#<- don’t get mad at that tag pls it’s for exposure thanks love you bye

[breadbrobin]

the bet

cedric diggory x oc — harry potter

[fem!oc]

summary: morgan ridge could turn down many things. food, romantic advances, friendships. but she could never turn down a good bet.

warnings: quite a lot of swearing (morgan is a bad influence methinks), kissing, betting/gambling, NOT x reader, fem!oc, GOD they’re in love with each other, minor character death (sort of), i think i’m a comedian with this story apparently (spoiler, i’m not), third person pov.

word count: 5.7k

(LOOK i knowwww that x oc fics don’t do as well on tumblr so if this doesn’t do well i’ll rewrite it and post as an x reader too but i don’t really want to rn so i’m just posting it as is bc idgaf really. anyway i’ve had this in my drive for like three years and it’s finally time to share morgan with the world yayyy (i love her she’s so silly))

———————————

The Inciting Incident

It all started when Lizzie Crawford entered the bathroom.

“God, Liz, do you ever knock?” Morgan asked, mostly unfazed. She was used to her friend bursting in unannounced almost every time she was showering.

“No,” Lizzie said, perching on the edge of the closed toilet and picking at her chipped nail polish. “Now, I have a proposition for you.”

Morgan poked her head around the opaque shower curtain. “Oh?”

She hummed absently, running her hand through her hair. “So you know how Diggory’s spending some of the summer with you, and then you don’t live that far away so you’ll probably be in each other’s pockets all break?”

“Uh… yes? Obviously, I know that? Why does that matter?”

“Well, I’ll bet you twenty galleons that you’ll get some action with him over the holidays.”

Morgan turned the shower off and peeked around the shower curtain at her friend. “Come again?”

“I bet you twenty galleons that you’ll get some with Diggory over the holidays.”

“He’s my friend.”

“And? Do we have a deal?”

Morgan paused, considering her options. On one hand, she knew she didn’t have feelings for Cedric. On the other, it felt wrong to take a bet like that. Finally, her lack of moral compass won. “Fine. We have a deal.”

“Great! I can’t wait to be twenty galleons richer.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, turning the shower on again and running conditioner through the ends of her hair. “Keep dreaming, Liz.”

“What are the conditions?” Camilla Maquez asked, leaning across the table at dinner.

“Conditions?” Morgan asked, buttering a bread roll and handing it to her.

“Yeah, like, what constitutes as ‘getting some’,” she used quotation marks. “Because you two are so affectionate anyway, so Liz, you need to specify.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a face at her friend.

“No, she’s right,” Lizzie cut in. “Kissing? That counts.”

“Only lips though right?” she clarified.

“Yes, Morgan. Holding hands romantically counts. Gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.” she hummed in thought. “Hugs with romantic context.”

Camilla snorted into her bread. When the other two shot her a confused look, she raised her hands. “It’s funny because they do all of this anyway.”

“Not romantically,” Morgan pointed out.

“Mhm,” she smirked.

“Piss off.”

“Anyway,” Lizzie continued. “Legs. Anything to do with legs. Touching your leg with his hand or leg or anything romantically.”

“Mm, that’s sexy stuff,” Camilla mocked.

“Like I said, piss off.”

“Obviously sex.”

“Liz!”

“Which you probably won’t do, but I need to keep my options open here.” she rectified.

“I have a bet myself,” Camilla spoke up again.

Morgan sighed. “Yes?”

“Not with you.” she waved her off. “Five galleons says Diggory makes the first move.”

“That is not fair. We all know Morgan’s a pussy.”

“Hey!”

Lizzie laughed. “Just speaking the truth, hun. Oh! Pet names, but like, meaningfully, counts.”

“Are you taking my action, Liz?” Camilla implored, sticking her hand out.

She shook her head. “I guess so. You better prove me doubly right, Morgan!”

“Not planning on it,” she sang quietly, returning to her dinner.

The Cow Situation

Before Morgan knew it, the school year was over.

