Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble
Chapter 5: Across the Great Hall
Hermione strode into the Great Hall decisively, the heel of her shoes making a pointed clackety-clack on the cold stone. She took in the four tables with a few spaces reserved in the front for the soon-to-be-sorted First Years, the students abuzz with excitement and gossiping amongst each other. She scanned the Gryffindor table until she found Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting together in the middle of the table. She spied the faces of some of her other fellow Gryffindors like Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown both gave her a smile and a wave, which she returned, her smile more grateful at not having to share quarters with them anymore this year than in pleasure of seeing them again.
Hermione glanced to the front to see the Sorting Hat waiting quietly on its infamous stool and at the Head Table to see the usual professors there, Professor Flitzwick from charms, Snape from Potions, Vector from Arithmancy, Sprout from Herbology, Hagrid from Care of Magical Creatures. She didn't see Firenze there, but supposed that the centaur was more comfortable in his adapted room than in the Great Hall. She didn't suppose that most first years would be used to seeing a centaur. She did spy Professor Trelawney there, wearing even more beads than usual, making her look like a giant emerald insect. She caught the Headmaster Dumbledore's twinkling eyes behind their half-moon glasses, wry amusement dancing in them. She sent him a small smile before sitting down in the space that her friends had reserved for her.
Dumbledore looked into the crowd and the murmurs and whispers stopped. As soon as there was silence, the giant doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered, leading the group of First Years in.
Hermione looked at them curiously, without trying to stare avidly at them. She still remembered how frightening it had been to walk the entire length of the hall with all the eyes of the student body on her. She wondered idly how many Gryffindors they would get this year.
Professor McGonagall stopped at the side of the Sorting Hat. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear what unique song the Sorting Hat would pronounce this year.
The Sorting Hat's booming voice could be heard throughout the entire hall as it started its song:
"Welcome to Hogwarts First Years!
Having come from far and near
Sit on the stool and let me whisper in your ear!
In what House shall you have your stay?
In what House will you find your way?
Shall it be Hufflepuff?
Those of diligent manner and quiet speech
Nevertheless have lessons in
Loyalty and Perseverance to teach!
Shall it be Ravenclaw?
Those that prize learning and wits
Often pay attention to the details
Of mighty problems they can fix!
Shall it be Slytherin?
Those that prize cleverness and being sly
We often forget that they teach us
The lies in the truth and the truth in the lie!
Shall it be Gryffindor?
Those of courage and noble heart
Although rash and impatient
They are the light in the dark!
Yet First Years remember these words I say!
All Houses are but One!
Differences are not what matter at the end of the day!
In what House shall you have your stay?
In what House will you find your way?"
The Sorting Hat fell silent. Hermione looked with raised eyebrows at Harry and Ron who were seated across from her. It seemed that the Sorting Hat was continuing with its message of interhouse unity throughout the years, sometimes more subtly than others. Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione and Ron both knew what he was thinking: interhouse unity with Slytherins? Impossible! Hermione had to stifle a laugh. After seven years and harrowing adventures, she knew Harry and Ron's thought processes almost as well as her own. They really could just communicated with glances and looks.
She was interrupted from her reverie by McGonagall's voice calling "Abbott, Jeremy" to be sorted first. Given the boy's likeness to Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott, the Sorting Hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" thunderously, cheers erupting from the Hufflepuff at receiving their first First Year. Hannah gave her brother a quick hug before he sat down.
"Cho, Nathaniel" McGonagall called up a rather tall and lanky boy with short black hair. "RAVENCLAW!" the Hat pronounced.
By this time, Hermione had become aware that someone was looking at her. Instinctively, she turned her face toward the Slytherin table to see Draco's steely gaze on her. His posture was relaxed but alert. His eyes were rolling clouds of thunder, but you could never really read the sky. You can notice the effects, like thunder and lightning and rain but you can never actually know what goes on. Hermione blinked and shook herself, she didn't know why she was thinking such things.
