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.