed with a hum.

“I’m surprised we’re having to strong-arm you into a night out with Cedric Diggory, though,” Ginny chuckled. “There was a time where you would have jumped at the chance. Are you feeling okay?”

“I think I’m still drunk, to be honest.”

“What are you going to wear?” Harry asked.

“Don’t, you’re going to make me spew, Harry,” Ron told him.

In the end, Ron opted for a burgundy button-down shirt, a charcoal cardigan and beige, fresh-pressed trousers. He’d showered and done nothing overly special with his hair, just let it dry naturally in all its manic swirls and kinks. He looked good but just good enough. Despite Ginny’s, and surprisingly Harry’s, insistence that this was in fact a date, Ron still worried that the intent of the evening had been terribly misconstrued. He didn’t want to overdo it, just in case this was nothing more than two friends catching up, but he cleaned up enough to make a good impression anyway.

Ron found the address on his now slightly crumpled napkin easy enough, and he definitely expected it to look like this. The building was tall and slender, made of red sandstone bricks with long sweeping windows. Ron had nosily peered into several as he trudged along the snowy footpath to Cedric’s and caught glimpses of high ceilings and modern kitchens. Basically, everything that his flat wasn’t.

Despite now being able to afford his own place, the flat he’d settled on ended up resembling the Burrow far more than he’d intended. A small rustic kitchen with a cosy living room adjoined, the Christmas tree his brothers had cut him down had to have the tip sawn off just to get it upright. There were two bedrooms, both small but enough for just Ron and a bathroom that was long but not wide enough for Ron to stretch out both his arms at once. It felt familiar as soon as he stepped through the door for the first time and Ron knew immediately that this was his flat.

His hand poised over the doorbell, Ron knew that Cedric’s place was bound to be far grander than his own, and the thought both terrified and excited him.

The bell rang, the shrill sound leaking past the seal of the front door, and Ron winced at the idea of him making such a ruckus inside Cedric Diggory’s house. Through the frosted glass panes on the door, Ron could see movement and his breath hitched ever so slightly, coming out in a frozen cloud in front of his face.

The door swung open, Cedric standing with a smile in the golden glow of the doorframe and for a second Ron forgot what he was supposed to do next. Cedric’s hair was less pristine than when Ron had last seen him, it flopped carelessly over his brow. His grey waffle knit jumper seemed to fit him just right and the low slung jeans sat neatly on his hips. Even down to his socked feet, Cedric was a picture of casual perfection and it broke Ron’s heart just a little bit.

Because this was certainly not a date.

“Come in, come in! You’ll freeze out there!” Cedric said, ushering Ron inside. “It’s still snowing too? Brilliant! I love the snow.”

The hallway was narrow and long and reminded him of Grimmauld Place only much shinier. A silver-framed mirror hung on one wall and faced the long staircase on the opposite wall. Ron squinted slightly and he still couldn’t see the landing at the top of the stairs, they seemed to almost lead to nowhere.

Cedric brushed the powdery snowflakes off Ron’s shoulders and helped him off with his jacket, giving it a small shake over the doormat before hanging it up on the coat hooks mounted behind the door. Cedric being in his space was overwhelming, Ron could feel his warmth radiating through his jumper and his hair fell softly over his forehead. The air around him smelled divine too, inviting, like warm spices and orange. It reminded Ron of mulled wine and made the hollow of his chest tighten exponentially.

“Thank you,” Ron said, surprising himself with the timidity of his own voice. 

“Did you find the place okay?”

“Yeah, it’s a really nice street.”

“I like it. It’s quiet, peaceful, and best of all, no one knows me here,” Cedric grinned.

“Yeah, I thought it all seemed awfully muggle,” Ron replied. “Not complaining, of course, it’s just different.”

“Good different?”

“Still to be determined,” Ron said and Cedric laughed.

“That’s very fair," he said with a chuckle. He started on through the living room and Ron eyed the extra plush carpeting under his feet and made sure to scrub his boots on the doormat a couple more times. "Can I get you a drink at all?"

"I would love a drink," Ron said following after him tentatively, casting an inquisitive glance around the living room as Cedric walked him through it.

Despite the abnormal height of the ceiling and the minimalist decor throughout, the living room was actually pretty cosy. Velvety silver throws were perfectly tossed over plush cream couches. Soft glowing candles perched on the glass coffee table and a modern, steel fireplace held a crackling fire in the centre of the wall.

Voluminous carpet gave way to sleek stone tiles in the kitchen, the countertops the same stone grey as the floor with glossy white cabinets. 

Everything was sleek and cool and sophisticated and as Cedric bustled around in the cupboards, Ron thought it suited him very well. 

"I'm afraid I don't have anything as extravagant as the other night," Cedric told him, waving an arm at the breakfast counter stools.

"That's perfectly fine, preferable even," Ron said, perching clumsily on a stool.

"Those parties are nice and all but nothing beats a quiet night in," Cedric said, pushing a freshly opened beer bottle across the counter.

"I have to agree," Ron nodded, taking a swig out of the bottle. The alcohol fizzed on his tongue, a slightly fruity taste lingering after he swallowed it. Ron hummed in approval, turning the bottle in his hands to make a mental note of the brand. "Although I wouldn't have taken you for a homebody, you work those parties very well."

"A lot, a lot of practice. A little necessity too. Part of my job is to shadow Shacklebolt at these things, shake hands he doesn't want to shake, charm reporters away from him, stuff like that," Cedric said with a chuckle. "It's just more work those things. Work with frilly drinks, mind you."

"Well, there's gotta be some perks, I guess," Ron added.

"They've been much more enjoyable of late," Cedric added with a warm smile.

The evening passed in a warm haze of stories and laughter, Ron couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed while in such thrilling company. 

Dates wound him up. Left him spending the whole evening tense and unsure of every word he said. He never knew if he was coming or going, if he’d said the wrong thing or even if it was going well at all. He never knew what he should and shouldn’t be doing and it always left him shaken and muddled up. It was the main reason that he’d given up on dating altogether.

“-and he completely flipped over the front of his broom, landed in a heap!” Ron finished and Cedric burst out in a sputtering laugh. 

It made Ron chuckle; it was like seeing a facade shatter in the best way possible. Cedric was always so composed and pristine and seeing him spit beer out through a laugh was just such a natural reaction that it made Ron’s stomach swoop.

“Merlin!” Cedric yelped through laughter. “Harry was always such an amazing flyer too!”

“He still is! Ginny’s just better!” Ron chuckled. “Don’t tell either of them I said that though.”

“My lips are sealed,” Cedric said, pulling an invisible zipper across his lips. Ron smiled, unable to look away from the alcohol-induced flush that dusted Cedric’s cheekbones.

“This has been nice,” Ron said softly.

“It still is nice,” Cedric added. “I thought with Harry and Hermione, you’d do this kind of thing all the time.”

Ron made a garbled, grumbling sound that was neither a disagreement nor an agreement, Cedric cocked his head curiously.

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just not the same,” Ron told him. “They’re just … all coupled up, y’know? There’s only so many times you can sit perched at the edge of the table because the waiter just threw an extra chair at the end before it begins to grate on you.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Cedric said softly.

“I guess it’s just nice to sit on either side of the table from someone and have a back and forth conversation,” Ron said.

“Agreed,” Cedric replied with a smile, clinking the neck of his third beer bottle against Ron’s. “So, what exactly would I have to do to have this nice evening with you again?”

“Well, we are friends, Cedric, I’m just an owl away,” Ron told him. 

Cedric chuffed a breathy laugh, his attention dropping to the damp flakes of the beer bottle’s label he was carefully peeling off the glass.

“Right, friends,” he said softly.

“Aren’t we?”

Cedric sighed, his eyes flicking up to settle on Ron and then he smiled, soft and comforting and Ron immediately understood why he was so good at his job.

“If I’m way out of line here, please tell me but … what I was really asking there was, what would I have to do to have another nice night with you … as something other than friends?”

“Oh.”

Ron’s words failed him.

Usually, he could find words for every situation, not all of them good ones, mind you, but never had he found himself this stumped before. Because once again, Ginny was right.

He could feel his heart thudding in his throat, desperate for him to say words, the right words. Words that wouldn’t make all this go away.

“I- uh,” he stumbled over the simplest sounds.

“Please, don’t worry about it! I don’t want to put you in a weird position,” Cedric said quickly, smiling at him. “I just thought … never mind. Please, forget I said anything.”

“What did you think?”

“It’s silly! Please, don’t let me spoil our nice evening.”

“Cedric,” Ron said softly.

“I just thought, that I was getting a feeling from you. Hopefully, the same feeling you’re getting from me, but I fear that I’ve jumped to conclusions and I apologise.”

“You didn’t,” Ron said suddenly. “Jump to conclusions, I mean.”

“No?”

Ron shook his head softly and Cedric sighed, a small smile curving his lips.

“I just … I wasn’t sure that’s what this was,” Ron told him. “I don’t really ... date, much. I’m not great that reading those kinds of situations.”

“Well, that’s my fault then. I’m sorry I didn’t make my invitation more clear,” Cedric told him.

Ron chuffed a small laugh.

“Please, I got to go on a date with Cedric Diggory, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” he said jovially. Cedric grinned.

“I’m hoping by your tone that that’s a good thing?”

“Definitely.”

“So I can see you again?”

“Definitely,” Ron said, feeling the rising blush creep up his neck and across his freckles. He was hoping it could be passed off as an effect of the alcohol. “However, I believe in order to have a second date, the first has to end. Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“That is what I hear,” Cedric said.

Ron pushed his chair back, standing unsteadily on legs that he’d only just now realised hadn’t been used all evening. He started towards the living room, feeling like a baby deer on ice and Cedric stood with him. He followed closely, a large hand warm on Ron’s lower back as they walked through the gorgeous house together and Ron found himself fighting the urge to cave in to buckling knees. 

