Title: Pictures In An Exhibition
Characters: Sam, Dean, Unknown Student
Word Count: 1,434
Rating: T (for language)
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, and no profit is being made from this story.
Summary: Dean is hard working and extremely loyal to his family and so is sorted into Hufflepuff; he is an extremely atypical Hufflepuff. Sam, while possible the nicest and most caring person at Hogwarts, is also the craftiest bastered in the whole school (Dean's words not his) and is sorted into Slytherin.
Hijinks ensue.
A/N: I've always been sort of sad that I've found a grand total of about 4 HP/SNP crossovers that didn't deal with romance or conveniently long lost relatives. I plan to post more standalone one shots in this series. I hope I can make it a proper dramedy. Up-dates will be sporadic, just a heads-up.
~ HP/SPN ~
I had studied up on the houses before I came to Hogwarts. Wanted to look smart in front of the other first years while I could.
Gryffindors were brave and daring, if not a little cocky. Ravenclaws were intelligent, knowledgeable, witty, and general sticks in the mud. Slytherins were ambitious, cunning, resourceful, and had a penchant for turning out evil. And Hufflepuffs were known to be hard-working, friendly, loyal, honest, rather impartial, and overall nice, peaceful folk.
So in my second year when I heard that one of the mysterious, American transfer students had been placed into Hufflepuff, I fully expected him to embody the normal attributes of a Hufflepuff student.
I don't think I've ever been more wrong.
~ HP/SPN ~
The first time I meet him; he'd already tried to seduce three Ravenclaws and pick a fight with no less than five of the male members of our History of Magic class withinthe first 4 minutes.
Dean Winchester, as I later learned his name to be, managed to display all the traits of a typical Hufflepuff while still somehow not being atrueHufflepuff; like fallowing the letter of a law but not its spirit.
He was hard-working, no one denied that. He spent long hours meticulously planning pranks that could put even the Weasley twins to shame, worked diligently to hustle unsuspecting students out of their money, and even managed to put forth an effort in the classes he liked.
He was honest. I can truly say I never saw him lie.
But he did have a silver tongue that any Slytherin would covet.
And as far as friendly went, he was extremely friendly if your name happened to be Sam Winchester.
They'd both transferred in at the same time, and, subsequently, were both placed with the second years. This despite Dean being 13 and 'little Sammy', as some brave souls had taken to calling him, being only 9.
There was a story there, but no Hogwarts students had been able to find any information on the duo.
You'd think, after seeing Sam interact with his brother, that Dean was secretly a smile factory that pumped out rainbows and cures to various terminal illnesses by the hour instead of the scariest person I personally know.
The little kid was unnaturally happy when hanging out with his big brother, in my opinion.
Well, at least he looked that way when he wasn't making an expression akin to the bastard child of an irate house wife and long suffering co-worker.
Sometimes, I worried the kid's face would get stuck like that.
Everyone else, unfortunately, hadn't reached the invisible bar Dean had set to indicate someone as worthy of his more tender qualities. He wasn't stand-offish per say, he just… didn't play well with others.
I mean, he managed to get into and win around fifteen fights the first two weeks he attended school. You ask me, there shoulda been an award for over-achievement like that.
So, unless your name was Sam Winchester, you were treated with either vigorous flirtation, hostility, indifference, or, in rare cases, something bordering on begrudging acceptance.
I'd somehow managed to find myself in that last category.
~ HP/SPN ~
It started out with just a little thing.
I was walking to Charms when I noticed a ridiculously small boy trying to gather up some papers I assumed he'd dropped.
I made a beeline towards him, intending to help him pick up the many papers he seemed to be having trouble grabbing, when I noticed his house colors.
Slytherin.
Although I'm embarrassed to admit it, for a few seconds I seriously considered just turning around and leaving him to pick his own stuff up.
All of last year, I'd been mercilessly bullied by a group of older Slytherins for being a "mudblood".
