The afternoon light slanted through the tall windows, casting golden squares across the flagstones. A few first-years scurried past, and Cedric gave them one of his trademark smiles—the one that made half the school swoon.

But today, something had snapped.

He opened his mouth again—probably another line about the weather, or your eyes, or some combination of the two.

His lips were warm, and for a split second he was completely still—shock, surprise, or some combination. Then his hands found your waist and he was kissing you back, pushing you toward the door of the broom cupboard behind him.

The door swung open behind you, and the two of you stumbled inside. It clicked shut.

His first kiss was soft. Hesitant.

The second was not.