Cedric handed Ron his coat was pleased to find that it had dried off in the hours he’d been there and was comfortably warm when he pulled open the front door and was immediately enveloped in the frosty midnight air.

“This was…” Ron started, unsure of how to describe the newly ignited feeling now warming his heart without overstepping. He could lose it just as quickly as he found it with just the wrong words.

“Nice?” Cedric finished with a chuckle.

“Yeah. Sorry, I said that already didn’t I?” Ron cringed, feeling that familiar dread creep up on him again. His fists tightened at his sides, desperate to try and grip onto whatever shred of the evening he could.

“Ron?” Cedric said his name, soft and warm and Ron felt it in his chest. Ron sighed, meeting Cedric’s eyes with a heavy gut. “Tonight was great. Wonderful, even, and I definitely want to do it again, okay?”

Ron nodded, allowing himself to relax with the warm smile that suited Cedric’s features so well and right now, that smile was only for him.

“Goodnight, Cedric,” he said finally.

“Goodnight, Ron.”

Ron focused on the rhythmic crunch of fresh snow under his boots as he walked back down the perfectly tree-lined street, hoping the thudding of his heart would calm in his ears. It thundered so loudly that at first, he was almost certain he imagined the sound of someone calling his name. It was only when the second set of crunching footsteps began to muddle with his own, that Ron stopped.

He turned, watching a breathless Cedric pad down the empty street in socked feet, the bottoms of his jeans gradually darkened with seeping snowflakes. His hair was scattered and the flush in his cheeks was bright but when Ron stopped, Cedric smiled.

Cedric Diggory really was a beautiful man.

“Cedric?” Ron spluttered. “What in the bloody hell are you doing? You’ll catch your death!”

Cedric caught up to him, panting and chuckling through the frozen shivers that Ron could see rack his broad shoulders. Snow fluttered around them and Ron’s eyes fixed on a single snowflake that got trapped in Cedric’s fringe. He desperately wanted to reach for it, brush it away but he caught himself.

“I just… had to do something,” Cedric said breathlessly, his words forming hazy frozen clouds in front of him.

“In your socks?”

“It’s important,” Cedric told him.

And all at once, Cedric was right there.

His hands on the collar of Ron’s coat, pulling him close as he kissed him, his lips as soft and plush as Ron always imagined they would be. He didn’t push further than that, just enough pressure that Ron felt his heart drop to his toes and it took him a second or two before he’d collected himself enough to kiss him back. Ron reached an arm around him, his hand pressed against the small of Cedric’s back and returned his shivering kiss with all the courage he could muster.

It was when a soft moan escaped Cedric’s throat that Ron pulled away, his brain suddenly unable to comprehend the sound. A sound that Cedric made. That he made when he kissed him. When Ron kissed Cedric. 

It was such a bizarre notion. One that Ron had only ever imagined but now he looked at Cedric, his eyelashes damp from snow, slight stubble breaking across his jaw, the tinges of blue in his grey eyes and he had no other explanation. This was very much real. Ron couldn’t help but grin.

Cedric smiled back.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly what this is,” Cedric told him.

Chapter Text

Tap, tap, tap.

A soft, light tapping roused Ron and he blinked painfully into the winter sunshine slipping its way past the edges of his bedroom curtains. He groaned, clutching his head, attempting to rub out the pain behind his brow.

He didn't think he even drank that much last night.

Last night.

The night flashed through his mind in warm, hazy hues, each memory tinged ever so slightly with the fuzziness of alcohol. But it was all still there, each exchanged smile, every warm laugh, the soft pressure of a kiss. 

As unbelievable as it seemed to Ron, it was all there, swirling around his head, whipping up the butterflies in his stomach. Through the encroaching headache that was settling in nicely in the back of his eyes, Ron smiled.

Tap, tap, tap.

There it was again.

It seemed to be coming from the window itself. Ron’s bungalow flat was on the ground floor so it wasn't an entirely crazy idea that someone could just wander up and knock on his windows but his bedroom was strategically placed at the back of the apartment, where it was far quieter and looked onto nothing but rolling fields. 

So unless the squirrels had learned to knock when the feeder hanging in the garden was needing refilling, Ron was more than slightly apprehensive about what the knocking could be.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he padded softly towards the window, peering around the curtains' edge and squinting into the bright sunlight. Unable to focus his sleepy eyes, the window frame was filled with pure white but Ron saw no shadow or movement to indicate there was anything there.

He must have imagined it.

He padded back across the room, intent on making the bathroom his next stop and then to the fireplace to rid the house of the morning chill that had settled in the air.

Tap, tap, tap.

Ron stopped, turning back to look at the window, his face twisted in befuddlement. The window was determined not to be ignored, it seemed.

Tap, tap, tap.

He stomped over and threw the curtains open wide, grimacing in the sudden glare to find a small bird, folded delicately out of creamy, thick parchment watching him from the layer of snow along the windowsill. 

"Oh! Hello," Ron spoke quietly and the bird tilted its head left as right as he spoke. It was calm, poised and watched intently through the glass. Along its back, Ron could see ink letter markings and it tapered off to crisp, fluttering tail feathers that were slowly turning a deeper colour with the damp snow.

It seemed to become impatient as Ron watched it and tapped on the window pane again with its little beak.

"Better let you in before you turn to mush then, eh?"

Ron pushed the window open, the little thing fluttering out of the pane's path and swooping in the opening. It landed on Ron’s bed and shook off its paper feathers and cheeped happily, bouncing around on the dishevelled duvet.

"You're quite cute, aren't you?" Ron said, the little bird hopping excitedly and chirping back at him. Ron chuckled. "I'm glad you agree."

Ron perched on the edge of the bed and the little thing jumped up onto his lap, waddled across his thigh before jumping up onto his shoulder. When it started ruffling into Ron’s hair, he scooped it up in his hands and placed it on the nightstand. He eyed the elegant handwriting along its wings and reached for his wand in the drawer underneath.

"It was a pleasure meeting you but do you mind if I just…?" Ron asked, holding his wand out to the bird. It cheeped again before tilting its head towards Ron and Ron gave it a gentle tap with his wand.

The thing fluttered wildly, bursting into a flurry of parchment and ink before settling down, flat and crisp into a neat letter on top of the nightstand.

Ron,

I am very aware that I am running the risk of coming across extremely over eager but that’s only because that’s exactly what I am.

I was wondering - hoping, really - that if you were free today and your headache is only half as bad as mine is, would you like to spend the day with me?

There’s a muggle marketplace in Cullen Park over Christmas time and I’d love to take you there this afternoon, if possible?

Let me know!

Cedric

Ron didn’t even have to think about it. His quill was in his hand in a moment and he hastily scratched an answer into the paper before giving it another tap with his wand. The paper folded and spun and with a flourish, the little bird burst back into existence. It cheeped loudly before taking flight, swooping around the room several times before disappearing out the open bedroom window. Ron watched it fly off twittering a happy tune.

Cedric bloody Diggory.

He sure knew how to ask a guy out.

Ron couldn’t even fault him for being over-eager because Ron felt exactly the same.

Unfortunately, that feeling subsided and was slowly replaced by anxiety come late morning. He sat perched on the couch, coat already on, just staring at his boots that he’d dropped on the rug with the intent to put them on and head out the door.

That was twenty minutes ago.

What the bloody hell had he been thinking?

Wasn’t he the one just saying the other day that he did not date ?

Last night, he’d been shanghaied into it. Too wrapped up in the charm and easy smiles that came to Cedric so naturally that he’d agreed to it before even realising. Now, he was stuck, sucked into Cedric’s undeniable pull with no way of escaping.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to escape.

Truthfully, he’d wanted to be in that position for the longest time. Since childhood quidditch games and camping trips. He’d always wanted Cedric to look at him the way that he did last night in the snow and it had finally happened.

So why did his stomach feel like he was being tossed around on a disgruntled hippogriff?

A second date.

A second chance to screw it up more like.

Ron dropped his head into his hands and let out a muffled scream.

Then he sighed, reaching for his boots.

“I must be bloody mad,” he muttered.

The market was pretty spectacular as far as muggle events went.

Ron could smell it from a street away, the chestnuts roasting, melting chocolate, spiced wine. It smelled heavenly and Ron used it as a guide, his mouth beginning to water as he rounded the corner. It reminded him of the time Hermione had compared him to a muggle cartoon rabbit floating towards the scent of carrots. Ron had no clue what she was talking about, of course.

Cullen Park was an easy walk from his flat, he’d done it several times before, usually in early January when he’d decided that this year, he was actually going to start working out again. He’d never seen the park like this though. The pebble promenades were lined with quaint wooden huts, each one dusted with snow and lined with varying shades of tinsel. Miles of twinkly lights were strung between each one and across the pathways and while in daylight it creepily resembled Devil’s Snare, Ron was certain that come early evening time, it would look like a small galaxy had descended upon the fair.

Ron weaved his way through the channels and alleys created by the stalls, heading straight for the ice rink. That’s where Cedric said he’d be. The sounds of laughter and yelping made that easy enough to find. Ron stepped up to the side, watching gleeful children carve chaotic slices through the centre. Couples, hand in hand, curled the edges, smiling warmly at one another and it made Ron’s stomach flutter.

He looked around, desperately hoping not to find Cedric on the ice. Ron hadn’t skated in years and he certainly didn’t want to find out if he still could in front of his date.

Date .

Feeling ever so slightly queasy, Ron held onto the rink wall, leaning over slightly to look around the other onlookers. He eyed them one by one, making his way around the rink and then, directly across from him, in a tan, wool coat, a black and yellow beanie hat and pink cheeks, was Cedric.