She woke up around midday, that first day back, and stared at the ceiling, relishing in the silence that surrounded her. The birds chirped outside her window and a thin ray of sunlight peeked through the tan curtains, leaving a golden line across her body and room.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and rubbed her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess around the back of her head, but she simply pulled it into a loose bun and headed downstairs.

A note sat on the kitchen counter.

Taken the dog for a walk, be back around 1:30. Hopefully you’ll be up by then…

Love, Mum

Morgan smiled softly and put two pieces of bread in the toaster.

She leaned against the counter and stared out into the yard. A few chickens pecked and scratched the dusty ground and a pair of cows grazed in the field behind them. A small girl sat on the trampoline, not bouncing.

She frowned as she opened the door and walked over, scaring a chicken out of her way.

“Hey, Little C,” she called. “What’s up?”

Cordelia Ridge, her nine year old sister looked over her shoulder and looked back. “Hi.”

Morgan’s smile fell from her face and she climbed up onto the trampoline beside her. “Uh oh. What’s going on, Cords?”

“Mummy says Diedre is sick,” she pointed at the black and white cow.

“Sweetie, Diedre’s always getting sick.” she sighed. “Shoddiest immune system I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen you.” she poked her side, enticing a giggle out of the girl.

“So she’s gonna be okay?”

“Of course! It’s Diedre. She’s always pulled through before. Why not now?”

They were holding a funeral for Diedre the cow.

Cordelia was absolutely beside herself. Morgan stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, the other hand holding a bouquet of long grasses, hand picked and arranged that morning.

It was a dry day, and the sun was shining, and Cordelia was glaring up at it like it was personally offending her.

“Don’t look at the sun, Little C. You’ll go blind,” Morgan chided, pulling her sunglasses off and slipping them on her sister’s face.

“Maybe I want to,” she sniffed. “Maybe I deserve it.”

Her face contorted in confusion. “What?”

“I should have realised sooner,” she wept. “I should have given her the love she deserved.”

Morgan stared down at her younger sister, whose bottom lip was wobbling precariously. She crouched down and tucked her wispy hair behind her ear. “Listen to me, Cordelia. There was nothing you could’ve done. The animal doctor said that it was just time for her to go. Like Grandma.”

That apparently did not help.

The floodgates opened and the sunglasses fell off. Cordelia planted her face in Morgan’s shoulder and wailed.

As the young girl cried, Morgan’s eyes caught onto two tall figures walking towards the family.

Her mum smiled softly at her before walking over to the people.

The larger of the two hugged her and she led them over to her daughters.

Morgan saw it was Cedric and she waved slightly.

He raised his brows at the crying girl she held before crouching down beside her and tapping Cordelia’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dells.” he said quietly, making her sobs quieten and her head turn towards him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She sniffled once, then twice, and detached herself from her sister. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief, believing the worst to be over, when the nine-year-old launched herself onto Cedric, crying into his black shirt.

He shot her a small smile, reaching out and patting her knee gently as he comforted her sobbing sister.

Her stomach lurched.

That should have been her first sign.

The Flowers

Cedric was splayed out on her bed. One of his feet hung off near Morgan’s head and she was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.

She was reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show her.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”

She finished her page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”

“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.

“Never?”

“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in her face.

It was a… Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.

She hoped her face didn’t show her emotions as she quickly schooled her features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”

He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”

She did as he said and blinked in shock, her jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” she gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”

“I think that’s meant to be magician.”

“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”

“This is honestly incredible.” she gushed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” She stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”

“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.

She gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above her desk. Once it was hung, she stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” she gasped. “You need to sign it!”

Cedric stood up and brushed past her, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”

“Mhm.”

That should have been her second sign.

They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.

Then Morgan broke the silence.

“I can’t draw for shit,” she laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”

“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging her shoulders from behind and resting his chin on her head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”

“Liar.” she scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”

Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated quickly. “Lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”

As she left, he wrapped an arm around Morgan’s shoulders and led her out. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Very funny.”

The Second Week

As with most summers, Morgan and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.

