Seven Minutes in Heaven (with the Harry Potter Boys)

Cedric Diggory... Request

As your hand dances through the assortment within the bag, your fingertips graze the cool metal of an object that immediately commands your attention. It's a quill, but not just any quill—this one boasts an elegance and a craftsmanship that feels out of place among the mundane items it shares its space with. Its metallic surface is sleek, catching the dim light in the room and reflecting it in a soft, captivating glow. With a gentle pull, you free it from its canvas prison, and the chatter around you dims into a suspenseful silence. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, every pair of eyes fixated on the object in your hand as if it were a talisman charged with destiny.

George, the ever-entertaining orchestrator of mischief, can't hide the glee behind his smirk. "Ah, the heartthrob of Hogwarts himself, Cedric Diggory!" he announces with theatrical flourish. The room erupts in a chorus of whispers and excited murmurs, the air suddenly electric with speculation and intrigue. Cedric steps forward, his approach unhurried yet deliberate, the embodiment of confidence and allure. His gaze finds yours, intense and sparking with an excitement that mirrors the charged atmosphere of the room. It's as if, in that moment, a silent conversation passes between you, laden with promises and possibilities.

Cedric's presence commands the space around him. He wears his Hufflepuff robes with a sense of pride and individuality, the fabric tailored to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and the lean muscle beneath. The top few buttons of his crisp, white shirt are undone, hinting at the strength that lies underneath, while his tie hangs loosely around his neck, a subtle rebellion against the strictures of Hogwarts' dress code. His hair is a masterpiece of casual intention, each tousled strand seemingly perfectly placed to frame his face and enhance the rugged, yet boyishly charming, contours of his jawline and cheekbones.

This close, you can see the nuances of his appearance that the distance had previously obscured—the faintest hint of stubble along his jaw, suggesting a maturity beyond his years; the way his eyes seem to change hue in the shifting light, revealing depths of warmth and laughter; and the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he's in on a secret that only the two of you share. There's an undeniable charisma about him, a magnetic quality that draws you in and holds you captivated, making it impossible to look away. In this moment, with the room's attention fixed on the two of you, Cedric Diggory is not just a student at Hogwarts; he's the epitome of everything that's exciting and unpredictable about the magic that binds this world together.

The moment you both acknowledge the inevitable approach towards the closet, there's a palpable shift in the atmosphere. It's as though the air itself is woven with threads of anticipation and unspoken yearnings, drawing you and Cedric together with a force that feels as old as time yet as fresh as the moment. His movements are graceful, a testament to the poise and consideration he carries himself with. As Cedric extends his hand towards you, a gesture for you to precede him into the confined space, his fingertips graze yours. The contact, though fleeting, is electric, sending a surge of warmth that spirals from the point of touch through your entire being, awakening every sense to the precipice of something momentous.

The door to the closet swings shut with a soft click, enveloping you both in a secluded darkness that seems to exist outside of time and space. It's a world unto itself, lit only by a gentle, ethereal glow that seems to emanate from nowhere and everywhere all at once. This soft illumination bathes the closet in a luminescence that pulses gently, in perfect harmony with the accelerated rhythm of your hearts, casting both of you in a halo of light that feels both intimate and otherworldly.

In the sanctity of this shared seclusion, Cedric's voice cuts through the silence, a deep, resonant timbre that seems to vibrate through the air. "You look absolutely stunning tonight." His words are more than a mere compliment; they're an admittance of admiration, laden with layers of genuine attraction and a hint of something deeper, more primal. The sincerity in his tone, coupled with the husky edge that desire has lent it, sends a flutter of excitement through your core, your heart dancing to a rhythm only the two of you can hear.

The space between you, now charged with an electric tension, becomes a living entity, a testament to the magnetic pull that drew you together. It's as if the very air has become a tapestry of shadows and light, weaving around you in patterns that tell tales of longing and potential. Every breath you take seems to draw you closer, the darkness around you pulsating with the energy of your shared anticipation. The moment is suspended, a fragile bubble of time filled with the promise of whispered secrets and the exploration of uncharted territories of emotion and desire.

In the cocoon of the closet, your conversation with Cedric unfolds like a tapestry rich with color and life. Each story he shares is a brushstroke on a canvas, painting a picture of a young man who's not just brave but profoundly alive, his laughter a melody that resonates in the cramped space, transforming it into something akin to a secret haven. The tales of his escapades at Hogwarts are not just adventures but revelations, each one peeling back a layer to reveal the depth of character beneath the Hufflepuff emblem.

As the minutes weave themselves into the fabric of memory, the levity of your exchange gradually gives way to a tension thick with unspoken promises and hidden desires. It's in the way his laughter mellows into a softer timbre, in the way his stories start to linger on the moments of solitude and reflection, that you find an echo of your own yearnings.

Cedric moves closer, his presence a gravitational force that pulls at something deep within you. The air between you, once filled with the spark of playful banter, now pulsates with a heavier, more electric charge. His eyes lock onto yours, a stormy sea under a lighthouse's beam, guiding you through the tumultuous waters of your own emotions. "I've wanted to do this since I first saw you tonight," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the very air. The warmth of his breath against your cheek is a siren's call, drawing you into the eye of the storm, where all is calm and nothing else matters but the two of you.

When his lips meet yours, it's not just a kiss but a confluence of every fleeting glance, every half-spoken word, every moment that your paths have crossed but never quite intertwined until now. The kiss unfolds slowly, a deliberate exploration of new territory that feels both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity. It deepens with a shared urgency, a silent acknowledgment of the weeks of mutual curiosity, of the myriad moments filled with questions left unasked.

Cedric's hands, strong yet gentle, come to rest on your waist, pulling you closer with a tenderness that belies the strength of his frame. Your hands, seemingly of their own accord, find their way into his hair, the soft strands sliding between your fingers as you draw him even nearer, seeking to erase any distance that remains between you.

As the kiss breaks, you're both left gasping for air, the world outside the closet a distant memory. The realization that this is but the beginning of a journey neither of you had anticipated hangs heavy in the air. When the door swings open, the light from the outside world feels blinding, but the gazes of your classmates can't pierce the bubble you've created around this moment.

Stepping back into the room, the imprint of Cedric's lips still burning on yours, you're acutely aware of the shift in your own axis. The promise of what's to come—a promise whispered in the shadow of a kiss—leaves you both with a sense of anticipation, a prelude to a story yet unwritten.