He grinned wide, almost stopping Ron’s heart in the process. Despite how nauseated he felt over the situation in general when Cedric gestured to walk around and meet him, Ron went, without a second of hesitation and knew that there was nothing else he wanted to do more.

“Hi,” Cedric greeted with that warm smile that made Ron’s legs feel like jelly. “Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah, I actually live nearby so it was just a walk,” Ron told him.

“Oh, great! I realised after I invited you that I didn’t even check how difficult it would be to get here.”

“Well, you lucked out there,” Ron assured him.

“I definitely did,” Cedric agreed. “So, I know that’s six days until Christmas but if memory serves me correctly, I’m almost certain you haven’t finished gift shopping.”

Ron laughed.

“Your memory is incredibly accurate,” he told him and Cedric chuckled.

“Well, we could have a look around here if you like? I know that it’s non-magic items but maybe Harry or Hermione would like something?”

“That’s a great idea actually,” Ron said.

“You should stick around, I’m full of them,” Cedric told him.

“I might just do that.”

The more they wandered around the market’s seemingly neverending stalls, the more Ron realised that he had no idea where to begin. Each new alley had something different and in every second or third booth, Ron could see the proprietor crafting something intricate and ornate. One stall had a short, plump old man knitting woollen hats and mittens, tied down to his chair by a large spool of multi-coloured yarn. At another, a quiet woman sat with piles and piles of metal twigs beside her and Ron watched her twist and bend them into ornate earrings and bangles. There was even a young boy carving intricate patterns into wooden niknaks with some sort of burning tool. 

It reminded Ron of Cedric burning his address into a napkin and briefly, Ron wondered if the boy would do a commission. A wooden copy of the napkin would make a great coaster for Cedric.

The thought made him smile quietly to himself and then it fell from his face just as fast.

Was he supposed to get Cedric a gift?

He hadn’t even thought about that. This was only their second date, surely he didn’t have to trudge the gift-giving minefield just yet? What if he didn’t and Cedric did? What if he did and Cedric didn’t? What would he even get him?

His headache was starting to resurface.

Cedric, however, didn’t seem to notice Ron’s internal dilemma. As soon as they stepped under the starry lights of the marketplace, Cedric’s eyes were aglow. He seemed in his element, beelining for interesting looking stalls, chatting to the owners about what they were making and how they did it. Buying things from them with absolutely zero inclination of how muggle money worked. The stall owners gave him an absurd amount of change at times and they looked baffled as they did it.

But Cedric seemed happy. Giddy, even.

Ron stopped at another stall, brightly lit and sparkling, his eyes widened at the array of ornate, delicate, shining chess boards. Some made of glass, some of marble, some carved from various woods and stone, they were all beautiful. Ron had always thought wizard chess to be far superior, he would tell Hermione as much when she would pull her dad's old board out of the cupboard on Christmas day. But he'd never seen sets like this.

Cedric hurried back from yet another stall, with striped candy bags in his hands, now wrapped in an extra-long, brightly coloured scarf that he’d purchased from the old man.

“You know that enchanted knitting needles could have made that for you instead of buying it?” Ron had told him.

“Yeah, I know, but that man knitted it with his own hands, it’s special.”

Ron couldn’t argue with that kind of good-naturedness.

"What have you found?" Cedric asked him.

"Oh, I was just looking at these sets, they're pretty nice. You know, for muggle chess."

"Yeah, I can't see them blasting each other to smithereens," Cedric added with a chuckle.

"I know, how boring," Ron hummed. He turned to Cedric, who looked back at him, candy bags gripped tight in his hands. "What have you found?"

Cedric handed him a bag with a grin.

“Look, they were making gingerbread men but you could get them decorated however you liked!” he told Ron excitedly, pulling a gingerbread cookie out of his own bag to show him. It was dressed like Cedric! Down to the Hufflepuff beanie hat and the grey eyes. It was pretty cute, Ron thought. “I got one of you too! Look!”

Ron took his cookie out, smiling down at the sugary imitation. There he was, red hair, blue eyes, Ron Weasley as a cookie. Down to his flannel shirt and pink cheeks, the biscuit was so accurate that Ron blushed just like the biscuit thinking of Cedric describing him to the baker.

“They’re cool, right?” Cedric said with a grin.

“They really are,” Ron agreed. “I kind of don’t want to eat him now.”

“That’s fine, I got you a candy cane too!” Cedric said with a laugh, pulling a candy cane from his pocket.

Ron chuckled, taking it and popping it in his mouth. Cedric produced a second one and did the same.

“You really love Christmas, don’t you?” Ron asked him as they walked through the throngs of people filling the market.

Cedric laughed.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Just a smidge,” Ron said, making Cedric smile.

“Yeah. It’s my favourite time of the year,” Cedric told him.

“I don’t mean to offend or anything but you wouldn’t have guessed that looking at your flat.”

“Yeah,” Cedric hummed softly. “That’s … uh, a long story.”

“Well, I only have plans to be with you today, I don’t mind a long story,” Ron said. “Only if you want to tell it, of course!”

Cedric looked at him and Ron could see the thinking going on behind his pale eyes. Had Ron overstepped already? He had no clue! He only meant to make conversation but now he worried he was putting Cedric in a horrible position. After a moment, Cedric smiled softly and sighed.

“When I was a kid, Christmas was big in my house. My mum loved it with all her heart! Most of the time she couldn’t even wait until December before she’d be putting the tree up in the living room. Always the biggest tree we could find. We’d bake cookies, kind of like these ones, and we’d play in the snow and drink warmed cider. Dad never understood it but he went with it because he knew it made her, and me, happy,” Cedric told him.

“That sounds lovely, my family is the same,” Ron said. “But you don’t do that anymore?”

Cedric shook his head.

“After mum died, dad just couldn’t stomach it. The first Christmas was just … awful.”

Ron could see Cedric expression twisting, the excitable glee changing to something more melancholy. Ron felt suddenly guilty for bringing it up.

“I was old enough by that point though that I knew that giving up the tree and the cookies and the decorations for my father’s mental well being was worth it.” 

Ron remembered Cedric’s mother. He remembered her being a cheerful, warm woman, tall and slender with chestnut hair to match her son's. Now that Ron was really thinking about it, Cedric turned out just like her.

During the summer times, she would chase Cedric and Ron around the garden in flowing dresses, the knees of their own overalls muddy, their elbows greens with grass stains to drag them inside for supper. One thing was always clear, Amos Diggory loved her a great deal, it came as no surprise to Ron that his mourning of the loss of her would overcome him.

"She was a lovely woman," Ron said.

"She really was," Cedric agreed, the smile on his face bittersweet.

"I'm sorry, Cedric," Ron said quietly. Around them, the crowd bustled and thickened, Ron feeling his shoulders being brushed and bumped more and more often. But even surrounded by strangers, all Ron heard was silence, accompanying the confusion knotted in Cedric’s eyebrows. "I'm sorry we drifted apart. I'm sorry I wasn't there when it happened. I'm just … sorry."

Ron's stomach churned, an unstable soup of emotions that was determined to get out of his. He wasn't quite sure which one was going to come forth next. His heart raced and he began to breathe in time with the beating rhythm when a hand lay softly on his forearm.

His eyes snapped up, Cedric’s concerned face fulling his vision, his warm hand an anchor on his arm and Ron watched the slow rise and fall of his chest under his wool coat and focused in on it, desperate to match it with his own. As his breathing slowed, Cedric smiled softly.

"I appreciate the thought, Ron but there's no need to be sorry," Cedric told him. "Childhood friends drift, it just happens. It's unrealistic to expect two children to stay the same people as they grow up. That being said, I'm glad we're where we are now."

There was something about Cedric smiling at him that calmed Ron. He seemed to make it seem like this wasn't a date, just two people connecting, without all the rules and expectations. Ron liked it. He liked it very much.

"Me too," he agreed with a nod and Cedric grinned.

"Besides, I think it worked out better this way," Cedric said.

"You think?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "I think had we still been really close, I'd never have kissed you."

"Why not?"

"I'd be too scared that you wouldn't kiss me back," he said and Ron liked the pink flush high on his cheekbones.

"What makes you think I wouldn't have?" Ron told him and Cedric’s eyes widened slightly before he smiled.

"Well, I guess we will never know."

"Speak for yourself," Ron scoffed. "I know exactly what I would have done if Cedric Diggory kissed me."

Cedric barked a laugh and Ron’s heart stuttered at how easy the sound was.

"You're a bit of a flirt, Ron Weasley," Cedric chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Rarely. But yes," Ron said and watched as a small smirk began to curve the corners of Cedric’s mouth.

The crowd surged around them, bustling and swaying them like the brush of a wave and a strong elbow into his back sent Ron stumbling into Cedric and a clumsy tumble. Cedric steadied him with a strong hold on his elbow but Ron’s red grew hot and he felt his cheeks flush upon realising just how close they were to each other now.

“Oh!” Ron started, jumping back slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s fine,” Cedric said with an easy smile but Ron was sure he could see a slight pink dusting across his cheekbones. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Someone shoved me,” Ron defended meekly.

“Yeah, it’s getting kind of busy now, isn’t it?” Cedric said and the throng of people swept by them as if they were nothing but islands in a stream. “What do you say we go grab a drink before the pub gets busy too?”

“Excellent idea,” Ron agreed.

Ron offered to grab the drinks with the muggle money that he’d thought to bring with him. Hermione gifted him some a few years back and he was absolutely adamant that he would never use it. He was certainly not going to be telling her about rooting around in his sock drawer for the forgotten envelope this morning.

