"You're parents… They're nice," said Harry, lazily.

Steve snorted. Cedric kicked Steve's foot. Because Steve had once caught one of his dad's less favorable rants about the pitiful state of their favorite Quidditch team, and blood may have been split. Not quite nice then. Possible tackling had been involved. As in, his mum had grabbed his father in a lunge and headlock that to this day Cedric had trouble picturing his delicate mother doing, despite the fact that he had been present at the very time of the incident.

Quidditch was sacred in the Diggory Cottage, and tremble those who didn't take that warning seriously, as they suffered the consequences. Steve never spoke about Quidditch in the house if he could help it, and even Cedric kept it to a minimum.

"I mean, your dad's a little funny," he continued, calmly, as if he hadn't seen Cedric mule kick Steve's foot.

Harry was getting used to them, and Cedric wholeheartedly approved. Before the boy would have flinched at the kick, looked warily at them as if he expected a blow to him next. What that said about him made Cedric so angry he couldn't think sometimes. Cedric had been a touch anxious, that without Hermione, or intermediate danger of those they loved spurring them on, that Harry, Steve, and himself wouldn't get along. An unfounded fear. Harry Potter was an alright bloke, surprisingly down to earth for all the legend Cedric had grown up with not even touching on the real-life Boy Who Lived, more morose than a grim in a grave-yard sometimes, a touch hot-headed, intelligent if a little ignorant of certain things-

But alright.

In another life, without Hermione, Cedric is sure that Harry Potter would have been his friend nonetheless. Not as close perhaps because of their House and age difference, but still his friend.

"Dad can be twisted up about the wrong things, but he really means no harm."

"Seems to just be keen for connections for his job, really, he doesn't actually seem to really believe," said Steve, voice soft.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Cedric felt his hands clench into fists.

"Yeah. Sorry, Harry, if he needles you too much."

"It's alright... Your mum is sweet."

"My mum is sweet. She is the sweetest." Headlocks aside.

"And don't tell Mrs. Weasley, but I like her cookies better."

"I don't wish for death. Mrs. Weasley makes better cakes though."'

"And fudge."

Solemnly, Cedric nodded, "And fudge."

AN:

GUESS WHO IS READY FOR YEAR THREE MY LOVELIES! OR WELL, CEDRIC'S FIFTH YEAR!