Unlike most summers, however, Morgan couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from her mind.

She knew, she knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just her friends being annoying and messing with her and everything she’d started reading into was just in her head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.

She was just worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of her friends would send her a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read her letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?

She chased her swirling thoughts from her mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.

“Hey,” she smiled, standing up with her bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah, early,” she shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”

“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.

She tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”

“Now?”

She sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”

“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, Mo!”

Mo? She wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I Mo?

If she’d been listening carefully, she would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen counter.

The town was quiet as always.

A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at Morgan and Cedric as they wove their way through the stunted stalls. They purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between them as they walked, both surprised that it was still warm.

“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as they left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”

Morgan squinted as she looked up at him, the sun assaulting her eyes. “Really?” she asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”

“No, dummy. Do stuff.”

“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” she teased.

“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that she’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”

“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”

He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”

“Shut up, Ced,” she smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.

Morgan was awake uncharacteristically early, so when she knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”

“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” she pouted.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He led her down the short hallway and into the living area. Morgan sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, she realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. She shook herself out of it as he began speaking.

“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”

“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” she gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”

“England and India,” he said distractedly.

“ODI, T20 or test?”

“Test. We’re on Day Two.”

“So England’s batted?”

“Three-thirty-seven.”

“Not bad,” she squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.

“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between them.

“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.

Morgan didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen.” She teased. “Go make us a sandwich.”

“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.

She finally dragged her eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”

He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”

The Moment She Knew

Their days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, Morgan’s mum had called it. So, when she found a way to rid herself of the monotony of daily life, she took it without a second thought.

“Mum, please!”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”

“Morgan…”

“Mum,” she pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”

Whitney Ridge pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”

Morgan squeaked in excitement, hugging her mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, Moggy,” she smiled.

True to her word, Morgan did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but she supposed her mother couldn’t fault her for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.

There was a secluded lake she’d found out about from an old magazine in her mum’s collection, when she’d been looking for something, anything, to make her days less boring.

“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as they broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.

“Yeah,” she sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.

They set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off their sturdy shoes.

Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. Morgan would be lying if she said her eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.

“Race you in,” he said as she had her own shirt halfway over her head.

“What?” she asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”

She tossed her shirt on the ground, followed by her shorts, leaving her in her bikini, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.

She stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock she was standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from her.

“You coming?” he asked.

“No,” she pouted, folding her arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”

He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit her skin.

She backed away. “Cedric…”

He took a step closer.

“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”

He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to her. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you don’t,” she pointed at him. “Stay back!”

He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards her. Before he could reach her, however, she turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as she raced for the safety of the towels.

She only managed to get a few steps away before he caught her, his cold arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her off the ground. He spun around, carrying her back to the edge of the water and tossing her into the lake.

She yelped as the cold water hit her, but remembered to hold her breath, her dark hair swirling around her face in the water. She heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced herself up to the surface.

“I hate you!” she gasped, pushing her hair off her forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”

“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” she finally uttered.

He just smiled.

The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to Morgan’s house, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What did you do?” she immediately asked when they were alone.

He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.

When she finally sat down, he leaned forward.

“Guess what I bought,” he said.

She waited.

“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.

“Oh, my bad,” she cleared her throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”

He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.

“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” she teased. “I have three of those in my room.”

“Sorry, Mo, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.

She pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

He poked his tongue out at her.

The Night Things Happened

The day started like any other.

Morgan and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake her.

A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, they were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.

As Morgan flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if she’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.

“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing her daughter’s temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”

“Yup, we know, Mum,” Morgan said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”

“Mum.” She turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”

Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”

“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.

She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”

“We need more eggs.”

“Eggs, got it.”

The night was when things changed.

After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, they took their first swig of firewhiskey.

It burned its way down Morgan’s throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.

She held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”

“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

They sat and ate the pizza they’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever they felt like it.

Morgan closed her pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

She smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking her head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”

She smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”

The night was going surprisingly well. They’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, they each took another swig.

