#cherrycolacigs

You know James is selfless, and a giver, so obviously that does not change in the bedroom.

He won't touch you for a long time once your relationship starts, wanting to take things slow. It will take even longer if you're inexperienced or a virgin.

But once he finally gives in to his urges after waiting for a year? He can barely control himself.

You finally realize that sweet, responsible, mature Wilson is secretly a freak, and not as vanilla as you thought.

He's vocal, always whimpering and whining into your neck as he presses you into the mattress, even when he's the one in control. But can you blame him? He's pent up after years of being alone and you're so warm and wet and perfect it just brings it out of him.

He'll talk you through every second of it, slow and gentle or fast and rough, it doesn't matter.

And you CANNOT tell me that he's not into cockwarming. I can already imagine how he'd beckon you to sit on his lap as he works. He's a busy man, but wants to do anything to make his little girlfriend happy anyway. He'll make you sit there with him buried inside you for what seems like hours, sternly reminding you not to move an inch, no matter how bad you both want it.

Or sometimes he'll make you rub yourself on his thigh or the tip of his dress shoe, letting you use him for your pleasure as he sits at his desk and flips through files.

He surprises you by tying your wrists together with his tie, shoving your face into the mattress as his chest presses against your back. It's okay when he's rough, when he's selfish. He deserves it. You don't mind being his outlet when things get too stressful.

And those big brown puppy eyes that look up at you from between your thighs as he eats you out, lacing his fingers with yours as he dives back in for a third time… GOD.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, restless and sweating he’ll just gently shush you, turning you over and slipping his hand into your pajama shorts, fingering you back to sleep.

The Diggory’s had always been a well respected and prosperous family in the wizarding community. Coming from wealth, and a pureblood lineage, the Diggory line had a reputation of familial perfection and kind hearts in their veins. The only son of Amos and Althea Diggory was no exception to these qualities. Cedric was a gentle boy, with gentle hands and talents exceeding far beyond his age. Since birth he had made his parents proud, and every achievement and natural skill had not gone unnoticed or disregarded by anyone who met him.

The boy seemed to shine, like the way light filters through trees before sundown, and the sound of his voice was like the sweetest honey one could taste. His heart was gold, and there was an undeniable kindness in his eyes that you could not find anywhere else. Each person who knew him also knew the remarkable traits that made him so extraordinary. Even the harshest mind couldn't deny these things, even if not willing to admit it.

As your father shook hands with the Diggory boy many years ago, he saw it. He looked straight into the face of that ten year old boy, and made a decision right then and there. A wise man, he had kept it to himself until the right moment came, and after your thirteenth birthday, he wrote to his acquaintance Amos with a proposition. It made perfect sense. You were both of the same age range, compatible, and of similar background. A union would be beneficial to the two families; social and financial.

Over time, private meetings occurred behind closed doors, letters were sent back and forth; your futures planned and discussed unbeknownst to you both.

As a young girl, you knew of the boy whose father worked with yours. He was two years your elder, tall for his age, and unusually bright. Cedric lived nearby, and you would often play together as your parents talked about whatever grown ups talked about. Cedric was nice, you had decided.

One summer's day, you fled your house, tears blurring your vision as you ran as fast as your legs could take you. The shouts of your father grew more and more distant until you reached the creek, collapsing onto the grass. You sat there curled up against a tree, knees drawn up to your chest as sobs wracked through your small body. He was hurting you again, angry once more for a reason you did not know or understand. Rough bark dug into your back and you ripped out fistfulls of green grass to throw in front of you.

There was a firm thump and a distinct sound of the crunch of dry leaves beneath feet.

A soft voice came.

“Are you crying?”

Your head whipped around, gazing at the boy that seemed to appear out of thin air.

“Where did you come from?” You inquired, hastily wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

“The tree,” Cedric replied, stepping forward and crouching down beside you. “In the branches.”

“What were you up there for?”

