He was watching you again. Brushing up against you in the corridors. Wanting only to speak to you.
Desperate, desperate, desperate.
Jealous.
Fred fumbled with the small rip in his robes, picking at it with torn fingernails. There was something sour in his stomach, reverberating through him as he caught a snag, pulled away, widened the hole.
Hermione placed a hand over his, simmering and gentle. Telling him to stop.
But she didn't get it; she couldn't understand the pure hatred settling in his veins, bones, pupils. Because you let out this little laugh—his favorite sound—but it wasn't being presented to him. You weren't looking into bright, Weasley purple.
You were looking into cool, Diggory yellow.
Desperate he was, because he had not moved on. Not like you had. It couldn't have been two months-two months that felt like two years, but Fred could've sworn he had told you he loved you for the first time two days ago.
-
Cedric Diggory was not blind.
He could see the way Weasley peered at you, begged you with that pathetic, pitiful purple. Cedric made sure to pull you closer every time he caught a hint of that gaze. He didn't respond further, didn't go out of his way to hex the Prankster into oblivion. But, Salazar, did he want to.
Your robes swished softly on the ground, the yellow stitching and the notable badger sewed on always a shock when presented next to his emerald and snake. You smiled at everyone, almost formidable in the way it was so kind.
Cedric, however, never let his scowl slip. His hand stayed entangled with yours, the pace brisk as the pair of you walked to Charms. There was this intoxicating sort of thought that often littered his mind, strewn among a million other delicious ideas.
He wondered what it would take to reveal you. Because currently, you were the kind Hufflepuff. An angel in all the ways that mattered. But that prickling thought reminded him of what you were like in private.
What he could do to you in the seclusion of his lonely, unassuming prefect dorm.
And he wondered if Weasley knew that side of you too.
-
"You should talk to Fred" Hermione implored, seated across from you by the Great Lake. Her lips pursed as you tossed another piece of bread into the water, trying—fruitlessly—to tempt the Grindylows into making an appearance.
You shook your head "Absolutely not."
"He misses you."
"I know."
An exasperated breath left her. She had been working to persuade you for months. None of her words ever took, and you had declined each advance on his own part until Fred had decidedly given up. "You're being unfair."
"How so?" your eyes caught onto a minor tear in your robes. Deftly, you plucked your wand and tapped the hole, repairing it with a spell Cedric had taught you when you first met.
Hermione's eyes seemed trapped to the now-perfect spot, something flickering "He deserves closure."
"He deserves a lot of things" you agreed. The memories slotted across your lids at every blink—the Triwizard Tournament, Christmas holidays, free periods spent in the Room of Requirement. They were the good sidled beside the bad.
The fights, the funerals, Fred's refusal to let you go in fear that he lost you too. You were just a kind Hufflepuff after all, and that meant there was nothing even somewhat intimidating about you. It was his desperation to keep you close that drove you away.
Drove you to nights wandering the corridors, stumbling across another lost soul. Someone else who had the same pressure closing around him, and who, perhaps, could hold an inkling of understanding—compassion—for your own predicament.
The villain, Fred had deemed Cedric.
"Don't say that. Just because it was a minor disagreement-"
You interrupted the other girl swiftly. "There was nothing minor about it. Tell him to move on, and that I have no plans of returning."
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, exhausted. The sun was slipping below the horizon, the rays absorbed into the soft grass, moonlight shining in its wake. The air had taken to a distinct chill, fresh but still urging you to get up.
"He just lost Lupin—"
"Granger."
Both of you jumped at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, cutting through the strife like a blade. His eyes were equally as sharp, glaring at Hermione with nearly terrifying vitriol. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, seemingly relaxed, but his features betrayed other emotions.
"Do not" he spoke quietly, easily gathering a dangerous attention, "attempt to guilt-trip someone in such a disgusting manner. Weasley has made his choices, and so has Y/N."
She glared, narrowing in on the brown-haired boy. "You know a lot about choices, don't you, Diggory?"
You caught the slight tensing of his arm, the feathering in his jaw. Occlumency quickly spun him into ice, lips practically begging to supply a snide remark in response. Still, he only fixed his gaze onto you, softer, but entirely telling.
"You ready to go, love?" he stretched out a hand, and you grabbed it as soon as it was within reach, allowing him to pull you up.
