Sweat peppered her forehead, drawing clean trails down her mud-streaked visage as it dripped. The girl ran with heavy steps, breathing hard and fast as she sprinted up stair after stair, bounding blindly around corners and shooting past the other people in the hall, ignoring the sparks and shouts of duels. She finally stopped when she saw he had stopped as well.
He had paused along the side of the corridor, leaning against the wall, panting with his hands on his knees. His dirty hair hung in clumps around his face, but Hermione could still see his haunted eyes as he turned towards her. He looked as though contemplating flight or fight. Heaving a breath, he got to his feet and faced her in the middle of the corridor. His eyes gleamed in the flickering light from the torches, and he pulled out his wand menacingly. Hermione saw his lips barely move and his want twitch ever so slightly. Immediately she yelled, "Protego!" Feeling the curse bounce away from her shield, she began advancing slowly down the hall, holding the man's gaze. He walked forward as well, and attempted another hex, only to be countered by Hermione. Each curse was flicked away by the defender's nonverbal shield charms.
She felt an odd calm, as if the two were long-time associates casually meeting up. With each spell, their voices became quieter and quieter until both were only whispering. Their body language gave them away; fighting stances and strained muscles made the tension obvious. The anger was palpable between the two. As they got closer to one another, their duel became more and more intense, the speed of the curses flying around increasing and adding eerie colored sparks to the firelight in the poorly lit hallway.
"Expelliarmus."
"Confundus."
"Petrificus totalus."
"Immobulus."
"Impedimenta."
"Locomotor mortis."
Upping the stakes in a sudden crescendo after his adversary's childish spell, he yelled, "Crucio."
"Protego!" Her desperation gave the spell strength, and the protective shield lingered even after the man's curse had been deflected. In those few moments she strode towards him. He put up his own shield but she simply walked through it, shoving his thin frame back against the wall and keeping him there with her elbow at his neck. His wand had clattered to the stone floor as he hit the wall.
"You depraved bastard," she spat, eyes dancing venomously in the blaze of the torches. "Do you know what you did to him? His life was destroyed the day you met. He was never truly happy again, condemning himself to an existence alone, just to keep people safe. He hated ever fiber of his own being, and no matter how polite, or charming, gentlemanly, honorable or brave he was, he was never good enough to be loved. He didn't let anyone anywhere near him," tears sprung to her eyes, "and he was miserable because of it." Pain was etched over her every feature, but anger overtook her as the man under her arm gasped for air. "You don't deserve the breaths you take." And with that, she took her wand and slit his throat.