Work Text:
September 1 st , 1998
“Malfoy, Draco,” the Deputy Headmistress Sinistra intoned. Whispers broke out among the Great Hall. The first through seventh years had already been sorted or resorted and it was now the 8 th years turn. They were being called up in no particular order. Potter and Hermione had gone to Slytherin. Draco had been surprised to see Potter sorted there, but his heart had sung when his witch made Slytherin. It would make introducing the school to their years-long hidden romance that much easier. Not that the revelation had gone over particularly well with Potter and the Weasel…
Confidently striding up to the stool, Draco sat and popped the musty old hat onto his head.
Ah yes, hello again there, Mr. Malfoy. I see you’ve been busy.
Just get on with it, Hat. Put me in Slytherin and be done with it. This is such a joke.
Oh my, that’s cute. You still think of yourself as a snake, don’t you, Mr. Malfoy.
What in the name of Merlin are you talking about? Of course, I’m a Slytherin. I survived the war based on my cunning. I got my witch away from my aunt by sending Dobby to save her and her stupid friends. My mother is safe and unharmed and I made it through the trials relatively unscathed. My cunning and determination to achieve my goals has never been stronger, thank you very much.
Yes, but consider what has been at the heart of your actions – your love for your family, your dedication to your clever little witch. Loyalty, Mr. Malfoy, loyalty. You’ve been unafraid to do the hard, dirty, dangerous work necessary to keep those you love alive, regardless of the cost to your own health and sanity.
What are you talking about, you useless scrap of filth…
Oh dear me, you just don’t get it, do you…
The frayed brim of the old hat splits and confidently shouts, “Better be – HUFFLEPUFF!”
Draco stands, ears ringing. He turns towards the Hufflepuff house table, seeing a beaming Ron Weasley waving at him enthusiastically and promptly faints.