"Malfoy, Draco!"Professor McGonagall's shrill voice rang through the great hall.

Draco stood, straightened his robes and strode with his head held high up the little stairway onto the dais. He had dreampt of this moment for years. His mother and father had told him such stories of their time at Hogwarts, both in the noble house of Slytherin, as was the right of any self-respecting pure blood wizard. It was his birthright, his destiny, and the first stepping stone on the path to greatness.

He sat on the stool and grinned smugly as the hat was placed upon his overly-slicked blonde head.

"Hmmm."

"What do you mean, hmmm?"

"Precisely that," The hat snapped back. "hmm."

"I believe the name you're looking for is Slytherin. "

"No, I don't believe it is..." The hat seemed to be rolling something around in its mind that it was not yet willing to share.

"What?" The single word tore the air in the quiet dining hall.

"You have no real ambition, lad." The hat stated frankly. "And you're far more...overtly antagonistic than you are machination."

"What do you mean, no ambition? I'm going to, no, destined to be the greatest-"

"Death Eater? Like your father?" The hat spat the words dripping with venom. "Yes, yes, that's what you say you want. But I can see that it isn't. No, not only would it be irresponsible to put you in Slytherin, it would be cruel."

"What the hell do you know, you moth-eaten excuse for a beanie! I demand you put me in Slytherin!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall snapped from over his shoulder. "As you are in the middle of the alphabet, I'm sure you can imagine the line of students behind you waiting to be sorted. Please, agree on something and move on."

The stool clattered over with the force of Draco rising. "Slytherin! I want to be in Slytherin!"

"And I've said no. Gryffindor!" There was no applause as the hat was removed from Draco's head, and he was shooed from the stage. He turned to protest, but McGonagall cut him off by calling the name after his.

The young wizard lowered himself down the opposite set of stares, and cast a longing look to the green and silver banners, before turning to face the Gryffindor table. Confusion, anxiety and anger mixed a volitile cocktail that threatened to bring tears to his eyes. He blinked them back, determined that no one would see him cry. He found an empty chair and slumped into it. Food appeared before him; a lovely Cornish game hen, resting on a blanket of fingerling potatoes. It smelled delicious, but despite how hungry he'd been moments before, he had no interest in eating any of it.

"There must be some mistake!" His thoughts flew apart. "When my father hears about this injustice, he'll have that shrieking old cow and her stupid hat boiled in oil and served on potatoes."

Perhaps he was hungrier than he'd realized. He stabbed viciously at one of the potatoesand raised it to his lips. In doing so, he looked up just long enough to see who was sitting across the table from him. The Weasley boy, and his, apparently, best friend, Harry Potter. Neither of them looked at all pleased to see him, and Draco supposed that was fair. As he wasn't pleased to see them either.

"Hey, you're the white haired prat from the train!" Ron shouted, coming to suddenly recognize him. He turned his attention to two boys with hair as equally red as his own. "Oi! This is the kid I told you about!"

Draco felt the table jostle and saw the two boys rise from the bench where they were sitting. They took a long, slow amble around the table, clearly in no hurry, knowing that he wasn't going anywhere. He tried to sit up a little straighter, and set down his fork.

Well, well, well, what do we have here George?"

"Why, Fred, I do believe it's a flake from the upper crust. Forced to rub elbows with us lowly common folk."

Fred clicked his tongue and shook his head, both of them looming over the seated first year. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Or I suppose, in this case, never allowed to rise, eh? Does that make him unleavened crust?"

Fred and George chuckled. Ron added a laugh as well, but looked around to see if he was the only one who had no idea what his brothers were talking about.

"Believe it or not, Malfoy, we know how you fee." Fred continued, lifting the goblet meant for Draco to his lips and taking a long drink.

"Ya see, Fred and I always wondered what we might've been like in Slytherin. But since we've got, whatcha might call, a legacy here in Gryffindor, that's where we were put."

"And now you're stuck here too. Despite all your money, and all your pure blood bullshittery, you're clad in the ol' red and gold. Life's real funny like that sometimes, isn't it?"

Fred gave Malfoy a slap on the back that was far too hard to be playful.

"Gross!" Ron interrupted. "You guys wanted to be in Slytherin?"

"Shut up Ron." Both twins replied flatly. The two made their way back around the table in the same liesurely gate they'd come.

"See ya, round, Malfoy." George called with mocking ease, waving over his shoulder.

