Hermione was nearly vibrating with nervous energy. The castle was everything Hogwarts: A History had promised and more. She and Draco had kept to themselves during the train ride, both silently worrying they'd soon be separated and kept apart by the Pureblood ideals of Slytherin. Draco had vowed to her that he would never turn his back on her, but neither of them suggested looking for others they knew when boarding the Express.
The whole affair of getting to the school was nearly magical as the castle itself, as their first glimpse of it had been via a little rowboat as they crossed a vast lake on the grounds. Albus Dumbledore himself had met them at the entrance to the castle to welcome them to their new home.
"Hogwarts is now your home, and you should think of your house as a family," he'd told them before the sorting ceremony. "But always remember, though your house often reflects something integral to who you are, it does not define you. You are more than your house values."
Draco had whispered to her, "Father says he's always favored Gryffindors, and actively dislikes Slytherins." She'd hushed him, shaking her head.
And now they were hand-in-hand in the Great Hall, staring around with wide eyes like all the other first years. Clouds rolled throughout the ceiling, occasionally blocking out stars where they winked above the floating candles that lit the large room. The hundreds of students seated at the four long tables were chattering away and the din was fairly intimidating. Hermione and the rest were just waiting.
There, in the space between the house tables and the head table, sat a three-legged stool atop which tattered pointed hat perched. She frowned as everyone's attention turned toward it, then nearly gasped as a seam among the repairs opened up and the hat began to sing.
Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
"When I call your name," Dumbledore said as the last note finished, "you will come forward and put on the Sorting Hat. Abbot, Hannah."
A trembling girl stepped forward and sat on the stool. It wasn't long before the old hat somehow opened that strange mouth of its and called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Alphabetical," Hermione stated, eyeing Draco. "That means I'll be sorted first." She wiped her free hand on her robes, the other slippery with their shared sweat, but she didn't want to let go quite yet. He must have felt the same, because he gave her palm a small squeeze.
"How do you think it works?" He asked.
She stared at it speculatively. "The song indicates it's sentient and has some telepathic abilities, mind reading. Perhaps you discuss with it what house suits you best? It would have a guess if it can read your mind."
The two of them were distracted as the elderly wizard's voice rang out, "Crabbe, Vincent."
The burly boy had hardly sat when the hat cried, "SLYTHERIN!"
"That's about right," said Draco.
"He's not very cunning though," Hermione responded. "The hat has to take into account more than traits then."
"Slytherin has always favored Purebloods. That's where Father was. All my family for the most part."
She nodded, but her heart was now in her throat as there weren't many letters ahead of 'G.' Hermione was torn; part of her wanted to beg the hat to put her in Slytherin, where she was sure Draco would go. Another was curious where it would want to place her. Wit and learning were certainly her strong suits; Hermione had always prided herself on her intelligence and diligent use of such. She liked to think she was loyal, but Hufflepuff didn't seem to fit. Gryffindor, though…
Hermione had never seen herself as particularly brave, but a part of her yearned to show she could be, given the opportunity. Daring and nerve were something to aspire to, and chivalry evoked the idea of doing right. She had seen much injustice in her own life.
Gregory Goyle was another Slytherin, and suddenly Hermione was up.
She extracted her hand from Draco's, untangling their perspiration-drenched digits and wiping it on her robe. Her chin was high as she crossed the floor, intent on showing those watching that she belonged here as much as anyone else. Hermione carefully lifted the worn hat, sitting primly on the stool with her ankles crossed, just as Narcissa had taught her, and pulled on the hat.
The wide brim immediately hid her vision and the shifting, giggling, whispering noises from the Great Hall dimmed around her.
"Hello there," said a friendly voice in her ear. It was the same that had been calling out houses as she watched. "Quite a mind you've got here."
"Thank you," she said quietly, wondering at the strangeness of speaking to a sentient hat on her head. Despite having lived in the magical world for most of her life, it sometimes struck her just how awesome magic truly was. "And hello as well."
The hat chuckled. "Polite. But I'd expect no less considering who your caretakers are. You are quite out of place, you know. Ahhh, I see you do."
"The Malfoys have been kind to me," she murmured slightly defensively.
"I can see your fondness for the boy, but you know how wrong the reasoning for your being there is," it responded. She nodded solemnly, wondering if it could sense her agreement. "I can. Now, let's get on to sorting you. This is already going to be a tough job without discussing your situation. As I see it, you have two houses that fit well for you, Miss Granger. It's really about what you want to value and who you want to be."
"Could I possibly-" she began, heart yearning to stay with her friend.
"Miss Granger, I'm sorting you, not Mr. Malfoy. You're cunning, I can see. And you have ambition and resourcefulness, no doubt. But those things are not what stands out about you most. Those are innate to you. Besides, that den of snakes is no place for you; you should be somewhere that brings out your best, and Slytherin would likely lead you to bitterness."
Hermione frowned. "What houses do you think, then?"
"I'm certain you've an idea."
"Ravenclaw." It didn't need to be a question; anyone who had known the girl for five minutes could see her love of books and learning.
"Of course. The other?"
"Oh, well…" She fidgeted a touch. "Really?"
