Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Three: Sorting hat

I had never felt so anxious in my entire life, and I wish I was exaggerating.

There I was, standing in the office of Professor McGonagall and waiting for her to put a talking hat on my head so that I could be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

It bothered me, that an important slice of my future was going to be the result of the opinion an old hat that looked to be in desperate need of a clean. It had probably been placed upon hundreds of heads over the decades. What if it gave me lice?

Neither of my parents were wizards, so it was undoubtedly quite a shock for them when an elderly woman from Ilvermorny who proclaimed to be a "witch" turned up at our doorstep on my eleventh birthday.

She'd been the one who had explained to me all the little details about the wizarding world - details I wouldn't have known from living with muggles.

As helpful as her guidance was, I still felt like an out-of-place idiot who didn't know anything. I already knew it was going to be incredibly difficult to settle into a place where everybody already knew each other.

I would be the outcast, the "American" as that idiot boy from the train had sneered.

I'd gone back to my compartment after half an hour of staring out of the window and biting my nails, overwhelmed with relief to find all my bags were still there. That was more than surprising: I really thought they would've stolen something, or messed with my stuff as payback. Yet not even one chocolate frog had been taken.

Perhaps they were simply waiting to perform a much greater act of revenge. Something that I'd least expect, probably. I'd have to keep an eye out. That wouldn't be so difficult: Draco wasn't hard to miss.

I had little time to sulk, anyway. McGonagall had called me over to sit on the chair. The hat was placed down upon my head. I bit my lip and made a silent wish.

Please be Ravenclaw please be Ravenclaw please be Ravenclaw - all the cool art kids are in Ravenclaw and I want to be with them - but please don't be Griffindor they're all so righteous and it gives me a headache. Hufflepuff seems - friendly. I think I'd be okay in Hufflepuff. I think I could really thrive, being in Hufflepuff. But please, god, please please please, don't be Slytherin. From what I've heard, and read, they scare me. My fight or flight is getting set off just thinking about sharing a common room with those lot in the dungeons - no no no, I HATE dungeons, I'm going to feel like a prisoner, stuck down there wit-

"Slytherin!"

Ah, fuck.

Grudgingly, I stood from the seat, resisting the urge not to throw that damn sorting hat across the room like a frisbee. McGonagall was congratulating me, leading me out of the office, offering kind words which just wouldn't sink in.

"I'll take you to the great hall now, and you'll be able to sit at your table." She told me.

Though I was guided through long, echoing, dark halls, I still felt incredibly lost. Upon stepping through the doors to the great hall, my heart begin to beat faster. I was rendered breathless by the ceiling, which was magically made up to look like a night sky, but I refused to gape at it for longer than a moment. I didn't want to look like... a tourist?

Kind, calm Professor McGonagall pointed me over to a bench at the very end of the Slytherin table, and, despite my curiosity, I couldn't pluck the courage to take a proper glance down at my new fellow house members.

Mostly because I knew everyone would be staring, and I'd already come to discover that eye contact was the worst thing in the world.

I didn't look up even when I was safely seated on my bench and the spotlight was no longer on me - or so I thought. The sound of someone clicking their tongue was what finally made my eyes flit up.