human again / hp.

Chapter 5

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains of the Gryffindor Tower, casting a warm, golden glow over the dormitory. As the first full day of my Hogwarts life began, I could still feel the lingering weight of last night's events. Despite the cozy surroundings—the scarlet and gold hangings, the muffled sounds of other girls stirring—I felt like an outsider in a house that wasn't supposed to be mine.

Stretching and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my feet met the cold stone floor. A shiver ran up my spine as I dressed, adjusting the oversized Gryffindor tie that felt more like a question mark than a badge of belonging. I caught my reflection in the dormitory mirror. The same blonde hair, the same pale complexion, yet something was different. My reflection seemed uncertain, a Gryffindor in name but not yet in spirit. What would Father say when he found out? What would Draco say?

My thoughts whirled as I made my way down to the common room, clutching my books as if they could anchor me. The fire in the hearth crackled faintly, and the space was quiet, save for the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Morning," a familiar voice broke through the silence. I looked up to see Hermione Granger, her bushy hair frizzed slightly from sleep. She offered me a kind smile as she approached. "Did you sleep well?"

I shook my head, giving her a small, tired smile in return. "Not really. Too much on my mind."

"I understand," she said, sitting across from me. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

I nodded. "I never expected to end up here. In Gryffindor, I mean."

Hermione's smile softened. "I think things happen for a reason. Besides, it's good to have a fresh start. You're here now, and we're all figuring it out together."

Her words eased the tightness in my chest. I hadn't thought of it that way before—maybe I wasn't as alone as I'd felt. "Thanks, Hermione," I murmured. "That helps."

She grinned. "That's what friends are for."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, waiting for the day to officially begin. My mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming lessons, my stomach twisting slightly at the thought of seeing Draco in the Great Hall. Eventually, I gathered my things and followed the stream of students heading toward breakfast.

As I entered the Great Hall, the chatter of students filled the air, mingling with the clinking of goblets and the rustle of owl wings delivering mail. My heart skipped a beat as my eyes landed on Draco, sitting at the Slytherin table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His platinum hair gleamed in the morning light, and his confident smirk made him look as though nothing had changed since we arrived at Hogwarts.

But everything had changed.

Gathering my courage, I walked over, weaving through the tables. His silver-gray eyes flicked toward me as I approached, and for a moment, his smirk faltered. "Celeste," he said, his tone carefully even, though I knew him well enough to hear the undertone of tension. "Gryffindor colors suit you. Bold choice."

"Not my choice," I replied, my voice steady, though my pulse quickened. "The Sorting Hat was very... insistent."

His smirk returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Insistent? I thought Malfoys knew how to get what they wanted. Or did you forget who you are?"

I stiffened at his words. "I didn't forget. But maybe the Hat saw something I hadn't realized yet."

Draco leaned back, his gaze narrowing as though weighing the truth in my words. "Oh, really? And what would that be? A hidden desire to be a hero? To play nice with—" he lowered his voice, his expression darkening—"Mudbloods?"

I flinched, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. "Don't," I hissed, my voice sharper than I intended. "It's not as simple as that, Draco."

"No, it's not," he said coolly, leaning forward now. "Do you know what this looks like? What people are going to say about you? About us?"

I met his gaze, trying to match his intensity. "I don't care what they say. This isn't about us, Draco—it's about me. I don't know why the Hat put me in Gryffindor, but I'm here now, and I'm going to make the most of it."

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might say something conciliatory, something that reminded me of the bond we shared growing up. But then he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"You don't get it, do you?" he said softly, almost to himself. "You've always been stubborn, Celeste, but this... This is something else."

"Maybe I'm tired of being told who I'm supposed to be," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to keep it steady. "Maybe I want to figure that out for myself."

Draco's eyes hardened. "Fine. Figure it out. But don't come crying to me when you realize you don't belong there. Gryffindors don't take kindly to Malfoys."

"And what about you?" I asked quietly. "You're my brother, Draco. Aren't we supposed to stick together?"

Something flickered in his eyes—regret, maybe, or doubt—but it was gone as quickly as it came. He straightened, the mask of indifference sliding firmly into place. "We do stick together," he said, his tone cold now. "But only if you remember where you really belong."

"And by the way, our Father has sent me a letter asking what Houses we were sorted in and I already replied." Draco added. I was horrified at these news and I wondered how my Father was going to reply - hopefully not with a Howler.

He turned back to Crabbe and Goyle, dismissing me with the same practiced ease I'd seen him use on others. For a moment, I stood there, the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. Then I turned and walked away, my back straight and my head held high.

As I reached the Gryffindor table, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder. Draco was laughing at something Crabbe had said, but his smile didn't look as easy as it had before.

Maybe neither of us knew where we truly belonged.