The Great Hall was just as grand as Estelle had imagined—perhaps even more so. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky, casting flickering starlight over the rows of students seated at their house tables. But it wasn’t the beauty of the hall that caught her attention. It was the way the room fell into a hushed murmur when she walked in.
Eyes followed her every move, their whispers sharp and unrelenting.
“Another transfer? Haven’t we had enough drama with Granger and Potter?”
“Who is she?”
“Her robes—Beauxbatons. French, maybe?”
Estelle tuned them out. She had endured this before. The stares, the whispers, the assumptions—none of it was new. With her chin high and her steps deliberate, she followed Professor McGonagall to the front of the hall, where the Sorting Hat sat waiting.
She noticed the curious glances from the staff table, but one look stood out. A tall, dark-haired professor with sunken eyes and a sharp gaze—Professor Snape, if she recalled correctly—watched her with an unreadable expression.
“Sit, Miss Veyra,” McGonagall instructed, her voice clipped but not unkind.
Estelle lowered herself onto the stool, feeling the weight of the Great Hall’s gaze. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, and for a moment, all sound seemed to vanish.
“Ah, a Veyra,” the Hat murmured, its voice soft and amused. “How rare to see one of your lineage here. You’re not the easiest to place, are you?”
Estelle remained silent, her jaw tightening.
“Let’s see… A sharp wit, ambition… but not for the sake of power. No, you crave purpose. Hmm, loyalty too, but not blind. And something else… ah, a fire tempered by loss.”
“Get on with it,” she muttered, her patience wearing thin.
“Impatient, yes. You would thrive in Ravenclaw, with that mind of yours. Or perhaps Gryffindor—your courage is undeniable. But it’s Slytherin where your ambitions and cunning would truly shine.”
Estelle’s heart gave an involuntary lurch. “Slytherin?” she whispered.
“Yes,” the Hat replied with certainty. “You’re not afraid to walk in the shadows, Miss Veyra. And that will serve you well. SLYTHERIN!”
The final word rang through the hall, and the Slytherin table erupted in applause. The other houses looked less enthused—particularly Gryffindor, where a boy with messy black hair and glasses exchanged a look with a redhead beside him.
Estelle handed the hat back to McGonagall, stood, and made her way to the Slytherin table. Her heart thudded in her chest, but her expression remained cool and composed.
She slid into an empty seat, only to find herself across from the same platinum-haired boy from earlier. Draco Malfoy. His smirk deepened as he leaned forward.
“Welcome to the snake pit,” he drawled.
“How charming,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you greet all new students like this, or am I just special?”
“Oh, you’re special, all right,” Draco said, his smirk widening. “But don’t worry, Veyra. You’ll fit in—eventually.”
Estelle arched an eyebrow. “Don’t mistake me for someone who needs your approval, Malfoy.”
Draco chuckled, a low, almost musical sound that grated on her nerves. “Feisty. I like that.”
Before she could retort, another voice cut in.
“Don’t let him get to you.”
Estelle turned to see a petite girl with dark curls and kind brown eyes taking the seat beside her.
“I’m Daphne Greengrass,” the girl said, extending a hand. “And for the record, Malfoy is insufferable to everyone.”
“Hey,” Draco protested, but Daphne ignored him.
Estelle shook Daphne’s hand, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Estelle Veyra. Nice to meet someone tolerable.”
“Oh, there are a few of us,” Daphne said with a grin. “But don’t let that fool you—Slytherin can be… an adjustment.”
“Daphne,” Draco interrupted, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t scare her off. She’s barely sat down.”
“I think she can handle herself,” Daphne shot back. “She’s not like your usual cronies, Draco.”
Draco’s eyes flicked back to Estelle, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “We’ll see.”
Estelle narrowed her eyes. “Yes, we will.”
---
As dinner began, Estelle quietly observed the dynamics of her new house. Draco Malfoy seemed to be the center of attention, flanked by two bulky boys she vaguely remembered being introduced as Crabbe and Goyle. He commanded the conversation effortlessly, though she noticed how carefully he avoided certain topics—like the war brewing outside the castle walls.
Daphne, on the other hand, seemed warm and approachable, offering little tidbits of information to Estelle throughout the meal.
“Watch out for Pansy Parkinson,” Daphne whispered at one point, nodding toward a dark-haired girl a few seats down. “She’ll either try to be your best friend or your worst enemy.”
“And Malfoy?” Estelle asked, her voice low.
Daphne glanced at him, then back at Estelle. “Draco’s complicated. He’s not as untouchable as he likes to pretend. Just… keep your guard up.”
“Noted,” Estelle said, filing the information away.
As the meal ended and the students began to disperse, Draco caught her eye one last time.
“Welcome to Slytherin,” he said, his voice softer than before.
Estelle tilted her head, studying him. “I’ll decide if that’s a good thing.”
Draco’s smirk returned, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Sparks in the Shadows
FanfictionWhen Estelle Veyra transfers to Hogwarts in her sixth year, she expects the whispers-her family's tangled history and the shadow of her own past always seem to follow her. What she doesn't expect is the frosty, enigmatic Draco Malfoy to thaw her icy...
