𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕤. cedric diggory

1

We met under peculiar circumstances. I was ten-years-old and scared out of my wits in the middle of Diagon Alley. My parents had been separated from me.

There were tears — of course there were. Mum always said I was over-dramatic, but I cared not. I was lost and scared, and I was only ten. (If there weren't tears, someone should be worried.)

I thought it was the end.

But then you came, and you held my hand, and you let me cry, handing me a handkerchief when I required one. I was grateful.

You were the same age as me, but you held yourself with a certain maturity that still baffles me to this day.

You took me to get ice cream, asked me what my favorite flavor was (chocolate mint with cinnamon sprinkled on top), and then gave me a bright smile when I thanked you.

"No problem," you said and the grin got wider, and your teeth were so crooked and adorable, and I should have known then.

I didn't.

I let you take me back to my parents, and you gripped my hand the whole way, unabashed and prideful to walk by my side. I felt safe, regal in your astonishing presence, and when we found my mum and dad, I almost begged you to stay with me for a little while longer.

I didn't.

But you introduced yourself, and I introduced myself, and I left that day with the echo of your laughter sounding in my ears, your radiant smile a beautiful painting on my mind.

You said to meet you on the Hogwarts Express. I told you I would. My heart was warm and happy that you found me. You found me and you helped me and you were so good and I think I was a little bit in love with you already. But that's okay, it was worth it.

You're worth it, Cedric Diggory.