Since Faun accused Hermione of liking Draco Malfoy, she had felt weird. It was absurd, and yet strangely possible. For example, she noticed that she was far too aware of Draco, whenever he walked past her to get more ingredients in Potions class, her eyes followed him, and when he caught me looking at him, he smiled and in a very un-Hermione way, she had returned the smile shyly. Unfortunately, Crabbe noticed and pointed at me, guffawing, before hollering to Draco, "Look out, Draco! Little Miss Gryffindor is flirting with you!"
Hermione wouldn't exactly call it flirting, but still, she averted her eyes and almost died from embarrassment. While some of the class laughed- mainly just the Slytherins- Draco simply smiled again.
Hermione didn't know what to think.
The brunette convinced herself it was the fact that everyone was staring at her, and how Crabbe was circulating the rumour of her affection for the silver haired snake, that made her face flush pink. As her heart raced, she thought of how handsome Draco looked when he smiled like that.
It was now time to eat dinner, and Hermione had purposely taken a seat opposite Ron, and was trying her best to ignore Faun McKenzie, who was glaring at her from further down the table. Hermione supposed she had actually done the right thing by sending Faun on her not-so-merry way, because Ginny had taken the seat beside Harry, and Harry seemed much more comfortable with the red head. Hermione hoped that eventually Harry would build up the nerve to take Ginny out on a date; or even ask, because Hermione was positive Ginny would say yes in a heartbeat.
Everyone was waiting for the food to appear, when Filch sprinted into the Great Hall, carrying a scowling Sorting Hat in his arms, his cat chasing after his heels.
Hermione wondered if there was a new student. It was a good two weeks into the new school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so all first years had already been sorted, and any new arrival was news even to know-it-all-Granger.
"I demand a second sorting of all eighth years!" protested the hat, definitively, leaving no room for negotiation.
Professor McGonagall was shocked to say the least, but agreed anxiously, "Very well. All eighth years come to the front and form an orderly Que." said the new Professor. The eighth years all followed the instruction, most remained silent, while others talked nervously among themselves. All the younger students remained in their seats, ready to watch the curious scene play out.
It was an hour later when "Hermione Granger" was called out by Headmaster McGonagall. Hermione ascended the steps confidently. She had nothing to worry about when house colours were concerned. Most people had stayed in their original houses, and only a few Hufflepuff's had been upgraded to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. No Gryffindor's had moved, and no Slytherins had been switched either. Hufflepuff's had been thrilled to move to a more respected house, and Ravenclaw's had sneered at those who had been moved from Ravenclaw to Hufflepuff- as if they were no longer intelligent to be in their company.
Hermione sat atop a wooden stall that had been placed on the front platform. She thought to herself about how unnecessary this whole situation was. As if there were any changes that really needed to be made. She crossed her left leg over her right and crossed her arms indignantly too. She supposed, though, it was rather nostalgic. She could remember it clearly; being nervous, and excited, and only eleven years old. It seemed like another lifetime altogether, after all she had been through.
Her nostalgic smile was soon wiped off though; the hat was on her head; it drawled and mumbled too lowly for Hermione to hear. "I remember choosing your house carefully back in the day. You held a lot of potential, and I can see you have met some of that potential." Hermione felt slightly annoyed at that. With all the hard work she had put in, she had done her very best. "But you're different from back then. No longer positive and optimistic. The war has beaten those qualities out of you." The hat grimaced and so did Hermione. "Yes, yes, you possess many new qualities. You are bitter and cynical. All those deaths changed you." Hermione lowered her head, at a loss and unable to defend herself- it was all true, and it hit a little too close to home, for her liking.
But what it said next came as a shock even to Hermione- as it did to every other wizard and witch in the room.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The word was loud, silencing every other noise in the room, and then silence fell, and it seemed that no one wanted to break that silence. It was probably moments, but to Hermione, it felt like hours of bitter, wretched, judgmental silence- and then it ended, and the sound was even worse to her. Gossiping thundered in her ears like a second heartbeat, and she heard cruel laughter resound from wall to wall. Through suddenly blurry eyes, she saw with horror that some people nodded, as if it all finally made sense now- as if she finally made sense now.
Hermione's eyes widened in terror and shock, "You've got to be kidding me!" She screamed, outraged and not prepared to hide it.
The hat was, apparently, done speaking now, though. Headmaster McGonagall placed a hand on her shoulder as she helped Hermione up, and removed the blasted hat from her curly dark hair. Professor McGonagall told her to go to the Slytherin table, and Hermione complied, her breath staggered from disbelief, her heart racing in her chest. This wasn't real. This wasn't real. She chanted the words to herself. This is all a dream- just some stupid, insane dream! She promised herself. Soon you'll wake up, and you'll laugh at this crazy, insane dream. She clasped her left hand in her right, and she pinched her wrist as hard as she could, flinching slightly. She didn't wake up; her eyes didn't flutter open.