He didn’t recognise many of the names on the bottles behind the bar and he was sure that requesting one of them without any prior knowledge would only lead him into a mortifying situation. Better to stick to what he knows, well, as close as possible in the current situation anyway.

Looking at the menu above the bartender’s head, Ron settled on two hot apple ciders. He assumed that they wouldn't be much different from the kind that Hermione would make every Christmas eve so it seemed like the safest choice.

Despite it being mid afternoon, the rustic pop up bar was already decently busy, possibly due the ever increasing frost developing outside and the fact that each table had a toasty heater overhead. Ron didn't feel the bite of frost too badly, his mother warming enchantment on his bobble hat helped with that.

He nudged his way through the bar gently, the drinks poised precariously in each of his hands and spotted Cedric perched at the tiniest wooden bench Ron had ever seen. It's size was made even more miniscule by Cedric’s long legs crumpled up underneath it.

Already, Ron's throat began to tighten thinking about having to cram himself at the bench also. They'd bump knees for sure and then they'd have to spend their entire visit in such close quarters that Ron wasn't sure how much longer he could inhale the fresh pine scent on Cedric’s wool coat without feeling like this man might possibly give him a heart attack.

Ron watched Cedric as he used his long finger to trace dazy circles on the tabletop, his eyebrows crunched on his forehead. Ron wondered what he was thinking about that had him looking so perplexed. Cedric looked up and saw Ron, his expression brightening, his easy smile making Ron’s stomach do a little flip.

"I got you, hot apple cider, I hope that's okay?" He said, putting the paper cups down, the smelling wafting enticingly like fresh baked apple pie. "It seemed festive."

"I love hot apple cider!"

"Of course you do," Ron chuckled.

Cedric chuckled too, taking a small sip of his drink and humming quietly to himself. His tongue quickly darted out to catch the drip of cider lingering on his top lip and Ron caught himself staring. He gave his head a shake as he took a small gulp of his own cider, feeling it warming him in his chest. Cedric smiled.

"So, how did you get on with gift shopping?" He asked.

"Okay, I think?" Ron said with a shrug. "I'm not great at present buying to be honest, I never know what to get and when I do get something, I feel like it's all wrong."

"Well, why don't you show me what you got and I can give you an outsider's opinion?"

"Really?"

"Sure! Come on, show me!"

"Okay, uh," Ron began rummaging around in the brown paper bags that he'd collected from the various market stalls. "So, um, for Hermione, I got her this wooden pencil box. I thought she'd really like the wildflowers on it plus the other week she went mental because her new quill got all mangled in her bag. I picked the biggest one, that should fit a quill or two, shouldn't it?"

Ron held out the ornate wooden box, decorated with burned flowers and stained a warm, chestnut colour. Cedric looked at it, nodding his approval.

"I think they would fit just fine," he said.

"Yeah, plus she'd probably just put an extension charm on it or something," Ron said.

"Very true," Cedric chuckled. "What else did you get?"

"So Harry found this old wallet of Sirius', he uses it constantly. I saw this satchel and it looks really similar design wise so I thought he might like it to match."

Ron pulled the satchel out as far as he could before he bumped his elbow on the wall next to them. Cedric smiled.

"Is that all you got today? What about your brothers? And Ginny?"

"Oh, we don't really buy gifts for each other. Not having a lot of money makes you think outside of the box for gifts and such. We usually make stuff for each other. Or in Fred and George's case, give out "favour vouchers" which always seem to have just expired when you try to cash them in."

Cedric laughed a loud belly laugh and it made Ron grin.

"They're tricky, those two," he said.

"It's my own fault, I need to read the fine print more carefully," Ron said with a shrug and a chuckle. "Besides, Mum always thought that it was the thought behind the gift that gave it its worth."

"That is very true, very lovely sentiment too," Cedric said and Ron nodded in agreement. "Well those are very thoughtful gifts Ron, you do your mum proud."

"You think?"

"Mhmm, I think you're better at this than you think you are."

"Thanks," Ron said, taking a sip of his cider in the hopes of hiding the rising blush in his cheeks.

"Ron?" Cedric said with a soft smile.

"Mhmm?"

"Can I ask you something of a personal question?"

"I don't see why not, it's all part of the dating thing isn't it?" He said with a shrug.

"Yeah, it's about the dating thing actually."

Bugger.

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

"Oh, okay. What about it?"

Ron tried to keep his voice steady, to quash the well of panic that had begun to bubble up inside him.

This was it. Somehow, somewhere, he'd buggered it all up already. What had he done? How had he missed it? Was he too cold? Too detached? Had he come on too strong? Too flirty? Did he stare too much? Was his complete lack of dating knowhow so completely evident that Cedric had lost interest in keeping it up for the both of them.

Oh god, he'd gotten too comfortable already. Softened by Cedric’s lazy smiles and easy touches that he had forgotten that he was walking on thin ice and it was about to shatter.

He knew it was a mistake to try dating again. Especially jumping right into the deep end with Cedric bloody Diggory no less! 

Cedric had been the turning point for Ron. That moment when he realised that it was possible to like girls and boys and despite all the girls and boys that had come into his life and made him swoon and then move on, Cedric was the one constant that never left him. That one perfect boy that no else ever managed to measure up to, that had stolen his heart in a summer field a long time ago.

He'd foolishly let himself think that this was his chance, finally. And it was about to come crashing down on him.

"I was just wondering, last night, you said you don't date a lot," Cedric said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I assume that's by choice?"

"Why do you assume that?"

Cedric chuckled, looking down at the table where his fingers continued to dance absentmindedly over the worn wood. Ron almost thought he looked a bit bashful.

"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you're a fit, good looking, charming guy, I can't imagine getting a date is difficult for you," he said and Ron tugged slightly at the collar of his flannel shirt to ease the blushing heat making its way up his spine.

"I, uh…"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything," Cedric added quickly.

"No, no! I just ... wasn't expecting you to say something like that," Ron told him honestly. "I, uhh … I do okay, I guess."

"So, the no dating thing is by choice?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask why? If that's not too far?"

"I just … hmm," Ron thought hard, his relief mixing up with his anxiety, making it difficult to put the answer to Cedric’s question into coherent words.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Cedric told him and Ron gave him a reassuring smile.

"I do, I just don't really know how to explain it," Ron said. "Hooking up is … easy. Everyone knows what everyone wants and it is a simple matter of giving that to each other for a night or a weekend, whatever. But dating is like … a minefield. I know what I want, I want them, as simple as that but I don't know what they want or how to give it to them. I feel like everything I do is the wrong thing. Every attempt, flirt, kiss, it blows up in my face and I hate seeing that look on their face."

"What look?" Cedric asked softly.

"That look they get when their initial excitement fades and it begins to dawn on them what a mistake they've made. The smiles are gone, their eyes glaze and they're just waiting for the night to end. And despite how hard I tried and how much anxiety it brought me, it hurts knowing that once again, I'm gonna be alone."

Cedric didn't say anything, he just watched and waited and listened and for a moment, Ron thought he would see that heart-sinking look on Cedric’s handsome face too. 

“Can I say something?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, please,” Ron said.

“I think you’re thinking about it too much. Dating, it’s supposed to be fun, if you’re not having fun, it’s not right and that’s okay. Not everything has to work out, y’know. If you’re having to try so hard, maybe they're just not the right person.”

“You know, it sounds simple when you say it like that,” Ron chuckled.

“It always does, it’s putting it into practise that’s the tricky bit.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed softly. Now his fingers danced on the table, tracing the emotions that Ron couldn’t quite put into words.

Should he really have told Cedric all that? Ron worried that he revealed too much of himself, too much messiness that someone like Cedric, someone composed and grown-up and sure of himself to pull Ron out of his funk whenever it would come over him.

“Ron?”

“Yeah?” He jumped up, pulling himself out of the messy thoughts that were clouding his mind.

“I’m having fun.”

“Really?” Ron asked, his voice coming out far more surprised than he’d meant. 

Cedric chuckled and nodded, resting a hand over Ron’s, stopping his anxious fingers.

“It’s easy with you, don’t overthink it.”

“I will definitely try.”

When the bar got too noisy to talk, they made their way back outside. It was early evening but it looked more like midnight. The sky was black, darkened further by encroaching snow clouds but the stars were brought down from behind the clouds by the twinkling lights strung over the marketplace. Now that the cables and wires disappeared against the sky, the simplicity of fairy lights was gone and instead was the complexity of constellations and galaxies and Ron blinked dreamily up at them.

As he looked up, a light flurry of snow fluttered against his face, snowflakes landing and melting against his warmed skin. He smiled into it, the flakes cooling his skin. He looked at Cedric, a soft smile on his lovely lips as he took in the fallen galaxy around their heads. The melting snowflakes trapped in Ron’s eyelashes framed Cedric in a glittering glow and despite how many years Ron had known him, he had never seen Cedric Diggory look more beautiful.

Cedric’s gaze fell to Ron, his soft, cheerful smile fading for something more earnest, purposeful. Despite the bustling crowd around them, the snow silenced everything but his and Cedric’s harsh, panting breaths. 

Snowflakes fell and entrapped themselves in the soft chestnut tresses of Cedric’s hair and without overthinking even slightly, Ron reached out and grabbed one between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the ice melt into his fingerprints.

The star lights above them gave Cedric’s grey eyes a silver sparkle, his face so close as Ron’s fingertips pushed his fringe back slightly and then trailed around his ear, threading in the soft locks at the nape of his neck.

Ron watched his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip and this time, he didn’t hold himself back.

He closed the space between them without thinking about it.

He pressed his lips against Cedric’s without thinking about it.

And when Cedric reached for him, a hand on his lower back and pulled him in, Ron fell into him without even thinking about it.