Still, she didn't look away. Only when they received their first Gryffindor by the name of "Marilyn Creevey" was she capable of looking away and joining in with the clapping and cheering. At that moment, she decided it would be better if she put Malfoy out of her mind and paid attention to what was going on around her. The last thing she needed was Ron or Harry going ballistic about what they thought they saw. Because as she very well knew, nothing was happening. And that was how it was going to stay.
---------------------------- --------------------- -----------------
Draco was bored out of his mind. Blimey, the entire process was a load of crock. He didn't understand why they just couldn't be sorted BEFORE the feast. He chose to forget about his own trepidation as he walked down the hall and sat on the stool, his fate to be decided by a musty and old hat.
Oddly enough, Draco had never considered the old hat before. He looked at it for a long time, a little fascinated on how that object had come into existence. Obviously, the four founders had needed an impartial judge to sort the school's applicants into the right houses but with enough knowledge so that the students would be able to thrive in the right atmosphere. In some cases, certain traits made the choice more apparent. In others, it was trickier.
No sooner had the Sorting Hat started his song that he saw Blaise roll his eyes. Draco had to chuckle a bit. Both he and Blaise exchanged a look. It probably was the poor thing's only moment to shine all year. Although he knew that he and his bandmates could make a better song than that. Of course the headmaster was big on the interhouse unity idea. But Draco found that he much rather know who hated him than pretend to be friends with everyone. It was already difficult enough to try to decipher the motivations of those in his house. Granted, they were the slyest and cleverest of the entire lot, but the sheer volume of trying to figure out everyone out, well, odds were that you were bound to miscalculate.
And if there was a thing he hated to do was to miscalculate.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pansy was trying desperately to try to attract his attention. He sighed internally. Shagging her these last two years to alleviate his boredom or whenever he couldn't find a more attractive or interesting bed partner were not worth trying to put up with her idiotic prattle. And despite her pureblood, Pansy was not as attractive as she should be. She might be model thin, with well endowed breasts and thighs that just won't quit but she was boring as a doorknob. The only book she probably read was the Kama Sutra, and that was because it had pictures so it was pretty self explanatory.
Besides, there was nothing exciting about shagging Pansy. Anyone could. Even Crabbe and Goyle had shagged her and sometimes Draco had wondered if those two would ever figure out how to use their cocks. The real challenge was shagging the untouchables. Those were a worthy notch in your bedpost.
Idly, he let his gaze surf the crowd. Everyone else was more interested in the Sorting, so he could watch at leisure. He noted the pretty girls that had been too young the year before and all the others he hadn't had a chance to charm the last time.
His gaze settled on the Golden Trio and he felt his anger rise and flex like a cat, sinking its claws into his flesh. The-Boy-That-Annoyed-Him- The-Most and Weasel King sat placidly in their seats, eyes on the front of the hall, like kings watching their subjects. He felt the anger take a nail and rake it up his arm. Dumbledore's favorites. They had broken more rules than anyone else before and they were still hailed as heros.
By its own volition, his eyes fell on her and he felt the anger simmer and lick at his insides. If bloody Potter and Weasley were kings, then she was their undisputed ice queen. Somehow, his mind wondered which one of the two, or if both of them, had gotten into her knickers. The image of a naked Granger, her long body, perfect breasts, moaning flashed before his eyes. In that instant, he realized that she would make a fantastic lover.
Draco almost wanted to scowl at the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was find Granger attractive or shaggable. She probably was a frigid in bed! He was trying to convince himself that she probably was a virgin that didn't know the first thing about how to pleasure a man in bed when she noticed that someone was looking at her and instinctively turned her head to face him. It was as if she knew that he had been thinking about her. He swallowed hard.
She really had amazing eyes, a rich luxurious brown. But brown was such a common word for something so lustrous and warm. The italian word, marrone, came to mind. It seemed more poetic and graceful than brown. For the third time that day, Draco wanted to curse his upbringing. He should not be thinking that Granger's eyes were something poetic or graceful. But he did. He supposed that this is the quality that also made him an excellent musician, an artist even. Still, it was an unwelcome trait to find something to admire in eyes that could have been his own, cold and unwelcoming.
