Hello again, everyone! I can't believe I'm updating at this rate! It's incredible! Anyway, I'd just like to caution you beforehand that this chapter contains potentially lethal amounts of ranting, OOC-ness and perviness on the part of Draco.

You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its characters. This work has been created for creative and enjoyment purposes only.

Chapter 3: The Sorting

The following evening, Hermione found herself in yet another rather nostalgic situation.

It wasn't until that morning when she suddenly realised that the start-of-term banquet would be held on September 1st, and only because she had gone to the Great Hall to find all four house tables set for the upcoming night.

She had visited Hagrid early that afternoon; they had caught up with recent events over tea and some of Hagrid's rock cakes (which she politely but firmly refused; she'd had enough bad experiences with them in the past). It turned out that Buckbeak was still alive and well, although he had been down with a bout of mild bird flu lately and had required extra attention. And, of course, Fang was there as always, greeting her with approximately a bucketful of slobber and such a strong tackle that Hermione toppled over under his weight. Some things never change, Hermione had thought ruefully.

In return, between affectionate nips from Buckbeak, she had updated Hagrid on recent happenings at the Burrow and invited him to their wedding; after all, he had been there for Harry and Ginny's wedding and it was only natural that he should be there for Ron and hers as well. Hermione, subsequently, had left the Hagrid's cottage with a smile on her face and a stomach full of hot tea.

But there was still the pressing matter of what to wear to the banquet. So, in a hurry to find something decent barely an hour before the students arrived, Hermione had uncharacteristically torn apart her wardrobe, picked out her newest set of periwinkle-and-cerulean robes and regular black flats, and dumped the rest of her clothes unceremoniously on her queen-sized bed.

It was at this moment that a knock came from outside her door. Muttering about inconvenient interruptions, Hermione pulled the door open, to find McGonagall standing outside.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger. I admit that this is very late notice, but it has been the duty of the Head of Gryffindor to bring out the Sorting Hat at the start-of-term banquet each year and conduct the Sorting of the first-years," she said.

"Unfortunately this matter slipped my mind, and I would have told you this morning had I not been attending to more imminent matters. However, since we do not have a proper Gryffindor Head this year, you have been chosen to step in wherever possible until we can find a proper replacement. So in the time being it would make matters flow much smoother if you could take on the role of the Sorting. All you need to do is to read out the list of names, place the Hat on their head and take it off again when their house has been announced. Everything you require will be in my office for you to collect when you are ready."

Hermione was speechless. How many times had she watched Professor McGonagall herself bring out the tattered Sorting Hat and place it upon each of the students' heads during the Sorting? It was an offer she could hardly refuse.

"I—I'd be honoured to, Professor," she said earnestly, and McGonagall passed one of her rare smiles.

"That's the Hermione Granger I know," she said, her voice unusually warm, and departed, leaving Hermione to make sense of her new dilemma.

It was amazing, Hermione later discovered, how fast one could operate when under pressure; within forty minutes she had showered, charmed her hair into a loose bun with ringlets and applied the faintest hint of eyeshadow and lip gloss. By the time she had gotten all her robes on, it was time to go, and she peered herself one last time in the mirror, making sure she didn't look overdressed before proceeding to leave for the Headmaster's Office.

Hermione faced the first-years' wind-blown, anxious faces, and was reminded of when she, Ron and Harry were the same age. Not particularly knowing what to say, she took on McGonagall's stern persona and began to talk.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be sorted into your houses before you take your seats in the Great Hall for the start-of-term banquet. The Sorting will determine which house you belong in, and while you are here, you will spend time in your house dormitories, have classes with the rest of your house and spend time in the common room.

"There are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Whichever house you are sorted into will benefit from your achievements through house points, which will be added up to a total at the end of the year. However, rule-breaking will result in points lost and the house with the most points by the end of the year will win the House Cup, a great triumph for the entire house. Each of your houses has their own unique history and virtues, and while you are here you should take pride in the house you have been sorted into.

"In a few minutes you will be Sorted in front of the entire school. Please make sure you look presentable by then. I will leave you now and return when we are ready for you."

By now, the first-years looked positively terrified, and Hermione, unwilling to further scare them, left the chamber in a hurry.

Hermione watched the first-years shuffle into their lines from the doorway in the Entrance Hall, feeling extremely nervous. What if she stumbled on someone's name? What if something happened amongst the students that would throw her off-track? McGonagall had always conducted the whole procedure without so much as a stutter, even when something had clearly gone wrong. She had a brief flashback from the year Dennis Creevey had walked in, his tiny, dripping figure swallowed up in Hagrid's huge moleskin coat. McGonagall had simply had him set at the sidelines and gone on with the Sorting.

Hermione only hoped she could do as well. Taking a deep breath and clutching the Sorting Hat and the roll of parchment tighter in her hand, she stepped into the Great Hall.

Draco was already in the Hall impatiently anticipating dinner, when he realised that Hermione Granger was missing from the head table.

His unasked question was answered when Granger walked in from the Entrance Hall, followed by a long line of frightened-looking first-years.

Granger? Sorting?

As soon as the students were in their positions, he watched her take in a silver stool and put it in front of them, setting the Sorting Hat on top.

He only watched Hermione's neutral expression as the Hat sang its song, and the school applauded. She only moved once the clapping had died down, and as he continued watching she pulled out a scroll of parchment, opened it and told the first-years the instructions.

The first name was called...