Taking Cedric’s advice seemed easy as he felt his lips curve into a smile against Ron’s and Ron wanted to kiss that smile off and keep it for his own. He gripped Cedric’s hair tiger, kissed him harder, drew his tongue along his bottom lip and when Cedric parted his lips to let Ron in, he moaned softly.

Ron jumped back, his heart thumping in his throat as a powerful need pulled in his stomach. He saw it in Cedric too, his calm grey eyes flashed like a storm. His hands grasped Ron’s jaw, pulling him in to kiss him forcefully, wildly, their tongues dancing across each other, tasting the spiced apple and lingering peppermint.

Ron hummed dreamily against Cedric’s lips and he sighed in return, pulling at the hair at the back of Ron’s head.

“Didn’t you say … you lived ... nearby?” Cedric breathed between broken, hungry kisses.

“Just down the road,” Ron murmured into his mouth.

Cedric pulled back, his breath coming in short pants between them, his eyes reddened and plush and Ron felt his heartbeat thrum in his throat as Cedric looked at him with wide, blown eyes.

“Take me there?”

The thoughts encroached, threatening to crowd his mind, drown his senses. They asked him thousands of questions, a hundred a second and Ron fought hard to not answer a single one. 

He didn't want to think about any of them, the only thought he wanted was of Cedric.

Ron nodded, grabbing hold of Cedric’s frostbitten fingers.

"Let’s go."

The door slammed open against the wall with such force that Ron was sure there was a dent. They didn't bother to kick off their snow-coated shoes as they fumbled through the hallway, lips crashing against each other's in desperate gasps and pulling at the buttons on each other's coats.

Ron fumbled Cedric’s coat open, his hands immediately grabbing Cedric’s slender hips to shove him back against the wall, Ron’s hips pinning him there.

Cedric groaned against Ron’s mouth, his hips rolling against him. Ron’s hands roamed Cedric’s torso, feeling tense muscle under his cashmere jumper. Cedric grabbed at Ron’s flannel shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders and down his arms to toss on the floor.

Cedric’s fingers threaded into Ron's hair, tugging at it, pulling moans from Ron's throat. Ron's hands trailed down Cedric’s stomach, his fingers exploring along the waistband of his jeans, slipping tentatively underneath Cedric’s jumper.

Cedric gasped at Ron's cold fingers brushing his heated skin, following the soft trail of hair down his stomach to the top button of his jeans. With a swift flick, Ron popped it open.

"Bedroom?" Ron breathed into Cedric’s mouth. Cedric responded with an extremely enthusiastic nod.

"God, yes," he breathed with a grin.

Ron grabbed him by a fistful of his jumper pulling him into a kiss and slowly pushing him around the living room, only narrowly missing the coffee table and towards the bedroom. Cedric’s hands took hold of the hem of Ron’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, tossing it on the floor as they passed through the bedroom doorway.

In a swift motion, Cedric pulled his jumper off to join it.

Ron panted, his breath heavy and ragged as his eyes roamed over the hard planes and toned curves of Cedric’s body. Cedric was always tall but when did he stop being so gangly? He wasn't broad like Ron, he was slender and toned. His shoulders were nicely rounded with muscle and his lean stomach heaved with every gasping breath.

"Are you okay?" Cedric asked him breathlessly, his expression a strange mix of lust and concern. "We can stop if this is too fast."

Ron chuffed a small laugh.

"How long have we known each other, Cedric?"

"Uhh, I don't know. Twenty years? Give or take?"

"Well, I have been into you for most of that time so this is definitely not too fast," Ron told him and watched as the slow smile spreading across his face erased any hint of concern or doubt.

"I've waited for this for so long, you have no idea," Cedric closed the space between them in a single bound and grabbed Ron's face between his hands, pulling him in for a kiss that Ron was sure he wouldn't easily forget.

Chapter Text

Ron stirred and slowly the events of the previous night began to seep back into his mind. Cedric dusted with snowflakes, the taste of apple cider on his tongue, his bare chest against his as they crashed through Ron’s flat on their way to the bedroom.

This entire week had been a crazy whirlwind that Ron could never have predicted in his wildest dreams. Well, maybe in his wildest dreams. Cedric had certainly cropped up in those often enough in previous years but never could he have imagined them happening for real. 

Having Cedric Diggory tucked up his arm and draped lazily over his torso made him slightly damp with sweat but he was wrapped up, cosy and tight against the late December chill in the air and he had no interest in moving, maybe ever. He pulled the duvet up over his shoulders and the warm mass tucked under his arm began to shift. 

Blinking dazily, Cedric looked up at him under a dishevelled mop of fringe and gave him the softest smile.

“Morning,” he croaked, his voice clearly waking up a moment or two after his body.

“Morning to you,” Ron replied, sweeping the hair from his brow.

Cedric watched him and Ron watched Cedric do it. Cedric’s pupils were blown wide despite his bright grey eyes still half shut and his cheeks were rosy. Ron had grown up with Cedric Diggory, he’d seen him play Quidditch, participate in tournaments, dance with beautiful girls at balls and smile handsomely in every single newspaper article ever printed about him but he’d never seen him more beautiful than he was at this moment.

Ron couldn’t quite believe that it was all for him.

“You’re not going to find that look,” Cedric told him. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I wasn’t looking for anything,” Ron lied.

“Good,” Cedric said, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Ron. “You make jokes Ron, about having always liked me and stuff, and I’m starting to realise that you never thought that maybe I felt the same about you.”

Ron’s heart flipped and flipped again. It pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment he was sure it was about to burst out of his throat.

“Just seems a bit mental to me, I guess,” he told him and Cedric smiled.

“Two old friends who have been into each other for most of their lives and never done a single thing about it? You’re right, that is mental,” Cedric laughed and it was infectious. Ron chuckled, pulling Cedric closer to kiss him warmly.

They stayed that way for several minutes, kissing and holding each other in such a casual, domestic way that seemed so alien to Ron that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever had this before. 

Cedric started and broke their kiss a second later.

"What time is it?" 

"Time for sleep," Ron replied, nestling his head into his pillow and pulling Cedric tight to his side.

"I probably need to get up," Cedric told him with a chuckle.

"No, no, no, you had a very tiring night last night," Ron grumbled, pulling his arm around Cedric tighter and earning himself warm laughter in return.

"I have a meeting today!" He said, struggling meagerly against Ron’s embrace.

"Who the hell has a meeting on a Sunday?!"

"Very important people," Cedric said.

"Didn't have you down as the egotistical sort," Ron remarked.

"Hey, it's only egotistical if it's untrue. Otherwise, it's just a fact," Cedric said with a shrug, pulling the duvet back with a dramatic swoosh.

"No, no, no!" Ron yelped, scrambling back under the cosy duvet and wrapping himself up in it. "Too cold, too tired."

He heard a low whisper by his ear and instantly the curtains were whipped open, sunlight streaming in through the frosty window and Ron groaned in protest.

"Sorry," Cedric said.

"You will be," Ron grumbled. Cedric got to his feet, pulling his boxers on and chuckling. 

"You're really not a morning person, are you?" Cedric asked, his blurred shadow all Ron could make out in the ultra-bright morning sunlight.

“Not in the slightest,” Ron said, rolling over to find Cedric, half-naked and tousled watching him from the foot of the bed. “Besides, I woke up with a beautiful, naked guy in my bed. My day has peaked, it’s all downhill from here.”

Cedric smirked, climbing onto the mattress and crawling up towards Ron, his limbs on either side of Ron’s body, pinning him underneath. Cedric blanketed him and placed a kiss on his lips, brushing his matted hair from his forehead. Ron couldn’t remember ever having a Sunday morning as perfect as this one.

“That’s a shame,” he whispered, placing more kisses across Ron’s lips, his chin, his neck. “Because I was wondering if you’d like to join me in the shower.”

He punctuated his tease with a long, stomach-dropping kiss and for a second, Ron almost forgot what Cedric had even said.

“But if you’re too tired, I guess I could just shower on my own,” Cedric sighed, jumping to his feet too quickly for Ron to recover from his kiss and grab him at the same time.

"No wait," Ron groaned. "I’m getting up!"

Ron leapt out of bed, ignoring the chill coming over him and eagerly following Cedric down the hall to the bathroom.

He was incredibly late for lunch but he’d spent the better part of the morning with Cedric in the shower and as the time ticked further and further on, he’d found it increasingly difficult to care. He’d thrown on a wrinkled shirt and yesterday’s jeans in his haste to leave the house with Cedric struggling into his boxers on the other side of the room and Ron couldn’t help but smile to himself as the image replayed through his mind.

The entire week had flown by so quickly and the past couple of days spent with Cedric seemed to slip by in a quick haze that Ron was unable to grasp at. Time just disappeared with him and Ron wished that he could slow it down and savour every second.

His hair was still damp, the tips beginning to crisp slightly in the cold and sending a chill down his spine but he pulled his coat around him tighter and continued on, determined not to let anything dampen his spirits today.

As expected on the last weekend before Christmas, the streets were swarmed. People shoved past one another, their bodies made twice as large with the insane number of bags they carried like aggressive pack mules. He turned and twisted in attempts to avoid oncoming barrages of chaotic parents, gaggles of hyperactive children and even the occasional surly retail worker who was unlucky enough to have to work today.

And the restaurant was no different. When Ron pushed open the door, he was hit with a wave of noise, families chattering and laughing and shopping bags piled around their feet. Each table unwieldy like a cheer filled, commercialised fortress.

A manic wave drew his attention, Ginny kneeling on her chair above the masses to wave him over and he sidestepped his way through the chaotic maze to their table, Harry and Ginny perched on one side, Hermione and Draco perched on the other and that one lonesome chair for him tacked onto the end.

