AN: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I fourteen, though I try my best. I was reminded by my sister that fourteen year old kids have their language dumbed down from what I would write for adults.

Harry's Visitors

Mrs. Malfoy sat in a chair in the corner of her room and watched her two charges. They were currently sitting in their beds, though Harry was giving off all the energy of a bed bound teenager. It was fun in a way watching the two teenagers interact.

Harry was also in the hyper I-just-survived mode when what he had escaped from was kicking in. He supposed that being watched by Mrs. Malfoy wasn't the worst when it was her husband that brought them to the hospital. However, he wasn't sure what she was like. He knew she liked Draco, her son, yet she was super uppity, and so he wasn't sure if talking was really all that great at the moment. However, he was itching to move, to talk, and to just rejoice in his survival. He was moving, actually, because he just couldn't seem to be still, even though he had to wait for the various creams and potions to finish working. He knew that he shouldn't really touch his arm, but it was itching and the cream was taking a super long time to work. He huffed as he flopped backwards for the umpteenth time.

Cedric was getting frustrated with the younger boy. He could tell the boy needed to expend energy somehow, yet somewhere Harry had gotten the self control to be quiet in unknown circumstances. He knew that at Harry's age he probably would have exploded in conversation at some point already to get the tension off his chest. He was getting near the limit of his patience with Harry's fidgeting himself.

Then he heard foot steps pounding down the hall that stopped at the door, two lighter pair and a slower pair. It sounded like two kids and an adult. He recognized the two teens somewhat as they entered the room. His wariness relaxed a bit when he heard Potter speak.

"Ron? Hermione? How did you get here so fast?"

"I'm glad to see you, mate. Dumbledore told us, so we obviously had to come see you."

Cedric watched Dumbledore come in during the teen's excited chatter.

"So, the twins thought that you would surely be bored. Being stuck somewhere is no fun, especially if you think you're getting better already. Anyway, I hope you don't get me."

"Thanks, but I doubt I can use them in the hospital."

"Harry, I thought the two of you might be bored so we went and scrounged up a couple of books. They're for you to read, you know."

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"How long do you have to stay here?"

"Until tomorrow morning. They want to make sure I can breathe before I leave."

"Funny."

Hermione's sarcasm was clear on her face.

"Harry, you shouldn't joke about stuff like that. People worry about you, you know."

"If I don't, I start complaining and people don't want to listen to that."

"Fine."

"Thanks for the books by the way. I've been getting antsy."

"I know, mate. You hate the hospital wing. Are you willing to play a game of chess with me while I chat at you later?"

"Sure."

They had some more enjoyment out of talking before they left.

Cedric, even though it was review material, was also glad for the books Hermione left behind. He was bored, really bored, and Harry's constant movement was not helping him relax at all. At least there was something that he focus on besides the walls of the room, Mrs. Malfoy, and Harry.

A night's sleep, and Harry and Cedric were declared able to leave. They each had dressed in the clothes from the day before, washed in the hospital's laundry.

The two boys stood in front of the small table in the room that had the portkey cup on it.

"Ready?"

"Sure."

They each took a breath and grabbed the handles of the cup and popped away from the hospital ward.