Items were gathered instantly, your schoolbag hanging off your shoulder as you wrapped up the remainder of your sandwich. You spared Hermione a glance, lifting your phone an inch in reference as you said "I'll text you, yeah?"
The girl nodded in response, noticeably slower as she began organizing her own belongings from your study session. It was all you needed before latching onto Cedric's arm, curling around his bicep as you walked back into the castle.
The corridors were empty, students either finishing up meals in the Great Hall or already in their dorms. The muscles contracted under your touch, potent anger still drifting off of him.
"Alright?" he asked as you moved deeper into the school, Hufflepuff dorms the destination. There was an observing nature to him, a testing one; like every move and word was calculated.
You nodded, worrying at your lip and sliding a hand down to meet his. "Yeah. You?"
He was silent for a moment, brow twitching as he watched the halls. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but a smile quirked his lips before you could. "Perfect" he responded.
Then, preventing you from questioning him any further, Cedric was pulling you to the side, right next to a hidden alcove. He didn't go inside, deigning to stay in the open for the next few moves. You found your back pressed against the wall, and when you met his eyes, hate lingered.
"Visitors" he murmured as his hands ghosted along your hips, removing every concern and troubling thought from your mind in the way only he could. "I'm getting rather fed up with Weasley and his little gang."
His lips brushed yours, a not-quite kiss. Your hands were trapped between the two of you, and you bunched up the shirt covering his stomach—formed claws that brought him closer. But Cedric held himself a hair's breadth away, moving his lips over yours, parting and closing—never once giving you what you requested.
"Do you think he gets off on watching us?" Cedric breathed, his oxygen a familiar taste. "Or does it just make him mad?"
"What?" You were half-distracted, caught up in the separate world he created in a mere handful of seconds.
"Weasley" he provided, sealing the answer with a kiss. "He's been following us the whole time. Think he's either got a hard-on or he's trying to crucio me."
Your eyes fluttered shut as he slanted his lips over yours, giving you everything you wanted. More words transpired across the connection, telling you his intention. His motivation.
He needs to know. A kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Know what? A small nip at his bottom lip.
He kept going, kissing down your jaw, your hands carding through his hair. Hips twitching and gasps escaping and oxygen becoming a luxury you couldn't care to afford. Each action and reaction answered the question. He was groping at your body, bordering indecency as he found sweet spots on your neck, hoisting your legs around his waist.
And finally, without a single chance to truly inhale, he was lifting you away from the wall, turning slightly to where a pair of white trainers stuck out in the middle of the hall. To the boy who hid underneath his invisibility cloak.
Cedric didn't need to see Fred to know their eyes had met. To know that the message was becoming abundantly clear. Yellow clashed with Purple. Diggory with Weasley. Your lips had latched onto Cedric's pulse point, his hands slipping under your skirt as he carried you to the alcove.
You're mine, resounded in the span of one glance.
-
The constant rise and fall of his chest was a balm against your tumultuous mind.
Inhale, gather trouble in unsteady fists.
Exhale, let go.
Cedric toyed with the ends of your hair, looking over the top of your head to read the textbook in front of you. Neither of you was retaining a word of it, but the simplicity of the moment was sufficient enough to be considered productive.
Fred hadn't learned the lesson.
And you knew that only because he made a point to corner you during Potions, trapping you between Slughorn and a cauldron bubbling with a mysterious concoction. The Purple seemed darker; jealous, envious, and utterly determined.
You have to stay away from him, Fred had hissed. Your relationship had ended months ago, but it seemed that his desire to protect you hadn't.
Perhaps 'protect' was the wrong word. 'Save you from yourself' seemed a much more apt description.
You had made it out of the classroom as fast as possible, shoving away and intent on getting into the corridors—a place where your ex couldn't hunt you down. That was how you got yourself to your current positioning, thankful that the day was over and you could go study in peace.
Stay in Cedric's prefect dorm.
Same difference.
The ice had turned to something sharper when you brought up Fred's renewed begging. The way he had held you back to convince you that mistakes were made, but I'm better now.
I need you.
It resulted in a cross between anger and disgust, manifesting itself in the two of you wrapped up in his bed, providing an unspoken sort of comfort. Cedric had always tried to flaunt your relationship in front of Fred, putting on a show that made the distinction between the terms 'single' and 'taken' quite defined.