Between the blow to the back and the blow to his ego, Draco could hardly breathe. He looked across to Harry, hoping for some sign of solidarity. He got nothing but a pleased smirk. His face flushed beet red and he took deeper and deeper breaths, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Come on, fellas, let him alone." A voice pleaded from further down the table. Neville Longbottom leaned in to get a better look at Draco. "He can't help what his family's like. Maybe he'll get in trouble if he's not in Slytherin."

Pitty was the last thing he needed, and any filter he might have had had dissolved. "Please! If you think I need any help from you Longbottom, than you're more crazy than your pa-"

A wave of instant regret and shame threatened to wash Draco out of his seat as soon as he caught up with what he'd said. Neville's eyes, which had been so full of kindness and mercy not five seconds ago, grew coldand dark. He watched the hope of ever making a friend in this miserable house, die in their reflection.

Neville didn't say a word. He just leaned back in line on the bench, disappearing behind the students between himself and Draco. Gasps and little outbursts bubbled around the table. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances to see if either knew what was so significant, but were satisfied in knowing, it was bad.

Draco cllumsily threw a leg over the bench and fled from the hall, only to be stopped just outside the door by an older student wearing a "Head Boy" badge.

"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? Dinner's not over yet."

"I...I'm not feeling well. I think I may be sick." Draco stammered, his face rapidly losing color.

The Head Boy recoiled as though he'd already vomited, but pointed him to the boy's lavatory.

Draco found the door, and took up residence in an empty stall. He sat on the toilet and pulled his knees up to his chest. He gulped desperately at the air, as if swallowing enough of it could delay the tears welling in his eyes. What would his father think? His status, and by extension, his family's honor, was thrown into jeopardy. How could he stand among his own kind? Certainly there were pure bloods from Gryffindor. Perhaps even some had served the Dark Lord. But none of that mattered to him personally. And he was certain, it wouldn't matter to Lucius Malfoy.

More immediately, he'd effectively alienated himself from everyone else in his new house. He had no one who could or would sympathize with him now. He'd made short work of that. As he traced the cracks in the ceiling, he wondered if he felt bad because he'd hurt someone who was just trying to defend him, or because he didn't have anyone to laugh about it with. He supposed it could be a little of both.

He stayed locked away in the bathroom until the Head Boy who sent him, came to collect him. He was shuffled into line with the rest of the Gryffindors, and lead up the stairs to their dormitory. He had been too out of sorts to register where they were going, or what the password to get in had been. He just stood, zombified, until it was time to get ready for bed.

Opening the trunk at the foot of his four poster bed, lifting the bundle of pajamas and robe, he saw that his mother had packed his stuffed snake, Salazar, despite his protest that he was, "a big boy" and didn't need him. In truth, he would have been grateful for the company, but there was no way he could bare that ridicule on top of rejection. He collected his tooth brush and paste, and shuffled into the dormitory bathroom. He stood in line for what seemed like forever, waiting for a sink. A wait time that wasn't helped by several boys blatantly cutting in front of him.

Finally, when it was his turn, he changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and turned to go. It was only then that he realized he was one of only two people still in the bathroom. From the corner of his eye, he watched Neville Longbottom give his teeth the most thourough brushing he thought he'd ever seen.

After rinsing and spitting, twice, Neville collected his toiletries, and turned to leave, facing Draco. His eyes were just as cold as they had been hours ago in the great hall.

Draco held up a hand to get Neville's attention. It was a seemingly unconcious gesture, but it worked. His mouth worked, trying to form noise that sounded like words. Curiosity peered through the cracks of Neville's annoyance. Finally words came.

"Longbottom?"

"Yes?"

"I...should not have said...I mean earlier..."

Neville sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. "I would've been your friend, you know. My Gran has...She thinks like your family sometimes. She's not bad, she just...has some old ideas. But she's softened up over time...I think."

"It's just hard! You have no idea what it's like to have your whole life planned out, and then have it all fouled up by the opinion of a hat!" Draco dropped his toothbrush, but didn't reach to pick it up immediately. He tried to collect his thoughs, and took a deep breath. "I'm...I shouldn't have said it. Do you think, maybe...we can start over?"

"Well, its like my Grandma always says. Tomorrow's another day." Neville shuffled his slippered feet passed Draco, and back into the common room. "Goodnight, Draco."