𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 || 𝐜.𝐝.

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

It was the 24th of December, 1992.

I was frustrated and angry and sad all at the same time.

Why?

My mom wrote to McGonagall, and she told her that since she was going on a trip for the holidays, and that she didn't want me to come with her since I was already at Hogwarts. My dad and my little brother weren't coming either, according to what McGonagall said, and that it was for private reasons that she wasn't inviting anyone.

So I was alone at Hogwarts— well, nearly alone, because Potter, Granger, Weasley, the Patils, Hannah, and Cedric were also staying in.

Cedric's father usually let him come home for the holidays, but he didn't this year, and I didn't know why because we stopped speaking to each other most of the days we were around each other.

I did have one thing making me feel better though; the constant deliveries of Christmas candy from my "admirer".

I had tons of different types of sweets all piled up under my nightstand, from Acid Pops, to Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Cauldrons, but I could tell their favorite to give was any type of Honeydukes chocolate.

The best part were their letters. Each letter, so beautifully written with messages matching the types of candy they gave: when they felt sour, they wrote about it and gave me an acid pop, when they were being sweet and flirty, they gave me chocolates, and so on like that.

It was like being together with someone you don't know, but the bad thing is the fact that I never wrote back to them.

Each time they sent candies, they'd write, "Hopefully you'll be able to write back this time. Just give your letter to Hannah Abbott and say it's for "The Admirer" and I'll receive it. Hopefully, one day, I'll hear from you."

I couldn't bring myself to give any letters to Hannah to deliver, one because she was a second year, so I never got to catch her around, and two because I was too nervous to even talk to this person. They seemed so familiar, like each letter was their way of reconciling with me, even if I didn't know who they were.

Couldn't they just sign with their initials instead?

The Admirer.

What a mysterious way to call yourself.

The only thing I knew about admirers was when Cedric used to talk about how he'd wished he had someone to finally like in secret, to be an admirer with a romantic story, granted, for Cedric, who was so awkwardly adorable but still awkward, being an admirer was a big thing.

But this person couldn't be Ced, there is no chance.

If it was, then the admirer wouldn't be sending anything at all, because Cedric wasn't speaking to me.

I decided to take some of my Sugar Quills from them with me and snack on them as I went to the Great Hall. Slipping on my house scarf, I place the packs of Sugar Quills into my pockets and walk to the Great Hall from the common room.

The air outside was breezy, the sky white as snow with the clouds barely visible, like white chalk on a whiteboard. Piles of cloudy snow were piling up so much that the trees seemed like they were drawn in.

Altogether the snowy day was beautiful, and I couldn't stop staring until—

"I'm so sorry!" I blurted out.

I had bumped into someone, and I internally cussed at myself. I looked up at their face to help them with anything, until I saw who exactly it was.

Light brown hair, rosy cheeks, deep, dark eyes, perfectly structured lip-

Fuck, it was Cedric.

He looked down at his robes, brushing dirt off of them, and looking down at me. I could tell by the way he cleared his throat so suddenly that he was definitely in a bit of shock.