You were curled up on the couch near the hearth, a book open in your lap.

The room was nearly empty, the only sounds the crackling fire and the occasional rustle of turning pages.

Then the portrait hole swung open.

His hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed from the cold air, and that familiar, effortless charm seemed to follow him into the room.

But as the group moved toward the far side, Cedric's gaze drifted—and found you.