But now, there was a new sort of ire radiating off of Cedric's body. A revulsion because, in the two months since you had broken up, Fred had failed to leave you alone. It was nearly tangible in the air as his hand moved to skim your sides, dancing along any and all patches of exposed skin.
And it only worsened when you got the call.
His lips had been indolently tracing down your throat, the excitement beginning to pool, when your phone rang. The buzzing went through the nightstand, loud and obnoxious, and Cedric let go of an audible scoff, retracting at once.
He lacked appreciation for the Muggle device—even less when you plucked it, an unknown number staring back at you. His eyes narrowed, pushing your arm away and continuing his actions.
"My kind Hufflepuff" he murmured, letting the praise sink into your skin as he discarded the Transfiguration textbook to the end of the bed. "You think quite highly of yourself, don't you?"
You shook your head, a small gasp puffing into the air as Cedric positioned himself over you, both of you ignoring the phone that still hadn't stopped ringing. He was gradually divesting you of clothing, opening you up and ready to use. To please.
The vibrations stopped for only a moment, then renewed.
He watched your next moves, irises frozen and telling you not to pick the phone back up. And it grew frigid when you did the opposite.
"What if it's important?" you questioned as you answered the call and raised it to your ear, Cedric's glare hot on your skin. Immediately, you heard a familiar voice slurring slightly.
"Y/N?" Fred asked, notably inebriated. "You there?"
Cedric raised his eyebrows in question, still perched above you. He waited for you to mute the phone, then: "Who is it?"
"Fred."
Grey eyes disappeared, rolling back in annoyance at the interruption. Mumbling prevailed through the small speakers, indistinguishable as you watched your boyfriend carefully.
But before you could even inquire, he was handing you the solution. "Keep him on the phone-I want to show him something."
It was your turn to have surprise steal your features, but you followed the instruction, unmuting to pacify Harry with a swift "Yeah, I'm here. Everything okay?"
"Fine, fine," he paused, and you imagined him searching a scattered brain for all the right articles, syllables, consonants. "I miss you."
You clenched your jaw—initially to obstruct the uncouth comment that threatened to spill free. But then, because Cedric's lips were fire coursing down your torso; they were pouring magma directly into your veins, burning you from the inside out. "It's been months, Harry. You don't need to miss me."
"No—no, no, no" he was speaking to himself "no, you don't understand. We still belong together."
You opened your mouth to retort, to refuse him even the potential to make a case for himself, but your teeth were puncturing your lip all too soon, consequence of a silver tongue charting a course up your now-bare cunt.
Cedric's eyes flicked up to yours, smirking as he took another slow, steady, sensual venture. You swore you could feel each and every taste bud as they slid across your folds, it was that drawn-out. And you could only manage to squirm to the point where his hands were holding your hips down.
"You are exquisite, my love," he breathed, cool air fanning over the most sensitive parts. Then, he was lifting a brow, gesturing up to the phone clenched tightly in your hand. "Does he know that?"
Your eyes screwed shut, and you shook your head. Expansion became foreign to your lungs as his lips closed around your clit, sucking ever-so-modestly. It had a soft noise that was previously buried in your chest floating out, euphoric in all the ways it was so unprecedented.
"Are you alright?"
Another gasp as his tongue flicked over the bud.
"Hello?"
You came to at once, mood almost soured as you remembered the boy still on the phone. "Yes, sorry. I'm just-" Cedric knocked his teeth against you, and your writhing turned violent "-out of breath. Ran from the Great Hall."
"The Great Hall isn't far from the Kitchens? How are you tired?"
Your teeth dug into your lip the second he began to probe your soaked entrance. There was an indulgence in the manner he went down on you with; it was hours and days, seconds and minutes. It was nothing but the way he made you feel, and the way you couldn't fathom it ever ending. The delicacy he treated you with, but never too much that you felt fragile; instead, you were empowered, and every drop of release he had ever claimed from you didn't feel like a loss, rather a gain.
"Not in shape" you mumbled, brain turning to mush, nerves unraveling and veins entangling and staying alive was only a desire so you could never stop this feeling. "Can't...can't blame me."
"Are you sick? You sound ill."
"'M fine, Fred. Is there something I can help you with?"
A growl permeated the air, courtesy of Cedric and paired with eyes flashing up to meet yours. The order was reiterated in the unspoken, and your free hand grabbed at his hair as his tongue slid inside of you, curving. Reverberations were a cataclysm; one that had you turning your face into a pillow to muffle an inculpatory moan.