He shrugged, giving a polite smile as he looked over at you.

“I like to sit up there,” he said simply.

You let out a soft huff and stared intently at the grass beneath you.

Cedric sat down next to you, listening to the stream of water as it babbled and gurgled quietly.

“Why were you crying just then?” he asked, tilting his head.

You glanced over at him through the corner of your eye, silently debating whether or not to truthfully answer his question. As tempted as you were to confide in someone, you knew you shouldn't.

Your father was cruel. He would shout and often hurt you. Even at a young age you had always been aware that public image and reputation mattered greatly. You did love your parents in a way, though your mother was neglectful and your father was overbearing.

You didn't want to make them look bad.

You shook your head.

“It's nothing,” you mumbled, staring up at the sky.

Cedric’s bright eyes peered at you curiously. He did not believe that nothing was wrong. There had to be a reason for your tears. He frowned slightly, wanting to press a bit more and find out, concerned for your sadness. However he knew better. He was always taught not to pry.

He nodded, watching you as you grabbed a small stone and threw it into the water with a splash. You studied the ripples blooming outward in the water until they fully dissipated and disappeared.

The silence lingered for a second longer until you looked up once more at the tall tree, through the branches and leaves. “How do you get up there?” You wondered.

The boy joined you, craning his neck up as well.

“By climbing them,” Cedric answered kindly, plucking a dandelion from the grass and twirling the flower absentmindedly between his fingers.

“It's really high up. You must be really strong to do that. I couldn't do that,” you remarked, meeting his eyes.

A small dimpled smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his chest puffing with a hint of pride.

“Well I have to be strong. My dad wants me to play on the quidditch team when I start school.”

“Quidditch?” You echoed, your face twisting in amusement as you repeated the funny word.

He chuckled warmly and pulled a leaf from his hair. “It's a sport. You play on brooms. I bet your father enjoys watching it,” he explained in a light tone.

Your cheeks grew slightly pink, feeling dim witted for not knowing, but you knew he didn't judge you for it.

You nodded, eyeing the faint undertones of red that highlighted his chestnut colored curls.

“When will you go to school?” You inquired, squinting slightly as the sun grew a bit brighter.

“Once my letter arrives. My parents want me to attend Hogwarts just like they did,” he explained cheerfully. “What about you then?”

You thought, focusing on the sounds of the wind rustling the trees, the trickling of steady water. Oh how you longed to go to school too.

A place away from here.

“My father wants to teach me at home.”

Cedric nodded, noticing the distant look in your eyes.

“Are you feeling any better now?”

You were slightly taken aback by his soft inquiry.

You smiled. You had forgotten that you were ever sad to begin with.

“Yes,” you admitted truthfully, turning your head to shoot him a sideways glance.

The boy's heart swelled a bit, beaming at the fact that he was able to cheer you up. He opened his mouth to reply but the faint call of your name quickly caused you to jump up.

“Oh, I need to go back home now,” you said with a sense of urgency, looking over the trees that stood in front of the far off house.

Cedric stood as well, the dandelion dropping from his grasp and onto the ground. “I can walk you home if you'd like,” he offered, trying his best to be chivalrous.

“Oh no, it's okay,” you muttered quickly, giving him one last look. “I'll see you later.”

You ran sprightly back home, leaving him standing there behind you.

Later never came.

A week later you would be moved away to another village, and into a new house. A smaller house in a low populated area. Your father didn't tell you why, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with the housemaids leaving and the stacks of letters on his scattered desk that grew by the day. His anger grew with it, along with the deep violet marks that littered your skin.

You figured that Cedric was sent to off school, and would play Quidditch just like he had wanted.

You didn't think much of it, and the boy you knew turned into a distant childhood memory you thought rarely about.

Your sixteenth birthday arrived quicker than you were ready for.