Draco had the unpleasant feeling of staring into a mirror. Is that what others saw in his eyes? But it only lasted so long before she turned back her attention to the Sorting and began cheering for her House's first new Gryffindor.
He suddenly wanted to compell her to look at him again. To continue to stare into eyes that despised him but didn't lie. They were honest eyes. If there was one thing you could trust your enemy to do was to tell you the complete and blatant truth. That, or the biggest dribble you have ever been gullible enough to swallow. There were no petty half-truths or comforting lies.
Apparently, his interest didn't go unnoticed. Zabini turned around to look over his shoulder and then he cocked his head inquiringly at Draco.
Draco shifted his gaze to look at Zabini, whose lifted eyebrow and expression was one of mild curiosity and amusement. "Have we chosen a prey?" Zabini said with a quixotical half-smile and a glint in his eye.
Draco considered this thought in his head. What better way to annoy Pothead and Weasel than play with their favorite doll? Snatch their favorite toy from under their noses. Besides, Malfoys were entitled to the best, and that included everyone else's toys. Then there was the added bonus of putting Granger in her rightful place. This time the image of Granger, writhing under him and moaning flashed before him. His smile turned blade thin, dangerous like the edge of a razor. He didn't commit himself to a verbal answer and let Zabini interpret that as he wished.
Zabini's lowered his eyes for a moment as his grin widened slightly. He thought he knew what he saw. But then again, this was Malfoy we were talking about and the tricky chap never tipped his hand before he was confident enough to win. Zabini wondered idly if Draco had really considered what the ramnifications of dallying with Granger would be. But then again, where he skirted the edges of a fire, Draco would plunge straight into it. Either way, he would enjoy it if Draco made a spectable of Granger or himself. All in all, it was a good year to be in Slytherin.
Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble
Chapter 5: Across the Great Hall
Hermione strode into the Great Hall decisively, the heel of her shoes making a pointed clackety-clack on the cold stone. She took in the four tables with a few spaces reserved in the front for the soon-to-be-sorted First Years, the students abuzz with excitement and gossiping amongst each other. She scanned the Gryffindor table until she found Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting together in the middle of the table. She spied the faces of some of her other fellow Gryffindors like Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown both gave her a smile and a wave, which she returned, her smile more grateful at not having to share quarters with them anymore this year than in pleasure of seeing them again.
Hermione glanced to the front to see the Sorting Hat waiting quietly on its infamous stool and at the Head Table to see the usual professors there, Professor Flitzwick from charms, Snape from Potions, Vector from Arithmancy, Sprout from Herbology, Hagrid from Care of Magical Creatures. She didn't see Firenze there, but supposed that the centaur was more comfortable in his adapted room than in the Great Hall. She didn't suppose that most first years would be used to seeing a centaur. She did spy Professor Trelawney there, wearing even more beads than usual, making her look like a giant emerald insect. She caught the Headmaster Dumbledore's twinkling eyes behind their half-moon glasses, wry amusement dancing in them. She sent him a small smile before sitting down in the space that her friends had reserved for her.
Dumbledore looked into the crowd and the murmurs and whispers stopped. As soon as there was silence, the giant doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered, leading the group of First Years in.
Hermione looked at them curiously, without trying to stare avidly at them. She still remembered how frightening it had been to walk the entire length of the hall with all the eyes of the student body on her. She wondered idly how many Gryffindors they would get this year.
Professor McGonagall stopped at the side of the Sorting Hat. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear what unique song the Sorting Hat would pronounce this year.
The Sorting Hat's booming voice could be heard throughout the entire hall as it started its song:
"Welcome to Hogwarts First Years!
Having come from far and near
Sit on the stool and let me whisper in your ear!
In what House shall you have your stay?
In what House will you find your way?