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Draco saw her shoulders slump slightly in relief as her job was done. The large, round-looking boy in question pulled the Hat off his head and trodded over to an empty seat at the Hufflepuff table. Grabbing the stool and the Sorting Hat, she vanished into the side chamber and re-entered a few moments later, looking considerably more relaxed.

Her presence was almost unnoticed amongst the bustle that followed the Sorting as she took her seat two places away from Draco. Tonight, he immediately saw, she was dressed in a distinctively feminine set of robes of different shades of blue.

Draco suddenly he wondered what he could possibly have been missing under those baggy black school robes he was so accustomed to seeing her in. Of course, he then felt like kicking himself for even thinking about someone he was so instinctively pitted against in such a way. Granger was simply Granger, the annoying, big-brained, bushy-haired muggle-born who happened to be the sidekick of Potty and Weasel. Nothing else.

But Draco, no matter how much self-restraint he had, could not help but look again a few seconds later and notice that the junction where her neck joined her shoulder rather appealing. He kicked himself again, and resolved to look strictly at his plate for the rest of the feast.

Predictably, it didn't work.

Hermione stood up after McGonagall had delivered her speech and applauded with the rest of the room. As she sat down, she subconsciously glanced across at Malfoy and was surprised when she found him staring at her with an unidentifiable emotion burning in his eyes. The moment he saw her looking at him he broke the contact, staring at his golden plate with great intensity and, slightly confused, Hermione brushed it aside as simply a trick of the light.

Not five minutes later, when she was well into her roast potatoes, Hermione was certain Malfoy was staring at her again, for whatever unfathomable reason. Shifting uncomfortably, she took a large swig of pumpkin juice, sneaking a glance at him as she did so.

He was looking straight at her.

Hermione nearly spat out her mouthful of pumpkin juice. To her chagrin, one of his trademark Malfoy smirks crossed his face, and if it hadn't been for Professor Flitwick sitting in between them Hermione would likely have been inclined to subtly pour the rest of her drink on his lap and humiliate him for all to see.

A few moments after Hermione turned away from him, a scrap of parchment floated onto his plate from what seemed like nowhere in particular.

Unfolding it, he saw one word carved all the way through the parchment, rendering it see-through. The cursive letters were slightly black at the edges, as if they had been written with wandwork:

Creep.

Draco glanced over immediately at Granger, who gave him a thoroughly disturbed look. Silently, he crumpled it and cursed the undeniable fact that tonight was the first time he had wondered whether Hermione Granger might possibly be a woman, and not just the clever-brained, goody two-shoes teenager of three years ago.

Draco decided (rather maturely, might he add) that he would not reply to Granger's name-calling, and shoved the ball of parchment into his pocket before helping himself to more roast beef.

After all, she had called him 'creep' as if it were a bad thing...

That night Hermione settled down at her office desk and, pulling out a roll of parchment, began writing a letter to the Burrow.

Dear Ron,

You might not believe me, but being here at Hogwarts has been strangely tolerable despite Malfoy's presence. The staff are quite pleasant to be around (with one obvious exception), and they are all familiar.

The first-years are so small; I remember when we were that tiny. I can hardly wait to begin the lessons tomorrow, although I'm having some doubts about my teaching abilities.

No, Ron, I don't mean stuff like the DA. This will probably be much more difficult, especially now that I will be the sole instructor for a class of children. Do you think I'll live up to McGonagall's standards? And now I'll be teaching a whole bunch of theory too, and about Transfiguration of all subjects, which most of the first-years will be hopeless at in their initial lessons. What if they don't like me?

In any case, I hope everyone is well. Ron, I would be eternally grateful if you could keep Ginny away from the remaining clothes in my wardrobe; it took me forever last time to replace the robes she burnt, and I most certainly am not about to trust her anywhere near my bedroom alone now.

But tell Ginny and everyone else I say hi, and that I miss them.

I love you,

Hermione

She then set that one aside and started on the next letter, this time to Harry:

Dear Harry,

I know I should have written a letter to you and Ron earlier, but I have been quite busy settling down in my new office and catching up with Hagrid. Speaking of Hagrid, he says Buckbeak is doing well, and that it would be nice if you or Ron could visit sometime.

Malfoy's been relatively docile lately, although he is still a pain to be around, and it would still give me immense pleasure to hex him every now and then for some of the things he says. Let me know if you want me to do so, and I will gladly oblige. I'll start my first lessons tomorrow...I really hope the students like me, because I'm here for the rest of the year and it would be infinitely more convenient if they did.

Anyway, I know you've just bought your new home. How is it? I'll make sure I visit around Christmas so I can finally see what it's like. I heard Ginny's still packing her belongings in the Burrow though, so if you happen to be there, please don't let her anywhere near my wardrobe. Ron will be there too, but in case he forgets...well. It'll put me and my clothes at rest, at least, knowing you two will be there to stop her destroying whatever she deems unfashionable.

I miss you all,

Hermione

Reading them over and deciding they needed no further corrections, Hermione folded the parchments, inserted them inside two envelopes and headed to the owlery. Once there, she found a reliable-looking brown owl waiting patiently next to the window. It took the letters, ruffled its feathers once as Hermione opened the window and soared out, fading like a shadow against the night sky.

Hi again! I hope everyone thought that was alright. You see, I was watching King Kong while typing this last night, and I guess I kind of fell into some weird trance and typed funny. I know, my writing's really crap in this one, so you might as well consider it something of a cross between nearly-a-chapter and a crack-fic, yeah?

Forgive me for my lameness right now.

Until next time,

ScarletInk314

P.S. Leave Draco alone, he's just embracing his inner perv.