Normally, that little singleton chair would have annoyed him and sent that familiar pang of jealousy straight to his gut but not today.

He had woken up next to a beautiful man this morning. A beautiful man that he was crazy about and for some bizarre reason liked him back and nothing, not even some stupid little mocking chair, was going to ruin that.

“Morning,” Ron greeted them chipperly, pulling his chair out and ignoring the screaming toddler that had just begun to do siren impersonations over his right shoulder.

He saw Draco’s brow furrow as he checked his watch and Hermione chuckled.

“Uhm, it’s afternoon Ronald,” she corrected him.

“Yeah, sorry, I lost track of time,” he said.

“We thought as much,” Ginny purred, a wide grin on her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, just that The Daily Prophet was kind enough to keep us up to date with your life,” she said, wrenching the paper out of Draco’s hand to thrust it under Ron’s nose. Draco threw his hands up in silent protest before quickly losing interest and turning his attention to his steaming cup of coffee.

Ron perused the newspaper, coming face to face with almost a collage of his date with Cedric yesterday. Photos of them shopping at the market, drinking cider in the bar and the biggest and clearly the most interesting to the media, a photo of him and Cedric kissing heatedly in the falling snow. 

Seeing it from the outside was totally different from being in it. It had been a feeling, a reaction and it felt right and sweet and momentous. Blown up to a full image in the paper, Ron saw the lust in his own eyes, the hunger in Cedric and it stirred something low in his stomach. He wasn’t even sure how this was allowed to be published, it was almost pornographic the way they behaved.

A hot blush bloomed in Ron’s cheeks.

“I knew it!” Ginny squawked, making Ron jump. “You slept together!”

“Oh my God, Ginny! Will you shut up?!” Ron hissed, his eyes darting around their table.

“You did though, didn’t you?”

“I think the rather sizable love bite on his neck told us that much Gin,” Harry piped up, with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ,” Ron grumbled, pulling up the collar of his shirt. Beside him, Hermione giggled. “Cheers, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Ron.”

“I can’t believe this is all over The Daily Prophet,” Ron said.

“Don’t feel too embarrassed Ron,” Hermione said softly. “Being in love suits you.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Ron retorted quickly. Too quickly. Ginny snorted at him. “I’m not!”

“Well, maybe not yet, but it’s clear that you definitely have something together and it really does suit you,” Hermione said.

“Suits him too,” Draco added.

“You think?” Ron asked, almost incredulous that Draco was partaking in the conversation of Ron’s love life at all.

“Yeah. I’ve always found Cedric Diggory a little, I don’t know, dispassionate? Dating you, softens him I guess.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Draco replied. “It’ll do well for him when it comes to election time in January.”

“Draco,” Hermione said, her tone scolding with a slight tinge of warning.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Draco said.

“He didn’t mean anything by that, just that you make a lovely couple,” Hermione said.

“No, no. What do you mean by that Malfoy?”

Draco sighed, Hermione casting him vicious glances but Harry and Ginny seemed to have the same puzzled expression that Ron had.

“Well, it's no secret that Diggory is the perfect candidate for the next Minister but he's almost too perfect and that's a bit difficult to trust," Draco said. "He's never been one for public love affairs but dating you, it humanizes him almost. Makes him more grounded. It'll be great for his campaign."

"Are you saying he's only dating me to win an election?" Ron spat.

"No! Of course not, Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's not what he's saying, right Draco?"

"No, of course not, I'm not saying that's what he is doing, I'm just saying that it'd be a good strategy. I mean, it's what I'd do."

Ron’s stomach sank.

Every little doubt that Ron usually had, all those mistrusting thoughts and unsure words that Cedric had managed to quash with an easy smile and a kiss came flooding back and it felt like Malfoy had just punched him in the ribs.

He would have been furious if Malfoy's words hadn't made complete and utter sense. Instead, he just felt foolish.

"Well, Cedric isn't you Malfoy!" Ginny snapped at him. "He's a good guy!"

"Is he?" Ron asked quietly.

"Of course he is! You know he is!" Ginny said. "You've known each other for like twenty years, you know he wouldn't do something like that."

"I don't though," Ron said. "I haven't seen Cedric in years. Maybe I don't know him anymore."

"I refuse to believe that Cedric is capable of something so low," Ginny retorted, her voice stern and angry, her eyes unashamedly casting furious glares at Malfoy.

"Ron has a point though, Gin. Cedric may not be the person that you and Ron grew up with anymore but it would be easy for him to convince you that he is, given how close you were," Harry told her.

Ron’s stomach lurched.

It hit harder hearing it from Harry.

Like somehow he was hoping that he was being silly to listen to Malfoy, that Malfoy was being unreasonable and horrid and unfair but hearing Harry almost agree with him made Ron feel queasy.

“Harry!” Hermione squawked.

“I’m sorry Hermione, I’m not saying it to be cruel. I’m just saying that in my experience the Minister for Magic tends to have rather shaky morals in general and I truly hope that’s not Cedric but it couldn’t hurt for Ron to be on his toes around him.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this!” Ginny snapped. “Cedric isn’t like that! Look at those photos, he’s not faking that look on his face.”

“Ron’s your best friend, you should be more supportive,” Hermione scolded.

“We are, in our own way,” Malfoy said.

“You be quiet,” Hermione told him. “We’ve heard enough from you, thank you.”

“Hermione, be reasonable,” Harry started, speaking slowly as if to a child.

“Don’t you talk to me like that Harry Potter,” Hermione snapped.

Ron couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond that. All he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears. All he could feel was the cold chill down his spine. All he could think about was every look Cedric had given him the past few days. Every word he’d said and every kiss he’d given and began to doubt every single bit of it.

Ron felt like he might be sick.

He was suddenly too hot in his crumpled shirt and simultaneously ice-cold as sweat beaded across his shoulders. He watched his fingers grip the edge of the table, his hands tensing more and more until the pale white of his knuckles pressed against his skin.

His friends argued in a hazy gaggle beyond his comprehension and despite the dizzying headache beginning to pound between his ears, he pushed his chair out and waveringly stood up.

“I have to go,” he heard himself say.

“Ron, no. Please, don’t,” Ginny pleaded.

“I just- I have to. I can’t be here right now,” he told her.

“Ron, please. Stay. I’m sorry, we got carried away,” Hermione said, placing a soft arm on his forearm. He hadn’t even managed to remove his jacket.

“It’s fine,” he said. Not believing it in the slightest. “Besides, another table will probably want my loser, tag-a-long chair back anyways.”

He shoved that horrid, demeaning, tatty chair into the table and left his friends bickering over cold coffee.

Ron walked back to his flat in the cold. At least outside he was distracted by busy streets and honking cabs, the sooner he got home, the sooner he would be left alone to drown in his thoughts.

He also bought a copy of that blasted Daily Prophet on the way.

He hadn't intended to. He didn't see the point of putting himself through more misery but he'd bumped into Randy Krinkly and his apparating newsstand on the way.

You could never go looking for Randy, he just appeared, and if you managed to catch him, he'd give you half off anything you bought. Ron always liked him. He'd taken to apparating to the corner of Ron's street every third Wednesday afternoon and he would regale Ron with stories of his cousin who plays elaborate pranks on muggle tourists off the coast of Bermuda.

But today, when Ron saw him, his stomach dropped like a stone.

Immediately, he excitedly began to chatter away about the wonder of Ron's budding relationship. He talked so fast and so animated that Ron could barely catch a word of it, all he could see was the garish stack of Daily Prophets on his stand, with Ron's lovestruck, foolish face slapped all over them.

He'd bought a copy just to stop Randy from talking about it. Plus it made one less copy out there in the world.

It did not make him feel better. Not in the slightest.

He read through the article, trying to ignore the god awful photos as best he could and the more he read, the more of a mug he felt.

"notorious singleton, Cedric Diggory"

"known for keeping his love life highly private"

"new relationship will bolster him through elections next month"

Ron had always been loath to agree with anything that came out of Draco Malfoy's mouth but it was there, right in front of him, plain as day to see.

Cedric rarely did interviews. He was never photographed with the latest “It” girl. He was never embroiled in scandal. As far as political candidates went, he was rather boring in the eyes of the press. So why suddenly, one month before the Minister elections, did he decide to engage in a very public love affair with a commended Auror?

Ron was an easy target too. One look at him from across the room and Cedric would have known for sure that Ron would fall for him just as easily as he always had done.

And it broke his heart.

Ron didn't sleep in his bed that Sunday night. 

He'd tried. He had spent the afternoon ripping up the Daily Prophet into thin shreds before tossing them into the fireplace. He'd sat there for hours and watched the flames wrap around the paper, blackening the edges until the whole thing burst into a spurt of flames and then crumbled to ash. He'd only stopped when the living room had begun to develop a haze of black smoke, swirling against the ceiling.

When he'd climbed into bed, all he could smell was the warm scent of apple cider and ginger on the cold sheets and instead, he'd opted to sleep on the couch.

On Monday, he didn't do much of anything at all. 

The same on Tuesday.

This was the benefit that came from it being the week of Christmas. Ron had zero obligations this week and everyone else was too busy to wonder what he was up to. Or not up to as it were.

On Wednesday morning, Ron woke up with a crick in his neck from the couch and decided right then and there to strip the bedding and wash the sheets.

He also met another of Cedric’s enchanted, winged letters that day. 

Ron didn't care what it said. 

Although, that was a lie. 

He did care, he just didn't want to know, but feigning indifference was easier than admitting cowardice. So instead, the little bird chirped and cheeped, following Ron from room to room and eventually fell asleep on his chest that night.

By the time that Thursday evening, Christmas Eve, came around, Ron had grown quite comfortable in his moping solitude. So much so that an eager rapping on the door made him jump out of his skin.