Shall it be Hufflepuff?
Those of diligent manner and quiet speech
Nevertheless have lessons in
Loyalty and Perseverance to teach!
Shall it be Ravenclaw?
Those that prize learning and wits
Often pay attention to the details
Of mighty problems they can fix!
Shall it be Slytherin?
Those that prize cleverness and being sly
We often forget that they teach us
The lies in the truth and the truth in the lie!
Shall it be Gryffindor?
Those of courage and noble heart
Although rash and impatient
They are the light in the dark!
Yet First Years remember these words I say!
All Houses are but One!
Differences are not what matter at the end of the day!
In what House shall you have your stay?
In what House will you find your way?"
The Sorting Hat fell silent. Hermione looked with raised eyebrows at Harry and Ron who were seated across from her. It seemed that the Sorting Hat was continuing with its message of interhouse unity throughout the years, sometimes more subtly than others. Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione and Ron both knew what he was thinking: interhouse unity with Slytherins? Impossible! Hermione had to stifle a laugh. After seven years and harrowing adventures, she knew Harry and Ron's thought processes almost as well as her own. They really could just communicated with glances and looks.
She was interrupted from her reverie by McGonagall's voice calling "Abbott, Jeremy" to be sorted first. Given the boy's likeness to Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott, the Sorting Hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" thunderously, cheers erupting from the Hufflepuff at receiving their first First Year. Hannah gave her brother a quick hug before he sat down.
"Cho, Nathaniel" McGonagall called up a rather tall and lanky boy with short black hair. "RAVENCLAW!" the Hat pronounced.
By this time, Hermione had become aware that someone was looking at her. Instinctively, she turned her face toward the Slytherin table to see Draco's steely gaze on her. His posture was relaxed but alert. His eyes were rolling clouds of thunder, but you could never really read the sky. You can notice the effects, like thunder and lightning and rain but you can never actually know what goes on. Hermione blinked and shook herself, she didn't know why she was thinking such things.
Still, she didn't look away. Only when they received their first Gryffindor by the name of "Marilyn Creevey" was she capable of looking away and joining in with the clapping and cheering. At that moment, she decided it would be better if she put Malfoy out of her mind and paid attention to what was going on around her. The last thing she needed was Ron or Harry going ballistic about what they thought they saw. Because as she very well knew, nothing was happening. And that was how it was going to stay.
---------------------------- --------------------- -----------------
Draco was bored out of his mind. Blimey, the entire process was a load of crock. He didn't understand why they just couldn't be sorted BEFORE the feast. He chose to forget about his own trepidation as he walked down the hall and sat on the stool, his fate to be decided by a musty and old hat.
Oddly enough, Draco had never considered the old hat before. He looked at it for a long time, a little fascinated on how that object had come into existence. Obviously, the four founders had needed an impartial judge to sort the school's applicants into the right houses but with enough knowledge so that the students would be able to thrive in the right atmosphere. In some cases, certain traits made the choice more apparent. In others, it was trickier.
No sooner had the Sorting Hat started his song that he saw Blaise roll his eyes. Draco had to chuckle a bit. Both he and Blaise exchanged a look. It probably was the poor thing's only moment to shine all year. Although he knew that he and his bandmates could make a better song than that. Of course the headmaster was big on the interhouse unity idea. But Draco found that he much rather know who hated him than pretend to be friends with everyone. It was already difficult enough to try to decipher the motivations of those in his house. Granted, they were the slyest and cleverest of the entire lot, but the sheer volume of trying to figure out everyone out, well, odds were that you were bound to miscalculate.
And if there was a thing he hated to do was to miscalculate.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pansy was trying desperately to try to attract his attention. He sighed internally. Shagging her these last two years to alleviate his boredom or whenever he couldn't find a more attractive or interesting bed partner were not worth trying to put up with her idiotic prattle. And despite her pureblood, Pansy was not as attractive as she should be. She might be model thin, with well endowed breasts and thighs that just won't quit but she was boring as a doorknob. The only book she probably read was the Kama Sutra, and that was because it had pictures so it was pretty self explanatory.