Bounding down the stairs in your blue dress, you stopped at the bottom step, eyeing the small stack of presents in front of the dining room. Your mother stepped around the corner of the kitchen and gestured towards the table.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, admiring the spread of food and candles set on the dining room table. Your smile faltered slightly once your eyes landed on your father sitting at the head of the table, but you pulled out a chair and sat down anyway.

You cleared your throat as your mother joined you and your father at the table.

“Eat,” said your father, nodding his head in your direction. You picked up your fork, scooping up a bite of food and slipping it into your mouth.

Your parents both watched you, oddly silent as you ate your birthday meal.

“My dear,” your father started, placing his hand over your mothers. “There's something we must discuss.”

You looked up from your plate, a flicker of both fear and intrigue passing through you.

“Such as?” you questioned, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a sip.

“You are arranged to be married.”

You nearly choked on your water and the words sunk in like you were drowning.

“Married?” you sputtered, your eyes wide with fear.

He nodded solemnly.

All sorts of thoughts began to swarm through your mind. You had always imagined marrying for love. Growing up and finding the love of your life against all odds. This was not what you had planned.

“Married? I do not want to get married!” you protested, dropping your fork with a clink.

“I'm afraid you must,” he replied

Your eyes began to water and you looked to your mother for help.

“Father, I refuse!” you exclaimed tearfully, your voice cracking.

His fists slammed on the table and you flinched, recognizing the all too familiar rage in his eyes.

“Enough!” he bellowed.

“This is your duty to this family! This is your responsibility! You will not bring shame to my name!” He snapped urgently, pointing a finger at you.

“You do not have a say in this matter.”

You swallowed, staring blankly at your plate as your gut twisted with dread.

“When?” was all you could manage to weakly whisper.

He cleared his throat, taking a short breath as he picked up his fork and began to eat himself.

“In two years the union will take place,” he murmured, glancing up.

Two years…

Your future. Your dreams. It was all crushed and gone quicker than it took for you to dream them.

You pushed your plate away and closed your eyes.

Your mother took your hands and forced your chin up.

“It is for the greater good.”

Your parents would not tell you who your betrothed was, which angered you to no end that they wouldn’t at least give you an idea of who your husband would be.

What would he be like?

Look like?

Who would this man be?

And you prayed. You prayed to God that he would not be anything like your father.

As the months passed by and your next birthday came and went, the fear of the unknown grew and grew alongside yourself.

You tried to piece together a picture of him in your mind, hoping and dreaming every night that he would be everything you had ever dreamed for yourself. You pleaded for kind eyes, and gentle hands that wouldn't lay a finger on you.

You tried to convince yourself that the situation wasn't as bad as it felt, and that everything would be okay.

Everything would be alright.

You would find happiness.

You would be happy.

On the day of your eighteenth birthday, the knots in your stomach almost hurt.

You sat at your dresser, brushing out your hair as you got ready to meet the man you would marry.

Dipping your fingers into the rouge, you dabbed it on your cheekbones, staring into the mirror at your reflection. You almost didn't recognize yourself. You were now a woman. You sighed, picking up the glass bottle of perfume your grandmother had gifted you and spritzing it onto your collarbones. You didn't feel like a woman. Deep down inside yourself that little girl still remained.

You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror, smoothing out the faint wrinkle in the material of your deep blue velvet dress.

A call of your name from downstairs.

It was time.

The carriage lurched forward, startling you with a jolt as you kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap. It was silent and tense in the atmosphere of the cramped space, and your parents sat across from you with expecting glares.

The ride was long and silent as the hours passed until the carriage stopped. You were here. And God, were you nervous.

You peered out the window at the large manor, surrounded by flowers and trees. It's beautiful. You thought to yourself. Your father gave you a smack on the arm and gestured for you to get out.

You took a deep breath. You were about to meet your husband.

Picking up your skirt you carefully exited the carriage, heels clicking as you lowered yourself onto the stone ground.

