Draco pushed himself to his feet. He was covered in mud, making him scrunch his nose in
despair. Some goo had even slithered into his shoes, squelching around in his socks and
making his feet miserable.
He was going to kill Potter.
Said savior of the wizarding world peeked out from his
filthy invisibility cloak,
looking like a small brown gnome. His mittens hung
useless and clean
from his pockets while his hands filtered through the soft earth, trying to make the
perfect globular ball.
Suddenly, he reached out to Draco and firmly clasped his hand.
"Truce?" he asked softly.