Besides, there was nothing exciting about shagging Pansy. Anyone could. Even Crabbe and Goyle had shagged her and sometimes Draco had wondered if those two would ever figure out how to use their cocks. The real challenge was shagging the untouchables. Those were a worthy notch in your bedpost.
Idly, he let his gaze surf the crowd. Everyone else was more interested in the Sorting, so he could watch at leisure. He noted the pretty girls that had been too young the year before and all the others he hadn't had a chance to charm the last time.
His gaze settled on the Golden Trio and he felt his anger rise and flex like a cat, sinking its claws into his flesh. The-Boy-That-Annoyed-Him- The-Most and Weasel King sat placidly in their seats, eyes on the front of the hall, like kings watching their subjects. He felt the anger take a nail and rake it up his arm. Dumbledore's favorites. They had broken more rules than anyone else before and they were still hailed as heros.
By its own volition, his eyes fell on her and he felt the anger simmer and lick at his insides. If bloody Potter and Weasley were kings, then she was their undisputed ice queen. Somehow, his mind wondered which one of the two, or if both of them, had gotten into her knickers. The image of a naked Granger, her long body, perfect breasts, moaning flashed before his eyes. In that instant, he realized that she would make a fantastic lover.
Draco almost wanted to scowl at the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was find Granger attractive or shaggable. She probably was a frigid in bed! He was trying to convince himself that she probably was a virgin that didn't know the first thing about how to pleasure a man in bed when she noticed that someone was looking at her and instinctively turned her head to face him. It was as if she knew that he had been thinking about her. He swallowed hard.
She really had amazing eyes, a rich luxurious brown. But brown was such a common word for something so lustrous and warm. The italian word, marrone, came to mind. It seemed more poetic and graceful than brown. For the third time that day, Draco wanted to curse his upbringing. He should not be thinking that Granger's eyes were something poetic or graceful. But he did. He supposed that this is the quality that also made him an excellent musician, an artist even. Still, it was an unwelcome trait to find something to admire in eyes that could have been his own, cold and unwelcoming.
Draco had the unpleasant feeling of staring into a mirror. Is that what others saw in his eyes? But it only lasted so long before she turned back her attention to the Sorting and began cheering for her House's first new Gryffindor.
He suddenly wanted to compell her to look at him again. To continue to stare into eyes that despised him but didn't lie. They were honest eyes. If there was one thing you could trust your enemy to do was to tell you the complete and blatant truth. That, or the biggest dribble you have ever been gullible enough to swallow. There were no petty half-truths or comforting lies.
Apparently, his interest didn't go unnoticed. Zabini turned around to look over his shoulder and then he cocked his head inquiringly at Draco.
Draco shifted his gaze to look at Zabini, whose lifted eyebrow and expression was one of mild curiosity and amusement. "Have we chosen a prey?" Zabini said with a quixotical half-smile and a glint in his eye.
Draco considered this thought in his head. What better way to annoy Pothead and Weasel than play with their favorite doll? Snatch their favorite toy from under their noses. Besides, Malfoys were entitled to the best, and that included everyone else's toys. Then there was the added bonus of putting Granger in her rightful place. This time the image of Granger, writhing under him and moaning flashed before him. His smile turned blade thin, dangerous like the edge of a razor. He didn't commit himself to a verbal answer and let Zabini interpret that as he wished.
Zabini's lowered his eyes for a moment as his grin widened slightly. He thought he knew what he saw. But then again, this was Malfoy we were talking about and the tricky chap never tipped his hand before he was confident enough to win. Zabini wondered idly if Draco had really considered what the ramnifications of dallying with Granger would be. But then again, where he skirted the edges of a fire, Draco would plunge straight into it. Either way, he would enjoy it if Draco made a spectable of Granger or himself. All in all, it was a good year to be in Slytherin.
