Breaking Reality (Draco x Harry)

Reimprinting Impressions

A/N; It would honour me truly if you checked out my tumblr as well - its not much yet... but it exists all the same.

By the way, comments are always welcome - I love hearing opinions! Anyway, I'm sorry, chapter three:

He froze up as the hall caught fire in an instance. The whispers were no more - instead they were readily replaced with full on conversations. Pointing. Shouts across the hall. General chatter washed throughout the students after a seconds silence. Only a second. Being bright in the face; Harry couldn't help but look between Draco and Hermione the opposing sides of the vast hall before him. Gryffindor and Slytherin. So different yet so alike. Shuffling through the now thinned gathering of first years (most had been sorted) he apologised profoundly as he slide past. His robes dragged behind him as he approached professor McGonagall who held the hat. Her own glasses had slide down her thin, pointed nose as she looked over the tops of the lenses. Harry knew what she was thinking: "Gryffindor". After all , both of his parents had been in her house.

Now he stood before the wobbly three-legged stool. The stares were becoming more intense, even from the first years he'd stood with just moments beforehand. In this time space, Hermione was in deep conversation with Neville by now. The toad looked rather... Squished, but how else could he of restrained it? So, whilst Harry crouched to perch on the seat, there was only one person at the four never-ending benches of students caring. Caring in more than a 'look it's Harry Potter" way; as a human they had spoken to. Draco. His silver blonde hair slick and shinning like platinum under the candle light that made the hall evermore enchanting.

The stool wobbled and shook, the legs not matching in length at all. His heart beat was louder than his voice and thoughts. There was so much. So much buzzing. Almost.. refusing to cease in existence. The sounds around him all vibrating throughout his entire body. As he sat he only settled four feet of five - and stared at them intently. Pif they were the most amazing think when a hall of young witches and wizards stood in. When the ceiling looked like the sky. When Albus Dumbledore could very likely be not all that far away.. the greatest wizard who ever lived.

"Remain calm, let the hat do it's thing.." he reminded himself internally as Mcgonagall appeared to place the hat upon his thick, curly hair. What was taking her so long? Time was sliding by, but not quick enough.. To say this could be his last week of his life, he was EXTREMELY slow acting.

Although the hat rested upon his thick hair quite softly, the tension did not lessen by any means. Harry flashed his green eyes across the hall, waiting for the hats voice to awaken. It sent a shiver down his spine; clearer and more all knowing than his memory could even begin to comprehend. It's clear, deep, deep voice echoing through his very soul and being as a small smile flicked across his face.

"Oh Potter.. What have you done now.." it's voice was far from monotone. If it was before him it would have been shaking his head, maybe even be face palming.

"Hello, old friend." The smile played his face like smoke: so weak and and yet so clear and potentially deadly if too strong. His inner voice was glad, if not welcoming the voice as always. His fingers were numb and he smiled as if his senses had abandoned him, "just do your thing. Read into me, we all know where I'm going to end up". The hat didn't say anything, no words were uttered. Harry just sat in silence, waiting. It wasn't that much waiting really to do. He knew, deep down (but not on the surface of all his thoughts ) what was coming.

"Well then, Potter." The sorting hat (which had began sliding over his glasses ) finally spoke, "better do this - shant we?"

A last, the hat was going to tell him all it's thoughts on his placement and he would have to-