Stop Right There

Hermione met Harry and Ron in the great hall, flustered and angry. She was able to stop the tears but her eyes still stung. Sitting opposite them, she noticed that her friends were doubled over in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Hermione, her voice slightly shaky.

“Best lesson ever,” Chortled Ron, his freckles disappearing as his face turned red.

Harry stopped laughing suddenly and looked intently at her, “Hermione, what’s the matter?” He asked, concerned.

“It’s just Malfoy,” Hermione sighed as she explained the whole story to them.

“I can’t believe it.” Ron shouted, outraged, “I hate him,”

“You should have jinxed him Hermione. It would have wiped that smile from his stupid face in no time.” Harry said.

Hermione shook her head, her bushy brown hair shaking with it. “He’s not worth it,”

“That’s right,” Ron’s eyes were fierce; “He’s not. Don’t let him get you down.”

Hermione tucked into her cottage pie, feeling slightly happier. Well, that was until she saw Malfoy stroll into the great hall, his cold eyes scanning the Gryffindor table until he spotted what he was looking for. When Hermione met his eyes, for a brief second, she saw confusion and hurt. Then it was gone and she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. His expression became arrogant as he stalked over to the Slytherin table and sat down.

“Ignore him, Hermione.” Harry’s voice was soothing.

When everyone had finished eating, the trio were tired and ready for bed. Hermione heaved herself up and they headed for the door. The great hall was almost empty.

“Miss Granger,” Squeaked Flitwick, coming up behind her, “May I have a word with you one moment. You go on, Potter, Weasly. She’ll catch up with you,”

Hermione watched with wide eyes as Harry and Ron departed and made their way into the stone corridor. She watched until only their hair was visible.
At last, she turned to Flitwick, who looked very happy indeed. He told her that she had the highest mark in the test in the whole school, and would be getting a special award.
Hermione left Flitwick, glowing. Nothing could evaporate her happy mood, not even her early encounter with Malfoy. When she got into the corridor, she noticed it was dark and cold. Shivering at the thought of what might be lurking in the shadows, she walked faster.
That was when something touched her shoulder, and she had to kick herself to stop from screaming.

“What do you want?” Hermione hissed, noticing it was Malfoy.

His almost white hair and cold grey eyes were hardly visible in the darkness.

“I wanted to talk to you Granger.” He whispered. “Apologise.”

“What? Why?” She was confused.

“I was … out of order,”

“Why are you apologising? You hate me!”

“That’s not true,” His voice was hurt, not the usual arrogant drawl. “Anyway, I’ve come to make a truce.”

“What about Harry and Ron? Why didn’t you pull one of them over?” Hermione demanded her voice angry.

“Because it’s you I want to make a truce with. Not them,” Malfoy stated as if it was obvious, “To be … almost friends,”

Hermione watched in utter disbelief as he held out hand. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to take it, and call a truce.

Instead she said, “I want nothing to do with you Malfoy. You’re an arrogant, slimy, spineless cockroach. Leave me and my friends alone,”