"Which house do you want to be in?"

"Are you absolutely certain that someone else brings our things inside?"

"Hermione Granger, I asked you a question. You really should answer."

"Draco Malfoy, you don't own me yet."

"I kind of do, actually. I have since we were eight."

"Oh?"

"That's how it works. I choose you, then I own you. That's how it works. You can't be in Gryffindor."

She glanced at him, and he thought for a moment that she was about to fold her arms and scold him. "Why not?"

"Because I said so. And I'll be in Slytherin. A Slytherin cannot be with a Gyffindor."

"Why?"

"Because it's not done."

"Why not?"

"House rivalry, probably."

"And why does that exist?"

"Because Gryffindor just isn't as good as Slytherin. Never has been."

Hermione didn't answer, no retort tripping out off her mouth. Draco was about to brag about his victory, but cut himself off just as quickly when he saw what had caught her attention: a gigantic man, towering over every single one of the students milling around the platform, held a swinging torch in his hand. He looked like a monste with his mangy beard and hair shadowing his face, making him seem incredibly horrific. Someone who had stepped right out of a muggle ghost story.

"Who's that?"

"Hagrid. Gamekeeper."

"Okay, how do you know that?"

Potter told me. Except the Boy Who Lived seemed a bit of an idiot, really, so Draco didn't want to admit that he'd learned something from him. "I've been here before."

She scoffed at that. "Come on, we're meant to follow him."

"Oh, brilliant," Draco said, rather sarcastic. Hermione didn't seem to hear him as she walked away. He hurried after her-because she's mine, he told himself.

They settled into the boats soon after, having been given the instructions no more'n four to a boat. Hermione was itching to correct his enunciation, but the sight of the castle distracted her. Turrets and towers defined the silhouette of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, lights bright in many of the windows. The castle itself wasn't clearly visible, but against the clear star-studded sky, it looked amazing anyway. She had never seen anything more beautiful-or more intimidating. The silence of her fellow first years wasn't helping.

She had climbed in first, so she had expected to be shoved up against the far wall. Draco was beside her in the back, their similar small builds a significant advantage-at least when it came to fitting in the boat. It didn't help her nerves that Draco kept leaning backwards, and would have toppled any normal boat. It was propelled by magic, though, and so didn't tip as he grimaced at the bench in front of them, a bench she hadn't noticed at first. Hermione found his behaviour rather rude, particularly since one of the two in front of them was Neville, and all he'd done was ask Draco for help finding the toad-which was, by the way, still lost. The girl beside him sat with her spine as straight as a rod, and it didn't look comfortable at all. Hermione thought she might have black hair, but it was hard to tell for sure in the dark.

The lake barely stirred beneath their boat as Hagrid called for them to watch their heads as they passed through the hanging ivy. I wonder if we're passing near the Slytherin dungeons, she wondered, then shuddered. How cold it must be, down there in the dark.

Upon reaching the harbour, Draco waited for the other girl to exit and move away before darting out, lingering only long enough to grab Hermione's arm and tug her after him. It seemed he didn't like the boats much, which made her shake her head. They're only a means of transport.

They waited as the gamekeeper searched the boats, completely clueless as to what to do next. Neville had joined them, purely out of nervousness and a desire for something familiar, and Hermione frowned at him while he wasn't looking. She wasn't sure if he was friendly, or just clingy. The nerves suggested the latter, but she couldn't find it in her to hold it against them. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville called, breaking into a smile for the first time since she'd met him, holding out his hands to take the toad in his fingers.

"Hold the thing tightly, Neville," Draco ordered. Hermione frowned at him next. "But not too tightly. We don't need him trying to escape again."

She watched closely as Hagrid knocked on the huge oak door, wondering what was inside. Hogwarts: A History said it looked and was built like a castle, but did that mean it fit the modern muggle concept, something like a large house, or was it an actual castle, like the one her parents had taken her to see in Scotland last summer? As soon as the third knock finished, the door swung open: a black-haired witch, all in emerald green, swept her gaze across all of them without moving an inch. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The Entrance Hall was huge. She knew that already, obviously, from looking at the chapter on the planning and structure of the school in what Draco seemed to think was her favourite book-it could fit a modern muggle suburban house, two stories high, with ease, as an unnamed witch had demonstrated nearly forty years earlier to, according to Bathilda Bagshot, 'win a bet'. Hermione couldn't imagine ever being able to conjure up an entire house, especially not inside a castle, but looking up, she could picture the Granger home sitting there, front door at the base of the steps leading up into the rest of the castle. It wouldn't even make a witness feel like there was too much in the room, as the ceiling was so high she couldn't even see it, and electric light lit the walls. Turn them off, she reasoned, and everything would feel bigger already, if that were possible. I wonder how many men the same height as Hagrid would need to stand on each others' shoulders to touch the ceiling. She almost laughed at the mental picture as the witch Hagrid had called 'Professor McGonagall' lead them into a small, vacant room near the doors to what must have been the Great Hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the Professor, looking over the crowd of first year students. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

Hermione divided her attention between the Professors' speech about each house and the house cup, and her own thoughts. This was what she had been looking forward to, so much so that she hadn't even mentioned to Neville that he'd fastened his cloak beneath his left ear. She was tempted to start reciting all she'd learned to herself, but there was no point, really. She already knew as much as she possibly could without lessons, and that Harry Potter certainly didn't seem to know anything she didn't already. It'd probably turn out that she'd covered far too much, just like during her homework assignments at her last school, and would end up with bonus points or extra credit. She leaned closer and whispered, "Draco?"

"Yeah?" The boy still looked as though he might be sick. She made a mental note to do some research about seasickness the first time she could get to the library; there had to be a way to get rid of it.