"Give me another chance. I'll be better," Fred continued, echoing sentiments so many times over that you began to drift off. "I'm sorry," he would say. "Let's try again."
And maybe in the first few weeks after your break up, you would have listened. But now—now you had someone who had proven to be infinitely better. Mentally, emotionally, physically. Though, even if Cedric were the bastard everyone said he was, he was still making you feel things Fred could only dream of.
Your clit was between his lips. Two fingers were in your cunt. You were a whimpering mess, and Fred could barely discern what was happening.
Cedric hummed, and something akin to a scream tumbled out and was absorbed by the soft fabric under you. You were quivering as a coil wound itself in your stomach, crawling and carving its mark inside you, every nuance setting stars against the black expanse of your eyelids.
"What?" you breathed.
"Do you need me t..."
You lost your senses as your orgasm flashed through the haze, and your teeth biting into your lip was your last line of defense as your muscles contracted in preparation. You were limp and taut, words that held little importance being spewed in your ear as fingers, tongues, he did that.
But right as you were trembling on the very precipice, Cedric pulled away.
Your cunt fluttered, thighs closing in desperation and hand yanking at his hair to get him back. But Cedric only laughed, your arousal glistening on his chin as he grinned at you, looking like he was high off your taste. Intoxicated.
"Exquisite" he repeated quietly. "Perfect for me."
And me only, was the unspoken conclusion.
"F-Fred" you stuttered as your chest heaved, lens glazed over. "Fred, it's not going to happen."
And now, when Cedric's eyes narrowed, you were merely given a glimpse before you were being flipped onto your stomach abruptly. You let out a small sound of surprise, a wince as your knees were manually bent under you, spine curved and every vertebra standing on edge in anticipation.
"Are you okay?" The words were slurred and the tone was confused. You pictured Fred shaking his head before continuing "Another chance. You know Diggory's no good; he's all sorts of evil. I think he's a...."
But you wouldn't hear the finishing statement as a slap was landed on your upturned bum. It sent a jolt through you, like electricity, and you had to fight the urge to cry out. His rings were a cold juxtaposition to the heat from his palm, painful and pleasurable.
"What was that?" Concerned, now.
"Nothing, Fred 'M fine." Your forehead was shoved into the mattress, and your ass burned as another swat was landed.
"Sorry, Princess" Cedric whispered as he pressed his lips to the blooming red. "Gotta mark you up a little bit. Just for me."
You nodded, arousal dripping down your thighs as he squeezed the soft flesh of your backside, kneading it for a moment.
"We're not even together and you're still lying. Come on, we can work through this." He was begging again, and your fingers ached from the vice they held on your phone.
Scoffing, you dropped the device, but knew better than to hang up. It thudded against the sheets, and Cedric gave it a glance, quickly rolling on the condom and getting to work. He was not unaccustomed to the things Fred had put you through, the patience he had worn through, and lessons seemed to be needed at times like these.
Your moan was low, lengthy as he slid into you. The stretch was the perfect fog to get lost in, and every inch was another step into that trance-like headspace. He moved slowly, and when he bottomed out, you found him bent over and his chest flush against your back.
His lips tickled the shell of your ear, and he let go of the most decadent groan as you rolled your hips. The hand that had been indolently squeezing your breast slid up to wrap around your hair, pulling your head up so his mouth was positioned properly as he murmured "Better stay quiet, unless you want him to learn the pretty slut you are for me."
You whimpered at the words, pushing back against him to get impossibly fuller. Fred was saying nonsensical things, or perhaps that was just your lack of comprehension, because the blissful place you had been put into was quite so distracting.
Draco straightened, pulling your tresses with him, as he took up a slow pace. Out, but only a few inches. In, but slightly quicker, showing you all of him. There were thick, sensitive veins, and he let out a hiss as you fluttered around him.
Gradually, the speed increased, and you found pleasure in the smallest of details. The way his tip prodded near your cervix; the vein on the underside of his shaft scraped against your g-spot; his balls slapped against your clit with every resounding thrust. And you would've been concerned that Fred could hear if not for the fact that every aspect littered those thoughts from your mind.
"Y/N?" you could discern, and you shakily reached for the phone, getting shoved further into the bed over and over.