He should have thought about it for more than a second. He should have paused to recognise the silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass. 

He should have given himself a moment to prepare because seeing Cedric Diggory grinning in a sharp, grey suit on his doorstep, knocked the air clean out of his lungs.

Cedric’s expression fell when he saw him.

"You're not even dressed yet?"

"What?" Ron croaked, only just realising that he hadn't spoken to another human in days.

"We're going to be late!"

"For what?" Ron asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Kingsley's Christmas Eve dinner? Did you not get my letter? I said I'd swing by and-"

Hearing its Master's voice, the parchment bird cheeped curiously down the hall and fluttered out to the door and landed on Ron’s shoulder, its head tilting to and fro as it looked at Cedric.

"You didn't read it," Cedric sighed, his eyes betraying the hurt behind them.

“I’m not really in the mood to socialise to be perfectly honest,” Ron said.

“Well, we can always just stay in, if you like? I can make us dinner or-”

"What are you playing at, Cedric?" Ron hissed.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Is this all just part of the plan? Piss about with Ron, he'll not know any better, it'll do until I get my Minister job."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Golden Boy Cedric Diggory suddenly wants to date me, out of the blue, plastered all over the front page of the papers, on the run-up to the election for absolutely no reason whatsoever? Don't think so."

"No! Not for no reason!" Cedric bit back and Ron started a little at hearing a cross tone in his words. Cedric sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Where is this coming from, Ron? You think I'm using you? You honestly think I'd do that?"

"I don't know what to think."

"I would never! Especially not to you. Come on, you know me better than that, Ron."

"Do I?"

Cedric breathed a long, resentful breath through his nose, his expression unsure whether it was to be more furious or hurt. Ron just stared back at him unmoving and unrelenting.

"I’ve been into you for years! Since we were kids, I told you that! Ever since I realised that no girls’ kiss made me feel the way your stupid, lopsided smile did," Cedric said.

“Why now then? After all this time, why now? It’s not like I was hard to reach, we work in the same building for Christ’s sake!”

“Because I was scared!” Cedric snapped. “Because I look at my father and I see how broken he is. He doesn’t think I do, but I see it. I see how he’s just not the same anymore, how a smile never really reaches his eyes. Because loving someone comes with losing them and I didn’t ever want to feel the way that he does now.”

“And this sudden change of heart is just coincidental timing then, is it?” Ron asked.

“No, it’s not coincidental at all. It’s because seeing you at the Ministry every day, knowing how you make me feel, knowing no one else makes me feel that way, started to make me think that maybe the misery, in the end, is worth it.”

“I’m just supposed to believe this then, am I?”

“No, I guess not. But you should believe me.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Ron remarked darkly.

The irony was, that had it been anyone else, Ron would have played the part in a heartbeat and helped them out. What did he care?

But not Cedric. With Cedric, he did care, very much so. He always had done and at that very moment, his biggest fear suddenly became that maybe he always would.

"I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I’m leaving," Cedric said sadly. 

There was something about Cedric upset that called out to Ron and he had to fight himself, to stop from stepping out into the cold and wrapping his arms around him. But as he looked at him, Ron's stomach turned, suddenly seeing that one thing that Cedric promised he would never have to. 

Cedric’s beautiful features twisted in a way that told Ron that he wasn't worth the trouble anymore.

"I think that'd be best," was all Ron could manage, his voice threatening to crack in his throat.

Cedric turned on his heels and called over his shoulder.

“Owl me when you stop thinking that the world is out to get you!”

The crack of apparation sounded before he'd even reached the end of the path. Ron sank to the floor and stared at the empty doorway that Cedric left behind.

Ron wasn't sure how long he'd just sat on the couch. He'd been passing the time playing catch with his little paper friend and keeping its inquisitive pecking away from the open fireplace when the front door clicked open. 

He didn't have to check who it was. There was only one person he trusted with a key to his flat.

"That's quite the adorable sentience enchantment you've got there," she said.

"Yeah, he's been adorably trying to set himself on fire for the last wee while."

"He from Cedric?"

"Mhmm."

"What does he say?"

“Don't know. Haven't read him."

Hermione sat softly at the other end of the sofa with a sigh, saying nothing. From the corner of his eye, Ron could see her as she looked between him and the little bird playing on the floor.

"Stop looking at me like that," Ron told her.

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me."

"I don't feel sorry for you, Ronald. I feel sad for you."

Ron scoffed.

"Same thing," he said.

"It's not the same at all. I'm sad watching my best friend in pain," she said.

"This. This is why I don't date. I always mess everything up and then I’m one left hurt."

"You don’t mess everything up!"

"I did with us," he told her. Hermione’s mouth fell open and closed several times as she tried to find words to say.

"That's what you think? We weren't right for each other, Ron. We were stuck in some childhood romance that didn't grow up with us and if I made you feel that us not working was your fault, then that's my failure."

"What?"

"Oh my goodness, why didn't I see it before?" She scolded herself, shaking her head. "You were trying so hard towards the end."

"Of course I was! I didn't want to lose you."

"And I wasn't trying hard enough," she said sadly. "I made you work and work for a relationship that my heart wasn’t in and I was too scared to face it. You deserved better, Ron, and I'm sorry I couldn't give that to you."

Ron felt turned upside down as if all the blood had suddenly rushed to his head and it trebled in size. He couldn't think straight. Hermione was apologising to him ? She had been the one to leave him, hadn't she? She had been the one that needed more than him, hadn't she?

"I couldn't be everything that you wanted me to be," Ron admitted.

"All I ever wanted, all I ever want, is for you to be exactly who you are, Ronald. We were never going to be enough for each other and I put that weight on you and I'll never be sorry enough for that."

Hermione’s eyes were glassy and Ron watched them shimmer underneath damp eyelashes. He reached over and placed his hand over hers. She smiled softly and turned hers over to wrap her fingers around his.

"Y’know, when I saw those photos of you and Cedric in the paper, I was so delighted. You looked … like you! Like the teenage Ron I fell in love with. I felt like I hadn't seen him in a really long time."

Ron pulled her into his side and hugged her to his chest when her voice wobbled.

"Well, he came back and brought his raging hormones with him," Ron joked and Hermione chuckled. She sat up straight and looked at him, wiping loose tears from her damp cheeks.

Ron only just now noticed how lovely she looked this evening in a flattering, festive red dress. Ron will always, always insist that Draco Malfoy is the luckiest bugger he'd ever met.

"So what happens now? Are you and Cedric broken up?" She asked.

"We were never actually together."

"That's nonsense, Ronald."

"Everything Malfoy said-"

"Since when have you ever listened to what Draco Malfoy says?"

"Since you became Mrs Malfoy!" Ron replied, nodding towards the exquisite diamond ring on her left hand. Hermione smiled softly.

"That's a very sweet sentiment, Ronald but the fact of the matter is that Draco talks out of his arse at times!"

Ron barked a laugh, causing Hermione to giggle in turn.

"Draco is ambitious, devious and can even be a little bit wicked at times but that's not Cedric. Cedric cares about you so much, Ron. One look at him at Kingsley's tonight and it was clear how hurt he was."

“What should I do?” he asked her earnestly.

“I think, you should start with your little friend there,” she told him, the little bird leaping up onto her lap as soon as she acknowledged him. He chirped at her and cooed when she used a single finger to stroke his tiny beak. “Although, I am loath to part with him.”

“Me too,” Ron chuckled. “But I’m sure the enchantment will wear off eventually and I’d hate to lose him that way.”

“Very true.”

The bird hopped into his lap excitedly, finally happy to rid itself of the words it had been carrying. Ron pet it gently before tapping its back with his wand. It burst into a flurry of parchment and ink and a crisp letter unfolded and settled on Ron’s lap.

Ron,

Seeing as the cat is very much out of the bag thanks to the Daily Prophet, I was wondering if you’d like to go to Kingsley’s Christmas dinner, together?  I can swing by around 5 o’clock to get you, if that’s good for you?

Also, I know this is a huge ask cause I know you have a loving family who will be dying to see you but I was thinking that if you have the time, we could spend part of Christmas day together?

I’m always reminded at this time of year that it should be spent with those you truly, wholeheartedly care about and I realised quite suddenly and pleasantly that one of those people is you. I know that I’m coming across very strongly, I am aware of it, I promise and I’m pretty certain that I’m not crazy. 

But I am crazy about you, overwhelmingly so and I think it might be best for me to stop babbling now as I feel like I’m coming very close to writing words that I’d rather say.

Yours,

Cedric x

Ron inhaled deeply, not realising that he’d stopped breathing properly at some point during Cedric’s letter.

Cedric’s beautiful, lovely letter.

That he’d ignored and then proceeded to hurl accusations in his face. He’d looked so hurt. Rightly so. Ron had hurt him and Ron had been hurt himself enough to know how that felt and he was disgusted with himself.

Hermione had read the letter alongside him, her eyes now flicking up to watch Ron with an elated smile.

“I really have buggered it up this time, haven’t I?” he murmured.

“Yes, although Draco did help you in that,” she said absolutely, with a grin slowly spreading across her pink, painted lips. “But we can fix this.”

“You think he’ll give me a second chance?”

“Ronald, I think Cedric Diggory would give you a thousand second chances. I think he’d give you the moon if he could!” she said with a chuckle. “But your apology better be bloody good!”

Ron’s stomach began to flutter. The excitement mixing with dread had his heart racing in his ears as he thought of ways to tell Cedric just how sorry he was, how much he meant to him, how much he always had. 

Suddenly, it struck him. 

What exactly he needed to do to prove to Cedric that he was worth the trouble. Worth the heartache, the fights, the kisses, the quiet moments, the crazy moments. Worth his love.

