Too Shy To Tell You (Cedric Diggory x Reader)

Oliver's Secret Weapon

              You stormed through the deserted corridors, heading straight for the Gryffindor dormitories. You came to a halt in front of the portrait hole. A painting of a fat woman in a large pink dress, glowered down at you. "Can I help you?" She asked as she surveyed your emerald green quidditch robes, which were now covered in mud and grass stains. You tapped your foot in annoyance.
"Caput Draconis," you snarled, impatiently. Her suspicion deepened. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, as she debated what to say next. Fred and George had given you the password to Gryffindor Tower, just in case you needed accomplices for any last minute pranks. But this was the first time you had ever dared to enter another house's dormitory. The fat lady bit her lip, unsure of how she should react.
"You're a Slytherin. I'm afraid I can't allow you in." You growled at her response. Your patience was running extremely low.
"I gave you the correct password. Did I not?" You muttered through gritted teeth. The woman bit her nails nervously, contemplating what to do.
"Yes, I suppose..." You cut her off before she could finish. Your anger threating to boil over. You weren't in the mood for a debate.
"Exactly! Now open the door!" She looked you over one last time, before the portrait swung open. You let out an exasperated sigh as you marched into the common room. Students looked up and gasped. You sent them all maniacal glares as they shrunk away fearfully. You heard whispers and whimpers as you scanned the room for a patch of fiery red hair. Instead, a figure with sandy brown locks intercepted your path. Oliver Wood. Gryffindor's quidditch captain. His eyes were immediately drawn to you muddy robes.
"What are you doing here, Middlebrook? Have you lost your way back to the dungeons?" Oliver interrogated, in his thick Scottish accent. "Or did Slytherin decide they should send their own team captain as a spy? If so, you're not very conspicuous." You scoffed.
"Oh, sod off, Wood. I'm not here to spy!" You shot back. "Besides Slytherin doesn't need a spy. My team could kick you ass any time. Or do you need me to get the trophy's from the last four years to jog your memory?" Oliver grimaced at the reminder.
"Not this year, (Y/N). Not this year. Gryffindor is going to win this time around. Just you wait." You let out a snort. Oliver narrowed his eyes.
"Is that so? And why's that, Oliver? What makes you think your pathetic little team can beat Slytherin." You grinned wickedly at his stunned expression. He opened his mouth to respond, but before the words escaped his lips, two redheads came bounding down the stairs. They froze at the bottom, surveying the heated discussion between the two rival captains. Fred and George laughed mischievously, as they jumped onto Wood's back. He grunted in surprise.
"Well, Georgie isn't this a pleasant surprise? Tell us (Y/N/N), what brings you to our humble abode?" Fred questioned. You rolled your (E/C) eyes, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day and sighed.
"Marcus Flint," you growled as you gnashed your teeth. All three of the boys took a step back. You could feel rage coursing through your veins, like blood, as you mentioned his name. To most, it would appear that your eyes had suddenly caught fire. The had turned a violent red, an even harsher color than the walls surrounding you.
"What does Flint have to do with any of this?" Wood questioned. You shrugged, trying to suppress your anger.
"I broke his shin," you commented, nonchalantly. Oliver's mouth fell open, while Fred and George tried to hold back their fits of laughter. You bit your lip, waiting for someone to say something. Wood rubbed the back of his neck, nervously.
"That's our girl!" The twins shouted in unison. Many people turned to stare. They glanced at you, before quickly turning around, petrified from fear. Your lips twisted into a cruel grin. Flint deserved what he got. Especially after the hell he'd put you through.
"Why?" Oliver piped up. You once again shrugged, as if it was nothing. Images of Flint's nasty smirk haunted your vison and you quickly shook them away.
"He tried to kiss me," you barked. The twins looked at one another before they lost themselves in a fit of laughter. Wood looked at a loss for words, but his lips suddenly formed a grin of his own. You nudged his foot with the toe of your boot. "What are you thinking?" You asked, noting the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"It seems Gryffindor has an even better chance of winning now! What a shame that one of your best chasers is injured! And only weeks before the first game of the season! What ever shall you do?" Wood teased, dramatically. You frowned.
"Is that what you think? That you have an advantage because one of my chasers is injured? Flint will be fine! He'll be ready to play before the game! And then we'll kick your team's sorry ass just like we always do." Wood laughed.
"You don't stand a chance, Middlebrook. This year we've got a strategy. We've got a secret weapon." This peaked your interest, but you kept your face emotionless. You wouldn't show weakness. Especially not to a Gryffindor.
"You need all them help you can get, Wood. All the help you can get and more. Even with your secret weapon Slytherin will win. We're too good not to." And with that you turned on your heel and flounced out of the tower. As soon as the portrait hole swung closed, you broke into a run, heading straight for the dungeons. You could feel the familiar itch of competition. Now you were determined to win. Determined to figure out what the Gryffindor's were hiding. What was Oliver's secret weapon?