"If I'm not in Slytherin, what are you going to do?"

"Obviously something will have to happen. You'll get your house changed or you'll have to eat and room with the Slytherins, even if you have to attend classes with Ravenclaw instead. As if they'll put us in different dorms, not when you're mine."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're all talk," she said, "and no action. I bet you won't even try to do anything."

"Alright. Bet what?"

Hermione didn't really have anything to bet, as almost all of her things had been provided by his family and their wealth. She was motivated by the story about the house in the Entrance Hall, though, and so she frowned. "A necklace my mum gave me?"

"Why would I want your mum's necklace?"

"A gift for your mum?" She wasn't even wearing the silver chain; she almost never did. The ring was stuck on her finger and so was never removed, but any other jewellery just tended to annoy her. "I don't know, Draco, but I don't really have anything else to bet. What if I win? What do I get?"

"The most expensive book my mother can find," he said promptly, with no idea what it would be. She raised her eyebrows, then stuck out her hand. He stared for an instant before clasping it with his own. "Deal?"

"Deal."

The ghosts entered the room then, startling quite a few people. Hermione watched and counted them off in her mind, matching them to the names and descriptions given by Bathilda Bagshot. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor. The Gray Lady, Ravenclaw. Bloody Baron, Slytherin. Fat Friar, Hufflepuff. Lord Draben-

"Move along now," McGonagall cut in, "the Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

It was a good thing she wasn't disabled somehow, Hermione decided as the tenth student was sorted into Ravenclaw. She'd been standing for so long she wondered that her feet weren't aching. It's probably the nerves, she decided, though she was disappointed that all they had to do was put on the Hat. It seemed too easy, somehow.

And then it was her turn, and the Hat fell down over her eyes, and the Hall vanished into darkness.

"What have we here?" a small voice whispered into her ear. She almost sighed in relief; imagine her dread if she hadn't heard anything! She wondered for a moment how a deaf student might be sorted, and made a mental note to research that, as well as the seasickness, as soon as she could. Focus, Hermione, she told herself.

"Hermione, is it? Interesting name, there. Do you know what it means?

Obviously, she thought at the hat, rolling her eyes. She was impressed that she hadn't done so when Draco was talking at her earlier; he sounded so ridiculous. It means 'earthy', technically, but it's also associated with Greek mythology, especially the daughter of Helen of Troy and Menelaus, as it was her name. Her grandfather, Tyndareus, tries to marry her off to her cousin Orestes, who of course is absolutely insane, largely due to a curse on his family name, at least according to Homers' version. Then Menelaus, her own father, betroths her to Neoptolemus, sometimes called Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, which is a bit of an awful move, really, since most versions of the story claim that Neoptolemus was an awful person, murdering Priam and Euryplus and Polyxena and Astyanax and more, all in cold blood, and captured Helenus and made poor Andromache his concubine. And then she ends up with Orestes anyway, all because of some ridiculous delusion of spell-casting and because Menelaus - perfectly reasonably, I might add- refuses to kill Andromache. And good for him! More than enough blood was shed over that git Neoptolemus without Hermione adding to it.

She heard a sound in her head like an old man laughing, and shifted self consciously. "Ravenclaw, then, with that thirst for knowledge, or perhaps Gryffindor, with that temper."

I can't help it that I care about it. She should never have agreed to any of these arranged marriages. I mean, two men, really? What a mess!

"Perhaps she had no choice."

Perhaps she should have fought harder.

"I see."

You do? You see what? She frowned into the black. Sorting Hat, you don't seem to be trying very hard to pick a house for me. Is it difficult?

"To a degree. Nothing I haven't seen before, don't you worry about that. You have all sorts of wonderful thoughts in here-I could rummage around in here for hours without getting bored, I expect. As it is, it seems I must not dally, unfortunately. Such potential here. What's this thought about Slytherin? Avoidance?"

I'm certainly not ambitious enough for that, no matter what he says.

"On the contrary, I would say you're perfectly ambitious, more than enough to fit in with the ranks of Slytherin."

She snorted aloud at that. You haven't spoken to him yet, you have no idea how snarky he can be.

"Snarky?"

Oh, don't laugh. It's a perfectly appropriate description for him. Draco Malfoy: snarky git.

"Interesting."

What is it this time?

"You say his name like it's familiar."

Sorting Hat, he's a familiar concept, for sure. Now which house suits me best?

There was silence, for a time, while the Hat seemed to think. "Ravenclaw, for that mind of yours, would be a good match. Plenty of people to discuss seasickness and disability with, should the motivation continue to drive you. Lots of books. A tower, far from Slytherin."

She didn't think anything, though it was a challenge. It was obvious that there was a but coming.

"In Gryffindor, however, you could thrive. You have a passion for knowledge, Hermione Granger, but you could be so much more than that."

I hope you aren't hinting at Slytherin ambition again, because that would be rather repetitive, don't you think?

Sounding amused, the Sorting Hat finally finished, almost four minutes after she had donned the thing. "Very well, Miss Granger. I hope you're quite satisfied with your accomplishments. It may well be a challenge, but you'll enjoy your place in GRYFFINDOR."

The table of gold and red broke out in cheers, just as they had for everyone else. She didn't think for a second that the cheering was for her -more likely they were just thrilled to have one more person that some other house didn't have. As she glanced back at the other students, she caught sight of Draco, standing beside Neville in the line. He narrowed his eyes at her, as though he suspected she'd rigged it somehow.

She grinned at him and took a seat near a set of three red-haired boys at the end of the table, so she could be sure she would see Draco's irritation. She wasn't usually one to make friends, let alone to tease, but she couldn't help herself. It was almost too easy. This is going to be fun.