Drarry

The Sorting

Harry stepped off the Hogwarts express and into the gaggle of students. He glanced around and then averted his eyes as people shamelessly stared at him. Merlins pants, he was so over all the fame.

"Harry!" yelled a female voice. Harry spun around and Ginny Weasley crashed into him, enveloping him in a sweet smelling hug. He felt a real smile peel his lips apart. Leaning down, he kissed Ginny gently.

"Get a room," laughed Ron, patting Harry on his head. Harry mock glared at Ron and then nodded at Hermione who was wrapping her arm around Ron. Together, they walked to a waiting carriage. Harry chatted animatedly about Kreacher and doing up Sirius's old place as they fell into the seats. As the conversation changed, he glanced out the window and a shadow passed over his mind for a moment. Heaps of older students who had been a part of the War were patting the Threstals. The skeletal horses were acting confused. Harry shook his head and then faced Ginny who was in the process of weaving a strand of gold ribbon into her hair.

"Where were you when I was stuck with Malfoy for the trip?" he wanted to know. Ginny flicked a lock of flaming red hair back and Harry could just make out a tiny amount of red crawling onto her cheeks.

"Er, I got caught up talking to someone," she said evasively. Deciding against making this trip awkward, Harry didn't ask who or why. He would ask those questions later when he and Ginny were somewhere private.

The carriage began to move beneath his feet and slowly the familiar sight of Hogwarts greeted them. Harry felt another grin coming on. Only, this year would feel different. So many deaths hovered in his mind. Remus, Tonks, Fred...and more. Harry drove them from his mind, determined not to look miserable. He knew people would watch him and he knew that it would be all over the morning papers if he was seen looking upset on his first day back. He could see the headline already.

Chosen One Traumatised Over Return To Hogwarts.

"Harry?" Hermione said, breaking into Harry's thoughts. He started and shook his head to clear it.

"What was that?" he said, earning a reproachful glare from Hermione.

"I said," she sighed. "Won't it be good to be back?"

Harry nodded and absentmindedly fiddled with his wand. Little green sparks cascaded from its tip, causing the floor to glow like something radioactive. Harry felt his thoughts returning to the blonde boy. Malfoy had acted different. Less venomous. Harry figured that Draco had decided that there was no point in exchanging retorts anymore. It was not going to gain them anything. To be completely honest with himself, Harry had never actually wanted such a long lasting feud between them. Turning down that handshake in his first year was the beginning of years of torment. Yet Harry knew it was the right thing to do, to be opposed to the Slytherin. But not anymore. His father was in Azkaban and Mrs Malfoy had saved Harry on the night of the Battle Of Hogwarts. So it stood to reason that Draco would have mellowed. Harry felt himself looking forward to the time when they would have a civil conversation.

The carriage had stopped. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all flooded out, joining the mass of students pouring into the Great Hall. The floating candles were lit and the ceiling was stunning. It was so clear and looked to Harry as though someone had blocked out the sky with a sheet of black paper and then stabbed little holes in it haphazardly. With Ginny on one side and Ron on the other, Harry found a place at the Gryffindor table. He glanced up at the teachers table. Professor McGonagall sat in the Headmasters seat where for so long Professor Dumbledore had sat. On her right sat an empty chair which should have held Professor Flitwick. He was, however, leading the first years in for sorting.

A flood of first years entered the Great Hall, staring around them nervously. Flitwick lead them up to the front of the hall and then began calling out names and placing the Sorting Hat upon their heads.

"Sorting Hats not singing this year," Harry said to Ron under his breath. Ron frowned and ran a hand though his red hair.

"Dunno why," Ron said, watching as Davis, Emma was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Fitzberg, Sasha!"
"Gryffindor!"

Harry clapped loudly along with the rest of Gryffindor. The little first year stumbled up and sat opposite Harry, sandwiched between Seamus and Dean who were an item. Or so Ginny said anyway.
Sasha, the new Gryffindor glanced at Harry, did a double take and her jaw dropped.

"Merlins pants," she breathed in wonder. "You're Harry Potter!"

Harry sighed a little and nodded. Sasha widened her eyes and blinked several times as if making sure this was not a dream. Harry turned his head and watched the Sorting Hat sort a young boy into Ravenclaw. The Sorting seemed to drag on and on and Harry felt a pair of eyes boring into his back. He glanced over at the Slytherin table and could just make out Malfoy staring at him. As their eyes met, the blonde dropped his gaze. Harry narrowed his eyes. What was Draco up to now?

Draco drummed his fingers lightly on the bare table, trying to stop his eyes fixing on a certain dark haired boy at the Gryffindor table. But he could not help it. From Potters posture, Draco could tell he was getting irritated. He sighed a little. What was wrong with him? Why did he suddenly care about Potter in that way. What business was it of his if Potter was irritated? Since when did Malfoy give a hoot? Merlins pants, he thought in alarm as Harry turned and met his eyes. He didn't like Harry, did he? Draco didn't think he was gay. He'd gone out with Pansy Parkinson but when he thought about it, his heart wasn't really in it. Draco frowned. So was he gay? He'd hate to think what his father would have to say about that. Lucius Malfoy was very prejudiced. And, obviously a Death Eater. Like, Purebloods were the best, Muggleborns were scum. You were straight or you were as good as a Mudblood. Draco sighed again. He was so over his father because let's face it. Draco didn't actually loath Potter as much as he made out. He had to put up a facade of nasty to please his father. But no more did he have to do so. Draco sat a little straighter in his chair as Professor McGonagall tapped her glass. The Sorting was over.