A/N: Hey! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. The other day, I went on a trip to The Making of Harry Potter, so I was inspired by that. There may be another chapter coming if you guys like, so if you want to read it, put it in a review. All reviews appreciated. Enjoy!
Harry
"He's so up himself! Just because he's the so-called 'boy who lived', does that really mean he's special?" I fall short at the sound of my 'friend' Ron's voice. There's no way I can enter the common room now. Instead, I stand behind the door.
"If he's so special, why'd he have to live as a Muggle for 11 years?" That's Dean the West Ham fan.
"I bet my parents would have taken him in," I hear Neville say. "At least they'd have someone to be proud of."
"I bet he's not even that clever," says Hermione. "I bet the first time he slips up, he uses his fame as an excuse."
I can't bear hearing my friends, people I thought I trusted, talking about me like this. There's only one thing for it.
We have just had potions, and for once I got what we were doing, even before Hermione! As he walks past, I tap Malfoy on the shoulder.
"Yes? What do you want, Potter?" he sneers at me.
"You know on the train, when you said that I don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, and you'd help me there?" I say. I remember exactly what he said then.
"Yes? So?" he replies.
"I'd like to take you up on that offer," I say.
Malfoy turns to Crabbe and Goyle, and whispers something. When he turns back, his expression's changed.
"Okay," he says. "Friend"