Keep Your Promises (Cedric Diggory x Reader)

Captain to Captain

"You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now! And believe me, I would, if you weren't completely drenched in mud," Cedric smirked, making you laugh as he handed you a steaming cup of tea. Quidditch practice had ended much later than you had predicted. Your team left the field around10 PM, exhausted and sore, which was just about an hour ago. Cedric smiled as he sat down next to you amidst the wooden stands of the Quidditch Pitch. You had asked Fred and George, who were out pranking innocent first years, to deliver a message to your boyfriend.

It had been a little over 2 weeks since you had last seen Cedric. A little over 2 weeks since you had talked about needing a bit of space. But at this point, you missed him terribly. All you could think about was seeing him. You needed him.

"Oh, come on, Diggory! Not afraid of a little bit of mud are you?" You teased, leaning in to kiss him. He grinned but shied away, making you laugh. You turned to face the field hundreds of questions burning in the back of your mind. How were you ever going to make a decision?

"Of course not! I would just prefer to keep my robes from getting dirty. You see, I just ironed them! They're brand new," he insisted, as you laughed again.

"Wait... Hold on... Let me get this straight... You're choosing your robes over me?! I cannot believe what I'm hearing! My God..." you exclaimed, feigning a look of shock as you turned back to face him. He chuckled, rolling his eyes at your antics. You smirked, not quite ready to let him off the hook as you continued your playful taunts. "I can't believe this! What news! Who knew?! Cedric Diggory... the Hufflepuff Prefect and Quidditch Captain... Mr. Perfect, himself... is afraid of a bit of dirt! He won't even kiss his own girlfriend, because he doesn't want to get his robes dirty! His own girlfriend! The person he claims to love... I mean... honestly... it's an outrage really! I've-"

He cut you off, smashing his lips into your own. You smirked mischievously, into the kiss. You knew all the right buttons to press. He pressed his lips against you much harder than you had anticipated, as you stumbled backwards. His arms wrapped themselves around your as he pulled you into his lap, threading his fingers through your (H/C) hair. If his robes weren't dirty before, they certainly were now.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, you rested your forehead gently against his. He sighed contently, smiling as he stared into you (E/C) eyes. You grinned, a playful smirk covering your lips. His arms tightened around your waist as he pulled you closer. "I have to say, that was definitely worth getting my robes muddy..." he whispered, breathlessly. You laughed, planting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His eyes roamed over your face, studying your every feature. He was quiet for a moment before his soft smile turned into a worried frown. He twisted a stray piece of hair around his long fingers, sighing. "But something tells me that you didn't have Weasley hunt me down, just so we could make out all night," he added.

You averted your eyes as your face flushed with a pale blush. It sounded oddly embarrassing when he phrased it like that. You weren't quite used to talking about physical displays of affection. It was also so new to you, and somewhat uncomfortable. Cedric smirked, as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. You smiled slightly, staring into his piercing blue eyes. "What do you mean? Hunt you down? Why would... Wait... What did he do?!"

"What did he do?! My God, where do I even start?! As you know, we've got that assessment in Charms tomorrow, so I figured I would go down to the library and study. Halfway through my work, I ran out of parchment. I was on my way back to the common room, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, I am slammed up against the damn wall!" You did your best to keep yourself from bursting in to laughter as he continued. "Before I could even process what was happening, I had a wand pointed directly at the base of my neck. All he said was, 'Quiditch Pitch. 11 o'clock. Don't be late, Pretty Boy!" I mean, was that really necessary? Did he have to be so dramatic about it? He certainly didn't need to annunciate his words so that he spit in my face. My God. He's such a fucking pain in the ass sometimes!"