Oh no- oh, dear Merlin, no. it was no use though. She was starting to see now, that this was not a dream, there wasn't going to be an easy escape from this. This was the worst type of nightmare; the sort you couldn't wake up from.
But Hermione wasn't a weak, damsel in distress; she would fight this, for sure. But first of all, she would find her way to the Slytherin table and she would sit down.
As Hermione walked in a daze to the Slytherin table, she received glares; she heard hushed whispers- the topic of which being Hermione Granger. She slumped into the closest vacant seat, and threw her head down onto the table, resting her hands on her head. How was this happening? As she sat, head in hands, she felt many eyes burning holes into her skull, and when she raised her head, she recognised a smug smirk and a set of pale blue eyes, winking at her maliciously; Faun Delcy. Hermione heard someone clear their throat awkwardly and she looked to her right, only to meet the unmistakable grey of Draco Malfoy's eyes.
He smiled softly, compassionately even, and Hermione just stared at him, feeling tears well up in her own eyes. She swallowed and looked away, towards the dark wooden table. How was this happening? This had to be the worst day of her life, and it only went downhill from there, because the focus became even more pivoted on the insecure brunette when her most outraged friend rose to his seat, his head appearing from out of the sea of Gryffindor heads.
"This is ridiculous!" screamed Ron. Hermione looked up, panicked. Oh dear Merlin, no. "You can't do this!" Ron continued, pointing an extended forefinger at Hermione, "She's a Gryffindor!" he looked towards Draco with poorly hidden disgust, harsh disdain. "Not a foul Slytherin." His spat the last words venomously, and Hermione had to resist the urge to make a comment about how he chose now of all times to expand his vocabulary.
As tears budded more prominently in Hermione's eyes, Harry grabbed Ron's arm- his head bobbing up now too- and attempted to pull him from the room, but Ron wasn't having any of it. He had something to say, and he wouldn't be hushed by even Harry Potter.
Ron had not only upset Hermione; most of the Slytherins were seething; angry at his obvious disrespect of their house. She heard talk of him being a disgusting blood traitor and felt her tears begin to plummet onto the backs of her hands. She was going to be called a mud blood every day, wasn't she? Bloody fantastic.
Hermione ducked her head again, partly to hide her bright red face and partly to hide her tears.
When she lifted her head again, Ron was still shouting angrily, but Harry had been joined by Seamus and, together, they were dragging him from the room. Hermione, quite frankly, was surprised it took so much effort to remove him from the room- stop it! She chastised, those comments are what got you into this mess in the first place!
"Leave it!" Seamus remarked loudly. Hermione wondered silently if he meant to "leave" the argument he was starting, or Hermione herself.
"You're upsetting Hermione!" Harry said loudly. Ginny followed behind Harry, and it pained Hermione to see the fiery red head avoid her gaze.
Hermione was surprised she made it through dinner without crying rivers. She had dried her eyes quickly after Ron left and sat stoically, only nibbling on pieces of bread. As Hermione went to rise from her seat, Professor McGonagall spoke loudly, grabbing Hermione's attention and making her pause as she asked for Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Draco Malfoy to come to her office when they were done eating. Professor McGonagall left, but Draco was still eating. Hermione assumed that Headmaster McGonagall wanted something from both of them, together, so she waited silently as Draco finished. Ten minutes later, after Draco had finished his conversation, they walked made their way to the Headmaster's office. She recalled all the times she had been to see Dumbledore in the very same office, and sadly reminisced the loss of such a brilliant Wizard. He was a fatality- a terrible, horrific statistic.
"Hello Hermione, Draco." McGonagall greeted, guiding them both to sit in two chairs opposite her. Draco and Hermione nodded in sync, and so McGonagall continued, "I'm sure this has come as a big shock to you, Hermione. So I am insisting that Draco here-" she nodded to him, "-helps you to grow accustomed to your new house. I'm sure you will adjust marvellously, you are very wise for your age, and mature enough to handle this change, I'm sure." She smiled at Hermione, who was unfortunately blindsided by the compliments. McGonagall turned to Draco, "She is an exceptionally talented young witch. It is a great honour for the Slytherin house to have her as a member of the green and silver house. Make sure she fits in and is appreciated. Don't let people be cruel to her." Hermione blushed.
Draco nodded, his mouth a firm, set line, "Of course, Headmaster." He smiled kindly at Hermione, and then at the Headmaster, "I'd be happy to help."
Hermione sat up straighter, "But surely you can just move me back to the Gryffindor house." McGonagall shook her head sadly, "But-" she began, readying herself for the fight of her life.
"There is nothing I can do. What the sorting hat says is final." She frowned, "I truly am sorry, Hermione. If there was anything I could do to help you, believe me- I would." McGonagall sighed, "But, as I said, there is nothing to be done."
Hermione slumped, pouting sadly. She had never felt more depressed than she did right then. She was going to be a Slytherin, and Draco Malfoy was going to train her how. She closed her eyes, Kill me now, she thought sarcastically to herself.