As you stood there, you turned your head, attention landing on an older couple and the silhouette of a young man at a near distance. He had dark hair, and his height towered over who was most likely his parents. He stood with his back to you, squared shoulders beneath a suit jacket, nape of his neck disappearing into the raised collar. The afternoon light illuminated his figure, casting a slight shadow on the cobblestone.

You carefully walked forward, your parents on either side of you as you took each step closer and closer.

Then he turned, the golden evening light caught the edge of his profile, shone in his eyes as he casted his gaze upon you. Time seemed to stand still at that moment, and everything was in slow motion. He faced you fully, expression changing into something soft and unspoken as your eyes locked together. Almost instantly, a flicker of recognition went through you the second you saw his face.

His name spilled from your lips.

Cedric diggory.

You almost didn't believe it.

He was no longer the boy you remembered. He was taller, broader, and devastatingly handsome. His face was sharper, slope of his cheekbones higher, baby fat carved away by time. He wasn’t a stranger. You still saw the boy you knew beneath the man he’d become. It was all too familiar.

Both of your parents proceeded with the formalities, introducing you both to each other as if you did not know, or had forgotten who the other one was. But neither of you forgot. You never could.

You didn't register a word they said, not being able to pay attention as you stared at him with a doe-eyed gaze. Neither of you looked away, not taking your eyes off each other. He glanced up at you from beneath his lashes, taking your hand and slowly raising it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

You smiled bashfully, heart aching as he whispered your name with a nod. He gently lowered your hand and took your arm as his parents led you into the manor. You tried your best to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory explain the history of the manor, and how they inherited it but you couldn't fully focus.

It didn't feel real. It had been so many years. You never would have imagined that it would be him. You had expected the worst. You had dreaded the thought of being introduced to an old man, or someone so boring and dull it would bring you to tears. But this. You never anticipated something as wonderful as this. Relief bloomed deep in your chest.

Everything would be okay.

After dinner both of your parents sat down to quietly converse amongst themselves and you Cedric snuck off to talk and explore.

You strolled down the large and empty hallways of the estate pinkies brushing as you walked so close together. You gazed around in awe of the intricacy and beauty of the furniture, the walls, the paintings.

Cedric finally broke the silence.

“I'd never thought that I'd ever see you again.”

His grey eyes peered down at you. “ It's been years,” he whispered, his voice low and soft as he took in your features, trying to memorize your face all over again

Looking up at him you slightly shook your head in astonishment.

“I had always thought you had forgotten me,” you murmured.

He looked deep into your eyes. “No I… I could never forget about you y/n.”

Color dusted your cheeks, touched and flustered all at once by that revelation. You stole another glance at him, in disbelief that the boy you knew had grown into such a man. He caught your stare and you hastily looked away, your heart racing.

You spent your time together meandering around the estate, roaming the large rooms, and exploring the grande library, reminiscing as you ran your fingers along dusty leather spines.

Reacquainting came more naturally than you had thought.

It turned out that it all had occurred just as Cedric had said.

He had attended Hogwarts, and been sorted into Hufflepuff. He got to play quidditch just like he wanted, even being elected as Quidditch team captain. His school career was everything he hoped for. He had made his father proud. He divulged what he had been up to since graduating and you recounted your life since parting ways.

Cedric led you to the gallery, explaining each family portrait. The story behind it, who they had been.

“That was great, great, uncle Garfield Diggory,” he recounted, gesturing to the painting of a scruffy fat man with a red face. He smiled at you, corners of his lips pulling into a cheeky smile. “He was uh, a raging drunk, and everyone called him stumpy after he drank one too many bottles of whisky and accidentally lopped his own finger off.”

You laughed, pure and genuine as you held onto his arm.

“You cannot be serious,” you giggled, shaking your head.

Cedric grinned back at you, eyes sparkling with mirth as he watched you. He chuckled and dipped his head down to be closer. “As the grave.”

You eventually made your way outside, circling the stately home and admiring the trees surrounding it. Sharing laughter, stories and recalling shared childhood memories, you wondered how you had ever gone so long without one other.