Cedric was looking at her weird.

She straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Her heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”

He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”

Morgan couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

“You are.”

“You…” he was very close to her now, his grey eyes darting between her brown eyes and her lips. “You’re very pretty, Mo. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”

Morgan swallowed tightly as his hand brushed her cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but she was sure hers did too.

He wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Morgan. And you deserve to know that.”

“Cedric…” she started.

“Sh,” he cut her off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”

Friends came back on the TV.

“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her flush against his side.

She tried with all her might to ignore her pounding heart.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to win this bet after all. In fact, she thought she might have just lost it already.

The Rainy Days

Neither Morgan or Cedric had brought up what he’d said that night, but it hung in the air between them, stagnant and stiff, leaving awkwardness to rest in the growing distance.

It was odd, Morgan realised. One moment, they were closer than ever before, hugging for a second too long, soft touches as hands brushed, then the next, they were sitting at opposite ends of a metaphorical couch, shooting furtive glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

It was confusing, and Morgan was conflicted.

She almost wanted to bring it up. She knew he remembered, that much was clear. It was obvious in the subtlest of looks, the gentlest of touches, the softest of smiles. But sometimes, it would leap to the forefront of his mind and, cheeks red, eyes downcast, he would retreat into himself.

And so, neither Morgan or Cedric brought it up.

No matter how much they may have wanted to.

The days passed in almost comfortable normalcy.

There were no trips to the lake or the town, just sitting and enjoying each other’s company.

She and Cordelia taught him how to play Last Card on a thundery Tuesday, all pouting out the window at the storm.

“I hate thunder,” Cedric shuddered. “It’s the worst to play Quidditch in too.”

“I don’t think it’s safe to play in thunder,” Morgan huffed, collecting the cards after he won again. “I mean, lightning strikes the highest object, right? And look what happened to Harry last season.”

“Yeah, that was horrible,” he cringed, taking the cards from her and shuffling them. “Although that was the Dementors too.”

She pulled a face. “Still not an excuse. It really isn’t safe.”

Cordelia looked between them in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You remember Quidditch, right?” Cedric asked. “On the broomsticks.”

She nodded slowly. “Did you know that witches riding broomsticks used to be a euphemism for riding the devil’s—”

“—Oh-kay, that’s enough cards for today!” Morgan cut in. “Cords, why don’t you go grab a board game, yeah?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dancing off upstairs.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief and slumped in her chair.

Cedric shot her an amused look.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

When Morgan saw a person running towards her house without an umbrella in the pouring rain, she decided they were an idiot.

Then the figure got closer and she realised that it was her idiot.

“God, Cedric, you dipshit,” she whispered, dropping the knife she was using to butter her toast on the bench and running to the door, grabbing a towel from a clean pile on the way.

She opened the door just as he reached the front steps, having to grip onto the handle tight so that the wind didn’t rip it from its hinges.

“What are you doing?” she asked over the downpour, letting him inside and handing him the towel.

“I swear it didn’t start raining until I was halfway here.” His teeth were chattering. “Gotta love English weather.”

She shook her head in defeat. “Shut up and go take a hot shower. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He didn’t even move to object, shuffling towards the bathroom instantly.

Morgan left a bundle of warm clothes outside the door and sat on the couch to wait.

Thankfully, she wasn’t alone with her thoughts for very long.

Cedric padded into the room with his hair wet and messy and in a hoodie that he’d left at her house a few weeks before. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Are you okay?” she handed him a blanket as he sat down next to her.

He nodded. He looked significantly less cold than before. “Merlin, the last time I was this cold was when you pushed me into the Black Lake.”

“I didn’t push you, you slipped.”

“Yeah, right,” he huddled closer to her, making her tense up briefly. The last time they were this close on the couch…

“Hey, Morgan…” he said quietly after a few beats.

“Hm?”

“About that night—”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to—”

“No, I think we should—”

“Cedric,” she said firmly. “Don’t worry about it. You were drunk. It’s okay.”

