Give 'Em Hell Kid
…Some might say we are made from the sharpest things, you'd say/ We are young and we don't care/ Your dreams and your hopeless hair/ We never wanted it to be this way/ For all our lives/ Do you care at all…
"Slytherin!" Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat from where it had barely rested on his platinum hair, and Draco Malfoy walked proudly to the long table of the House he had just been put into. He ignored the jeers and boos of the other three Houses, and instead focused on the satisfied faces of his new House members.
His father would be proud- he'd have to be. Just as promised, he was in Slytherin, and Draco couldn't wait to tell his father that the Hat hadn't even needed a moment before proclaiming him a member of the best Hogwarts House, the one his father had been in, and his father, and his father before him.
He turned his attention back to the rest of the sorting. "Nott, Theodore." Draco's friend- no, close acquaintance, really, since Slytherins were supposed to look out for their own interests first, and having actual friends meant sometimes doing something for them- Theo sat on the wooden stool in front of everyone, and the Hat was placed on his head. It was almost comical, it really was. The brim of the tattered Hat slipped past his eyes, covering even his nose. But then, it just sat there. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours, when in reality it was mere minutes.
Finally, the Hat announced, "Slytherin!" There seemed to be a sigh of relief from the entire table, and even more so from Theo himself. Nott's father wouldn't have been at all pleased if his son wasn't in Slytherin House. As a matter of fact, Nott Sr. probably wouldn't be happy to hear that there was any deliberation by the Hat at all. Such was the way with the proud Death Eater parents- if you weren't perfect, you weren't worth their effort.
After the sorting and the feast, Draco sat down in an armchair by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Was it being disloyal to his new House to say that it was all too typical that even the flames would be a permanent emerald green? He didn't see the point- the dungeons where the dormitories were were still frigid anyway.
He put his quill back to the parchment so that he could finish his letter to his father. So far, he only had: "Dear father,"- but that was alright, because he had so much to tell him. Like how great it was being in Slytherin (despised by others for no reason other than that, and living in the cold dank dungeons), and how thrilled he was to be starting Hogwarts (not a lie), and how much he was looking forward to Potions class with Professor Snape (he'd always preferred Defense Against the Dark Arts, actually).
When he'd finally finished the letter, Draco sent it off with his owl- a gift from his father- and dropped to his knees on the Owlery floor. He'd done it, hadn't he? Been sorted into Slytherin, exactly where he was surely meant to be? He wondered why it didn't feel as great as he'd expected; the wonderful feelings of power and self importance that his father had told him would come were strangely absent. Draco shrugged it off, getting to his feet and heading back off to his new home. Maybe it was just the novelty of Hogwarts- those feelings would come soon enough, he was sure.
Draco didn't even stop to consider for one moment that maybe the reason he wasn't yet content with getting what he'd wanted was that it was never actually Draco that had wanted it in the first place.
AN: Okay, so the first chapter is up, and the rest should be following shortly! Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review!
-Fiori ^_^