Oh, and I actually wrote someone's drabble.
Cedric/Harry frivolous, integral, compass
Harry didn't want Cedric to hate him. It wasn't his fault he was now part of the tournament. It really wasn't. Trying to tell anyone that was frivolous, though, no one actually believed him.
He sighed and leaned against the wall. It began to rain outside the window. Harry stared out into the clouds surrounding Gryffindor Tower. He can't remember whether this was the north window or not. He was always so bad at compass directions.
Cedric was a hard person to read. Maybe he didn't hate Harry. Maybe he was just upset at having the spotlight stolen from him by a Fourth Year.
An especially hard splatter of rain on the window surprised Harry, pulling him out of his thoughts. The clouds were only pulling in more tightly around the Tower, he couldn't even see the lake. He probably should be doing his homework. He should probably be preparing for the first challenge. He should probably be trying to talk to Ron. He should probably be talking to Hermione about talking to Ron. He most definitely shouldn't be sitting around, worrying about what some Hufflepuff thought about him.
He sat up and glanced at his pile of books and parchment. It wasn't worth the effort. He lay back down. It was strange. All of this: the tournament, Cedric, Ron, Moody, everything.
The rain continued to pour down, sheets and sheets of it, and Harry wondered when Cedric not hating him had become such an integral part of his life.