“You know… if I hadn't moved away, I think we would have grown up being best friends,” you mused, daring to look at him.

Cedric turned his face to you, regret and tenderness lingering in his gaze.

He shook his head slightly, reaching down to touch your hand. “I have to agree,” he mumbled, interlacing his fingers with yours. You almost swooned from the warmth of his touch. His hands were large and yet so gentle. You were not used to that.

Hand in hand, you walked into the garden, past the weathered stone walls covered with crawling vines, and moss-kissed marble statues. Every leaf glinted beneath dusk's dim light, and the honeysuckle that clung to the archway and hedges sent a sweet and light aroma your way. Cedric gently led you over to sit down together on an iron bench, under a wisteria draped pergola.

Sitting side by side, knees touching, you cautiously rested your head on his shoulder. He went still, almost afraid of disrupting the moment if he moved even an inch. You stared at the cracked fountain, not wanting to be the one to break the silence.

He tilted your chin up, admiring the glow that the silver moonlight casted onto your face.

“You're beautiful.”

It felt as if all of the breath escaped your lungs.

“You… you can't just say something like that,” you managed to whisper breathlessly.

“And why not?” he challenged gently, leaning his face down so close you could feel his breath on your face.

“It makes me feel things I've never felt before.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You shrugged, reluctantly tearing your gaze away.

Cedric frowned sympathetically and touched your shoulder. “Hey. It's okay. I know this is all new for you.”

A soft exhale left your lips and you stared up at the twinkling stars above, shimmering like thousands of diamonds scattered across the dark night sky. Cedric turned his face up with you and gently held your hand.

“Thank you.”

He brought his attention back to you once more.

“You don't need to thank me.”

You scoffed lightly and shook your head.

“Well you have treated me better in a day than anyone has in my entire lifetime,” you replied, frowning down at the ground. “I can't just say nothing.”

Cedric's brows drew together with concern and he gently rubbed his thumb over your arm. You suppressed a wince but his perceptive eyes caught it immediately.

“What's wrong?”

Panic immediately flooded through you.

“Nothing,” you insisted quickly, trying to pull your arm away but he held it still with a firm yet gentle grip. He gave you a worried yet earnest look.

“Please... “ he whispered pleadingly. “You can trust me.”

You sighed shakily and nodded, hesitantly allowing him to roll up the sleeve of your dress to reveal the deep purple and indigo hues that stained your flesh. He swallowed, brushing his fingers over the fresh and faded bruises.

“God, I..” muttered, his voice choked up. “If I had ever known-”

You shushed him softly, cutting him off. “It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he insisted, his voice shaky. “Who's doing this to you? Is it your father?” cedric questioned.

You hesitated, before nodding slowly.

“Y/n I promise… I promise that I will never hurt you. I will never put my hands on you. I will not be your father. I will not treat you like he has. I will take you far away from that place and keep you safe for as long as I live,” Cedric vowed, cupping your cheek. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes as they dripped down your face. He wiped them tenderly and smiled, soft and devastating.

“I have loved you ever since that day I found you crying by the lake,” he uttered, pressing his forehead to yours. “All these years, all this time, I've been waiting for the moment that I would see you again.”

You trembled, eyes fluttering shut as he gingerly pressed his lips to yours in a kiss, filled with love, longing and desperation. He pulled back and you gaped up at him as if he was the most amazing thing you’d ever seen. And he was.

“I love you too.”

Cedric sniffled, holding you against him in a bone crushing embrace.

You couldn't have been happier.

Your father and mother were thrilled, of course that the match was a success and that they had been right all along.

The wedding was beautiful, simple and small. Everything you had ever wanted was standing right before you.

As soon as that golden band slipped around your finger, you were his.

He held you close, muttering sweet nothings into your hair during the reception and squeezing your hand whenever your father was near. He would protect you, heal your wounds. You looked up into his eyes and and you knew;