"Really," the hat confirmed. "You might not see it, but you are daring. You dared to be yourself even when others called you bookish and boorish. You dared to befriend a stranger in the library. You dare to stand beside the Malfoy boy every time you accompany him into Pureblood society."
"I'm doing what I must," she insisted.
"Oh," said the hat, and she could hear the soft smile in its voice, "you do much more than that, Miss Granger. But let me pose to you the question: What do you want?"
"For my house? My time at Hogwarts? Life?" She wanted to clarify, as this would impact her house, perhaps her entire life course.
"Hmm, there's that mind of yours at work." It sounded amused. "Let's try again, shall we? What do you want most? If you could do anything, what would it be?"
Hermione's heart caught in her throat, eyes growing warm. That question struck her to the core, where the secret desire she had never said aloud lay. "I want to change this world. I want us not to have to live this way."
"Us?"
"Muggleborns," she breathed.
"It will be a thought fight, fraught with obstacles and enemies," it warned.
"Yes," she murmured, sorrow heavy in her voice. "I know. Nearly impossible."
"Nearly," the hat agreed. "But you're braver than you believe, Miss Granger. I know what you are. You are a true-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
She nearly stumbled off the stool in surprise. The table of students with their red and gold ties cheered overwhelming, all of their cries combining into a roar worthy of a pride of lions. She was met with pats on the back and welcomes and smiles. A pair of ginger boys with identical faces patted her shoulders at the same time and introduced themselves such that she was unsure of their names- what they said sounded made up. Gred? Who was named Gred?
As Hermione settled in and the students around her turned back to the sorting, she sought out Draco. He met her gaze with eyes so forlorn she suddenly regretted not trying harder to push her way into Slytherin.
It couldn't have possibly been worse, he thought. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry went back to the start of the school and the feud between the founders. Hermione and Draco had enough to contend with, what with Hermione being muggleborn and Draco being a Pureblood of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He'd always known he would be a Slytherin and to see his best friend sitting among the lions was a blow to his heart.
Hermione was staring back at him, her face crumbled in apology. Draco had hoped she was talking the hat into placing her in Slytherin when time kept ticking past. Hers had been the longest sorting so far. He'd been so sure if anyone could, it would be her.
There was nothing for it now. Draco had to figure out a way to keep their friendship strong, whatever may come.
Theo Nott elbowed him slightly and pulled Draco from his ruminations. "Longbottom's been up there nearly as long as your mudblood."
Draco scowled at the slur but turned his attention back to the main event. He knew who Neville Longbottom was, but hadn't personally met him since the Longbottoms didn't care for the Malfoys and vice versa. The soft boy was nearly shaking on the stool and everyone was whispering at the long silence. Even the professors were talking amongst themselves.
When the hat cried, "GRYFFINDOR!" A hush fell over the Great Hall. Then the table of lions went wild to welcome their new cub.
Longbottom meant that Draco's turn was coming. He still hadn't thought of anything. He was starting to panic a bit at the thought of them in rival houses. There had to be something he could do.
When his name was finally called, Draco's heart was beating at a hum in his chest. He imagined that in another reality he sat confidently, sure of his house and himself. Now, he sat shakily and put on the musty old hat.
"Ah, the famous Mr. Malfoy," said the hat.
"Famous?" Draco had no idea what the hat meant.
"Miss Granger thinks highly of you," it clarified. "She tried to convince me she was a Slytherin." The last was said with a touch of amusement. So she had tried. That was something. Somehow it didn't comfort him. "Ah. You're worried what it will do, you in Slytherin and she in Gryffindor."
"She's my best friend," he said simply.
"You've always known you were a Slytherin at heart," the hat replied. He nodded. "You have a thirst to prove yourself, especially to your father. You are intelligent, resourceful. You'd be nearly a lord in Slytherin, a true snake among them."
"Yes," he said, heart heavy in his chest.
"You don't want that?"
Draco had thought he did until he realized there was no way to have that and maintain his friendship with Hermione. He still wanted to please his father and show the man he was a worthy heir, but Hermione had slowly become the most important person in his life. She was with him through everything. The times she'd been punished, she was as likely to hold and comfort him as he was her. "If I was in Slytherin, would I lose her?"
"It depends," the hat said. "It would make things harder. Muggleborns aren't seen in such a good light there."
"Could I be in Gryffindor?" He hesitantly asked.
"There is something brave within you, Draco, but it's a small and malnourished thing. Perhaps in time, but…" The hat left the rest unsaid. For now, Draco was a coward. He knew that.
"You value your friendship with Hermione so much you would join the house you've been raised to see as rival?"
"If it helped."
"Hmmm. There is perhaps another house. Not Gryffindor but one that would never look down on you for an inter-house friendship, nor with someone who is muggleborn," it said slowly, as if deliberating whether to disclose this.
Something like hope lit in his chest. "Really?"
"You won't be a little lord there, you understand."
"Yes."
"Is your friendship with her worth the possible ridicule of your friends? Family?"
That was a terrifying thought. However, he thought of Hermione and could only bring himself to one answer. He swallowed thickly. "Yes."
"Very well," the hat said after a pregnant pause. "Knowing the value of friendship is certainly a defining characteristic of-"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"