“Hermione, I need a favour,” Ron said, leaping to his feet.

“Name it.”

“Can you use your sweetest, most charming words to owl my mother and let her know that I won’t be making it to Christmas dinner tomorrow?”

“I’ll lose my bloody head for it but of course, anything,” she told him. “What are you going to do?”

He began tearing his twinkling fairy lights down from the walls and bundling them up in his arms.

“I have an idea but we’ll need someone else’s help too.”

“Oh, okay, I get the horrible job and you get the make-up sex!” she groaned, a smile plastered across her face.

Ron grinned back but then his eyebrows furrowed.

Make-up sex.

“I should probably take a shower first,” he said, dropping the lights on the floor. Hermione laughed.

“I didn’t want to say anything but you are more than a little ripe.”

“Oh gods,” Ron groaned, racing down the hall to the bathroom.

Ron perched on the solid arm of the plush grey sofa, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper and watching his socked toes as they buried themselves in the thick carpet and then brushed away the marks they left with the pad of his foot.

He really had made a mess of things and only realised just how badly when even Draco Malfoy’s own wife thought him the most ridiculous human being in London. 

Hermione had assured him that this was going to work out. When he was tearing his hair out over what to wear. When Fred and George arrived with a freshly cut pine tree. When Amos Diggory, after a heartfelt plea from Ron, let them into Cedric’s townhouse. When it was time for them to leave Ron alone waiting for him. Hermione, infinitely more so than Ron, insisted that everything was going to be okay.

Because Cedric wanted it to be.

And Ron did too. With all his heart.

But now, the waiting was killing him. The seed of doubt that had long since grown roots that spread into every fibre of Ron’s being was threatening to sprout leaves and bloom and with every second that ticked by, the urge to cut and run was becoming more and more appealing.

The falling snow outside had begun to settle and lie on the frozen pavements and the garish yellow streetlamp outside slowly gave Cedric’s living room a cosy amber glow. It brought to Ron’s mind a rose-tinted fantasy of Cedric coming home, his shoulders dusted with snow to find Ron waiting for him, in their warm house, where Ron could hang up his coat and wrap him in his arms.

A small smile pulled at Ron’s lips at the idea and he shook his head at himself for ever believing that he could not be totally, head over heels, dumbstruck and silly in love with Cedric Diggory. Especially considering that he was now pretty sure that he always had been.

The sound of the front door opening snapped Ron out of his reverie sharpish and he jumped to his feet so quickly he almost toppled over.

“Dad!”

Ron watched Cedric’s hurried silhouette bustle out in the hall, kicking off his shiny brogues and shaking off his coat. He tried to swallow the rising panic clogging his throat but his mouth had gone dry.

“Dad? You here?” Cedric called up the darkened staircase before pushing open the living room door, letting the hallway light flood the room, Ron stood awkwardly in the middle of it, surrounded by his attempt at the most heartfelt apology.

Cedric didn’t say anything at first. His eyes held Ron’s for a breathtaking amount of time and Ron sighed relief when Cedric broke his pinned gaze.

Twinkling fairy light sparkled in his eyes as he looked around. Thousands of them strung back and forth across the ceiling bringing the starlit sky down into this humble sandstone house. Cedric turned around, his face filled with awe when his eyes fell upon the decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace and the plate of haphazardly iced gingerbread cookies on the coffee table.

“What?” He mumbled. “What is all this?”

“It’s a flimsy attempt at an apology. I wasn’t reminded very recently that Christmas is the time to spend with those you truly , wholeheartedly care about and I just… I wanted to tell you…” Ron fumbled. He practised so many different ways to tell Cedric everything that was in his heart but now that he was here, standing in front of him, with snowflakes in his chestnut hair and pink flushes in his cheeks, Ron lost all the words.

“Ron, no. I’m sorry,” Cedric started and Ron couldn’t help the bewilderment that swept over his face.

“Wait. Why are you sorry?” Ron asked. “I’m the one who was a dick. I’m the one who started accusing you of using me.”

“I should have never let you feel that way! I should have been clear about my feelings from the beginning.”

“You were, Cedric! Gods, this was all me! I should never have listened to bloody Malfoy.”

“Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy?” Cedric asked with a bemused smile.

“Yeah.”

“The same Draco Malfoy who bullied you and your friends in school?”

“Yeah…”

“The same Draco Malfoy with highly questionable morals? That Malfoy?”

“Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous,” Ron sighed, dropping his face into his hands in an attempt to hide the rising embarrassment colouring his cheeks. 

“Ron?” Cedric said softly, his feet padding quietly across the carpet to stop in front of Ron. His chilly fingers wrapped around Ron’s hand and delicately pulled them away from his face. “Don’t overthink it, okay? There’s no need. I will always be completely honest with you, no tricks, no lies, no hiding. I am … hopelessly in love with you Ron Weasley. I always have been and don’t let anyone or anything make you think any differently.”

Ron’s head was swimming. His stomach was dropping and his heart was flying. Every piece of him felt utterly adrift, free and fleeting. But it didn’t matter. Cause Cedric was there. He’d catch him. He’d pull him together. He’d keep him whole. Well as whole as he could be without his heart. That belonged to Cedric now.

Ron surged forward, closing the gap between them in a breath and kissing Cedric like he never had before. Kissing him for all those times he’d wanted to in the summer grass. Kissing him for all those times he saw him laughing across the Great Hall. For all those times he’d been lost and lonely thinking he’d hurt like that forever. Kissing him for realising that he’d been the one all along.

His heart fluttered manically, replying Cedric’s words in his mind and causing a frustrated groan to bubble up his throat because while every single thing he felt for Cedric was deep and overwhelming, he'd never told him a single one.

"Ron?" Cedric asked, concern in his eyes as he stepped back to look at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he groaned. "It's just I really wanted to be the one to say 'I love you' first. I had a speech but I sort of forgot it when you walked in. It was meant to be a big personal growth moment."

Cedric laughed and it pulled an involuntary but welcome smile from Ron.

"I'm sorry. I can take it back if you like?"

"Don't you dare, Cedric Diggory."

Cedric grinned and leaned in to kiss him, sweetly, fully on the lips and his hands cradled Ron’s blushing cheeks.

“I couldn’t even if I tried,” he said.

As the final hours of Christmas Eve ticked by, Ron sat with Cedric on the grey couch, their arms around each other, fingers and legs intertwined naked under a blanket, watching the crackling fire just beyond their feet.

The comfort and warmth that the situation brought Ron had him cursing himself for running away from relationships for so long, but at the same time, he knew very well that none of them would have felt the way this feels.

The clock in the kitchen began to chime, and as it reached twelve, Cedric chuckled beside him.

“Merry Christmas, Ron,” he said softly, his grey eyes shimmering with the orange fireplace glow. He pressed a gentle kiss to Ron’s lips and Ron shivered at the heat of his breath against his skin.

“Merry Christmas Cedric,” Ron whispered.

“Can I give you your Christmas present now?”

“Wasn’t that just it?” Ron chuckled and Cedric smiled.

“Ha ha, no, a physical present.”

“Uh, that was plenty physical,” Ron remarked. Cedric sighed and shook his head, tossing the blanket off to get up and cross the room. When he bent over to grab a hefty wrapped parcel from inside the sideboard, Ron couldn’t help but comment on it. “A very merry Christmas indeed.”

“You are such a flirt, Ron Weasley,” Cedric said with a laugh, settling back down beside him and handing him the parcel.

“I have heard that,” Ron replied. He finally looked down at the parcel, its weight surprising as he turned it over. “Wait, what is this?”

“Your Christmas present.”

“You were serious?” Ron yelped.

“Of course, I was. Why wouldn’t I be?” Cedric replied, baffled.

“I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, desperate not to keep letting that doubt that Cedric kept chasing away to seep into this perfection. “We haven’t been together very long, I wasn’t sure if we were doing presents. I worried you thought I might be going too fast or something.”

“Ron, how long have we known each other?” Cedric sighed with a lazy smile. Ron begrudgingly fought back a smirk.

“Twenty years? Give or take?”

“Well, I have been in love with you for most of that time so it’s definitely not too fast.” Cedric grinned and Ron couldn’t help but smile with him. “Go on, open it!”

Ron tore away at the paper, Cedric chuckling beside him at his eagerness. He stopped when a small pouch fell into his lap. Ron looked at it for a moment before finishing unwrapping the large square block that it fell from. 

It was a chunky, ornate and incredibly beautiful chessboard. The alternating black and white squares were made of light and dark wood blocks and finished with a shiny stain. Ron now had an inkling of what was in the pouch when he opened it but it still surprised him at how beautiful each chess piece inside was. He plucked one out and turned it over in his hands. It reminded him of the stunning sets he’d found at the market and couldn’t believe that he now owned something so lovely.

“It’s amazing, Cedric,” Ron told him, relief seeming to wash over his face as if Ron wouldn’t like absolutely anything Cedric gifted him. “Is this from the market?”

“Uhm, no actually,” Cedric said, his cheeks turning that pale pink colour that Ron just loved to see on him. “I made it myself.”

“What? You did?!”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“Bloody hell, Cedric! I love it! Gods, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever made for me!” he told him, his heart sinking with guilt. “I can’t believe I don’t have anything to give you.”

“You have given me so much, Ron! You have no idea,” Cedric told him, taking his hands. His eyes roamed around his festive decorated living room, the cookies on the table, the snow outside. “All this, it means the world to me. And I know it meant a lot to my dad too, he wouldn't have helped you otherwise. Just... to feel this way again, it's ... thank you, Ron. It’s the greatest present I could have ever wished for.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s wonderful, just like you,” Cedric assured him, placing a long, smooth kiss against his lips. “Perfect, actually.”