"Y-yes?" you managed, biting your lip as Cedric's fingers found your bud, massaging at a tempo much slower than his hips were moving. Dragging and dragging and dragging your release out.
"Can I come over? I think we need to do this in person."
"Now's not a good time, Fred." Your upper back was roughly pushed down, hair dropped, the strain to stay arched nearly painful. You were almost convinced Cedric might break you in half, and you were entirely sure that you would let him.
And of course, you obliged to this new orientation, making a hoarse—addictive—curse leave his lips, reaching spots that painted constellations over every other sight. It didn't take long at all for your climax to cloak your mind, a sweet taste on your tongue.
"No—no, don't...." your mouth clamped shut as your legs were pushed apart. It was a knot in your lower stomach, heavy with need and making you fall to pieces within seconds. Tighter and tighter, until your clit was sore and your cunt was aching, and all it took was Cedric curving over you once more, kissing the notches of your spine, for you to be coming undone.
It was a sob, that's what slipped out. Teeth biting the pillow under your face as he continued to pound into you; it was tears slipping and muscles spasming and a fire that ignited every nerve ending until you were burning and drowning all at once.
Cedric let out a grunt, and if you were coherent enough, perhaps you would've realized that that was what set Fred off. The crescendo of the actions and the pieces fitting together.
Because sex with Fred was child's play in comparison to this.
You had to bat his hand away from your clit, the overstimulation too much as he still incurred those waves of orgasm. And it was with a brutal fashion that Cedric fought for his own release, making thrusts so harsh they were certain to leave bruises for weeks.
But you felt the twitch, the curse, the shuddering of his own that left immense gratification in your heart as he came. He stayed inside for a few more breaths, a comedic contrast to the previous volume. Fred was calling your name, but it was all cotton as you tried to recompose yourself.
And if you thought you had been done, you were wrong.
Cedric pulled out, but his hands planted on your waist to keep you in the air. Another cry bubbled in your chest as he took your clit between his lips, circling the knot with his tongue and making you writhe in an attempt to escape.
Fred was silent, or maybe that was just your lax sensory, as Cedric drew another orgasm with you, biting lightly on the bud. That, mixed with broad strokes and fingers playing with that ribbed and swollen spot inside of you, had you breaking over the second climax.
It was quick, weak, but left you collapsing onto the mattress the minute he let you go.
"Alright, love," Draco cooed, snatching up the phone and promptly ending the call without you knowing just how much your ex-boyfriend heard. "Scoot over now."
You nodded, thighs spasming with aftershocks as you were lifted up to a sitting position. And a small and sadistic part of him had Cedric teasing along your abused cunt again, making you scream into his shoulder from where he sat beside you.
"No more, princess?" he pouted, his other hand going to turn your face towards him. "My kind Hufflepuff is all fucked-out, isn't she?"
"Tired" you murmured as you blinked up at him. "No more."
And as much as he would've enjoyed giving you orgasm after orgasm, Cedric only simpered. "Gotta get you cleaned up then, yeah?"
You nodded, letting him pull you to your feet and in the direction of the bathroom, preparing for the proper aftercare. You caught a glimpse of your phone on your way, seeing text message after text message light up the screen.
Cedric must've seen it, too, because once he had you in the tub, gently drawing the washcloth of your skin, he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, meeting your exhausted eyes just to say "I want you to block that number now, princess."
-
He was watching you again.
This time, on his way to the kitchens. You were tucked under the Hufflepuff's arm, playing with his fingers as he walked you to your dorms.
Your legs were shaking.
Diggory brought you to the entrance, brushing a bit of hair from your face, then easing kisses there in lieu. You had this little giggle, a sound so familiar, that came out; there was this adoring look in your eyes, something not so recognizable.
Fred observed as you never let go of Diggory's hand, and he felt wound after wound rip an unfixable hole in his heart. Bleeding out, that's what he was doing, right in the middle of the corridor.
He didn't know how long he stood there, you stood there, Diggory stood there. But what he did know was that, once you turned into the dorm, giving your new boyfriend a last kiss, the blond spun.
Yellow clashed with Purple.
Bright Purple. A twist of shamrock and jade. Perhaps hints of ivy and parakeet. Speckles scattered throughout, strands of gold threaded in the irises.
Bright, Weasley Purple.
The color of envy.