He paused, studying her like he was committing all of her features to memory. She knew she was doing that for him. “Okay.”

They sat in silence, watching the rain stream down the window.

The Confession

Morgan had a confession to make.

First, to herself: she liked Cedric—No. She was in love with Cedric.

It was the way he said her name like it was made of porcelain, fragile, delicate. It was the way their bodies fit perfectly together when they hugged, their bodies and hands made for holding each other. It was the way he looked at her, that night and every day since—every day ever, actually; like she’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky. It was the way he made her feel safe.

Was that so difficult?

Yes, a nagging voice in the back of her mind muttered. You’re going to be twenty galleons more broke because of your stupid feelings.

Maybe, she countered. But I don’t even care anymore.

Her next confession would be to Cedric. That was slightly more difficult.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have the opportunity; they were almost always at each other’s houses. It was more to do with the issue of her being too scared. She shied away from admitting it every time she thought she was ready, pushing her feelings down and down until they were compressed under a pile of anxiety.

So, the confession was going well. Really well.

She stole another glance at him across the room, peering over her book to find him already staring at her. She withheld a squeak and looked back down, sinking lower into her end of the couch.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting his book on the end table.

“What is what?” She didn’t take her eyes off her book, pretending to read with her eyes locked on one phrase: ‘I love you.’

Is it that easy? She asked herself. I just say it?

Cedric leaned forward and pushed her book down. “Well, either that page is very interesting or you suddenly can’t read, because you haven’t turned the page in about twenty minutes.”

“I’m absorbing it properly,” she lifted it back up but he pushed it down again.

“Absorbing it, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, my other thought was that you were so distracted staring at me every five seconds that you forgot to actually read.”

She dropped her book, struggling to catch it and sending it careening onto the floor. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. “No.”

He was smiling, that soft, almost smug smile that she’d fallen in love with. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh, because from here, it looked like you were staring at me.”

She sat up straight. “Really? How odd.”

“Hmm…” he smiled a bit brighter. God, she wanted to kiss him. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he leaned back.

“Shame, because I was actually quite flattered.”

“Oh, I bet you were,” she scoffed.

He leaned back into the couch, opening his book agonisingly slow.

Morgan stared at him, legs crossed and brows furrowed. Her head was swirling with thoughts, all repeating, Cedric, Cedric, Cedric. She’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad, to just hold someone. She’d never, ever in her life, wanted to lose a bet.

His grey eyes flickered up to her once, then twice, then again. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, what the fuck,” she muttered, pushing herself forward and pressing her lips to his.

He dropped his book, the hardback thudding dully on the floor right next to hers, but neither cared. His hands found their place on her waist as she leaned over him, one arm supporting her on the wall behind him, the other entangled in his brown hair.

Butterflies danced in Morgan’s stomach, her heart racing wildly as their lips melded together. It was like they were made to kiss each other; the way they fit so perfectly, the curve of her cheek and the straight line of his nose. All of her swirling thoughts subsided, leaving only one: Cedric.

God, she never wanted to stop kissing him. He was like sugar; tantalising, sweet, addictive.

He pulled away first, thumb digging subtly into her hip, lips parted and gasping for air. “Morgan…”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, unable to find her voice. “But I couldn’t wait another—”

He kissed her again, more passionate; noses knocking, hearts pounding, hair standing on end. She wondered how she got so lucky. God, she was lucky.

This kiss was more intense, all those weeks of pent up emotion, released in that moment.

She never wanted it to end.

But, as her lungs gasped for air and her head began to swim, she pulled away. He chased her lips, pressing a final, sweet kiss to them, before resting his head back again.

“Never apologise for that,” he breathed. “Never.”

“Got it,” she whispered, eyes tracing a pattern in his faint freckles. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“Amazing at kissing?” he tilted his head.

“Just amazing in general.” She kissed him again.

The Pay-Up

Morgan had twenty galleons ready the second she set foot on the Hogwarts Train only a few weeks later. Cedric was holding her free hand as they wove past loitering students and nervous first years until they found Lizzie and Camila.

