"Ravenclaw!"

The Great Hall went eerily quiet as all eyes shifted to focus on the young boy recently sorted. The eleven year old sat frozen on the stool, Sorting Hat still resting on his platinum hair, and worked to control his emotions.

"Up you get, Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall directed, pulling the hat from atop his head. The Hall remained silent in response to her direction and Draco Malfoy felt a sickening feeling start to form in the bottom of his stomach.

Shite.

Theodore Nott was raised in a somewhat unconventional way when it came to Pureblood standards. After his mother's death, his father became even more of a recluse and left the child rearing to the elves of the manor. While this manner of upbringing was not wholly out of place, the lessons taught to him when his father made an appearance were.

"Again," Edmund Nott demanded, ignoring the way his son gasped for air and clenched his fists at his sides. The Lord and his heir were stationed in the manor library, surrounded by books that Nott senior demanded his young son read to prepare for their lesson. He flicked his wand at his son's head and frowned almost immediately at whatever it was he saw. "Stop," he commanded and turned towards the armchair behind him, his robe fluttering behind him at the swift movement.

Theodore collapsed to the rug at his father's voice and let his head rest against the golden fabric. He could feel his jaw clench and unclench as he worked to keep his hands from pulling at his hair. He knew without looking that his father would be glaring at him with disappointment and could not bear the feeling of shame that began to boil in his stomach.

"I apologize -" he began to croak before a sharp crack interrupted him.

"Lord Nott, sir," a sharp voice cried. Theodore looked up from the floor and saw a small elf wringing its little hands as it worriedly addressed the master of the manor. "Tinsy is sorry for interrupting, sir, but Lord and Lady Malfoy has arrived, sir." She glanced down at the young heir lying on the floor in obvious pain. "Heir Malfoy is here as well, sir," she added, bowing her head to Edmund.

"Very well," Edmund replied, slipping his wand into its holster and nodding to his son. "Make yourself presentable, boy."

Draco sniffed and turned up his nose as he passed through the front entrance of Nott Manor; while a decent size, it was no where close to his own home. His mother and father strode ahead of him following Brutus, the elf butler, towards the lounge. A low whistle caused his ears to perk up and he glanced towards the stairs to his left and saw his best friend, Theo, beckoning him over. As he hurried away, peeking to make sure his parents didn't see him, he passed a mirror and slowed to check his appearance.

His blonde hair was cut and styled as per his mother's request, magic forcing it to stay in place to fight his Black family genetics of waves. His nose was pointed just like his father's and his eyes were silver and matched no one else. High cheekbones gave him a pretty face and even at such a young age, girls fawned over him constantly. He flicked an invisible speck of lint off the collar of his dress shirt and flashed a quick grin. Perfect.

Turning away from the mirror, he strode towards the stairs and made his way up the marble steps. As he reached the second landing, he noted that several paintings had changed from the last time he was there and made a note to ask Theo about it later.

"About time you wanker," a soft voice whispered, as Draco finally made it to his destination. Theodore grinned at his best friend and reached up to ruffle at his own sandy brown hair. His sweater had specks of dog hair on it and his trousers showed spots of mud on the hems. His bright blue eyes lit up as Draco punched him in the shoulder and pushed past him towards the young heir's wing of the manor.

Walking down the hallway, Draco did his best to ignore the smudges on the dark wood floor and hurried towards his best friend's room. He hated this place, with it's dark corners and dark floors and dark everything, but he couldn't just not come to see Theo before this Sunday's trip to Hogwarts. This was their first year and Draco was determined to be sorted into Slytherin like his mother and father before him; and he would do anything to have Theo be sorted with him.

"So," Draco drawled, pushing open the bedroom door and noting the previously missing paintings from the hallway were added to a corner of the room, "where is it?" He glanced around the room and frowned as the dog did not come into view right away. The wretched beast loved him, for whatever reason, and if you truly prodded him, Draco would admit to liking it as well.

Theo chuckled as he closed the bedroom door, walked a few steps, and threw himself down on his bed. "Father requested that she be put in the barn while your family was here. Something about your parents complaining last time they were here." He raised his eyebrow at his friend and Draco sprawled onto the armchair in the corner.

"Narcissa, I'm sure," Draco responded slowly. "Are you ready for Sunday then?" He asked, seeing the open trunk at the foot of the bed with robes and sweaters spilling out of it and onto the floor.

Theo laughed loudly and rolled his eyes, knowing that the mess was driving his friend mad. "For the most part, if you must know. I've been rereading Hogwarts a History in preparation. Actually, there is something I need to tell you…" he trailed off, suddenly incredibly nervous about what he had to say.

Draco sighed heavily and moved from the armchair to the bed and lay down beside the other young boy. He knew what was coming; Theo was sure he wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin given his mother's previous Hufflepuff placement and Draco was sure that Theo was going to say something stupid about how they would no longer be friends if sorted into separate houses. "Don't even, you prat. It doesn't matter where we get Sorted. We've been best friends all our lives and that isn't going to change if we are different Houses. I swear to Merlin, though, if you get sorted into 'Puff, I won't talk to you for a week."

The two friends giggled to each other and began to speak of other, more happy things, passing the afternoon as only young boys could.