I'm a part of lot of different tv show and movie fandoms. A little bit of everything put into one big thing. This is a collection of imagines and preferences.
#69 walkingdead
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The tattered sorting hat called out your House name, telling both you and everyone else seated in the Great Hall where your home for the next eight years. Your worst nightmare was finally confirmed - that you were different. Different from the rest of your wizarding family. They had blue eyes, you had deep brown ones. They had platinum blond hair, you had jet black. They were Slytherin, you were Gryffindor. Yes, you all were Malfoys, but how much did that even matter?
Although you could feel expectant eyes burn holes into your skin, you were only able to look at your twin brother’s eyes - Draco. He made a face at you before turning away from your gaze. He was embarrassed to be your brother, related to you, know you. And it stung - stung more than the horrid letters you would soon be receiving from your parents.
Your legs trembled as you less-than-gracefully hopped off the wooden stool, and you were surprised that they could even support you. The Gryffindor table seemed to be miles away, taking too long to get to. How many names had been called since yours? How many families ruined? Only your Pureblood family. The one that thrived off of power and heritage, a clean bloodline.
But after what seemed like forever, you made it to the long table, sitting on the bench. Classmates with unfamiliar faces welcomed and congratulated you, yet all you could do was smile at them in return, not trusting your voice at the moment.
Finally, you looked to your right, at a young boy no older than you. His hair was messy, his mannerisms nervous.
“Hi, I’m Harry.”
Five years later and you’re still an outcast - partially. Although abandoned by your family, you’ve found a new one at Hogwarts: Gryffindor. Despite the fact that it took a while for you to break out of your shell - and the Pureblood ideals that have been implanted in your mind since you were a child - you’ve managed to make friends: Seamus, Dean, Neville. Good friends: Luna, Hermione, and Ron.
And even a crush: Harry Potter - who’s waiting downstairs for you in the common room at the moment to go to breakfast; your cheeks flush at the thought of him. After you’ve fluffed up your raven hair, you collect your school bag and head downstairs. He smiles at you at your arrival, and Hermione and Ron are standing next to him, awkwardly positioned and too far apart as if they want it that way. When will they tell each other they like them?
Only time will tell. And time has certainly told you how horrendous and vile your family is - if they can even be called that. At the news of your sorted House, they immediately disowned you, the only guidance and motherly figure in your life being Mrs. Weasley - who you’ve only known since about third year - and your distant cousin, Sirius Black. Though these formed relationships are important, the most important by far is Harry, the messy-haired boy you met on the first day of school and who’s stuck by your side ever since.
There’s a soft fondness in your heart for him, and the kindness in his is pure - too pure for the chaotic-at-best wizarding world that constantly flips his life upside down. Throughout the years - including deaths, danger, and the addition of Sirius - Harry has remained supportive of you, sticking to your side like glue. Even from the start - when you sat down on the bench right next to him - a certain understanding resonated between the two, unspoken and yet understood.
