Disclaimer: No, I do not own the rights to the wonderful Harry Potter series. That's a lucky fact too, because my stories aren't nearly as good.

Author's Note: When the mood struck, after months of being on strike, this came out. I guess you can't expect too much since it's probably still grouchy about something.

"Kill the spare."

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Cedric's body hit him hard in the shoulder, almost knocking him over. He was dead, he was dead, rotting next to him, blank eyes, grey blank eyes, dull, looking at him, staring at him –

Harry yelled and reached out for his glasses, inadvertently knocking over an empty potion bottle. It fell with a crash, the many pieces tinkering out across the cold tiles.

Cedric jerked at the sound, turning to look at Harry, who had his glasses on and was crying uncontrollably.

"Harry, Harry, it's okay –" Cedric cursed as he felt the glass dig into his foot. He made a quick jump over to Harry's bed. Harry turned to him automatically, crying into his neck loudly. Cedric felt his shirt collar becoming steadily wetter as he rocked Harry back and forth, cooing softly.

"I thought – you were d-dead," Harry sobbed, bringing himself ever closer to Cedric, pulling him into a slouch over his crossed legs.

Cedric made soft 'shh' noises and said, "It's okay, I'm not dead, I'm right here, I'm not leaving. Don't worry, I'm right here." He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Harry's ruffled hair. He rubbed Harry's back in soothing circles, feeling the tenseness of Harry's muscles through the thin pajama shirt.

Once Harry's sobs began to fade, Harry stiffened and pulled away abruptly, looking up at Cedric with startled eyes. Looking away, he rubbed at his face with his sleeves, muttering "Sorry," under his breath.

Cedric felt sad at the loss of Harry's warmth, the hair against his cheek, even the wetness pressed to his neck. The tears Harry had shed on his collar became cold and damp and stinging.

"It's fine, I understand," Cedric said, watching Harry scoot himself to the head of the bed again. He stood up, forgetting about the shard of glass embedded within his heal. He breathed in sharply at the pain, looking down as he walked back to his bed to avoid the other pieces.

"Are you okay?" Harry said, lifting up slightly, ready to give Cedric help.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." He lifted his foot up, inspecting the wound carefully before digging out the glass piece with his fingernail and letting it fall to the floor.

Harry looked down at the broken glass on the floor. "Oh merlin, I'm so sorry, I never meant to –"

"Harry," Cedric laughed, "I know you didn't mean to knock over that potion bottle, have me walk in the mess, and cut my foot up. At least, I'm pretty sure you didn't." Cedric squinted his eyes in mock seriousness, unable to suppress a grin at Harry's worried demeanor.

There was a noise at the door. Harry and Cedric shared a brief, hurried look, before scrambling back under the covers, afraid of receiving a lecture from Madame Pomfrey on the terrible affects of staying up late into the night.

But the footsteps were heavy and uneven, the figure bulky and scraggly haired. Harry failed to see anything, but Cedric had kept his eyes open wide enough to make out shapes. The figure stopped at the foot of Harry's bed, and Cedric recognized it to be Professor Moody. He had his wand raised, and muttered something quickly under his breath before yelling out, "AVA –"

"Stupify!" Cedric yelled.