Hell, I was still being bullied, though I'd grown a bit over the summer so they didn't have quite as much an advantage over me. Maybe if I kept telling myself that, one day I'd believe it.
But I was sorted into Hufflepuff and we were supposed to be friendly, and not helping the kid would be decidedly unfriendly. Even if he was a Slytherin.
"So… umm do you need any help there by chance?"
"What?"
I nearly backpedaled when the kid swung his head up to look at me. The expression he wore should've been funny on his youthful face.
It sent shivers up my spine.
And in a flash it was gone, replaced by a dimpled smile when the kid realized I was offering assistance.
"Do you happen to know how to reverse the spell on my papers?"
Ah, that explained why he was having so much trouble then. Probably a repel spell of some kind, meant to make the papers fly away right as they were about to be picked up.
I racked my brain for a few seconds, searching for a counter spell, until my mind caught up to the fact that he'd spoken to me with an American accent.
The whole school was aware that Hogwarts had received two transfer students from America; some even said they were brothers.
Though, considering the other transfer student was my, admittedly vary unconventional, house mate, the odds of him having a brother in Slytherin were low. Families were generally sorted into the same or similar houses.
Hufflepuff and Slytherin were about as far apart as you got.
Dumfounded, I watched the kid stare at me till I remembered I was supposed to be casting a counter spell. Finally, recalling what I was looking for, I raised my wand to cast the spell when…
"YOU BASTERED WHAT'RE YOU DOING!?"
… a cold knot of dread filled my stomach at the sound of Dean Winchester's anger filled voice.
Before I even had a chance to fully turn around, I found myself slammed against the wall; staring into the icy green pits Dean called eyes.
Guess my theory of them being unrelated was wrong, bummer.
"What were you about to do to Sammy?"
If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure my ghost would've even been dead.
Luckily, before I could stammer through a response I highly doubt Dean would've even believed, a surprisingly large hand came up to rest on Dean's arm.
"Dean, he was just trying to help me with my papers."
Dean released his grip on my robes and I slid back down to the floor.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that Dean had held me completely off the ground during the short interrogation.
"Oh… um sorry 'bout that, just… continue whatever you were about to do."
At least he had the decency to look a little bit embarrassed.
Both the brothers watched me expectantly until I lifted my wand and cast the counter spell. If Dean tensed a little and moved in front of his brother, I wasn't saying anything.
"Sammy", the name I'd gotten for the young Slytherin courtesy of Dean, thanked me profusely for the help and Dean, with a gentle nudge from his brother, apologized again for the misunderstanding.
And, with a whirl of movement, they both swept down the hall, perfectly in sync.
I thought it was a bit creepy how well they matched each other despite the clear age and size difference.
It wasn't till they were out of sight that I took a deep breath and noticed my hands and knees were shacking slightly.
I also noticed that I was about 30 seconds away from being late to Charms.
~ HP/SPN ~
After my encounter with the Winchesters, odd things started to happen.
The older Slytherin boys who'd been harassing me suddenly decided I wasn't worth harassing anymore.
Confusingly, it even looked like they were going out of their way to avoid me sometimes, but that wasn't possible. Was it?
Even odder, Dean Winchester, self per clamed loner and resident school badass, had decided that I was apparently someone worth striking up a conversation with.
He talked to me at the beginning of every class we had together.
Which was notable, as the American had loudly stated at the beginning of the term that if you weren't a hot chick, he wasn't interested in talking to you.
I wouldn't say me and Dean were friends, but, somehow, I'd made it onto his acquaintance list from the little help I gave his brother. I was just overwhelmingly thankful he didn't see me as an enemy.
I'd seen a brief glance of his anger, and I'm not ashamed to say it scared the shit out of me.
~ HP/SPN ~
Post Note: If you like this story you should read DEAN WINCHESTER: HUFFLEPUFF, it's where I got the idea from.
- With love, Gilded
