First Green is Gold
Draco sat across from Professor Snape as the train wound its ponderous way around a mountain and tried not to think about how the Muggle transportation system was infinitely less comfortable than its magical counterpart. It had begun to rain not too long after they had fled from Hogwarts, and the train's slowed speed kept it safe on the winding mountain tracks, but also magnified some of the smaller bumps and imperfections in the tracks. Severus Snape figured the news of Dumbledore's death would have spread like wildfire through the wizarding community, and it seemed much safer to reach the Malfoys' safe house through Muggle means, though they were significantly slower than either he or Draco would have liked.
Settling back into his seat, Draco stared out the window as bright streaks of lightning split the dark sky and were reflected dimly in the ocean below. His exhausted mind drifted, bringing up a memory he had buried six years ago...
Morag McDougal had just stepped off the three legged stool and begun his shaky walk to the cheering Ravenclaws when Professor McGonnagall called his name, "Malfoy, Draco."
Draco felt a nervous lurch in his stomach as he stepped up, but years of being taught what it meant to be a Malfoy meant his body no longer betrayed his emotions. He even managed a swagger as he took the old, battered hat and placed it on his head.
"Hm, a Malfoy," a voice from inside the hat said when his hands touched it. "It's been a long time since I've seen one of you lot. I know exactly where--" The hat paused in its rambling, as if in surprise. Draco wondered idly if a hat could be surprised, even an enchanted one. "Interesting, very interesting indeed," the hat resumed almost immediately. "You certainly have the background and the drive to be a Slytherin, and I can tell that that's what you'd like. But your heart, boy, well, that's a different story. There's courage in there. You'd do well in Gryffindor."
"WHAT?" Draco yelped mentally, "No! I'm a Slytherin! My father was a Slytherin, and so was my mother! I want to be in Slytherin!"
The hat chuckled at his insistence. "You want to be in Slytherin, boy, I know. But you've got heart. Too much heart for Slytherin, even though you've got the ambition and the thirst for glory. You would do well in Gryffindor."
Draco could feel himself involuntarily trembling at the thought of what his father would say if he sent home an owl saying he had been sorted into Gryffindor. "No," he begged silently, "Please, not Gryffindor. I have what it takes to be a Slytherin! All I want is glory, and I will pursue it with any means."
"Very well," the hat sighed to him. "If that's what you want..." And Draco heard the Sorting Hat's voice again, this time booming through the Great Hall "SLYTHERIN!"
He made a move to remove the old hat from his head, only to find that his hand had never left it. In fact, the brim of the Sorting Hat only brushed the very top of his head. It had felt like a lifetime, when the Sorting Hat debated his fate...
With a deep breath, Draco Malfoy walked proudly to the head of the Slytherin table. He was where he belonged...