“Hey, Morgan, Cedric,” Lizzie raised her eyebrow at them.

Camila saw their connected hands and started prodding her arm.

“Hey, guys,” she smiled brightly. “Just paying up.”

She tossed Lizzie the bag of galleons and turned to Camila. “Sorry, I made the first move.”

“Liar,” she pointed at her. “Cedric, please tell me she’s lying.”

“Nope,” he let her hand go and wrapped it around her waist instead. “She kissed me first.”

Camila groaned, digging through her bag. “Fuck.”

As Lizzie danced in victory and Camila complained about Morgan finding her balls, Morgan had to admit, she had never been happier to lose a bet.

[girlreblogger]

honestly i don’t understand how ppl get mad because others don’t wanna read no traumatic, struggle love, lowkey violent, cheating, smut galore toxic shit. the amount of thug, plug/drugdealer, bum!, straight up scary, PRISONER (which is crazy yall romanticizing mfs getting outta/being in jail??) black reader fics (from all kinds of fandoms btw) is actually concerning.. like frfr let’s be honest with ourselves cause the things i’ve seen on here has truly been interesting. (thanks to the ppl who’ll put warning tags tho ig) and ofc ima eat up some of them fics cause they be good sometimes but also that’s all i be seeing. i truly wanna read sumn cute and sweet that don’t leave a bad taste in my mouth like i don’t wanna read the fic and then be pissed off after. obvi we all can just scroll and not read what we don’t want which (if you harassing ppl for what they write it’s never that deep… be fucking fr. write something in your notes to fulfill you or sumn until you find something. don’t use that as a reason to spread negativity) and ik a lot of ppl get at blk writers abt how yn talk which (???) idc cause i talk the same so we’re not talking abt that. also i gotta say sometimes the drug dealer fics be treating yn like a princess (which 🫶🏽) but that’s every now and then when it’s not toxic or drugs, extremely excessive smut and cheating isn’t involved. ofc ofc write what you want but pls bffr and don’t act like them characters don’t be putting yn through some bullshit. yeah tension and stuff is cute cause yk you don’t want it to be boringg but toxicity and attractive tension isn’t the same. there’s sooo many ways of going abt getting that tension. and so many other blk girls say the same and it’s just can we get something positive please. and that legit can just be maybe possibly no aggressive smut.. or a annoying situationship, or all the other lowkey scary shit i be seeing. it’s disheartening to wanna read something abt blk girls and your fav that’ll have your feet kicking up and stuff and then getting pissed off cause your fav character just manipyadipped and cheated on yn or sumn. i’ll keep writing self indulgent fluff in my notes app tho until then. (and if you want to read something positive write something for yourself then too if youn wanna post it or be a writer but PLEASE reblog ppls stuff when you not at least) and not to mentionnnnnn all the fluff on here that is for black readers we barelyy find like you can type “x black reader fluff” and barely any will pop up honestly. which some ppl don’t want certain ppl interacting with their stuff and some ppl don’t gaf abt fluff at all so that writer gets no interactions (or half as much of what they would get on something with smut or etc) and it discourages them from writing it more and it’s also harder for ppl to find what they did write. so even if you don’t care for it at least reblog or sumn pleasee to support the writers. i really appreciate all the blk writers or their works that don’t get enough attention. that’s why i post fluff or just more positive fics for the blk girls who are tryna find them. i’ll def make a list of writers that i like as well. if you want sweet rainbow glitter blk reader fics you gotta do sumn in return too dont just read and do a lil scroll nawl you can make a lil side blog and reblog stuff. mfs have lives tho ian reblogging every sec in general tho i feel like blk writers don’t get enough attention and exposure sometimes but that’s… another thing .. anyway dont stop writing what you want but idk dont act funny or be rude when someone don’t want to consume the same shit as you alllllll the time. i just felt like saying this cause i legit can’t go on here no more and find something that’s not toxic. when i heard ppl saying this i thought they was just talking to talk but nawll. anyways i wanted to say that bye.